Historical fiction surrounding the crimes of 9/11.  In this chapter, Carlucci pays a visit to Poppy Bush deep in the heart of Texas.

Above image is from Flickr

This is a fictional narrative wrapped around the real crimes of the September 11, 2001 attacks and the 2008 financial crisis.  A smattering of other real events, institutions, entities, and people have also been included. 

Chapter 19
Home Of George H.W. Bush 

West Oaks, Houston Texas 

March 22, 1997

Frank admired the towering stone archways in Bush’s new home as he was escorted to see the former president, George H.W. Bush.  He was brought by two hulking Secret Service agents into a large study with old Victorian-style furniture and towering walls of books.    

The old man rose to greet his old associate and met him with a warm smile.  “Frank, good to see an old warrior like you.  Have a seat.” 

They took their seats in well-preserved classical style chairs the size of thrones as Frank said, “George, always good to see you.”    He then peered at the armed guards and then back at his host, “I thought we might have a word in private.” 

The old man eyed his protector shadows and nodded his head to tell them to scat. They obeyed and stepped through the giant double doors.   

Frank smiled at the old CIA director, “I’m here to talk business.” 

George looked at him knowingly and responded, “I thought you might.  Anytime we talk it seems that some sort of business comes up.  What’s on your mind, Frank?”

Carlucci began, “As you know, there have been some issues with the current administration.” Bush nodded in agreement. Frank continued, “There are some people who have some large interests in making sure that the next president plays ball a little better.”

Bush laughed lightly at the cryptic talk of his CIA associate.  “Just cut to the chase, Frank.  It’s just us having a private conversation.  No need for all the tangled inferences.  You can be a straight shooter with me.”

Frank exhaled deeply.  He appreciated little things like that.  He didn’t get to be so direct much of the time in his line of work.  It was a breath of fresh air.  “I think that junior might be a good choice for the 2000 election.  And not just me, there are some very influential friends of ours who will make it happen, but we need your cooperation.”

This brought on even deeper laughter from the ex-prez.  He leaned back, laughed, and gripped the armrests tightly.  “Junior, huh? I can only imagine why.”

Frank couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at the absurdity of the proposal.  George Jr. didn’t exactly have a sterling record of success.  He had nearly flunked all of his classes at Yale, hit the bottle too much, and had driven Arbusto Energy to financial ruin.  Now he was governor of Texas, but that was more because of his daddy’s reputation and connections than anything else.   

Bush continued, “Well, I suppose it can be done.  Hell, if he can be governor of Texas, then president isn’t too much of a stretch.” Frank looked at the old man with sharp eyes and said, “It will be done, but we need your help. Are you with us?”

Bush thought for a moment and then answered, “My help costs lots of money.  Not only that, but I need assurances that junior won’t be begging me for help every damn day.  You’d better have one hell of an advisory staff lined up.”

“I assure you, the money is there.  It will be extraordinarily lucrative.  As for the staff, it will be fool proof.”

"That’s what I need to hear.  Good choice of words, Frank,” Bush agreed with a look of bemusement.  “So what do you need from me?”

“At the moment, there’s a young tech firm that needs some help,” Carlucci said.

Bush cut him off, “I’m not much for charity.”

Carlucci laughed, “I know.  It’s an investment, and trust me, it’s going to get some very fruitful contracts from the DOD.  The catch is, I don’t want you investing directly.” 

 The Bush patriarch replied intently, “You have my attention.”

Frank continued, “Get some Saudi money involved.  You’ll get some kickbacks, but it’ll be better if you’re not directly tied to it.” Bush raised a curious brow and asked in a conspiratorial tone, “What exactly is going on, Frank?”

“I can’t give all the details right now.  It’s a big project, but it’s still in the early stages.  Can you get some Saudi money?”

“Of course I can.  And don’t bullshit me on all the details.  You know as well as I do that things don’t work like that.”

“True enough,” Frank relented, “let me rephrase.  I’ll tell you what you need to know.”

Bush smirked and leaned back confidently, “That’s it, spoken like a true Company man.  How much are we talkin?”

“At least five million.”

“And the clients are DOD?”

“Will be DOD.”

“What’s the name of the company?”

“Ptech.” 

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