Washington, DC Friday, April 3, 1998 8:15am (local)
“Mr. President, it’s time to start a little prevent defense.”
“Well, Bud, what did you have in mind?”
“Let’s get rolling on containing some of these ancillary assets, and see where it takes us. Maybe we can get some verifiable proof to help our case. The way it stands now, Attorney General Vernon is going to proceed with what she’s got. She has to. The opening of the trial is next week. The only way we’ll be able to defend against any of this is to present something more than plausible in our defense.”
“Listen, Bud. It’s my defense, not yours. I appreciate your team spirit. And I really appreciate that you believe me. You are about the only one left. So what do you suggest. I’m willing to try anything at this point. You have to admit, the girl was good. Very, very good. And very convincing, as evidenced by the first mug shots ever of a sitting American president.”
“Be thankful they didn’t do the de-lousing thing.”
“Or the body cavity search, Bud. Let’s not forget that.”
“What we know is that there are two assets in place. They’ve been there for far too long. God only knows what would have happened if you hadn’t been approached and offered what we now know. Damn them. But, giving credit where it’s due, they’ve got balls. Exceptionally large ones.”
Bud paused a moment, and then added “Let’s not forget about their patience, either, Mr. President.”
“It’ll be a great abject lesson for the American people to learn from, Bud. We’ve come to expect way too much, way too quickly.”
“Let’s start with him,” said Bud, showing the president a small list of names. “He’ll be ripe for the picking tonight. We’ll need to make this black, though. Accountability to you and you alone. And here’s my idea for a cover story to help explain some of it away. Maybe all of it, if we’re wrong about this.”
“I don’t like it, Bud. It makes me look like I’m grasping at straws to keep my butt out of a sling. And I won’t let any cover story hold up as the gospel. I am not the bastard everyone thinks me to be, and I won’t start being one now by lying.”
“Until we can get the written proof we need, and until we can get one verifying source, it’s all we’ve got. You are keeping a personal log on all of this?”
“Yes, Bud. As much as it pains me to do so, I am. But I am, if anything, not a bottom-dwelling leech. Or letch, for that matter. I’d like a to present this written record to the Congressional Oversight committees that are sure to evolve from this mess. I’ve already written a letter to the joint bodies suggesting, at the very least, censure for me. I will take the heat for crossing the lines on the current matter at hand. I will not, though, take the blame for that which I did not do. Stupid, stupid me. I should have known better than to let her close the door.”