BLACK PRESIDENT, Chapter 63. Iran launches attack, just as Sal from Rudy's past at the Coke plant/1961 realizes his co-worker's crazy JFK story might be TRUE-a 'cash cow' for him!

The cat is finally out of the bag...Sarah tells twins about their Kennedy birth-father.

CHAPTER SIXTY!THREE

Two weeks earlier, sixty-seven-year-old Sal Manaro had manually turned on his TV to find coverage of the Presidential inauguration and post-party activities. He had caught a glimpse of a face that looked vaguely familiar, but dismissed it. Boring, he thought as he rummaged around in his newspaper pile to locate the remote. In his trashy-but- vintage 1970 motor home, things seemed to get easily lost. Suddenly he heard the name “Rudy Tempers...” a commentator’s voice adding, “step-father of President Little.” And, “There's his wife...mother of twins...” Sal’s attention was instantly riveted back to the screen. He re- examined the face he’d seen minutes earlier. Suddenly Sal freaked out. He was almost jumping up and down as the realization hit.

“RUDY! KENNEDY-RUDY!” shouted Sal. It was that fool who’d been run out of Coke because he couldn't stop talking about Kennedy! Sal had teased Rudy about his stupid story – about a woman on a plane who had had sex with JFK. And now there he was, on TV!

As Sal swigged down his beer the dots began to connect. In his inebriated state the words “Kennedy, Rudy, Little” all began to meld together. The why, what, and how reached a climax when the screen suddenly cut to a close-up of President Little.

“OF COURSE!” yelled Sal to the TV and blank wall behind. “That Rudy done found the Kennedy chick, married her and raised her Kennedy kids. President Little is Kennedy’s son!”

Sal had spent the last thirty years growing old, watching Coke co- workers retire and die off. After that, he’d bounced around some, worked for a landscaper in Eureka, then bummed further up the coast, to Portland. Then he’d hitched down to Salinas and joined the migrant worker circuit. Not much to shout home about. His meager Social Security checks hardly kept him in trailer parks. But no more! His entire nervous system was throbbing with the possibilities. It was the biggest story of the decade! No...maybe THE CENTURY! And he had it!

What would People magazine pay for such a story? Couple hundred thousand minimum? More? What was a front-page story about the Kennedy-Little connection worth? Popping open another beer before even finishing the previous one, Sal took a big guzzle, spilling a good portion onto his shirt. He'd finally hit paydirt, thanks to good old, stupid old Rudy and his loose lips. Even drunk, Sal realized that he was just a phone call away from cashing in.

***

On the orders of the President, four super-sonic jets launched from a base in Turkey, minutes later penetrating Iranian airspace. On board were payloads of nuclear warheads destined for uranium factories and nuclear processing plants in the Zagros mountains. The whereabouts of the secret facilities had been researched for many years, but solid, fully confirmed locations had remained elusive. Even with additional hi-definition satellite photos, President Little had resisted ordering the strike by the CIA’s artificially imposed deadline. He had discussed a military response at length with his brother, right up until dispatches from Iran stopped with the execution of their Farsi informant.

Though recent satellite pictures showed nothing new – activity at the entrances of the tunneled-in facilities and coming and going of trucks and personnel remained a constant – the game had changed. With an operative dead, and the flow of information abruptly halted, President Little had few choices remaining. DOC urged him, on their second and third visit in just so many days, to see the danger in waiting. But Little had stubbornly refused to act on present intel, sticking to his truth – no war without 100% verification.

On March 1st, the first Iranian rocket soared toward Israel, its nuclear warhead striking within the heart of that country. The 10- kiloton explosion and deadly radioactive fallout instantly ended the lives of 20,000 Jerusalem citizens who lived within a mile of the epicenter. In a three-mile radius, another 50,000 people were either wounded gravely or exposed to the deadly radiation. Suddenly there was no question but that the Little administration had failed to protect the Jewish people in their homeland. Jews held President Little accountable for the horrendous loss of life.

Within a space of fifteen minutes, two more rockets sped toward Israel from an alternate hideout in the Sulaiman mountains. But both were intercepted in midair by US sidewinders, exploding the missiles high above the Caspian Sea. At the same time, fourteen of America’s twelve-foot-long B83 burrowing missiles struck at several mountain facilities, corkscrewing down 150 meters before detonating. Two Delta teams – battalions in protective anti-radiation gear – were immediately dispatched to the mountainous facilities from a secret base in Turkey. Meeting heavy resistance, they quickly overcame opposition by use of the latest laser weaponry. Just a wipe of their laser firearms, aimed across an enemy’s torso (reminiscent of the game ‘Wei’) sliced an enemy combatant in half. Many Iranian guards and palace agents fell without knowing what had happened, their heads toppling past their pelvis as they tried to advance into battle. Such was the devastation dished out by the advanced digital laser technology.

Just as the Delta team was preparing to announce a victory over the assault, another Iranian missile lifted off near Natanz, landing in central Jerusalem. As the 5th Fleet turned toward the Iranian coast, preparing to counter attack with a water landing by its Marines, fourteen Exocet missiles were launched from a commercial-appearing freighter halfway between Saudi Arabia and the Iranian coast, slamming into the US carriers. The only option available for US forces was a full-out nuclear missile attack. President Little was informed that such a full strike could disrupt US and world markets, bringing commerce around the globe to a virtual standstill by halting the supply of oil through the region.

During his couple hours of managing the level DEFCON-2 threat, President Little was pressured first one way, then another, with few Intelligence officers in full agreement. In the end, President Little, in consultation with his brother, figured it was up to him to put an end to the massive military buildup. He approached the UN for some kind of cease fire proposal. But when his ‘caving in’ was discovered by top military brass, they turned to their Republican sympathizers at the newspapers to call for his impeachment. “Traitor Little,” the Philadelphia Inquirer headline screamed, from its cover.

While Iran was grabbing world headlines, People magazine released an article on the supposed link between JFK and President Little. The author, Sal Manaro, had included an interview about his Coke-Bottling days with the President's step-father for the price. The People cover showed President Little in close profile, facing a John F. Kennedy profile. For anyone looking upon those images, the resemblance was irrefutable. The two outlines protruded in exactly the same places, so that the profiles formed a perfectly symmetrical vase. Seeing is believing, thought Sal, as he fingered his pile of copies and prepared for a round of morning talk shows.

While it was unfortunate that his story would play second to the breaking news of an Iranian invasion, Sal had been paid quite handsomely – over five figures. And he had been informed by a prominent literary agent that, much green was to be had. As long as the Republicans wanted President Little to be dishonored in some way, thrown politically off-kilter by such a ridiculous notion – few believed the pronouncements – then there would be room for a bottom-feeder like him to make a buck.

Sitting in the Today show green room Sal waited uncomfortably, as time ticked by for the last ads. He’d been told he would be ‘the star’ of the soft news segment, while the hard news was Iranian Attack, US Retaliation and Spread of Nuclear Fallout. Most commentators agreed that the use of nuclear force had been justified and well contained. But the BIG story was the ongoing discussion about how ‘nuclear solutions were now acceptable,’ revealing just how much the world had changed its view toward such doomsday scenarios.

Sal was finally ushered to the set. He checked himself on the nearby monitors and noticed that some of his pancake makeup was sitting too low, well below his hairline. Using his right index finger he tried to spread the rouge up to where it belonged, but it quickly became evident he had made it worse. He waved to the producers, cameramen, anyone who could send in a makeup girl. But the broadcast was upon him.

Matt Lauer’s replacement, Aston Kutcher, walked in from the side and extended his hand. Self-consciously, Sal extended his right hand to grip the TV star and noticed that his finger had turned a bright orange from his fussing. The sight brought an immediate flush to his face, accompanied by sweat across his forehead. He’d wiped his finger with his right hand after shaking and was unaware that he had inadvertently also added an orange streak above his right eye. Kutcher told his guest that they'd be on in ten seconds. As fear set in, Sal could see the cameraman holding up two fingers, then one, then a point in their direction.

“Today we have with us Sal Manaro, an old friend of President Little’s stepfather Rudy Tempers, who claims that our President is a direct descendant of President John F. Kennedy. So please, Sal, explain to us how you came to this conclusion.”

Sal's face was drenched in sweat. His orange face paint was smeared from fidgety fingering. He resembled a mad scientist, some kind of Dr. Strangelove spin-off with cockeyed coloring. The pressure of live TV made him stutter as well.

“Well...” started Sal, with a kind of croak to his voice, “you see, I knew Rudy – Little’s stepfather – back in Oakland, at the Coke bottling plant there. And he revealed a secret then...at that time.”

Kutcher could see the story going dead and decided to quickly interject a comment, to resuscitate his guest's faltering performance.

“Yes, OK. Many of us have read the story in People magazine.” Kutcher was getting hand signals from his producer off-camera, the older man’s fingers repeatedly closing on his fist. That meant for Kutcher to “dig the story out of the guy,” extract the information before he wrecked the entire segment. Kutcher tried to maintain his professionalism, but his guest was becoming more and more petrified.

“And that secret was?”

“Kennedy...” was all Sal could blurt out.

“In People you claim that President Jackson Little and his brother John were fathered by President Kennedy. Here, in this series of profiles (aiming article toward the camera) you say there is definite proof. You claim that the President’s now step-father, Rudy Tempers, told you and other co-workers that a woman he’d met said she had made love to JFK. And you believe that Rudy tracked her down, married her, and that the Kennedy sons she birthed are now running the country as President and Attorney General?”

“Yeah. YES! That’s it,” said Sal, relieved that he didn’t have to try and explain it. The show cut to an image of President Little and President Kennedy face-to-face in matching profiles, before Kutcher delivered his exit lines off the teleprompter.

“Well, thank you for coming in. We’ll certainly look forward to hearing more from this ever-widening story. And now a word from our sponsor.”

As Kutcher rose from his chair and turned away from Sal, the guys back in the control room could hear his off-handed comment, picked up on the lavalier mike pinned to his lapel, “Screwy guy you bozos landed on me this time.”

While the audio mixer, director, producer and fellow technicians gave a big laugh to their buddy’s response, President Little and his family members sat in morbid silence back at the White House. Rudy had been alerted to the breaking story and had joined his stepsons and Sarah to view the segment. Only when it hit commercial had anyone dared to speak.

“Truly preposterous. What will they think of next,” said Jackson, adding a clipped laugh. John just shook his head back and forth, then glanced over to Rudy for confirmation that it was as ridiculous as they all thought. But Rudy remained silent. And Sarah seemed stunned.

“Well?” said John, to no one in particular. Both twins sensed the dark mood of the room. Their mother seemed to be taking the stupid TV segment much too hard. “Rudy. Don't tell me you ever knew that crazy guy?” John was getting angrier.

Rudy was steaming. There was that dope Sal again, the guy he had saved from being fired at the Coke facility. Rudy felt like it was his fault that Sal had ended up on TV. That stupid kid now grown into an old fuck, someone now trying to ruin his life and Sarah’s, and that of his sons. Rudy felt like smashing his own face in with his fists. He imagined an image of the hara-kiri process, stabbing himself with a Japanese sword and dragging it across his stomach to counter the pain of dishonor. He now fully understood how useful that mutilation could be, to balance out the kind of psychic pain he was currently experiencing. Sarah remained quiet, having retreated deep into her own shell, hardly granting her body’s basic needs to inhale and exhale. The twins couldn’t get their parents to respond.

“Well, John,” began Jackson, looking between Cissy and his brother with a smirk on his face. “I guess it’s true, then...We’re Kennedys!” The President was toying with the information, hoping his stupid response would snap his parents out of their funk. Not in a million years could he have anticipated the next words from his mother’s mouth.

“Yes.” Sarah raised her head and looked slowly from son to son.

“WHAT?” John was incredulous. At this point, First Lady Cissy jumped in.

“SARAH! RUDY! COME ON!” Cissy had never seen her mother-in-law act so goofy. Rudy stared at his wife, but continued to hold his tongue. He had to wonder where she would take it. An eternity seemed to pass before she spoke again.

“I had an affair with President Kennedy.”

Sarah had spoken the frightening truth in a slow and measured tone, as if each syllable cut off a piece of her soul. Tears began to form in the corners of Rudy’s eyes. He could barely see Sarah through the haze. But she wasn't done. “It was forced, but that’s no excuse.”

Hearing his wife’s confession and sad contemplation, Rudy felt like someone had hit him with a shovel. He kept his eyes off his stepsons, bracing himself for their response. But no words were forthcoming. No one dared to speak.

President Little remained silent. He was afraid of what he might say next. But his brother couldn’t contain himself. John’s words jumped out suddenly, shattering the heavy mood.

“Damn! You got to be kidding me! It’s TRUE?”

“Sorry,” was all that Sarah could conjure up, her tiny voice barely audible from the sofa. She looked destroyed.

Rudy moved in and hugged her as she started crying. Cissy sat there, speechless. The President rose, started to walk somewhere, but turned back a couple of times, unable to exit the family quarters. He didn’t want the Secret Service agents to see his totally distorted face. He felt trapped. Trapped and disturbed. What was he supposed to say or do next? How could anyone in the room really absorb what Sarah had just said?

There were so many questions. All present had previously heard of JFK's numerous affairs. How and when had their own mother gotten herself in that situation with Kennedy? She hadn’t ever lived in the Washington D.C. area, as far as anyone knew.

“Where?” John demanded a fact on which to hang the horrendous admission. Before his mother could answer he added, “Where could you? How did you...and President Kennedy have an affair?”

“Right downstairs...in the Oval Office,” admitted Sarah. “I was on my Baptist tour and he pulled me aside.” Sarah had slowly gained strength since airing her confession. Her words suddenly began to regain their authority. She was tired of a secret having power over her and was finally getting free. An Affair With Kennedy. That sudden extraction – each voicing of fact – relieved her body some more, throwing off the psychic weight she’d been carrying forever it seemed.

While Sarah was busy confessing, Rudy remained in a kind of stunned funk, feeling himself regressed back to those earlier days. So much of his life had revolved around “the great secret.”

“I was young...and the President of the United States dismissed his aides, so just he and I were alone.” Sarah was determined to tell it all. After a slight pause to gather herself, she continued.

“He walked me into the secret ante-room and proceeded to undress me. I was too stunned...seemed powerless to stop him. I guess I was in a kind of trance. Soon it was over and I remember hurrying to catch the bus. You can blame me if you want, but I’m done with blaming myself.”

Rudy started to breathe normally. His wife was standing up for herself, and that made an important difference. She wasn’t being crushed anymore. She was being healed. But at what cost to her sons? No one interrupted.

Finally, President Little broke in.
“Mother. I can see you're in pain over this. If we are Kennedys then we will face the world as such, and hold our heads up high. And this secret must not be allowed to damage our work in office. We’ll have to use this information in a positive way. I will call a press conference and explain this situation on our clock. We’ve learned from history that cover-ups only add to the damage. What do you think, John?”

Jackson knew that he needed to draw out his brother, who was taking the news much harder. John had been sitting quietly, mulling over everything he’d heard. An anger had welled up inside and he wasn’t, as yet, prepared to just dismiss it.

“What do I think? I’ve just learned my father is Kennedy” John almost spit out the words.

“Think about Mom...” Jackson was extremely worried about the damage his brother could cause. “She’s suffered enough.”

“Well, it’s our pain too, damn it!” John wasn't calming down. “We...our kids...will be stuck in a paparazzi hell for the rest of our lives! So what now?”

“Nothing.” said Sarah, looking around at her family. “We don’t have to admit it. Ever.”

“That’s right!” Rudy was trying to imagine the power of deniability. “Just act like the Kennedy thing is crazily false. Don’t play into it!”

“No,” interrupted First Lady Cissy. “If it’s true, then it’s true. Hiding behind falsehoods will hurt us, hurt the Democratic party, ultimately destroy all we're trying to accomplish. We need to be proactive here.”

“The journal!” blurted Rudy, giving voice to his concern.

Sarah looked directly at each family member before speaking. “Yes, it could resurface and turn us all into liars.” Jackson and John suddenly understood why their mother had been so preoccupied over its disappearance. “Then let’s agree,” said Jackson, “that we’ll stand together on this.”

Later that afternoon, Rudy had a chance to speak with his wife in private. While there had been no final decision about whether or not to go public about the Kennedy paternity, he figured more should be discussed. There were so many different sides of the coin. Only by debating the subject could the Little family determine the best course of action.

“Honey, I'm sorry you had to be put through that.” Rudy felt the risk in continuing, but knew nothing was being solved in silence. Sarah wasn’t talking, but he forced himself to continued anyway.

“If and when your sons’ Kennedy connection is proven – it will take some DNA testing to be certain – then they will instantly be elevated to political royalty. And that high status may help Jackson achieve some of his personal goals as President. So I think it would be wise to look at this whole thing as possibly something positive. Negative and paranoid thinking will only give power to our enemies. If we can just hold our heads up, control ourselves during the initial stages, I think we can emerge out the other side even better off than we are now.

Rudy had his doubts that Sarah would buy his glass-half-full approach, but he knew he had to give it a shot. Before he could speak again, double up on his logic, Sarah broke in.

“I have to say, I’ve never felt more humiliated in all my life. Admitting I had sex with a man I wasn’t married to. How horrible.” Rudy started to interrupt, but Sarah raised her hands.

“YES...yes I know what you’re going to say next. It wasn’t my fault. I was young. All that. But in the end, I was involved. I guess I could have, should have stopped it, somehow. Why I didn’t yell or something will always be a mystery to me. Why I didn’t just scream ‘NO!’ and bolt out of the door, I’ll never know. It was like I was out of my body or something. Like my spirit, my soul, was floating somewhere up above, just watching in a neutral way as Kennedy took advantage of some young girl. But it was me, and now I have to pay.”

Rudy kept himself silent, hoping his wife would continue to talk it out.

“I worry that it could ruin all the beautiful things my sons have done with their lives. I wish I could see it your way, but I can’t. How will they survive the relentless force of the press, when I admit this? I’m just very, very frightened.”

Rudy made a move to hug his wife, and she let him circle her with his arms. Although her shoulders felt hard and stiff he lingered, hoping to grant her some comfort. In his mind, he realized that his wife would continue to suffer through future events, however they played out.

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