Portal to Eden

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Wilfred Hayden wasn’t pleased; he truly wasn’t. As vice president he should have been included in that meeting the president was having with Dr. Bradley. Actually, he should have been involved with everything right from the beginning.

Charles eyed him stonily. “Was there something I could help you with, Mr. Hayden?”

When he became president, Charles would have to go!

“As long as President Langley doesn’t require my presence…”

“She has everything under control. Sir.”

Hayden could hear the mockery in that last word, and he gritted his teeth. Oh, yes, the supercilious bastard would definitely be the first to go!

“Well then, I’ll be in my office.” He had people digging into whatever it was the president was up to, although none of them had discovered anything. However, he wasn’t about to reveal his hand so soon. “I have a good deal of paperwork to go over.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hayden had turned to leave, but the tone of those words had him whirling around.

He had sponsored a Constitutional amendment limiting the number of children a family could have. He couldn’t control what the rest of the world did, but he intended to do the best he could for his beloved country.

He was also chairman of the Change in Climate and Agricultural Improvement Committee, and this was just as important, if not more so, than whatever it was the president was working on.

For the past thirty years, the temperature throughout the world had been dropping a degree for every ten years, and the scientific community was growing concerned about the possible approach of a new ice age. In addition, the world’s population was increasing at an alarming rate; it was becoming impossible to feed them all, and the scientists were desperate to come up with a new manner of increasing the growth of the bread crops.

Charles raised an eyebrow. “Sir?”

Hayden wasn’t about to get into a pissing contest with the man. He curled his lip and stalked out, his spine stiff.

He had almost reached his office when one of his senior aides came rushing up to him.

“Mr. Vice President!”

“What is it, Ackerman?”

The aide dropped his voice. “Mr. Day just called. He’s found something he thinks you should hear.” He lowered his voice even more. “It’s regarding the president’s meetings with the PPA.”

“With who?”

“He couldn’t talk about it over an unsecured line. He said he’ll explain when he sees you.”

“Very well.” It was about time his chief of staff dug up some intelligence. Now Hayden just hoped he could use it.

“He’s on his way in from the jetport and should be in your office within thirty minutes. He’s bringing someone with him, sir. He didn’t say who it was, but he did say you’d be interested in meeting him.”

Hayden glanced at his wristwatch. “Excellent.” That would give him time to freshen up. He liked to be at his best no matter who he might be speaking to. “Thank you, Ackerman. Well done.”

The man flushed with pleasure. Well, it never hurt to stroke egos.

“Make sure we have some refreshments.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get right on it. You’re scheduled to have dinner with Mrs. Hayden at the Clinton Room, so something light, perhaps?” He hurried off.

I should have told him to make it substantial. The Clinton Room was one of the more exclusive restaurants in DC, although its food wasn’t precisely to Hayden’s taste. Still, concessions needed to be made. His constituents would expect nothing less than for him to patronize such a place.

He had more important things to consider right now, so he put dinner at the Clinton Room out of his mind and entered his office.

It was a large room, with a couch and a goodly number of chairs for seating visiting dignitaries. A glassed bookcase was against one wall, and paintings Felicia had selected were on the others. At the far end of the room was his desk. President Langley’s desk was larger, but this was her last term, and their Party had already approached him about running. It was only a matter of time before the president’s desk and office would be his.

There was time before Day and his mystery companion arrived. Hayden crossed the room to the adjoining washroom, which was an added amenity.

He relieved himself and looked into the mirror as he washed and then dried his hands. Yes, this was what a president should look like, distinguished, imposing, urbane.

And being good looking never hurt.

He smoothed a hand over his luxuriant hair. The implants had taken well. No one would suspect that a little over six years ago he’d been relying on a toupee to conceal the spot that thinned more every time he’d combed his hair. Now, however…

“You are a handsome devil!” He winked at his image. He was President Langley’s age, but he looked years younger. A little judicious work did wonders for one’s appearance.

Satisfied with his hair, he touched his tie. The knot was centered, exactly as it should be, and the clasp, gold with his initials in platinum—an anniversary gift from his wife—completed the look of a successful politician.

He blew into his palm and inhaled, then frowned. All this tension was upsetting his digestion. He took a bottle of mouthwash from the cabinet, swished a capful in his mouth, and spit. He blew into his palm once again.

Ah. That was better.

He replaced the bottle, and then leaned forward and bared his teeth to examine them in the mirror, running his tongue over the enamel his dentist worked so hard to keep sparkling white. Nothing was lodged between them, and as for his gums, they were a healthy pink.

He stepped back, gave the warm smile that had helped get him elected, then nodded. He didn’t know who Day was bringing with him, but Hayden’s aim was always to impress whoever came to meet him.

He left the washroom, closing the door behind him.

His office was still empty, which was good. He liked everyone to think his appearance was natural and effortless.

On the coffee table was a tray with a platter of sandwiches, a carafe of coffee and three cups, and creamer and sweetener. He could trust Ackerman to cover the bases.

He settled himself behind the vast expanse of his desk. On one corner was a framed photograph of his wife and two children. It was very formal. Felicia, dressed in the violet gown she’d worn to the first inaugural ball six years ago, was seated, while Jason, in a tux, and Pamela, in a pale lavender gown that was a more age-appropriate version of her mother’s, stood behind her.

Unlike some politicians, Hayden had never let his little head do his thinking for him. When he was a bachelor, he’d made sure he was seen in public with women who were beautiful, stylish, and intelligent. And as for the women who served his baser needs on the rare occasions those needs demanded to be met—well, he wasn’t seen anywhere with them.

Once he’d married, though, he was never seen with any woman other than his wife.

Felicia’s father had been president of the Senate at one time, and Hayden had made a point of currying his favor, going to him for advice, and eventually asking permission to marry his daughter.

Since Felicia was Vice President Durham’s only child, of course he wanted only the best for her, and he had been more than willing to give an up-and-coming congressman a boost up the political ladder.

Felicia wanted him in the Oval Office as much as he wanted to be there. She’d been her father’s hostess since the passing of her mother, and she’d be an ideal First Lady, with her elegantly coiffed blonde hair and cool blue eyes, and exquisite taste in clothes. When she chose a new designer, everyone rushed to patronize him or her.

Felicia even selected his suits, seeing they were all hand-tailored.

As for the children, they were perfect in every way—the perfect number, perfectly spaced, and one of each, which was exactly what was necessary for a politician. Jason and Pamela had their mother’s coloring, looks, and charisma. They were well-behaved, and both ranked highest in their classes at the exclusive private schools they attended. Most importantly of all, they were what the public wanted for themselves—children who were happy, healthy, and not inclined to make trouble.

That alone would give Hayden their votes.

There was a tap on the door.

“Come,” he said. The expression on his face now was solemn. Here sat the man who could be trusted with the fate of the nation.

The door opened, and his chief of staff entered, followed by a short, stocky man.

“It’s good to see you, George.”

“Thank you, sir. And may I say you’re looking well?”

“Thank you.” With the polite chitchat dealt with, he turned his gaze on Day’s companion.

“Mr. Vice President, I’d like to introduce you to Zacharias Franklin.”

“Mr. Hayden.”

“Mr. Franklin. Mr. Day seems to feel you have some information that would interest me.”

“I think it will. Have you ever heard of the Portal Protection Alliance? The PPA?”

“I’ve heard the name, but beyond that…” Hayden disliked appearing ignorant, but he had to ask, “What is that? Some organization located in Europe or Asia?”

“No, it can actually be found here in the States, sir. However, every major power on the planet has representatives in it. There’s talk of going off world.”

“Just a second! President Langley is aware of this?” That would explain all those trips she’d taken out of D.C., leaving him in charge, but never informing him where she was going or why.

Despite its empty state, Hayden felt his stomach start to roil. With everything that was going on in the country, this was the last thing that was needed. A century or so ago they’d gone as far as Mars, attempting to colonize the red planet, but the cost had become too prohibitive and the space program was eventually scrapped.

Of course the private sector had leaped at the opportunity to take over running shuttles to the moon. Resorts catering to those adventurous enough to want to vacation there for a week or a weekend were available, along with excursions on the moon’s surface.

Why would anyone want to spend time on that barren rock? A waste of money is what he thought that was, but the Terra-Moon lobby was one of his party’s strongest contributors, so he didn’t say anything.

But now the president wanted to start up the space program again?

Where were they going to come up with the money for such a project? The people who had voted him in would vote him out just as easily once they learned of this.

He didn’t like the sound of this, and he needed to learn all he could.

As if reading his mind, Franklin said, “Let me tell you about it.”