President Merrick was back in his private office with a handful of his closest aides. The thin-screen TV on the wall was tuned to CNN and everyone had a beverage in their hand. It was the end of a long day and possibly the beginning of a long night.
Merrick sat at the end of the couch, legs crossed, reading the words scrolling across the bottom of the screen. The TV was almost always muted so the flow of conversation in the room wouldn’t be interrupted. Currently a commentator interviewed a Senator from Arizona who was concerned Merrick hadn’t given the KSF’s threat the respect it deserved.
“Idiot,” Merrick murmured. His left foot tapped the floor nervously while he kept glancing at the digital clock on the wall. Every minute that passed without the words ‘Breaking News’ showing up on the screen was a blessing.
He made eye contact with Fisk who stood holding a beer in his right hand and loosening his tie with his left. Fisk shook his head, letting Merrick know he hadn’t heard anything from the War Room.
Next to him, Vice President Hearns leaned over and said, “You did the right thing, John.”
Merrick nodded absently. “Tell me that after half of Arizona is underwater.”
His Press Secretary Fredrick Himes came over with his head buried in his computer tablet. “The polls are in and fifty-three percent of the population agreed with your decision. Thirty-one percent in Arizona.”
Merrick nodded. He was bombarded with statistics like that all day long and was practically immune to their relevance. He knew the poll taken tomorrow morning would be thirty points different, in either direction.
Now Fisk had a phone to his ear and nodded. “He’s right here,” Fisk said handing the phone to Merrick. He was beaming.
Merrick got up and took the phone. He instinctively walked away from the TV and sat on the corner of his desk.
“Yes,” Merrick said, expecting to hear someone from the War Room.
Instead, a voice with a distinct Turkish accent said, “Temir Barzani is dead.”
“Mr. Prime Minister?” Merrick asked.
“Yes.”
Merrick looked at the wall clock. “It’s past four in the morning over there.”
“You are quite right, Mr. President. But our alliance does not fade after working hours.”
Merrick saw Fisk on another phone call. He seemed engrossed in deep conversation. “We have no confirmation on our end Barzani is dead,” Merrick said. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because I have personally made certain of this. Barzani will no longer be a threat to America. I want to thank you for the speech tonight. It was gratifying to hear you offer so much support to our great nation.”
“Of course, Mr. Prime Minister.”
“We do not want to be the friend who gets the Christmas card in the mail,” Prime Minister Budarry said. “We want to be the friend who joins your holiday feast.”
Merrick smiled for the first time in days it seemed. “I’ll have a place setting reserved at our table for you.”
“Good night, Mr. President.”
“Good night, Mr. Prime Minister.”
Fisk saw Merrick put his phone down and walked over with a sly grin. “I just got off the phone with Nick Bracco.”
“And?”
“Apparently, while tracking Barzani, an assassin intervened and killed the terrorist for him.”
Merrick squinted. “An assassin?”
Fisk nodded. “A Russian assassin.”
“What?”
Fisk held up his hand. “Nick said he poses no threat to anyone.”
Merrick cocked his head. “How can he be so sure?”
“He said he’d put it all in his report.”
“And the bomb?”
“They have the detonator. Bomb squad is on their way. They’ll be no explosions tonight.”
“So who hired the assassin?”
Fisk looked down at the phone sitting on Merrick’s desk. Merrick followed his gaze.
“You scared the crap out of him,” Fisk said. “He went and did something rash. He was afraid you would use your speech to announce a troop withdrawal.”
Merrick slumped back on his desk. Fisk reached into a nearby cooler and came up with two bottles of beer. He handed one to his longtime friend.
They clinked bottles and both took long swallows. When Merrick came down with the beer he held out his fist and received a fist-bump from Fisk.
“Thanks,” Merrick said.
“Hey, of course.”
Merrick put his beer down on the desk and slapped Fisk on the side of his shoulder. “I’m going upstairs to hug my kid.”
Fisk smiled. “That’s exactly what I thought you’d do.”