A Fresh Start
Chapter 138: Aftermath

Copyright© 2011 by rlfj

Do-Over Sex Story: Chapter 138: Aftermath - Aladdin's Lamp sends me back to my teenage years. Will I make the same mistakes, or new ones, and can I reclaim my life? Note: Some codes apply to future chapters. The sex in the story develops slowly.

Caution: This Do-Over Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   mt/ft   Consensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   Historical   Military   School   Rags To Riches   DoOver   Time Travel   Anal Sex   Exhibitionism   First   Oral Sex   Voyeurism  

Tuesday, September 11, 2001

It took a bit longer for Hastert to arrive than Byrd because he was third in line for the Presidency and the Secret Service had stashed him outside town. In the meantime, I made a little speech before dismissing most of the Cabinet. “I will be speaking to everyone here on an individual basis over the next few days, but I expect the scheduling to be haphazard. There are two things that everybody here has to know and understand. First, we are about to go through some extraordinary times. We have just been handed a world-class disaster. If your department is asked to do something, do not wait around - get it done! Don’t wait for the paperwork to be finished. I will cover you as best I can, but get it done, whatever it is. I can just about guarantee in writing that this is going to end up in front of a half dozen Congressional and Senate committees, and you will not want to be explaining why you delayed something that could have helped.”

There were a few nods and murmurs at this. “Secondly, our economy is going to take a major hit from this.” I glanced over at Paul O’Neill and asked, “Paul, am I wrong in saying this could cause a recession through the end of the year and into next year?”

“I think it is highly likely,” he responded.

“Where is that crap coming from?” demanded Cheney.

I quietly sighed to myself. I was going to have to get him under control, and soon. “We just shut down the stock markets, the airline industry is grounded for God only knows how long, a big chunk of Wall Street just collapsed into the streets, and we have a multi-billion-dollar hole in the middle of New York City. Oh, and when we do find out who did this, we’re going to be spending billions more on fighting them that we didn’t plan for. I used to make money playing these games, trust me on this,” I told him and the others. To the room as a whole I added, “So, go back to your offices and get your deep thinkers figuring out what we will need to do going forward. Agreed?”

There was a healthy chorus of agreement down the table. “Ann? Tommy? We need to get you home. I’ll get the 89th to send a plane. Just get packed. Somebody will be in touch, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” they both said.

“Thank you. Now, I want State, Defense, Treasury, and Justice to stay. Everybody else, please get to your offices. I’ll be talking to you.”

Most of the Cabinet stood and took their leave. After a few minutes it was just the five of us - Cheney, Powel, O’Neill, Ashcroft, and me. I looked around at them and said, “Gentlemen, you represent the most powerful and important posts in the Cabinet, departments that were created by the very Constitution itself. Whether you like me or not, I need your help, and I need it badly. Can I count on that help?”

“Of, course, Mister President,” said Colin Powell. O’Neill and Ashcroft said the same thing.

“That’s Mister Acting President!” answered Dick Cheney. “You’ll only have that until we rescue President Bush, the real President.”

I sighed and nodded. “Secretary Cheney, I wish you were correct, but the ugly truth is that there are thousands of people in those buildings who will never even be found, let alone make it out alive. Not much is left when you drop a billion tons of concrete and steel on somebody.”

“That’s pretty convenient for you, wouldn’t you say?”

“Dick, I am going to give you two choices. You can resign your position and go to New York to help digging out or you can shut up and act like the Secretary of State. There is no third choice, and I expect an answer right now,” I told him.

The others just stared at him as his jaw worked, but eventually he said, “I am the Secretary of State.”

“Excellent. I am sure that there is plenty for you to do over at Foggy Bottom. Please go and see to it. Thank you.”

He stood with considerable ill grace and left. I turned to John Ashcroft. “John, the FBI works for you. After you leave here, I am going to need to see the Director this afternoon, as soon as possible. You’ll also need to brief Denny Hastert and Senator Byrd, please.”

“Of course. If I may be excused?”

“Please.” I turned to Paul O’Neill. “The same goes with you and the Secret Service. I’ll need to see their boss as soon as possible as well. Also, could you get in touch with Wolfowitz for me? I’ll need to talk to him, also.”

“Yes, sir.”

That left me with Colin Powell, the Secretary of Defense. “Were you in your office when it was hit?”

“I thought a bomb had gone off! The whole place was shaking. We evacuated and I was able to get around to the side to see what happened. Unbelievable, I mean, just unbelievable!” he told me.

“General, just like I am going to be asking the CIA and the FBI, I am going to need any intelligence the military can come up with on who did this. Then it is going to be up to your department to destroy them.”

“You’ll have our full cooperation, sir.” He stood up and left.

I sat there in the conference room by myself for a moment, just staring at the wall, trying to think what I needed to do next. The list was endless. Then I realized there was one simple thing I could do. I stood and left the small conference room and found a secretary sitting at a desk in a hallway. “Any idea where my family is?” I asked.

“They were taken to Fort Meade, sir,” answered a Secret Service agent who had begun to follow me.

I turned to face him. “Can you get them on the phone?”

He blinked and nodded. “Yes, sir.” The secretary wordlessly turned her desk phone to face him, and he dialed a number, probably to his headquarters. I didn’t think cell phones would work underneath all the steel and concrete we were buried under.

A few minutes later, Marilyn was on the other end of the phone. “CARL! What’s going on? Nobody is telling us anything!”

I breathed deeply, and felt a tremendous weight lift my chest. “Marilyn, it is so good to hear from you! You know about the World Trade Center?”

“Yes, what happened, why are we...”

“Marilyn, hold on for a second. George Bush was in the North Tower when it was hit. I’ve been named Acting President. Now, are the girls with you?”

“Acting ... oh my God!” she said.

“I want you and the girls to get over to the Naval Observatory. I’ll see you later. I’m fine. We’ll be fine. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“I love you, Carl.”

“I love you, too. Tell the girls I love them. Bye.” I hung up and smiled to myself, probably the first time since that morning. I turned to the agent and said, “Now, call who you have to, but get them to the Naval Observatory.”

“Sir, I don’t think we’re supposed to do that.”

“Son, I’ve already fired one Secret Service agent today. Want to go for two?” Realistically I couldn’t fire an agent. These guys were protected by civil service regulations. However, being dismissed from the presidential detail was the kiss of death career-wise, and that I could easily arrange.

His eyes widened and he grabbed for the phone again. To the secretary, I asked, “Is the White House still evacuated?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, let’s un-evacuate it. We can’t work out of a hole in the ground.” To the rest of my detail, I said, “Well, let’s go, fellows. Show me the way out.”

The White House is normally bustling with people, so it was eerily silent as we went in. I headed directly to my office. I wanted to start making calls, but I realized I didn’t even know how to get an outside line. Everything went through my secretary. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone and called Matt Scully. I quickly told him to get over to the office and I’d tell him what was happening; I was going to need a speech.

At that point Josh Bolten and Ari Fleischer came into my office, both with shocked looks on their faces. Josh was Deputy Chief of Staff for President Bush, and Ari was the White House Press Secretary. “Are you ... did you...”, came stumbling from Ari. Josh just was silent and stunned.

“I’m the Acting President. I wasn’t sworn in. President Bush might be found,” I told them. “Who was with him?”

“Huh?”

“Ari! Josh! Come on, snap to! I need some help here!” I had to get them back to reality.

They both focused in on that. “Uh, yes sir,” said Josh.

“Who was with President Bush?” I asked again, as gently as possible.

“Andy and Karl,” he replied.

“Scotty, too, and Blake,” added Ari.

I nodded. I knew all four men. Andrew Card was George Bush’s Chief of Staff and Josh’s boss, Karl Rove was ranked as a White House Senior Adviser, and Scott McClellan was Deputy Press Secretary and Ari’s number two man. Blake was Blake Gottesman, Bush’s ‘body man’, his personal aide like Frank had been for me during the campaign. We had a hole in the heart of the White House that these men would need to fill. It was one thing to eliminate the President, but in doing so I had also killed other good men whose only crime had been to work for George Bush. I was truly a psychopath.

“Ari, I am going to need to go on television tonight and tell the country what is happening. I don’t know how to make that happen. Can you set that up?” I asked.

That was the sort of routine task he could focus on. “You mean, like from the Oval Office?”

I shook my head. “It’s too soon for that. Can we do it from my office instead? I don’t want to seem like I’m jumping the gun. When can we set it up for? Seven? Eight?”

Ari began to act professionally again. “Seven would be best. I’ll need to make some calls...”

I gave him a positive smile and pointed him towards the door. “See me when it’s set up.” I turned to Josh. “The Cabinet named me Acting President until we figure out what is happening to President Bush. I won’t be using the Oval Office unless I get sworn in. Can you handle this? Step up to it?”

Tears were streaming down his face, but he wiped them with a hand and nodded. “Yes, sir, it’s just ... yes, sir.”

“Thank you, Josh. I need you to find out where the First Lady and the girls are, and where former President Bush and his wife are. I need to talk to them. Go wash your face and settle down some, but then figure out where everybody is and get back to me.”

Josh took off and Matt Scully wandered in, along with Mike Gerson. They were the principal speechwriters in the White House. I gave them a quick breakdown on what had happened in the Cabinet meeting, and we went over an outline for the speech I needed to make that night. After they left Ari returned and told me it would be at 7:30 that night, and I sent him off to help Mike and Matt.

And so it went for the next two hours, with people streaming in and out of my office figuring out what was going on and what to do about it. Laura Bush and the girls had been taken to Camp David, and I spoke to Laura on the phone. There wasn’t much I could tell her other than rescue operations were underway. I spoke to the first President Bush and offered to send the spare Air Force One to pick him and Barbara up and bring them to Washington, an offer he accepted. I was on the phone with Rudy Giuliani in New York. He had been scheduled to attend the breakfast meeting and had been delayed. He got there just in time to watch the North Tower get hit. I told him that if he needed anything, to let me know and it was his. Scooter Libby showed up from the State Department with a list of foreign dignitaries I was ordered to call, basically every Prime Minister and President on the planet. I sent him back to State with the list and the order to have Cheney pick the ten most important and get that list to me tomorrow. Cheney could speak to the others.

One contentious meeting was with the heads of the FBI and the Secret Service. Louis Freeh was there for the FBI, and a guy named Brian Stafford was there as Director of the Secret Service. Freeh was being held on as the Director of the FBI longer than I had expected, probably as a sop to some Democrats in Congress; I had expected him to be gone back in the spring. I had never met Stafford before, but he was a perfect fit for them. He had the same level of arrogance as the rest of the department! Almost immediately after they got into my office it descended into a turf war.

The Federal Bureau of Investigation, I was told, was by law required to investigate all cases of terrorism on American soil. The Secret Service responded that, by law, they were required to investigate all threats and attacks on the President. I listened to them wrangle for a couple of minutes and then reached into my desk and pulled out a steel whistle I kept there. Charlie had given it to me as a gag gift to sort out the twins’ arguing. When I became the Whip, I took it to the office, and told him my fellow Congressmen were worse behaved than his sisters. I took a deep breath and then let out a piercing shriek of a whistle and shocked them into silence. I also attracted some attention to my closed door, and I waved that off.

“Gentlemen, I am extremely disappointed in the both of you,” I started.

Louis Freeh said, “Mister Vice President, if you...”

I blasted the whistle a second time. “Mister Freeh, Mister Stafford, if either one of you says another word, I am going to fire you on the spot. Now shut up and let me speak!” They glanced at each other but then they both nodded.

“This is the most disgusting thing I have seen since I first came to Washington. Thousands of your fellow citizens are dead, and you two are playing power politics over their corpses! Now, since you decided to bring this to me, I get to play Solomon.” I turned to Stafford and said, “There are only two ways this happened. One, there was a terrorist act and the President just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. It has nothing to do with him. The FBI investigates that. The second is that this is an elaborate plan to assassinate the President. If that is the case, however, the FBI is ten times the size of the Secret Service! No way, no how, do you have the manpower or resources to solve this! You would have to go to the FBI to figure it out. Are we agreed? Good! Thank you!”

Stafford looked angry and started to respond. I simply held up my whistle and moved to put it between my lips again. He shut up. “I am going to make this very simple.” I pointed at Freeh and said, “The FBI is going to be the lead agency,” and then I pointed at Stafford. “You get to name whichever of his deputies you want to run the investigation, and you get to name whichever of your deputies you want as the number two. I am going to make that announcement tonight on national television. If either of you don’t like it, you can clean out your desk and then you can tell it to the Washington Post in the morning. I don’t have the time for this and neither does the country. Clear?”

Stafford looked like he wanted to argue some more, so I put the whistle to my lips and pointed them both to the door.

Assholes!

Paul Wolfowitz of the Central Intelligence Agency came through right after Matt and Mike ran through the first cut on the speech. I gave them a quick read-through and edit, and sent them out, along with a request to have somebody bring me a sandwich. I had missed lunch earlier. Wolfowitz concluded that it was Al Qaeda which had attacked us, something that Richard Clarke and I had been saying all summer long. He also thought this was an excellent opportunity to link terrorism to Saddam Hussein. I told him flat out to not say anything to anybody until tomorrow, no leaks, no nothing.

I sat at my desk and ate my late lunch while a camera crew tried to arrange my office for a camera. It was just too small. Reluctantly I agreed to give the speech from the Oval Office. Then I called in my secretary. She popped in and I said, “Mrs. Lowenstein, I need you to tell the following people to be in here tomorrow for a meeting. We can use either the Cabinet Room or the Roosevelt Room, whichever works better. I want to call the meeting at 9:00 AM and we’ll run however long. We should consider it a meeting of the National Security Council.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied. “Who will be attending?”

I looked at some notes I had made. “I want the head person, director or Cabinet secretary, for the following departments: State, Defense, Justice, Treasury, the FBI, the CIA, National Security Adviser, and the FAA. I also want their deputy, whoever their number two is, or if that person isn’t in town, somebody else. Oh, and we’d probably better bring in the Secret Service, too. FEMA, we’ll need them.”

She was scribbling faster than I could without even looking. When I was done, she said, “Sir, those planes, how could ... how could somebody do that?”

I simply shook my head. “I don’t know, Mrs. Lowenstein. There are some things I just can’t understand. Explain Auschwitz to me some day. That will be your answer.”

She nodded and left.

At 7:00 PM I was reviewing the latest edit on the speech when I got a call I had to take. It was from George H.W. Bush, Bush 41, George’s father. “Good evening, Mister President,” I said when we were connected.

“Good evening, Mister President,” he responded, although it sounded like his voice was cracking at that.

“I am only the Acting President, sir. Search and rescue operations are underway as we speak. We are all hoping and praying for George’s safe return.”

“That’s very kind of you to say, Carl. Can I call you Carl?” he asked.

“Of course, Mister President.”

He continued, “I wanted to thank you for sending the plane. With everything shut down, I wasn’t sure how Barbara and I would get to Laura and the girls.”

“I am placing it at your command until this is resolved, sir. Could I ask a favor of you, sir?”

“How can I help, Carl?”

“Sir, would you come here tomorrow, when you get a chance? I need to speak to you about a few things. I understand your family obligations could get in the way, but it would help me a great deal,” I asked.

“Of course, Mr. President. Whatever I can do to help.” He paused for a second, and then asked in a heart wrenching tone, “Is there any hope? Have you heard anything?”

What was I to say to that? “Sir, there is always hope.”

I’m sure he heard the pause in my response. He sighed and thanked me, and then hung up.

I hung up as well. What could I say to the man? That I was the cause of his son’s death because his son was a disaster in the making?

Ari grabbed me and pulled me into a small room next to the Oval Office and they slapped some makeup on me. As they did so, I saw Josh Bolten out of the corner of my eye. “Josh, I am going to need to see the leadership of the House and the Senate tonight, after this. We can do it here or at the Capitol, their choice, but I don’t want them to think I am snubbing them. Can you make it happen?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Good man! I know this is tough, but we take it one step at a time. Pass that along. I have faith in you guys. We are going to make it through all this, and the payback is really going to be a bitch!”

 
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