In Sheep's Clothing: An Action-Packed Political Thriller (Matthew Richter Thriller Series Book 1) Read Free

death.  This was, after all, an environment that allowed little time to grieve.
___
    Vice President Tyler Rumson seemed to agree.  They were sitting in the private dining room next to the Oval Office, something they did once a week.  It was a practice that President Walters had instituted when Kendall was vice president.  The lunches provided a private forum for the president to share his views on the issues, events, and decisions that concerned him with the man who, in a heartbeat—or more aptly, Kendall thought, the lack of one—would take over.  As he knew all too well, the next man in line had to be prepared.
    Kendall looked forward to these meetings.  Like his early morning coffee with Charles Howell, it was an opportunity to put things in perspective, to focus on the big picture and to prioritize. 
    The salads had just been served.  President Kendall waited until the Navy Steward retreated before he shared his concerns with Rumson.  He had met with Bill Duggan earlier in the day, but Duggan hadn’t changed his position.
    “Have you noticed anything?” the president asked.
    “With Duggan specifically?”  Rumson responded.  “No.  But people are under stress.  Walters’ death was a shock and, all of the sudden,” he smiled and nodded in Kendall’s direction, “there’s a new boss.  Change is difficult, especially sudden change.  And with the pace everyone works around here, it’s not surprising.”
    The president nodded.  There was a heightened sense of urgency in the White House and, by extension, in the agencies and departments that were part of the Executive Branch.  The pace was frantic and people tended to work brutal hours, very often through the weekend and, many times, through the night.
    “Do you think we need to get away again?” he asked.  “Maybe do something different this time?”
    Rumson shook his head.  “If it were me, I would give people some time, some space.”
    The president frowned.  Time and space were luxuries those in the White House could not afford.
    “Washington’s not for the weak-hearted,” Rumson continued after a moment, seemingly changing the subject.  “You need to have tough skin to survive here.”
    The president scowled as he studied Rumson.  “Meaning what?” he asked.
    “Duggan probably made a few enemies over the years.  From what I understand, he’s territorial and insists that foreign policy concerns trump everything else.  It wouldn’t surprise me if someone was out to get him.”
    “So someone planted the idea that I wanted him to resign?” the president asked.  “A game of political one-upmanship?”
    Rumson shrugged.  “Hey, this is Washington.”
    Kendall sat back, wondering.  He had seen his share of political battles over the years.  He had seen firsthand how Washington and the White House could bring out the best in people.  He had also seen how they could bring out the worst.  It wasn’t surprising.  It was a politically charged environment, where knowledge and proximity to the Oval Office conveyed power.  People guarded what they knew and with whom they shared it.  Invisible walls seemed to rise on their own.  And the majority of the people in Washington were Type A personalities, most plagued with an exaggerated sense of self-importance.  He had been in Washington long enough to know that battling egos thought nothing of stepping on each other’s toes—or worse, throwing potential adversaries under the bus. 
    As the discussion continued, he realized that Rumson was probably right; Duggan had likely made an enemy or two along the way.  But he didn’t agree that he should sit back and do nothing, not when the people who worked for him—the people in charge of the government—were worried and tense.  That was a recipe for disaster.
    He and Tyler Rumson had different styles.  Kendall believed in creating a vision and setting the agenda and then getting out of his team’s way so they could do their