No Corner to Hide (The Max Masterson Series Book 2) (4 page)

The press was only able to report the accounts of eye-witnesses to the events surrounding the disaster. The investigation into the cause would proceed for many months after the spill had fouled the gulf, and their around the clock coverage had already shifted to the cleanup, with images of birds and aquatic life covered with oil. The official version of the disaster would come out long after the public’s attention had moved on, and it would never contain the true facts: Espionage directed at the platform was meant to drive up the price of oil.

“This is turning into a bigger accident than anyone imagined,” commented Scarlett.
“Well, it sure doesn’t sound like an accident to me,” exclaimed Max. “Who were those guys that were seen leaving just before the explosion, and who is behind this?”
“You don’t expect us to do anything other than assume, do you? People are going to want to blame someone, and when they don’t have anyone, they will probably blame you.”
“I was afraid of that,” replied Max.
It’s the American way.

CHAPTER 6
I

need to go down to the Gulf Coast and see what’s happening down there. People need to see my face and know that I’m still alive,” Max announced. I would like you to stay here with the transition team and get us ready to hit the ground running.

I want our cabinet members and agency heads to fire everyone from the Blythe administration immediately and have a report of replacements ready by the time I get back. I don’t want anyone, and I mean anyone, that served under Blythe even to set foot in Washington, DC, again, unless they are elected to public office. We are going to replace them with acknowledged experts in each area of expertise, except for politics itself. That area is your baby, Madame Vice-President.”

“But Max, you haven’t even taken the oath of office. You need to wait another month before you begin to—”
“Scarlett, I never did anything like everyone else, and right now, this country is like a ship without a captain. These are the most dangerous times.”
“But Max, the inauguration!”
“Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Swear me in,” he replied.
“Swear you in?” Her shock at his breach of tradition was evident from her expression. “You need to have it done on Inauguration Day. You need to have the Chief Justice do it, I can’t—”
“Oh yes you can. You’re a United States senator. It will be kind of like when people go to a Justice of the Peace to get married and then have the big church wedding for all of the relatives later. We can do it in the den in front of all of our transition team. There’s a Bible on the bookshelf in the den. Come on, it’ll be fun,” Max replied. He had that mischievous grin on his face. He knew she would do it.
Max’s first oath of office took place in the den his father occupied continuously in the last days of his life, and Max had a pang of remorse that his father couldn’t be there, perched in the big leather recliner, listening with pride. Max retrieved the family Bible from its exalted place in the center of the shelf above the fireplace and repeated the words that Scarlett had memorized:
“I, Maximum Masterson, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”

CHAPTER 7

E

verything you know about anything is about to be thrown out the window,” announced Roger Sinclair to Max as he settled into the soft leather seat on Air Force One. It wasn’t his first journey with a new president, and it would likely be one of many

he would take with Max. He had been the keeper of government secrets for many years, but due to his exceptional status outside of the public eye, nobody was quite sure how long he had been at it. He was a government official who survived presidential administrations to provide consistency, but his existence was an internal secret.

If he had chosen to accept a public position, he would be out of a job when the transition between administrations occurred. He liked the permanency that being the nation’s unofficial Security Advisor provided, and his three children and two ex-wives enjoyed the benefit of his large, unofficial salary. Even his income was a government secret, and there was no record of him at the IRS.

Sinclair was, in a word, invisible. It was his job to brief the president on matters of public importance, supplying details derived from restricted databases and confidential sources. He worked independently from the FBI, CIA, and Homeland Security, but his access to the information compiled by those agencies allowed him to

Roger Sinclair had unrestricted access to any information, and to Max, he was indispensable. Two things were certain: nobody could keep a secret from him, and he wouldn’t tell secrets to just anyone. That confidential information and access was reserved for high- ranking government officials, and Roger had sole discretion as to which members of this exclusive group were briefed.

Before Sinclair made his presence known, the intended recipient of his briefings was extensively and discretely screened. Max was duly screened, and Roger had approved him. He hadn’t cleared the previous president, or his vice-president either. They served the previous four years in ignorant bliss, without the information that Roger was about to share. He didn’t trust them.

Roger had one secret that that he would hold from Max and the rest of the world: he had no need to screen Scarlett for anything. He knew her better than anyone.

CHAPTER 8

S

carlett had been silent for longer than usual. Max looked at her face, and he saw her blush. She was staring at Roger, and her body language revealed her attraction for him better than a neon sign. She was smitten. The temperature in the room seemed to rise,

and Max couldn’t resist the opportunity to make his vice president feel as uncomfortable as possible. He caught her eye, and he turned quickly to see Roger winking.

“Is there something I don’t know?” The arbitrariness of the question left it wide-open for interpretation. It was his way of finding out what was on their minds. Sometimes it worked, depending on their response.

“No,” they said in unison.
Then, he knew.
Max was not one to let Scarlett conceal her secret love life, and

he was tempted to prolong her discomfort by sitting and smiling impishly until she couldn’t stand it any longer. But in a kind way, he was relieved. For years, the rumors and speculation about Scarlett’s sexuality had ranged from non-sexual ice queen to closet lesbian with a masochistic bent. He knew that she had rejected his advances during their brief time together in their teens, but he had assumed that his vice-president wasn’t ready. Even at the age of 17, Max knew that a man can have sex without emotional attachment, but a woman needed to feel love for the male she desired. It wasn’t sport for her.

The press had been ruthless in the pursuit of her private life, and for that reason alone he knew the wall that she had created in her mind. It was a survival technique for her that he knew too well. Public figures who reveal too much soon live to regret, and his mystique had been the impetus for more intense scrutiny than anyone. It was a time for sharing, not teasing.

“I want you both to know that your secret is safe to me, and you don’t know how good it feels to finally disbelieve all of that gossip about you, Madam Vice-President. I think I’ll stop watching that mini-series they did about you and just give you a big hug.” He launched himself in her direction, knowing that his attempt at causing her one last bit of embarrassment would produce his intended result.

“Stop it, Max,” she squealed as he entered her zone of privacy, restrained from backing away by the thick carpet that held her chair in place. One kiss on the cheek and a look toward Roger for approval, and he was done with their shared moment of privacy.

“I’d give you a hug, too, Roger, but I’m not that kind of president,” Max said. “I have to reserve myself for kissing babies and shaking hands, you know, and I don’t want to wear myself out.”

“I fully understand, Max. And if you keep our secret, I’ll keep yours, whatever they may be,” Sinclair replied.
“I don’t have many secrets to keep. My life until now has been an open book.”
“Nobody serves in the Oval Office without picking up a few secrets over time.” Roger stood and turned toward the door, and Max took the nonverbal signal. It was time to leave.
“Scarlett, hold down the fort while we’re gone. Are you sure you don’t want to ride down to the coast with us? I’m sure Roger won’t mind if you sit on his lap…”
“Shut up, Mr. President,” she replied.

CHAPTER 9

T

he first time aboard Air Force One Max immediately realized that he wouldn’t be having a relaxing trip. To avoid down time, the president’s jet is a command center, boardroom, and office, equipped with state of the art technology. He had not

been officially sworn into office, but the outgoing president was in rehab, and Blythe wouldn’t be needing the jet for the remaining weeks of his term in office. Besides, there were two identical jets, and Blythe could have the other one for his personal use if he suddenly decided to leave Washington behind.

Two helicopters containing the bulk of the Secret Service security detail had flown in advance to New Orleans for Max’s visit to the oil spill. To save time, he was also accompanied by a person assigned to brief him. The only person who possessed the full body of knowledge necessary to brief the president was Roger Sinclair, and due to the extreme secrecy of the matters to be discussed, his travel companion would not be seen exiting Air Force One.

“You’re about to hear some things that I never shared with your predecessor,” Sinclair offered. “He never bothered to ask any questions. Bright guy, but corrupt. Rotten to the core.” Sinclair munched casually on a Braeburn apple, as if a meeting with the incoming president was just part of his typical day. “I checked him out before he got into the White House, but he got in anyway.” Sinclair had a tendency to ramble, but he didn’t mince words. “His running mate wasn’t worth a bucket of spit. I lost a lot of sleep during those four years, thinking he was one heart attack away from the presidency.” He tossed the half-eaten apple into a metal wastebasket, where it landed with a satisfying thud. He stood with irreverent casualness, confident that his audience would hang on every word. Everyone loves a secret, and the bigger the secret, the more focus it generated.

“First of all, this talk about UFO’s, it’s all true. There are UFO’s, one crashed in Area 51, we recovered bodies of aliens in the wreckage, and we have been using that technology to fly top-secret flying machines for the past fifty years while denying that they are among us. That’s always the first question everyone asks me. We’re thick with them. We should stop being so arrogant as to think that they wouldn’t exist. I’ve told that story so many times, it’s a relief to get it out of the way. Now for the important stuff.” Max looked at him with amazement, while Scarlett stared at him without betraying her thoughts.

“You think that our country is run by people who have been elected by voters, who have the omniscience to pick the right one every time. The truth is, the average voter doesn’t know shit about who to vote for. They don’t even remember who they voted for in the last election. The government is run by a group of powerful people whom politicians answer to. Your election took them by surprise, and you make them very, very nervous. They don’t like a politician whose strings they can’t pull anytime they want. Hell, Max, you’re not even a politician. You’re the X factor. They don’t know how to deal with you.”

“There are several sacred cows in politics. One is the energy industry. If they can’t make money off of it, they will fight it, even if that one change means that humankind will be better for it.

MARK E. BECKER

Remember a guy named Tesla, back in the early part of the twentieth century? He created a generator that runs off of the earth’s magnetic field. Free energy. When he died, after they had driven him to bankruptcy and spread the word that he was a fraud, all of his notes on his invention disappeared. He had applied for a patent, and there is no record of its existence. Gone. Wiped from history so that they can keep making a profit.”

Max finally found his voice. “Who is behind all of this?” “The same people who are behind everything that happens behind the scenes in this town. They have been manipulating politicians to do their dirty work for generations. They don’t have a name. I don’t even know how many of them claim to be members of a particular organization. They’re more like a group with a continuity of interest. They took lessons from the Illuminati, the Mafia, and the Nazis. If they acquire a name, they can be identified. If they can be identified, they can be eliminated. Congress has been infiltrated, so is the Supreme Court. It’s how they get things done.”
“You know that new oil derrick blowout out in the gulf? That was no accident.” Sinclair paused to pour himself a drink. “Those mercenaries hired by foreign oil blew it so they can jack up the prices and get our politicians all riled up. Then the prices go up at the pump, the voters go wild, and your ratings go into the toilet. And they won’t stop there. These guys want to sink you and take over. A coup.”
“By the time you get back to Washington, there will be the biggest shit-storm in history. You have got to be careful. I don’t think that they will try to assassinate you, not yet, anyway. They didn’t go after Kennedy until they realized that they couldn’t count on him to continue the arms race. When they feel they are losing control of you and your agenda, that’s when they begin to fight dirty.” He took a long sip and went on.
“You think Oswald killed an American president all by his lonesome? Give me a break. They not only do the deed, they set somebody up for the fall. The Warren Commission? They were afraid that if they announced that Kennedy’s assassins were walking the streets, America would fall into anarchy, and the world as we knew it would enter the last war. Back then, people thought that when the bomb fell, all you had to do to survive was to take the door off the hinges, pile some dirt on top, and crawl underneath. Fools. Don’t get me started about the idiotic ideas floating out there. There is no reality, as you like to say. There is only your perception of reality, and how you act on it.
“Clinton didn’t get attacked in his first term,” Sinclair went on. “He presided over a good economy and peacetime, and they reined him in with distractions at home. Subpoenas and depositions and rumors were enough to bring him back in the fold. See, if they want, they can have you dead tomorrow, but my bet is that they are going to try to make you look impotent and inept to bring down your popularity. That’s the word I’m hearing from my sources. They will give you just enough rope to hang yourself, and they won’t be sending any flowers to your funeral.”
Max stood and faced Sinclair with a determined glare.
“I didn’t get elected to hide out and do nothing for four years, and I don’t intend to back off just so the status quo can pad their trust funds. If it’s better for the country, I’m going to push for it, and I won’t live one minute in fear that someone is going to snuff me. Do I make that crystal clear?” Max was pacing in the aisle. Sinclair gleamed with delight.
“I like that in my president,” he exclaimed.