BLACK PRESIDENT, Chapter 72 (1st half). Identical twins have a magical power to stand in for each other and not be detected.

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CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO (1st half)

As the twins sat down to a dinner of crab cakes and lasagna with their wives, their mother and Rudy, the world was still reeling with news of the second vicious attack on a sitting President’s life. For the time being, “life as usual” for the Little President meant dining eight stories underground, where security was airtight. Sarah spoke up before the plates had even hit the embroidered tablecloth in the White House bunker.

“So great to have my boys to myself again, at least for this basement meal!” Sarah got herself the first laugh, and tried to set the stage for a light-hearted evening. Everyone, including Rudy, wine glass pressed to his lips, nodded, winked, gave approval in whatever method they could, each person at different stages of devouring the delicious food. But she couldn't help blurting out a reaction to the most important topic. It surprised even her, coming as it did seemingly out of nowhere.

“But I’m just sick to death over the attack,” added Sarah. “Maybe they'll try again to...TO…[forcing out the last words]…………kill…………………..…my…sons.”

Jackson, just now swallowing his food, was the first to respond. “I guess you have a right to be nervous, Mom. I can hardly understand my luck up to this point. Still, out of the numerous death threats since I took office – thousands in fact – only a couple have been acted on.”

The room suddenly became very quiet, with forks rising or falling silently, water or wine glasses suspended in mid-air. John was impressed that his brother had been so forthcoming in front of Rudy and Sarah. A first! Usually the unspoken rule was to shield their parents from any such serious talk afout the number of threats. He and his Presidential twin had discussed methods of keeping their mother clueless regarding the harsh realities of the Beltway. And now Jackson had spilled the beans, let the cat out of the bag by introducing the actual numbers received by the FBI.

“This room is secure,” said Jackson, another sudden and strange pronouncement coming out of the blue as it did. Then he added, “There are no listening devices of any kind down here, since this space is reserved for only top government executives during an attack, nuclear or otherwise. Can you feel a hollowness to the sounds we generate? That’s because of the steel-reinforced walls. When the cooks walk back to the kitchen through those doors, we are completely and confidentially alone in here.”

As the President continued on his strange set of descriptions, his small audience of family members sat quietly. It certainly wasn’t their typical dinnertime topic.

“And the cooks will only return when I press this buzzer here.” Looking down, Jackson indicated the small button with his gaze. “So I can make a proposal...without anyone other than you-all hearing it.”

It was getting even more mysterious, thought Rudy. What was his Presidential step-son leading up to? The only other time in his life that Rudy had experienced such anticipation was when a convenience clerk back in Seattle had said “I know a person named Little.” That had helped him track down his future wife, Sarah, which of course had led to his present life as step-dad to the President of the United States. So, what on earth could this all be about?

John had also wondered what his brother was doing. A strange introduction – to what? He speared another piece of crabcake, brought it to his mouth and started chewing. He had a feeling he’d better get it down quickly, while he could.

“So...” The President held his conjunction for a second, then continued. “...I could die.

Oh God! thought John to himself. Is my twin really trying to make our mother cry? And Rudy was equally thrown. Didn’t Sarah have enough problems to worry about, with her cancer?

Rudy quickly spoke up, hoping to douse the fire. “Yes...we all can. Is there any point to this? Your mother isn’t – ” Jackson interrupted back.

“I doubt these killers will miss on their third attempt. Whenever that comes.”

“Honey!” exclaimed Sarah. Now she became everyone’s concern. “But what to do? This horrible situation...” (Sarah’s voice dropped to nothing). Suddenly she appeared more frail than an instant earlier.

The table’s three couples sat still, as each of them tried to pull him-or-herself back from the brink. When President Jackson Little spoke again, his words had an urgency beyond that which anyone, including his wife, was prepared for. It turned out that he had been devising a plan, an end-game of sorts.

“Just for me, for my own sake of creating some kind of an emotionally balanced life from here on through the rest of my Presidency, I hope you won’t be too shocked or offended by what I’m about to say. And, actually, this is as much about the country you’d prefer to live in, as it is about me.”

Looking around, Sarah recognized that people’s attention had shifted to her again. She could read their minds. How was Sarah doing? Can she handle it? Will she cry? Sometimes people’s empathy over her illness was more annoying than the actual disease itself. Even though a tear was making its way down her cheek., she was the first to speak up. “I want to hear whatever it is, whatever’s this important to you, son.”

Jackson started in slowly and carefully, fully aware that he would soon shatter all complacency with his next words.

“I believe that I will be killed soon.”

The specter of the American Presidency, all the privilege of Commander-in-Chief, political ranking and prestige, had instantly been cancelled with Jackson’s statement. There was just a solitary man sitting at a dinner table with his concerned family. “I must speak on, mother, so please forgive me.”

Jackson continued with the bombshell. “And if and when it does come, I want John to take over.” Picking up on his family’s temporary confusion, Jackson rephrased his words. “I want John to fill in for me if I’m killed.”

John sat silent. Was his twin actually saying that he wanted him to run for President? Didn’t he know anything? He looked over at Jackson. They had previously discussed their inherent differences, laughed about the “extrovert” versus the “introvert/artist.” Jackson had always been the mouthpiece for his brother. As kids, as far back as the first day in kindergarten, Jackson had explained to the teacher, and to his mother – even to other children – that, “John doesn’t talk, so I’ll communicate for him.”

Jackson was the kid who could speak in adult-like King’s English. John knew himself as the reticent one, the shy one, the artist who would never violate his comfort zone to communicate verbally. Why did Jackson suddenly think he would agree to open his life to the political process for even a minute?

“Bro, you got to be crazy,” is all that John could say.

The room sat silent again, no one responding. Even the irrepressible Rudy held his tongue. What he’d heard was just too far out even for an ex-hippie to comprehend. He grabbed his cold coffee and swallowed it down. Jackson knew he’d have to clarify his statement, and prepared himself for the next, more taxing round of explanations.

“Of course I know that you – John – would never survive the political voting process. I wouldn’t wish that upon you or, in fact, anyone. If I survive up to re-election, then I’ll give them a hell of a run for their money. You can be sure of that. But if I can’t be there – gone for some reason – I would want a man like you to fill in and become me.”

Sarah and Rudy continued to listen in confusion, while John just stared. Wives Cissy and Fran remained silent. Both felt it was between the brothers and they’d best keep out of the fray. The things Jackson was saying were too loony for words. None of it made sense.

“What the –.” As his eyes widened in recognition, John, suddenly got where his twin was heading. There was only one answer to the riddle. He smiled in his brother’s direction and Jackson got the hit of mutual “twin” recognition. John eased back in his chair and waited for the climax.

“If I am killed while in office, I want John to take over the Presidency, as only an identical twin can.”

John just nodded, feeling proud of himself for identifying the concept seconds before his brother laid it out in perfect clarity. The other family members, knowing less about the psychic connection of twin-thinking, were caught totally off-guard. And their comments betrayed their shock.

“Oh, for God’s sake!” exclaimed Sarah, “How could John do that?”

It slowly dawned on Rudy that John could actually step into Jackson’s shoes, just like Kevin Kline had done in the movie, Dave. He spoke up just to allay the confusion his wife was experiencing.

“What you’re saying” interjected Rudy, “is that John would put on one of your suits and pretend he was you.” Directing a quick glance toward Sarah, Rudy finished up, “And because you’re twins, identical in almost every way, no one would guess that John wasn’t you. So he’d be treated as if he was President of – ”

“Jackson!” Cissy interrupting forcefully. She had finally heard enough. “I can see where you’re going with this, but I still can’t help being shocked. I don’t want to imagine you dead, for starters. I’m afraid I can’t get past the death threats and you being there in the middle of it. And now, to resort to this? It sounds horribly far fetched. And morbid!” She tried and failed to keep her emotions in check.

Cissy’s analytical mind suddenly identified the multitude of personal problems her husband’s plan could unleash. “It would mean that John would have to move in with me and our kids, while Fran made up excuses for where her husband – John – was hiding – disappeared to.

“I mean, if John suddenly had to play your part, fill in as President, how long you think this charade could go before being uncovered? Sorry to say it, but real life isn’t a Hollywood movie, you know.”

Jackson said nothing. He knew he needed to ride out his wife’s analysis, until Fran could join in, and give some opinion as the other wife in the mix. He glanced in her direction to prompt a response.

“I guess I’m just a little stunned,” said Fran, finally, shaking her head then looking from John back to Jackson. “You’ll have to excuse me for a second, while I catch my breath. I know you’re a good-hearted person, Jackson, so I understand you have no reason to send this confusion my way, to our branch of the family. And after these two horrible attacks on your life I don’t blame you for coming up with such a...crazy solution. Maybe I would too. But I just can’t imagine it. I just can’t wrap my brain around this John-as-President thing.”

Sarah now fully understood what her son was talking about, and she broke into the conversation as politely as she could manage.

“If you’re killed in the White House you want John to pretend he’s you? Is that what you’re saying, Sweetheart?”

“Exactly, mother.” answered Jackson.

“What I’m suggesting, pure and simple, is that we – my brother and I – keep control of the politics of my administration, no matter what. There are people here in Washington, and elsewhere, who want to remove me from office with the same efficient techniques previously used on JFK, his brother Robert, Martin Luther King, Jr. and so on. Make no mistake about it, this radical fringe have infiltrated the CIA, FBI – all sectors of government – including the Senate, House of Representatives, and all levels of the judiciary. These gentlemen, and I use the term very loosely, would have us fighting wars on all fronts, doing anything and everything to clear their warehouses of munitions, arms small and large, artillery, bombs – nuclear and otherwise. They need us to launch missiles, shoot guns, deplete the vast inventory, including clothes and equipment that our soldiers wear and carry. And let’s not forget that the perishables, foodstuffs sitting in cans on shelves, must be shipped out, delivered, and ultimately disposed of before expiration dates.

“These people think – in fact know – that I’m in their way. And unfortunately for me and you…they’re right. I’m blocking them as best I can. And they want me dead.”

The room remained still, the oppressive enclosure giving Jackson’s words an added intensity.

“In fact, I may be the only one blocking their agenda, for decades to come, because I became President without selling my soul to these people. Remember, I didn’t have to promise allegiance to those big money interests, the crackpots trying to control the direction of this country.

“Rudy has been on the other end of their fanaticism – Vietnam – one of the most destructive, self-created wars of the last century. Of course, Iraq and Afghanistan are similar, in that they successfully fed the needs of our military corporations.”

Looking Rudy’s way, Jackson tried to temper the mention. “Sorry, Dad, if I brought up some painful history here.” Rudy just nodded back, not wanting to divert the focus from his stepson at such a critical juncture.

“So, dear family, if I am assassinated – and believe me when I say there have been many more threats and attempts than you’ve heard about in the papers – my greatest wish for you, for all we hold close and dear, is that John could seamlessly replace me. I feel confident that if he donned my coat and tie, exchanged spectacles, stepped into these expensive and well-polished presidential shoes (a chuckle from John), that he could pass.”

Turning to his brother Jackson asked the crucial question. “What say you, twin?”
Before either wife could respond, Jackson continued. “Why don’t we take a private moment together out in the hall?

“You’re on, ” Before John disappeared with his brother, Jackson added, “Please excuse us for a moment.”

“Why are there people like this...” was all Sarah could express. before she broke into sobs. Rudy hugged her and tried to bring things back into control. For a moment Rudy ceased speaking. But a glance at the door showed no sign of Jackson or John’s re-emergence.

“We all know that the economy of this country – America – is totally dependent on military contracts,” said Ruby, responding to his wife's broad question. Rudy’s rambling halted as his two brothers emerged through the thick steel fire door. There was Jackson, looking his usual “Presidential” self, with shy old John tagging along. The two of them sat down and Jackson spoke up first. “So, Mom, what do you think of my plan?”

Sarah Little looked up from her handkerchief. Her face was still a bit wet from the tears she’d shed. “Oh, honey. Why does it have to be so hard? Why can’t folks just be happy and share? You and John are successful, and you didn’t become money-grubbers, did you?”

“No, we didn’t,” said John.” Turning to his brother. “Did we, Jackson?”

Rudy smiled. He had suspected what the twins were up to. But the wives hadn’t seen it coming.

“Oops!” exclaimed the twin dropping the guise as John. Checking his watch; “They’ll be coming to get me soon. We have to change back right now! Pardon us, please!”

In a swirl of shirttails and pant legs, the twins undressed right there at the table, down to their underwear, then switched garments. John retied his shoelaces while catching his breath.

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