Charon's Landing Read Free Page A

was much shorter than his six foot two inches and somewhat squat. Her clothes looked as if they’d come from the matron section of a discount department store, and her makeup seemed to have been applied with a hand trowel. Even the kind early morning light streaming through the windows overlooking the Rose Garden could not hide her creped neck or heavy jowls. In a world dominated by media sound bites and personal appearance, her looks were incongruous. Tucked away from journalistic scrutiny, she had worked her way up through the government ranks on sheer determination and the simple fact that she was always the best person for any job. Her intensity and intellect had made her one of the President’s closest friends and most trusted advisers.
    “Good morning, Connie. It’s great to see you,” the President said as he sat across the table from his secretary of energy, Con-stance Van Buren.
    She smoothed her black polyester skirt against her nyloned legs as she retook her seat. “You know me, I never pass up a free meal.”
    “So what’s the latest one? Don’t spare me.”
    Connie took a sip of coffee, her eyes sparkling with humor. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, because this one is cruel. Stu Hanson at the EPA said he heard it on one of the late-night talk shows.” She paused. “According to the media, your latest poll was so limp that even Viagra can’t help you now.”
    The President burst into laughter, the tension lines around his eyes easing as he and his old friend began bantering back and forth. These meetings ostensibly were for presidential briefings on energy matters, but actually they served as a respite for the President from the pressures of his office. While the two did accomplish work during these bimonthly breakfasts, they looked forward to them just for the pleasure of being in each other’s company.
    “I was just thinking, Connie. When Lloyd Easton from State comes over for breakfast, he brings two aides, four briefcases, and a portable fax machine in case something happens while he’s here.”
    “Yeah, well, Lloyd had his sense of humor removed sometime between his acceptance into Mensa and receiving his Phi Beta Kappa key. What all you boys in the big offices have forgotten is that these are only jobs, important jobs, yes, but they are just jobs. I still spend weekends with my grandchildren and bake them cookies and berate my daughter for marrying a lazy husband and do all the other things normal people do.”
    A shadow passed across the President’s eyes before he spoke. “I told you I’ve decided not to run again, didn’t I?”
    “You said you were thinking about it.” She nodded. “I think it’s a good idea. We both know your marriage is rocky at best. You and Patricia need some time together. And I don’t know how your health is, but your hands never used to shake at eight o’clock in the morning.”
    The President looked down at his long tapered hands and was shocked to see a minor tremble. “Jesus, how anyone could volunteer to put himself through a second term is beyond me.”
    “Most of your predecessors never had to make the hard choices you’ve made to put this country back on track, so they never had to take the kind of political heat you’ve gotten.”
    “Like the oil thing.”
    “Like the oil thing,” Connie Van Buren agreed.
    The President had committed political suicide only nine months into his term, according to supporters and opponents alike. During his first prime-time address to the nation, he had laid out his new Energy Direction Policy. The President wanted the United States to end its dependence on foreign sources of oil within ten years. Through special discretionary funds, the administration would finance massive programs to create new sources of alternative energy throughout the country. He envisioned a nation running cleanly, cities freed from smog and the ecological disasters that had plagued the 80s and 90s. Sprawling windmill farms were to be