“Yes, sir!”
“Good! Now, get out of here and get to work. I’ll talk to you sometime tomorrow night, by which time I expect a list of concrete proposals and a timetable to implement them.”
“Yes, sir!” He took off. I hadn’t even caught his name.
“Next!” I pulled out another blank sheet, and slid it across the table to Paul Wolfowitz, who was sitting across from me. He simply stared at me. “Paul, for the last six months, other experts and I have been warning about the dangers of terrorism and you have been telling me how we weren’t in any danger, and how the real problem was Iraq! You fired the experts you didn’t like, but you couldn’t fire me. Even today you are still trying to sell the idea that this was caused by Iraq. Sorry! No sale! You know the drill by now. Sign it and date it!”
“Damn you! You can’t do this! President Bush will have you impeached!” yelled Cheney.
I turned to my left, where Dick was sitting. “Dick, we went through this earlier, remember? I can do it, and I just did. If we find the President, he can hire any of these people back that he wants. In the meantime, they are gone.”
Wolfowitz looked at his patron, but he either didn’t pick up on Cheney backing down, or didn’t care. “You go to hell, Buckman! You’re not the President! I don’t have to take this shit!”
Around the table you could hear people gasping. I hadn’t quite expected that response, but I certainly knew how to handle it. I caught the eye of a Secret Service agent and said, “We’re going to need a team in here, right now, if you please.”
“Yes, sir!” He began speaking into his sleeve mike and moved to stand behind Wolfowitz.
“What the hell do you think you are doing, Buckman!?” Wolfowitz demanded.
I reached over and took back the piece of stationery. I wrote, ‘Paul Wolfowitz has been terminated from the employment of the United States of America, effective immediately. Carl Buckman, Acting President, United States of America, September 12, 2001.’
By the time I was finished, four additional agents were standing behind the ex-CIA director. I looked up at them and said, “Mr. Wolfowitz is no longer in the employ of the Central Intelligence Agency, or any other agency of this government. After you escort him from the room you are to search him and remove any identification or other items not of a personal nature. Then he is to be taken directly to his home. I want two of you to head over to Langley and inform the guards at the gate that Mr. Wolfowitz is no longer an employee and is no longer to be permitted on the premises. If there are any questions, they can call the White House. Is that understood?”
“Damn you!” yelled Wolfowitz, who tried to stand up.
On doing so, two agents grabbed him by the shoulders, one on each side, and held him in place. I pointed towards the door, and he was led outside. Some of the faces in the room looked shocked, but I noticed Colin Powell had a slight smile, and Paul O’Neill didn’t look unhappy, either.
One of the shocked faces was Wolfowitz’ deputy. I pointed at him and motioned to fill the now vacant seat. He moved into position and I gave the newcomer a hard look. “Tomorrow morning I am flying to New York City. I will expect to be able to tell people with a straight face that we are working hard to figure out who exactly did this to us, so that we can return the favor. I am expecting you to have information for me that is truthful and unbiased. If you are smart, you will have somebody very senior and very serious to help those other two figure things out. They are to become the Three Amigos. If you need to open the vaults, do it. Do you understand me, or do I need to repeat the process we just witnessed?”
“I understand, sir.”
I pulled out a fourth piece of blank paper, and stared at it for a second, and then put it back in my folder. I felt a sense of relief in the room; there had been enough drama. I made a half turn in my chair towards Cheney, but then kept turning my head towards Scooter Libby, sitting behind him. “Scooter, I really thought hard about this, but I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt. However, if you ever again tell anybody that I’m not the real President and that I am not to be kept in the loop and can’t be told classified information I will hang you out to dry in the noonday sun! In the meantime, you are to start doing your damn job and not running around trying to game the system and cooking the books on the data with the CIA!”
Cheney looked like he was about to explode, but kept quiet. If he had said anything, I planned to pull out a sheet of paper and hand it to him, but he behaved himself. The rest of the meeting was about what we would need to do in the future for security. I also gave people a plan for my coming schedule, including a joint meeting with the Congressional leaders Friday morning with the entire Cabinet.
When we broke around noon, I called Norm Mineta and semi-apologized for firing the FAA Administrator out from under him, and asked him to call over there and give whatever assistance he could to get the planes up and flying again. Then I called in Ari Fleischer and filled him in on the changes in personnel, and my schedule. He was going to have to start earning his pay! I would let him handle the press briefing.
I grabbed a quick lunch in the White House Mess, the West Wing cafeteria run by the Navy, and then got a call from Frank Stouffer saying that the first President Bush had flown in, along with his wife. From Andrews they would be taking Marine One to Camp David to see Laura and the girls, but they would land at the White House first, and the President would sit down with me for a bit while Barbara flew on. I told Frank to bring him in as soon as possible.
It was a little before 2:00 that I got the word that Marine One was about to land, so I cleaned my desk off and made myself presentable. I watched it land and then lift off again as soon as the former President was clear. He looked much the same as when I had met him a few times back during his Administration, but he was clearly older, at least in his mid-70s, and moved slower. Today, he had a very somber look on his face. Frank escorted Mr. Bush to my office, and I greeted him at the door. “Thank you for seeing me, Mr. President. Allow me to say that Marilyn and I and the rest of my family are all praying that George will be rescued shortly.” I ushered him over to an armchair.
“That is very kind of you, Carl. Is that alright?” he asked.
“Of course, sir.” I waited until he had sat down, and then I sat down in a chair opposite him. “I appreciate the time you are allowing me, sir. As soon as we are done, I will have Frank get you up to Camp David. I hope Frank has been helpful. I told him he belongs to you and Mrs. Bush as long as needed.”
That earned me a small smile. “Good heavens, but he seems so young, but I suppose we all were that age once.”
“Yes, sir, I think that is very true. He’s good, though. He’s been on my staff since the campaign, and I’ve found him very useful. Whatever you need, just let him know.”
He nodded. “Once we get to Camp David, we’ll be fine, I’m sure. Please, is there any more news?” he asked with a pleading tone.
It was heart-wrenching to tell this to a man I had so much respect for, and to know I was the cause of this heartbreak. I shook my head and said, “Rescue operations are still moving along, but the latest report, right after lunch, was no different than what you might have heard this morning. There are some people being pulled out of the rubble, and some who we know are trapped, but nobody from above the plane strikes. Still, it’s early. We still have hope.”
He seemed to deflate for a second, and then drew upon a hidden well of strength inside himself and sat up straighter. “Thank you, Mister President, for being so… compassionate. There really isn’t any hope, is there?”