Chapter 12

The days dragged by without my family. My heart was with them, but my body was hard at work changing, or attempting to change the way the US government agencies communicated among themselves. At time I thought I was wasting my life, trying to make them understand the reasons for cooperation, and common ground. At other times I felt like they got it ... at least a little.

"Mr. Vice President, I so appreciate you organizing this golf outing, so that I could spend some time with the head of the FBI, without an agenda, a crisis, or a stopwatch. I think your idea of forcing us to spend a day, a SUNDAY no less, on the golf course, with strict orders not to talk business, opened the door so that we could talk man to man, and discover that we are both ordinary people. Your brainstorm gave us a chance to build a bridge, and now I won't hesitate to pick up a phone, call James, and ask for help.

"Thank you, sir. You will never realize how such a simple idea changed my entire conception of the FBI."

That was one of the rare victories that kept me going down the path towards a better, stronger, leaner, meaner, more competent, federal government. CIA would not ever again, shut out the FBI when it really counted, for fear of being shown up, because the directors made friends.

Of course taking both of them to the golf outing, at Bay Hill, in Orlando, on Air Force Two, and laying in a BBQ feast that was fit for a king, didn't hurt. The friendship factor would break down the traditional wall that separated the two agencies, as long as those two remained in charge, which was all I could hope for.

Later in that week I met with the head of the Veterans Administration and asked a set of specific questions that Jason and I had developed, which were designed to make certain the Director knew exactly what I wanted to achieve, without having to say so. As long as he could pretend to himself that all those reforms were his idea, he would work diligently to get credit for them. All I wanted was the reform and couldn't care less who claimed credit.

My days and nights were full of loneliness for my family. It seemed impossible to reconnect without causing all kinds of havoc for the President. My lifestyle would certainly give the tabloids, newscasters, and reality TV people years of material, which made my family seem unreachable.

Things stayed that way right up until they changed.

Oddly enough, when the break came, it was because of an attempt on my life. The Secret Service nailed down all the details about the former EPA director's girlfriend, and the hired hit on me. When a combined task force of the Secret Service and FBI had everything they needed to insure a conviction, they closed the case by arresting both the girlfriend and former director. They both squealed like stuck pigs, and blamed the other, giving up scads of evidence that the prosecutors would use against them both.

It was a thing of beauty in one way, but was the cause of the real attempt to kill me, on the other hand.

As the press obsessed on every shred of information about the murder-for-hire scheme, others mined the information for clues as to how to actually pull it off. I was speaking to a large corporate assembly of high tech experts, and cutting edge innovators, our in California, when two guns went off simultaneously, near me.

Steve Grosse was on me in a heartbeat, shoving me behind the speaker's podium, and my detail converged to absorb any new shots. Pandemonium broke out as rich high tech experts ran for their lives, and four of the many agents sprinkled throughout the crowd captured both shooters.

That's when things went off the rails.

The shooters were hired by an extremist environmental group, who partnered with an offshoot of SEIU, made no secret of their plans, where the money came from, and who knew what. They were TOLD to disclose everything. The group was so far out they wanted everyone to know their names, what they intended and why they chose to assassinate me.

Because everything was on film, when Steve discovered a bullet hole in my suit coat, he panicked, thinking I'd been hit. The resulting chaos was all captured on film for posterity's sake, and video of my detail carrying me out to a waiting mobile operating theater caused a near panic in the stock market, of all places.

It was almost an hour before my press people got word to the national press that a thick notebook in my suit stopped the bullet, and that other than a very ugly bruise, I was fine. No one really believed it, so the President's press secretary called and asked me to make a live statement in time for the six o'clock news cycle to calm everyone's fears.

"The fact that I am alive to speak with you all is because of the amazing effort of the Secret Service, California Bureau of Investigation, and the work of the local and State Police. It is true. What you heard about my pocket notebook being dense enough to stop a bullet is really why I am still here today. Other than a painful bruise, and some injury to my pride, I am perfectly fine and will not miss a single day of work.

The President called almost before I got tot the fist aide station, and has promised the full power of the Presidency to root out those behind such a sick attack, and I am certain that those responsible will spend the rest of their lives regretting what they did.

"As for the people who came to hear our message, the President asked me specifically to tell you this; The United States is a place where people come for a chance.

"A chance to live.

"A chance to thrive, and live to watch their children grow up and thrive.

"A chance to succeed in the arena of ideas, innovation, and hard work.

"America is who the world turns to to lead everyone else into tomorrow, and your work, here innovating the new ideas that will captivate and shape tomorrow, is one of the keys to our national success.

"You all need to know that you have a friend, an ally, and a supporter in Washington, D.C., and we pledge our help in opening markets, both here and abroad, to the new age of growth, success, positive change, and hope for the future.

"We cannot let a group of malcontent, self-centered, egotistical, and downright psychopaths derail the arrival of tomorrow. Fear mixed with unfocused hatred drive those people to want to kill rather than work. They wish to destroy, out of fear of becoming obsolete, and they are willing to hurt millions to benefit a few.