rubbed his shirt with both hands in a futile effort to wipe off the brown goo that covered everything, and pulled the lanyard rope from inside the boat. “You work for me. I don’t serve you.”
Max thought about those words. They came from the heart, of that he was certain. He reached for the loop of the rope, intending to make the job of pulling the boat ashore easier. The man brushed his hand away.
“My father was a religious man, and he prayed in private. His favorite passage in the Bible was in the Book of Matthew: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened. He practiced it in his life, and I have been entrusted to carry it forward now that he has passed. I’ll be damned if you are going to stand in front of me and turn down my help.”
Max gently pushed the man aside and grabbed the brown rope with both hands. He pulled, and the slimy lubricant worked. It slid between his hands with a slithery sound, and Max fell into the brown goo, covering his skin and clothes from the neck down.
The press, which had been restrained 50 feet away, broke into unrestrained laughter at the scene of the unplanned mayhem, still recording the events that were unfolding. By the time Max managed to stand, after two unsuccessful attempts at it that put him back on his butt in the brown sludge, he was laughing hysterically. He couldn’t see what he looked like, but he could easily imagine, and the reaction of the press corps intensified with each movement. Any effort at maintaining dignity had gone by the wayside. Max’s young Chief of Staff and Press Secretary Bill Staffman stood silently snickering, but even the members of the newly formed cabinet had no immunity from the infectious laughter. Soon, they succumbed, and each movement reignited uncontrolled giddiness from everyone who watched the scene unfold.
In his best Creature from the Black Lagoon imitation, Max lumbered toward the waiting press corps. He waved his goocovered arms wildly and walked stiff-legged toward them. In childlike response, several members began screaming for effect, which only heightened the laughter. Soon, he stood several feet away.
“I know you expected to see me swim here today,” exclaimed Max in his most ironic presidential tone, “but instead, I think I’ll introduce you to the dirty world of international politics.” He smoothed his hands on his oil-covered arms, and began gesticulating wildly, splattering the oil on the clean shirts and blouses of everyone within twenty feet from where he stood.
“I need to take this attention-getting opportunity to inform you of the cause of this latest oil spill. I was briefed in Washington before flying down here today. International espionage has taken place here in the Gulf of Mexico, for the second time .” Murmurs began as the press reacted to the idea that the Deepwater Horizon explosion years before was also the result of industrial espionage.
“We have been attacked by terrorists who want to harm our economy and our American way of life. But we won’t let them hold us down for long. We can clean this up. We now have the technology to plug the well quickly and to remove much of the oil from the water before it does widespread harm. And we will track down the cowardly bastards who did this and put them away. The United States of America will not be a target for our enemies, and they will soon know our wrath.”
CHAPTER 14
M
ax accepted a fluffy white towel and began wiping the sticky brown sludge from his exposed skin as the Secret Service ushered him toward his waiting helicopter, Marine One, the president’s Helo. He was in dire need of a bath
and fresh clothes, but the tiny sink and toilet would suffice until he returned to civilization. Clothes were hanging from a hook on the back of the door to the head. They were the right size, but they