The Art Of Politics

Chapter 7 : The ranch in California

The SUV grinded to a halt at the muddy road, the Range Rover stopping behind us. "Mr. President?"

"Our secret base of operations Andrew. Isa and I called it the Big Barn." Dad smiled. The Big Barn is a food ranch that grows fruits and rears cattles for a living, a ranch built in my great-grandfather, Ronald Reagan's name. It might not be his ranch but this is where dad can call home. He was after all, a Cal. Growing up in California. Rain started to fall when we prepared to exit the vehicle but two agents had already stepped forward, carrying an umbrella.

"Here, Mr. President." The agent offered the umbrella.

"Thank you." He took the umbrella, walked to my side and held the door open for me. "Come on, I hate to see you catch a cold." I bit my lip in respond.

"Thanks?" I asked. Holding the umbrella dad and I enjoyed the small walk on the muddy path to the farm house of the ranch we will be staying for the time being. "It's... nice to be back here."

"Yeah, I miss the days that shit like this doesn't go down." He said. "If this is over you and I gotta have to spend more time here."

"Plucking grapes? Milking the cow? Play fetch with Christian?"

"All of them if possible." He said. "Maybe we can have camping like what we did when we're Boy Scouts." Dad looked at Agent Barrowman.

"Haha, nope. You tried to set a fire but you burned down our tent."

"Um... awkward." I said mockingly.

"Did I? Wait a minute. You did that I'm sure." Unlocking the door all of us headed inside and flopped on the couches available in the living hall. However, dad and I couldn't afford this luxury for long and stood up later. Dad turned on the TV, tuning into CNN as the title of the BREAKING NEWS session says : WHITE HOUSE SECURITY COMPROMISED? WHERE IS THE PRESIDENT AND VICE PRESIDENT?

"Not that shitty title again." I cursed.

"Shitty title?" Dad asked with a laugh. "The same title but more shitty than the last one."

"Since when do we even let the media make this kind of shitty titles? We obviously has things to worry about."

"But then we don't know where to start." Dad pointed out. "You have any ideas?"

"Maybe. Have we did a complete analysis of the attacks?"

"The Secret Service are still working on it Isa."

"Not enough." I said. "We need a faster analysis."

"Can you recommend something?"

"We should do this the old fashioned way." I said, unzipping my duffel bag and taking out a notebook.

"Fury taught you this?"

"Mom had me trained in old fashioned ways before I joined... you know what happened."

"Right. We should discuss this..."

"Already done sir. The study upstairs." I said. "I know that Agent Barrowman's listening..."

"He's still coming with us. With some of them." Dad finished the sentence for me. Five minutes later we're gathered in the study with me and dad sitting on the couch near the fireplace. I was scribbling notes on the notebook while a pile of books laid on the floor beside the couch. I have been working out the connections without any tech as they could give away our location to the terrorists who still wanted both the President and Vice President of the United States dead. The Rising Jihad, I repeated to myself. I laid out the notebook on the table for the agents and dad to read while I flipped through the books.

"You're telling us that the Russians are funding the terrorist group Madam Vice President?" Barrowman looked at me.

"It's not the current president that I suspected." I said.

"But your notebook said that your suspect number one is the Russians."

"Remember the WannaCry problem?" I asked, looking at him in the eye. "The former president suspected it to be the Russians but then..."

"The threat was from North Korea."

"Correct. Which is why North Korea is my suspect number two."

"The dictator's not going to be happy if we kicked his ambassador out of the country through the Swiss embassy."

"Let him be. He's not more screwed than ever if the evidence pointed to Pyongyang."

"I respect your standing as an agent Madam Vice President but you have to tread carefully."

"I'm dividing my thoughts Agent Barrowman. As an agent and the vice president who is trying her best to not screw things up." I said, my voice icy.

"Sorry, madam vice president."

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking Raven?" Dad looked up from the notebook.

"Yes." I said. "These attacks... this is a declaration of war. Not just the United States of America, and our allies as well."

"But Moscow on the other hand... can we believe that this could be a version of Kennedy's Operation Northwoods?"

"I still have my own suspicions Mr. President." I said. "Could be the prime minister."

"The prime minister of Russia?" He asked me. "You sure?"

"Not entirely. Suspicion is still a suspicion sir." I said. "Unless the evidence is there or else... there's the risk of World War Three on our hands."

"Oh no." Dad said. "If we're wrong..."

"Say bye bye to the world we're living in now. There will be nukes flying around and no one will be safe." I said. "This is a risk you have to decide Mr. President. Do or don't do." I said, staring into my dad's eyes. "I have no say in this."

"Sir?" Agent Barrowman asked dad, who is still shell-shocked while sitting on the couch.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Sir, the leaders of those countries the bombs had went off in... they're demanding to talk with the President and the Vice President of the United States." He said, swallowing a lump down his throat. Dad stood up, his eyes growing wide.

"What?" That's what he said.