❗Hold up… this is Chapter 8.
Unless you’re the kind of thrill-seeker who reads the last page of a mystery first (you monster), you might want to backtrack.
👉 [Click here to start at Chapter 1] — where the real madness begins.
Otherwise, carry on… but don’t say I didn’t warn you when things stop making sense and someone you’ve never met suddenly dies.
Written by Thomas Mai
© Copyright held by Thomas Mai
Chapter 8 – Pressure At The Press Conference
Under the night sky, the White House loomed like a silent sentinel as the impromptu press conference gathered momentum like a storm. The floodlights cut through the darkness, casting long shadows over the throng of journalists who buzzed with a frenetic energy that electrified the air. Their voices crescendoed into a cacophony of queries and conjectures, all clamoring for any news updates.
Suddenly, the double doors burst open and William “Bill” Grant stepped out onto the stage. His silhouette, framed by the interior light, was instantly recognizable—the Vice President, a man whose ambition was as notorious as his sharp Texan wit. He strode forward, his eyes gleaming with an intensity that commanded silence.
“Quiet!” he bellowed, the single word slicing through the din with the force of a whip crack. As if on cue, the reporters’ shouts dwindled into a hushed murmur, their attention riveted on the man before them.
“Listen up,” Bill began, his voice resonating with a gravity that belied the hour. “At approximately 11 am Eastern Time, which is 5 am in Somalia, I received a phone call from the President.” He paused for effect, ensuring every journalist hung on his next words. “Air Force One was in trouble, and they were forced to make an emergency landing in Somalia in an area with no airports.”
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd as pens clicked and cameras whirred. Grant’s face remained stoic, but his eyes betrayed a flickering of triumph—this was his hour, his destiny unfolding.
“Air Force One crash-landed in an open field in the northeastern part of Somalia,” he continued, the weight of each word felt by all. “At this point, we have no indication whether the President is alive, captured, or dead. Nor do we know the status of the rest of the crew and passengers.”
The revelation sent shockwaves through the assembled media, but Grant stood firm, unflinching in the floodlight’s glare.
“Given these dire circumstances,” he declared, his tone shifting to one of solemn responsibility, “I request the cabinet to swear me in as the President of the United States under the 25th amendment.”
The air crackled with urgency as Grant’s words echoed off the White House façade. A cacophony of voices rose—journalists shouting for his attention, a tidal wave of inquiries crashing over the night’s silence. With a calculated coolness, Grant surveyed the feverish crowd, his keen eyes locking onto one reporter and pointing to Erin.
“Mr. Vice President! What caused Air Force One to crash land in Somalia?” the journalist barked, her voice slicing through the clamor.
Grant lowered his hands, an authoritative gesture silencing the mob. “Sabotage. We believe there was some sort of firebomb aboard the plane, maybe a foreign government was involved?” he stated, his voice steady and grim. The revelation rippled through the crowd, pens pausing mid-sentence, recorders capturing every syllable of the chilling possibility.
Before the shock could settle, another voice cut in, desperate for clarity amid the unfolding crisis. “Why request to be sworn in as the President now when we don’t yet know the fate of the current President?”
Grant’s jaw tightened at the question, igniting a spark of defiance within him. “Somalia is known as one of the most dangerous places on Earth,” he began, each word carrying a quiet but firm intensity. “Somalia is in the middle of a brutal civil war, controlled by ruthless warlords and the terrorist group Al-Shabaab. There is no functioning government and we have no U.S. or allied forces present.”
He stopped, giving a moment for the severity of the circumstances to register. “Our top priority is finding the President and determining his status,” he declared, his tone firm with determination. “In the meantime, America requires strong and capable leadership.”
All eyes were on him as he spoke, the press feeling the gravity of this pivotal moment. “We must establish a clear chain of command and a strong commander in chief. Our enemies need to understand that we will not waver in our strength and determination. I vow to find those responsible for this despicable act. Our enemies cannot relax; they must know that America is vigilant and ready to unleash the full force of our military power.”
The media frenzy was in full swing, with everyone yelling questions and talking over each other.
The vice president gestured towards a male reporter from a major TV network who had raised his voice to ask, “Is there a rescue mission being planned?”
The Vice President declared, “I have complete trust in The Joint Chiefs of Staff. They are diligently positioning satellites to provide us with ground reconnaissance. As we speak, they are strategizing a rescue mission that will be executed as soon as possible. Our ultimate goal is to retrieve all individuals, whether they are alive or deceased. Additionally, we must secure control of Air Force One. We cannot allow it to fall into the hands of our adversaries.”
A member of The Vice President’s team leaned in close to the Vice President’s ear, murmuring something confidential. The usually loud and boisterous press suddenly hushed, all eager to hear any snippets of the whispered conversation. Grant’s initial confusion turned to shock before he composed himself and continued on with his duties.
The press pool fell into a hushed silence, sensing that more news was on its way. They eagerly awaited the Vice President’s next words. “I am pleased to announce that President James Harrington is alive…” The Vice President’s statement was cut off by a burst of cheers and relieved exclamations from the press, resembling the roar of fans at a football match when their team scores a goal in overtime.
The Vice President silenced the press team with a gesture, determined to deliver his update. “However, Air Force One is currently besieged by a Somali Warlord and we have reason to believe that President Harrington has managed to escape into the nearby mountains.”
The news that a Somali Warlord had taken control of Air Force One and that the President was forced to escape sent the entire group of journalists into a frenzy. Questions, accusations, shock, and disbelief filled the impromptu press conference into a deafening noise. Every journalist with a microphone was screaming on top of their lungs to get the attention of the Vice President.
Amongst the cacophony of questions, one stood out: “When can we rescue the president?” The Vice President responded cautiously, carefully selecting his words. “This is an evolving situation occurring thousands of miles away in real time. We cannot reveal our arrival time to our enemies. But rest assured, if any harm comes to an American or Air Force One, our troops will hunt you down and execute you. I have time for one more question.”
The Vice President pointed to a well-known male reporter from a national TV broadcaster and said, “Peter.”
TV reporter Peter Johnson posed the question, “It’s common knowledge that as Vice President, you and President Harrington do not see eye to eye on military spending versus investing in schools, hospitals, and infrastructure. If something were to happen to the President, will you continue his policies or push forward with your own agenda that you campaigned fiercely for? Would it not be advantageous for you if the President were no longer in the picture?”
The Vice President was visually shocked from the question and if eyes could kill, Peter would no longer be around. The press corp immediately fell silent.
The Vice President started to answer but stuttered the first couple of times and then he composed himself, raised his shoulder and with a stern look answered Peter.
“First of all, I am shocked that you would even ask such a question. We are doing everything to locate and bring back our beloved President. Second of all, I serve at the pleasure of the President. And third of all, who can focus on budget policies when we are in the middle of a national crisis? As a Vice President, I am here to serve in the absence of the President and thereby protect America, its people and interests. The only logical conclusion is to use the 25th amendment to swear me in as acting President until our President returns.”
With that, Vice President Grant turned on his heel, the tails of his coat fluttering like a dark flag in the night breeze. He strode back toward the West Wing, leaving behind a storm of thundering questions and flashing cameras. His silhouette, framed against the iconic backdrop, conveyed an unspoken promise: he would lead, no matter the cost.
As they made their way towards the West Wing, the Vice President turned around to address the group of journalists again. His eyes were full of fiery determination as he commanded their attention. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Bill Grant’s voice boomed, cutting through the tense atmosphere, *“Let us not forget our past experience with the 25th Amendment. We have utilized it numerous times before. For example, in 1985, when President Reagan underwent surgery, George H. W. Bush Senior was sworn in as acting President for approximately 8 hours. And on June 29, 2002, Vice President Dick Cheney served as acting President for about an hour while President W. George Bush was in surgery. If we can invoke the 25th Amendment for medical procedures, surely we can also use it in a situation where we do not know the whereabouts of our President in a foreign country without direct communication?”
The Vice President’s statement hung heavy in the air as he pivoted, leaving a trail of contemplative barks of questions behind him. He strode confidently towards the West Wing, his mind racing with possibilities. A smile played on his lips, a private victory already taking shape. Power was within grasp, and the country’s need for strong leadership paved the way.
Bill Grant strode into a small meeting room with Head of CIA Malcolm Blackthorn, both men wearing stern expressions as they dialed into a secure line. A voice came through the receiver, accusing and issuing an ominous ultimatum.
“Bill, do you understand what’s at stake?” The voice hissed like a serpent coiled around America’s heart.
Grant’s eyes were unflinching and resolute as he replied sharply, “I do.” Blackthorn nodded in agreement, his expression grim.
“You owe us, Bill. We invested millions in your failed presidential campaign with the expectation that you would win and deliver. That plan flopped and now the crash has also failed. This was supposed to be your moment to shine. Instead, we’re stuck in limbo, uncertain of the President’s whereabouts or if he will even return. You must take control now. Reverse those budget cuts before it’s too late. The strength of America’s military depends on this decision.”
Bill Grant leaned forward, his knuckles turning white against the table as he responded with determination, “Consider it done, he never should have given that speech in Madagascar, he was selling out our military and giving in to communism.”
The dim light of a secure phone set to speaker outlined Grant’s silhouette across the conference table while Blackthorn leaned in attentively, focused on the crackling voice filling the room.
“Then let’s be clear,” the voice continued with menacing tones, “James Harrington must not return from Somalia.”
Blackthorn interjected confidently, “He won’t. We have assets in place. If Harrington is still alive, he’ll be… taken care of before he can pose a threat.” His voice clinical yet tinged with brutality, Blackthorn added, “Our contacts in the region are trustworthy. They know their orders.”
“Good.” The voice on the line seemed momentarily satisfied, like a viper basking in the sun of promised chaos. “Remember, Bill, control the cabinet, control the game. It’s your move.”
As the call ended, a heavy silence filled the room like the darkness outside. Grant stood up with his reflection on the polished table surface resembling a ghostly image of ambition. He walked towards the door, each step deliberate and purposeful, as he carried the weight of potential power.
“Let’s get to work, Malcolm,” he said without turning back. “History won’t write itself.”
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Edit Updates
I will try to keep track of the latest changes below.
9 May 2024 Edit: Version 2.0 – Major update to grammar, tense, and spelling mistakes contributed by Monica Liebenow.
14 May 2024 Edit: Version 2.1 – Minor update to grammar, indent and spaces contributed by Monica & Erin Liebenow.
7 June 2024 Edit Version 2.1.1 minor update to the Vice President’s reference to Madagascar and the speech we will find out about in the next chapter.
Thank you, Monica & Erin!
21 June 2024 updated. Changed all tense to the past and made sure the dialogue are in italics