Chapter 148: A Summit at Camp David

The speech had timed out at about forty minutes, which was considered short. Bill Clinton averaged well over an hour! I think that was because A) I limited myself to the most critical items I wanted to work on, and B) I’m not as good a speaker as Bill Clinton. I figured the longer I yapped, the more likely I would be to fuck up somehow. I finished the speech a bit before 10:00 PM, but between the congratulations and shaking hands, we didn’t get out of the Capitol until after 11:00. The twins were heartily exhausted by then, especially with the knowledge that they would have to fly home at the crack of dawn to get to school on time.

I would like to state that in my glorious power, I took my carnal pleasure with my wife, using her for hours in triumph. That wasn’t quite true. She was as tired as the girls. They all headed up to the Residence, while I took a last-minute call. By the time I got to our room, Marilyn was snoring on the bed, with Stormy spooned up next to her. I chuckled and stripped off my suit and crawled in next to Stormy.

We were all up early, with the girls grumbling and grabbing for some Danish as Marilyn chivvied them out the door. I kissed them all good-bye and went about my bachelor lifestyle. By 8:00 I was in my office, with Ari and Josh giving me a critique on the night’s performance. Generally, the reviews were positive. The Democratic response had gone about fifteen minutes, and the only complaints they had were with some of the spending bills I had proposed. They wanted more government spending, predictably. Otherwise, they stressed the need to draw together as a nation and pledged to work with me in a bipartisan fashion, if I would do the same. Likewise, the network anchors and pontificators thought I had done a good job, especially at rallying a country still in shock.

We didn’t have the final polling numbers in yet, but in general, I was still in the high 80s for popularity. My money, suitably washed and run through the RNC, could afford us a level of polling few White Houses could previously afford. We would get hard numbers by the end of the day, and the various networks would have theirs by their evening broadcasts.

On the other hand, some of the chickenhawks were complaining I wasn’t going far enough in protecting the nation. Cheney was leading a chorus of neoconservatives who wanted a much tougher response to the threat of Islamic terrorism. We needed a Cabinet level department responsible for defending the Homeland, with a stated mission of letting nobody in who could harm us. In addition to a vastly upgraded intelligence network, they would throw in everything we already had doing these jobs, such as the Coast Guard, Immigration and Naturalization, airport and port security, and so forth. In addition, we should be aggressively using our armed forces to drag the rest of the world into the 21^st Century, starting with everybody who was a Muslim.

In effect, they wanted a complete second CIA, FBI, Army, Navy, and Air Force to create a wall around us, while the first team would go out and conquer the world and make it safe for America. If somebody asked who would pay for it, the answer was simple, oil revenues from gratefully liberated nations would pay. It would be cheap and easy!

Meanwhile, the economic choices I was making were clearly both inadequate and wrong-headed. The only thing that could get the nation running properly was a massive and immediate tax cut, like what George Bush had proposed. I had touched on this the other night, but only to report that the Bush tax cuts would need to be postponed, so that we could pay for the investments we needed to make, both the internal infrastructure and research projects, as well as to overhaul our military. In the coming year we would probably be in a deficit situation, after three years of budget surpluses. I had spun this by stating that George Bush would never have gone along with a deficit unless we had to; he had been a staunch supporter of the balanced budget, and his first year in office had proved that! I kept quiet my personal belief, that tax rates would probably stay where they were for the foreseeable future; we were going to get back to a surplus situation and go back to paying down the national debt if I had anything to say about it.

Cheney and crew thought differently. Massive tax cuts would be so wonderful that the economy would explode with activity! Deficits would melt away. If something needed to be cut, start slashing all the stuff not defense-related, like education and health and social subsidies. If we really needed to cut spending, I should cut entitlements. Oh, and I should also defund any regulatory agencies, since only unfettered capitalism really worked.

I had already commented to Josh when he brought this up. “They’re right, you know. The only way to really cut the budget is by scaling back entitlements. Social Security and health spending are going to break us someday.”

“Mister President, we are nowhere near that,” he protested.

“Not now, Josh, but that day will come. It will come a lot faster if we don’t have the revenues to pay for it.”

“So, do you plan to cut entitlements?”

I shook my head. “I think I’d rather slit my throat on national television. The Democrats are never going to go along with it, and neither will our party. The real problem is that everybody loves these programs; they just don’t want to pay for them. There’s a reason we put these things in place. No, as long as we stay out of a deficit situation, I’m not brave enough to tackle that stuff.”

The complaints from the neocons were getting louder, and Dick Cheney was positioning himself at the center of it all. He and several others were providing the counterargument the Sunday talk shows and 24-hour news shows were clamoring for. Cheney and Wolfowitz were only two of the prominent critics. William Kristol, Donald Kagan, and David Horowitz were showing up. They had previously had George Bush’s ear, but I had tuned them out. Most of them were academics, with either think tank experience or time spent in the Reagan or Bush 41 administrations.

For the next two weeks Cheney and crew tried to roast me alive. It was very clear that Cheney was positioning himself to my right and was planning a primary challenge in 2004. I could smile and tell Ari and the others not to worry about him, but John McCain wasn’t going to be put off. He asked to see me about this. If I wasn’t going to run, he was, and he needed to plan his options. Well, I had promised the man I would discuss it with him, and give an answer by the summer, and I guess February is the summer in Washington. (You really don’t want to be in Washington in the summer, it’s miserable!)

On Monday, February 11, I had John meet me in my office in the morning. Other than the usual non-stop crises, it was a quiet morning. “John, I won’t beat around the bush. You want to know what I am doing in 2004, and what I am going to do about Dick Cheney.”

John nodded and replied, “Yes, Carl, I do. I need to know how to plan things. I think it is obvious that Dick Cheney is not planning on slipping away quietly.”

“That is very true. Well, I wasn’t planning on making any announcements this early, but I suspect it will have to come out. I will be running for election in 2004. I talked it over with Marilyn over the weekend, and she supports me. I am going to need your help, because I have never done a national campaign like this before. You will need to help with the planning.”

He looked at me and nodded. I am sure he was figuring that this was a real possibility all along, but he had also been hoping that I would decide not to do it. “Well, it’s not like you didn’t say you might. If Cheney stays in, it’s going to get ugly.”

At that I smiled. “I don’t want to sound too confident, but Dick Cheney is going to be the least of our worries. You’re right, he wants it so bad he can taste it when he drives past us on the street. It won’t matter. I plan to drive a stake through his heart.”

“You have said that, but I’m not sure I am going to buy it. I think I want to know what you are planning.”

“Okay, but you have to swear you are not going to say anything to anybody. Not your wife, not your girlfriend, not your priest - nobody! If you talk in your sleep, start sleeping alone,” I answered.

He smiled at that. “Okay. So, what can’t I speak about?”

“Have you had a chance to read the report from the Three Amigos? They issued it to me last Friday, and I plan to send it to Congress this Friday,” I asked.

“No, I can’t say as I have. I spent a long weekend with Cindy. I know it’s in my In Box. You’ll need to bring me up to speed,” he said, half apologetically.

“Here goes. You are aware that before 9-11 Cheney and Wolfowitz and Scooter Libby were all making Iraq war sounds. Everything they presented, and I do mean everything, pointed to the fact that Al Qaeda was a subsidiary of Saddam Hussein and we needed to go in and finish the job. Richard Clarke and I disagreed. Clarke was fired, and they were trying to figure out a way to dump me.”

“Yes, I remember that. After the attack, the CIA showed it had been Al Qaeda, in Afghanistan, but with Iraqi assistance. We talked about this when you asked me on board. That was when you started cleaning house,” he said, accusingly.

“That’s true. Since then, the truth has come out. You’ve seen the latest intelligence, Iraq had nothing to do with this. Now these guys are beating a different drum, that Iraq has nukes and chemical weapons and bioweapons. Same story. They want a war with Iraq. What you don’t completely know yet is just how much they were gaming the intelligence. You’ve seen some of it, but not all. What you don’t know yet is that the CIA knew the names of some of the 9-11 hijackers ahead of time.”

John’s jaw dropped when I said this, and his eyes popped wide. He stammered for a moment, and then gasped out, “We knew?”

“Not exactly, but close. The DIA figured out some names and sent them to the CIA. The CIA buried them, and then after the attacks, tried to bury the DIA program. Nothing could get in the way of the Iraq message. It’s all very embarrassing, but not necessarily illegal.”

“They killed the President and it’s not illegal? Are you insane?” he sputtered.

“Calm down, John! Save that for the press conferences we are going to have!” I smiled at him. “No, there is a distinct possibility that no laws were broken. The DIA simply found some names of suspicious characters and sent them to the CIA for follow-up. The CIA decided, for whatever reason, not to do so. They might have had a valid reason, or it might be a bullshit reason, but the guidelines were formal and specific, that the DIA report the names to the CIA, and the CIA could do with them what they deemed appropriate. It’s a subtle distinction, but enough to keep them out of jail.”

“Nobody wants to hear about subtle distinctions, Carl, not on this!”

“John, this is why I say we are going to drive a stake through their hearts! My hands on this are really clean. Richard Clarke and I can stand up and swear on a stack of Bibles that we warned them, and we’ll have plenty of witnesses and notes and minutes from the NSC meetings to back us up. You were in the Senate at the time, so they were in effect lying to you, too. What’s really going to hang them, though, is that they tried to cover it all up. Cheney ordered Libby to shut down the DIA program. Colin caught wind of it and shut down the shutdown. Then he took it to Ashcroft. Ashcroft might be a Bible thumper, but the man has got his share of integrity. He’s got a Special Prosecutor chasing it down.”

John eyed me curiously. “So, if what they did was legal, what’s the prosecutor doing?”

“Technically, Libby had no legal right to order a Pentagon program to be shut down. Legally, State would come to me, and I would go to Defense. The real problem is, at least according to Ashcroft, that Libby lied to an investigator about it. That’s perjury and obstruction of justice. That’s what they are going to nail him with, not the shut down,” I replied.

I could see the wheels whirling in McCain’s head. “Scooter wouldn’t do this on his own.”

“So, what happens when the Special Prosecutor issues a subpoena to Dick Cheney? What happens when the Special Joint Intelligence Committee issues a Congressional subpoena to Dick Cheney? Dick is too smart to lie, so he either takes the Fifth or refuses to respond and gets hit with a contempt citation. Either way, his political career is over. John Ashcroft has told me that his man has enough evidence to send Scooter to Club Fed. If you and I can’t bury Dick Cheney with this, we don’t deserve to be here another four years!” I told him.

“Huh!” John sat there in awe for a bit. “When is this all going to come out, anyway?”

“By the end of February. After that, Dick Cheney won’t be able to get a job as a school crossing guard! We are going to have to have a meeting with John Ashcroft, as well as the White House Counsel’s office, and a few other people. You will have to be in the loop on this. John ordered me to keep my fat yap shut, so that’s why I haven’t said too much.”

“So, we simply have to survive another few weeks.”

“Maybe less. My understanding is that the Special Prosecutor is preparing subpoenas for Dick Cheney and Paul Wolfowitz. If they refuse the subpoenas, he plans to haul them in on material witness warrants and do perp walks for the nightly news. They are probably going to claim executive privilege, and the Counsel’s office is figuring out that one. That works a whole lot better if I go along with it, and I’m not feeling all that generous.”

“Dick Cheney in handcuffs? That would make for a wonderful campaign poster, Carl!”

“Wouldn’t it? I gather the Special Prosecutor is an ambitious young fellow and likes to see his name in the paper. I want you to call John Ashcroft and ask to meet with him - I’ll back you - and let’s see if you can’t be brought up to speed on this. Just remember, you can’t even tell your dog about this, not until it comes out. Justice is going to handle this, not you and me. We are innocence personified.”

“I’ll be damned. I’d like to see that arrogant prick in handcuffs, too.” John smiled at that and headed back to his office, to start going through The Tripartite Investigation Report on the Terrorist Attacks of September 11, 2001. We were labeling it The Tripartite Report. The Three Amigos name was to be buried as ‘inappropriate’; they were now The Tripartite Commission. It would make fascinating reading, for those who didn’t throw up first. It was not America’s finest hour.

The Special Joint Intelligence Committee officially met for the first time two days later, on Wednesday, February 13. The Chairman was Bob Graham, a Florida Democrat who was the Chair of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence. Vice Chairman was his Republican counterpart from the House Permanent Select Committee on Intelligence, Porter Goss, also from Florida. They spent the entire day swearing themselves in and speechifying for the cameras and fiddling with procedure, and then adjourned in time to get on camera for the evening news. There were promises of bipartisan cooperation and transparency and then they all held hands and sang Kumbaya! It was wonderful.

That was perhaps too cynical a view. The reality was that while Congress as a whole was venal and self-absorbed, more than a few Congressmen and Senators were fairly honest and dedicated, and simply trapped in the system. Every once in a while, they could draw together in mutual outrage and get something accomplished, and this was probably one of those times. If we played it smart, we could manipulate them appropriately.

That began Thursday morning. As soon as they opened their proceedings, Graham and Goss called for a vote requesting the White House to provide any and all information it possessed on the 9-11 attacks. The vote passed unanimously. On cue, there was a knock on the door, and the Three Amigos marched in, each of them carrying a copy of the Tripartite Report, with a flunky behind them pushing a cart with additional copies. The report was two parts, with a summary section that was all anybody was actually going to read, and a much larger addendum, the size of the Manhattan telephone book. The Three Amigos were sworn in, they each read a statement that had been prepared jointly, and the session was adjourned so everyone could review the materials provided.

The result was predictable. We had written the summary report with an eye towards television, with a fair bit of hyperbole and some phrases that would be great as sound bites. Congress, no matter what they swore to keep secret, could be counted on to leak like a sieve. Every network had received copies in plenty of time for the nightly broadcast, and it made for a compelling lead segment. Phrases such as ‘false and misleading’ and ‘negligence, malfeasance, and intimidation’ made their way into the bullet points. Ari made a few pro forma remarks about how we couldn’t comment on the ongoing investigation, and then referred a few questions to the Justice Department for their response.

By Friday it had gone ballistic! The Addendum had been examined, and even though some names and dates were redacted, there was plenty of damning evidence. Justice had issued a statement that they couldn’t issue a statement about an ongoing investigation, and then issued a statement that the Attorney General had appointed a Special Prosecutor, who had been working with the Tripartite Commission to determine if actionable offenses had occurred. By Sunday morning, the press was baying at the moon, and anybody named in the report, good or bad, had a microphone and a camera in their face.

The amazing part? It was all true! Our intelligence agencies really had fucked up by the numbers, across the board. Cheney and his bunch really had been gaming the system. We could sit there and look outraged and angry, and point fingers, and otherwise raise a righteous hoo-raw. As long as nobody overreached - on our side! - we were winners.

And yet there was a bittersweet aspect to all of this. John Boehner asked me if I was enjoying the destruction of these people. Was it necessary to rip them to shreds on national television? Did I realize there was going to be a pushback, a righteous comeuppance somewhere down the road? No good deed goes unpunished, and what I was doing to the neocons was going to have consequences.

“John, believe me, I take no pleasure from this, but what would have been the consequences if we lied to the American public and killed off their children in a war we didn’t need to fight? That’s what these guys want, you know. John, there are an awful lot of people out there who think that war is some sort of high-tech video game, and that if we don’t like what is happening, we can push the reset button and start over again. It’s not! That was the thinking that got us into Viet Nam, and we spent ten years there and lost fifty thousand lives, and our entire generation is still dealing with the aftermath. If I have to stomp the neocons into the ground to prevent that, then I will pay the price they demand,” I told him.

“Just you remember, there will be a price, and you will be paying it. You and I might be moderates, but that is a dying breed in Washington these days, and you would be well advised to remember that. If there is another 9-11, you will be history, and they are going to bring in somebody who breathes fire and eats babies for breakfast, and consequences be damned!” he warned.

The uncomfortable truth was that he was right. I knew what had happened on my first go, and the bitter truth was that Bush and company had kept the homeland safe. They had spent trillions of dollars and thousands of lives, trashed our civil liberties, and destroyed the economy of the nation, but we didn’t have another 9-11. Could I do any better? I just didn’t know.

Cheney and Wolfowitz ran the gauntlet of the news shows and were hammered in the process. Libby was keeping his mouth shut. I heard that he was trying to broker a plea bargain, but that Justice had him dead to rights on perjury and obstruction. He wanted it both ways - no conviction and no squealing on his patron - but that was looking unlikely. Fitzgerald knew people who had died in the Twin Towers and was not looking to make deals. The Joint Special Committee began calling people to testify, and both Wolfowitz and Cheney refused, citing executive privilege. The White House Counsel refused to allow me to completely hang them out to dry, but instead sidestepped it and told the Committee that this was best left up to the courts to decide. This was our weakest spot in the whole thing, in that Gonzalez was feeding everything he was learning straight to Cheney. It was a price I had to pay for a while longer. After the fuss died down, and the legal wrangling ended, I was getting rid of Gonzalez come hell or high water!

By April, Cheney was looking increasingly defensive. He hadn’t been given a perp walk yet, but Congress had issued subpoenas and contempt of Congress charges, and the Justice Department had done the same. Wolfowitz had caved, somewhat, and had testified to the Committee along the lines that A) no, he hadn’t lied but, B) it was very possible to interpret what had been discovered in different ways. Meanwhile, Richard Clarke had done an internal review at the CIA and had determined that almost all of the evidence for Saddam Hussein being behind 9-11 and owning weapons of mass destruction was, at the minimum, suspect. For instance, a report that yellowcake uranium had been bought by Iraq was reported to President Bush. The report was made up by a low-level Iraqi looking for a payday, and every intelligence service around the globe had looked at it and laughed it off. We saw that everywhere. Often an Iraqi expatriate would concoct a story and sell it to multiple spy agencies, and then when they checked with each other, they had multiple ‘confirming’ reports. Only when you looked closely did you figure it out.