Free Executive Power by Vince Flynn

before it reaches the Hill.” One of the aides tried to get in a last word, but the president cut her off with a terse motion toward the door. The three left the room dejectedly and closed the door behind them.
    Hayes dropped into his chair and picked up a pair of reading glasses from the desk. After quickly glancing over his schedule, he pressed his intercom button and said, “Cheryl, I don’t want to be interrupted for the next fifteen minutes.”
    â€œYes, Mr. President,” came the always even reply of his gatekeeper.
    Hayes looked up and waved for his three visitors to join him. “Pull up a chair. If you don’t mind, I have to look over a few things while we talk.”
    Kennedy had called the meeting and she didn’t object. She knew once the president heard what she had to say, she’d have his rapt attention. As they settled in, the president picked up a document from his desk, scanned it and then moved it to another pile. Looking over the top of his reading glasses he said, “Mitchell, you look tan and rested. I trust you had a nice honeymoon?” The president smiled.
    â€œVery nice, thank you, sir.”
    â€œGood.” Getting down to business, Hayes turned to Kennedy and said, “I get the impression that whatever it is you have to tell me, it’s not good.”
    â€œThat’s correct, sir.”
    Before Kennedy had a chance to elaborate, the door to their left flew open and the president’s chief of staff entered the room with a big cup of Starbucks coffee in one hand and a cell phone and stack of files precariously balanced in the other. “Sorry I’m late.”
    Rapp leaned forward and shot his boss a questioning look. He mouthed the words, What the hell is she doing here?
    Kennedy made a calming motion with her hand and ignored Rapp.
    Kennedy’s cool attitude did nothing to still Rapp’s apprehension over Valerie Jones. She was a pushy and obnoxious political operative. If she were a man she would be referred to as a tough bastard or prick, but since she wore a skirt to work she was simply called a bitch. Rapp couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t been at odds with the woman. Her first reaction at the onset of any potential crisis was to ask how it would affect the president’s poll numbers. It drove Rapp nuts that every issue had to be parsed, muddied and then spun.
    Putting Rapp in a room with Jones was like one of those crazy chemistry experiments where you started pouring different things into a beaker knowing full well there would be an explosion, and ultimately a mess to clean up. With Jones now in attendance it was highly likely that Rapp’s mood would go from sour to downright shitty.
    Before the meeting was over things would get ugly between the two, and Kennedy was counting on just that. For things to work out the way she hoped, everyone needed to play their role, and in the end, she was confident where the president would come down. Irene Kennedy had learned many things from her old boss, Thomas Stansfield. He had been fond of reminding her frequently that they were in the secret business; both collecting and keeping.
    Common sense dictated that the less one talked the more likely it was one would learn secrets rather than give them away. He also liked to say the outcome of a meeting is often decided before a single word is spoken. It is decided by who is asked to attend. That was exactly what Kennedy had had in mind when she invited Jones.
    The woman could adopt a passive attitude if she absolutely had to. If a foreign head of state was visiting the White House she might tone her act down, but that was about it. Valerie Jones was an obsessive-compulsive workaholic who lived and breathed politics. It was her life. She wanted to be involved in every decision, for in the arena of politics, anything the president attached his name to would ultimately affect his chances for reelection.
    Nudging a small bust