Path to Convergence
Copyright© 2025 by Vonalt
Chapter 17: The Mole, The Monokini, and Thou
The year had started off with a lot of changes in the Mercer household. First there were now two additions to the Mercer family, the sons born to Karen and Andi. Randal Scott John Mercer was born to me and Karen, and you can tell that he had the Nordic Jorgenson blood in his heritage just by looking at him. He was huge compared to his half-brother, John Todd Mercer born to me and Andi. John Todd wasn’t going to be small by any means, but he wasn’t big-boned like the Jorgenson lineage. Both boys would be above average in size when they reached adulthood.
In the meantime, they had their mothers, Karen and Andi, and Imelda, who once again agreed to be our housekeeper and nanny, as well as various adopted aunts and uncles who always seemed to be at our house checking up on the boys and their older sisters. Not all their caretakers were human; Beast and the Dobermans, once they accepted the boys into the pack, were constantly checking on their new pack members, assuring themselves that the boys were fine and that visitors to the house posed no threat to the twins and their younger siblings.
Not all the changes occurred in the house; some took place at Mercer, Frisch, & Associates. We had approximately twenty-five new analysts and support personnel added to the company’s employment rolls. Once our information management system, the ‘oil can’ as we called it, proved effective for the CIA group that contracted with us, we were given the responsibility of rolling it out to the other divisions.
This change didn’t happen without complaints. I made it a point that whoever received a complaint had to document who within the customer organization made it, along with the date, time, and nature of the complaint. I was convinced that the mole was among those complaining. This information would be shared with the investigation group for further analysis. I predicted that they would identify their mole once they had the information that we provided.
Another ‘change’ that wasn’t really a change was an invitation from the new administration to attend a meet-and-greet with the President and his team. I thought that it would be rude to turn the request down, so I arranged to visit the White House’s West Wing in a few days.
I called Robert and scheduled him to drive me to the White House for the meeting. Robert had me there at the appointed time on the day of the meeting. I went through the by-now familiar security checkpoints and screenings; nothing new there. I looked around to see if I recognized any of the security personnel, but they were all new faces.
My appointment time arrived, and I was led to the Oval Office by an aide carrying an appointment book. There were a few mostly cosmetic changes inside; a different piece of furniture here, a bust of another former President or notable figure from American history there. The most noticeable difference was the arrangement of the chairs and couches. The couches sat opposite each other two Presidents ago. They were arranged at right angles, with a low table between them, under the current administration. Two satin-upholstered armchairs sat on the open side of the triangle formed by the couches.
There was a different vibe to the atmosphere when I entered the Oval Office. It was hard to describe; definitely one of those you had to be there to understand situations. The Vice President sat on one couch. The President’s Chief of Staff and several staffers I didn’t recognize sat on the other, with an open space that I assumed was meant for me.
The new President and the First Lady sat in the two upholstered chairs. Everyone took their seats after the formal introductions.
My first impression was that the President possessed an aura that drew you in like a moth to a flame. He was well-spoken, clearly intelligent, and carried himself with ease. I was struck by how naturally the conversation flowed as he made it easy to talk to him. He was a man who commanded attention and was clearly well-schooled in the art of politics.
I found the First Lady harder to read at first. It was clear, however, that she was well-educated and, like the President, highly skilled in the world of politics. My impression was that she missed nothing happening around her; everything was observed, catalogued, and stored away for future use. She was the kind of person whom you had to be very careful with your words and actions around. Anything that you said could be recalled and served back to you on a silver platter later. She intimidated me, and I made sure to be extra cautious with how I spoke and reacted in her presence for that reason.
The reason for my visit to the White House was that the President wanted me to serve as a special advisor to him. He recounted my past accomplishments and explained how I would be a perfect fit for his administration. All I had to do was say yes, and I could start immediately. I almost laughed in his face. A similar sales pitch had been made to me not long ago that ended up with me in uniform and out of the country.
My response was, “Thank you for the offer, but no thank you.” I explained that I was happy where I was, had recently welcomed new additions to my family, and didn’t want to be away from them. I had to respectfully decline the position for those reasons.
The President was not pleased, and I could tell that he didn’t like being told no. I could live with that. The First Lady, on the other hand, was more revealing; her body language gave her away. She became noticeably stiffer, and the smile on her face no longer reached her eyes. Her reaction confirmed my initial impression that I needed to be careful. Scratch that, I needed to be at DEFCON 1 around her.
She had a hardness that wasn’t immediately noticeable, but it surfaced only upon closer observation. She was definitely not like the previous First Ladies I had known.
I was thanked for coming to the Oval Office and told that I would be invited back to the White House at some point in the future. The aide appeared at the door almost on cue, and escorted me to the exit, where Robert was waiting. I glanced at my watch; eighteen minutes had passed from the moment that I cleared security to the time I was shown out. The Mercers definitely wouldn’t be on that year’s Christmas card list.
I faced a lot of questions when I returned to the office. The drive back had taken more than twice the amount of time I’d spent in the Oval Office. Molly even went so far as to accuse me of blowing the visit off and having Robert drive me around for fun. I knew that she was only teasing, so I ignored her remark.
The others agreed, after hearing what had occurred at the White House, that I had responded appropriately and said that they would have turned the President down as well. We all remembered the aftermath of a similar meeting and the near-disaster that followed.
I also shared my impressions of both the new President and the First Lady. Johann looked deep in thought as I finished describing my encounter with the pair. I was curious as to why Johann had that look of interest and concern.
He responded by saying, “The way you described the President matches what anyone can observe from TV interviews and newspaper articles. Now, the First Lady is the one to watch. There’s more to her than just being the President’s wife. She has ambition, experience, and a deep understanding of how the system works. Like you said, she’s someone who you need to keep an eye on because she’ll definitely be watching you.”
The rest of my time in the office that day was spent working on the year’s budget revisions, reviewing proposals others had submitted to address our space shortage, and focusing on what I considered to be a conservative and realistic projection of revenue and profit growth. I knew from experience that growing too quickly could strain a company’s cash flow and damage long-term profitability. Chasing every new opportunity out of greed was the downfall of many businesses, and that wasn’t the path that I wanted for ours. We wanted to grow, yes, but grow wisely and profitably.
‘Money borrowed is profit lost’ was my mantra whenever I reviewed the numbers and evaluated how much new business was too much. I also had to assess which opportunities qualified as bad business and turn them down, even if it upset the person who brought them to us. That person most often, was Anatoly, my former ‘Soviet used-car salesman.” I had to reject a fair number of the deals that he brought in. Anatoly may not have liked it, but to his credit, he also brought in more than his fair share of good business.
I shared my impressions of the new First Couple with my wives over dinner at home. Karen and Andi were both intrigued by my description. I told them the new President was charismatic and a master communicator and he had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room. I also mentioned that, judging by the news reports, I could see why he’d earned a reputation as a ladies’ man back when he was Governor. That’s exactly why, as your loving and highly protective husband, I said, “Neither of you is ever allowed to be alone in a room with that man, Secret Service or not.”
Karen and Andi immediately accused me of being jealous. I responded with a grin, “You have to protect your interests when you’re the husband of the two most beautiful women, not only in Washington, but in the whole country. It would absolutely break me if I lost either of you.”
That brought both Karen and Andi to tears, and I suddenly found myself the recipient of multiple hugs and kisses, much to the amusement of our daughters and Imelda, our recently rehired housekeeper and cook of some repute, who was sitting with us during the evening meal. She quietly chuckled, clearly entertained by the scene, but didn’t miss a beat in keeping everyone’s plates full.
As the recipient of all that affection, I couldn’t help but think to myself, “You’re not the only one blessed with the gift of smooth talk, Mr. President.” I was truly blessed to have these two incredible women in my life and I would protect what I had at all costs.
I took a walk around the neighborhood after dinner, carefully avoiding those houses where the women who wouldn’t have approved of our presence resided.
The headline screamed the next morning; “Longtime Advisor to Presidents Rejects Offer to Join New President’s Administration.”
My first thought when I saw that headline was ‘Who else turned the President down?’ It wasn’t until I read the first paragraph when I realized that the article was about me and my decision to decline the offer.
‘Longtime?’ I muttered to myself, then it hit me that Karen, Andi, and I had now been part of the Washington community for over six years. Our daughters were now in first grade. Though they were born in the UK, they had spent the rest of their young lives in greater Washington, DC. Time had moved faster than I’d realized.
The article had been factual in its reporting. It was true that I had received an invitation to the White House from the President, and had agreed to a meeting. The meeting, as noted, was one of the shortest in recent memory acknowledged by the White House. It lasted just ten minutes according to official records. The President had offered me a position as a technical advisor in his administration, and I had immediately turned it down. I was seen leaving the White House in a black SUV shortly thereafter.
There was no speculation in the piece, only facts. It was reported that I had given no explanation for my refusal. But it was the final paragraph that lingered with me; What was it that he knew that other Washington insiders didn’t?
I arrived at the office early and was immediately met by the sight of a very angry-looking Molly. She still had her coat on and was juggling a flood of incoming calls. Randy stood nearby with a strained expression and mouthed, “News agencies seeking a response to this morning’s headlines.”
It was going to be another day wasted dodging reporters looking for a comment, but it felt different this time, more intense. No one turned down an invitation to join a President’s staff until now, after all.
It hit me then that this had all the markings of someone who knew exactly how to play the political game, and who was making sure that I felt the sting of turning the President down; payback dressed up as a media frenzy.
My initial assessment proved correct, and I would definitely need to keep my eyes open. I motioned for Randy to step aside, away from where a still-fuming Molly continued answering calls and shooting dagger-eyed glances my way.
I lowered my voice so as not to alarm anyone or make the staff nervous. “Get a full security team to the house,” I whispered. “I want them loaded for bear; carbines, sidearms, and helmets with riot facemasks. Keep them out of sight and set up a command post on the second floor of the carriage house. We’ll need a team of about eight. Check with Scotty. He knows more about this than I do, and I trust his judgement.”
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