The Invitation(67)

Choking his emotions, Paul Stuart pauses, and begins again.

“I’m sorry.… I didn’t have anything I could say to my daughter. Believe me this isn’t easy, what we’re doing here today. In fact it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my career, but I’m absolutely convinced that it’s the right thing to do. Senator Fields, do you want to say anything else?”

As Senator Fields moves toward the podium, he reaches out and briefly squeezes the arm of Paul Stuart as they pass, offering a comforting gesture of emotional empathy, and support.

“I just want to say that we’re trying our best to do what we think is right, what’s right for our country.”

The noisy gaggle begins again, cutting off the Senator’s words, and spokesman Thatcher responds again.

“Please, ladies and gentlemen, one question at a time. You, Ma’am, in the green, your question, please.”

“Yes, thank you. My question to any of you is this: why are you having this press conference so soon? Couldn’t you have waited at least until the nation had paid its respects? I mean the man hasn’t even been buried yet.”

“Because if we waited, there’s a real danger that this information would be leaked from an unofficial source, and we all know how long secrets last in Washington. That would only add to the confusion and uncertainty that we already have enough of. We all agreed that it’s better to have it come out now. It shows the public we have nothing to hide. We’re putting it all on the table,” Senator Fields says, and then yields the lectern.

“This question is for the FBI director. Sir, do you intend to make this evidence available to the news media, and if so when is that likely to happen?”

“That is not my decision. My guess is the courts will decide that question.”

“Director Slaughter, are we to understand that the FBI has in its possession, the President’s brain scan?”

“That’s correct.”

“How did you obtain access to his medical records?”

“The brain scan image was sent to the FBI anonymously by a person who described himself as a concerned citizen.”

“Did you try to identify who sent the brain scan, or where it came from?”

“It’s currently under investigation. That’s all I can say.”

“Okay, a question, you Sir, yes, your question, please.”

“This question is for the CIA director, Mr. Stuart.”

“Yes,”

“You say your hunch is this was in your words ‘an elaborate hoax’ requiring as you say billions of dollars of research. That’s a lot of money for an elaborate hoax, as you put it. My question is why would someone perpetrate such an elaborate, and expensive hoax? Thank you, and I have a follow up.”

“That’s a good question. I don’t know the answer, but let me suggest one possibility. Do you remember when this so-called extraterrestrial was talking about nuclear weapons? He said that he could neutralize our nuclear deterrent, and we wouldn’t even know it. Then he said, ‘but it’s better that we do that ourselves’. That’s exactly what he said. If we took that advice, this country would in fact be completely unprotected against any form of foreign aggression, or even blackmail. We’d be utterly defenseless.”

“Are you saying, Director, that that’s what the ultimate intention was here?”

“I don’t know, but for the sake of the nation’s security, I think we have to consider it a possibility.”

“My follow-up question is to the FBI director. Mr. Slaughter, Sir do you think what the world has seen the past two nights was a hoax?”

“I don’t know. I simply don’t know.”

With these words Paul Stuart inwardly suppresses a smile. Hearing the director of the FBI publicly say he’s unsure about the authenticity of these dramatic events can only buttress his own remarks. He thinks to himself, the worst of this news conference is over. All that’s needed is to stay on message and let the time run out. As questions continue they are adroitly fielded. Things that are said, and things that are not said are skillfully blended for the purpose of engendering uncertainty. Slowly, as minutes pass, artful sophistry and obfuscation have their intended effect, at least temporarily, as the biting skepticism of questioners takes on a softer tone. When the news conference comes to a close ninety minutes later, Paul Stuart and Senator Fields both feel they have managed it well. The first crucial test of their conspiracy has been passed.

Later that afternoon, the President’s mother sits with a friend. Rita Tillman lives in the adjacent apartment, and genuinely cares about her neighbor’s wellbeing. Kathryn Myers has always been a strong woman, but nothing in her life could prepare her for what she’s now going through. She knows her long night of personal desolation, and solitary anguish is only beginning. She sits with her friend in gloomy silence.