“That was easier than I thought,” Dom said, looking out the oval office’s windows. “Any reports from the state?”
“No, sir,” Nash said, looking through his notes. “But, our agents have found an increase in searches relating to election results and fraud within the other camp.”
Dom inhaled deeply, strategizing. “Let them have the camp, we don’t need them anymore.”
“But?” Nash was confused. “Didn’t we agree to protect them if they helped us?”
“True,” Dom donned his trademark grin, “but I didn’t say ‘when’ I would protect them.”
The two men laughed.
“From now on, Nash, if our plan is going to work, we must be very careful in the words we choose.”
Nash shook his head, making notes in his file.
“Contact our press. Shift focus to the other camp and how well things are going for our supporters. Toss them a bone now and then and they’ll keep coming back for more.” Dom laughed.
“Yes, sir.” Nash admired this man and would follow him into hell, but he often wondered who the man actually served. Dom may be smart, but not this smart.
Closing the curtains to the oval office to ensure he was not seen, Dom removed a cell phone from within the breast pocket of his suit and pressed ‘3’.
“Thank you,” he said, sitting at his desk. “The people believe they have elected their next savior.” He chuckled. “The plan is going smoothly, but are you sure about the next move? That seems quite reckless at this point in time. Shouldn’t we—”
He sat, shaking his head. “Yes. Yes, I understand.”
Going pale, his eyes grew wide, increasing his breathing. “Are you sure? Is that really necessary?”
The voice on the phone began echoing around the oval office.
“I will get it done.” Dom cleared this throat. “Of course, it will work.”
Hanging up the phone and returning it to the safety of his jacket, he opened the curtains and let the evening Washington sun cast new shadows on the walls. He called for his secretary and asked her to find Nash and the press secretary. He needed to talk to them about the press conference in the morning.
“Nash, Sandy,” Dom said, looking at his two closest advisors sitting across from him. “We begin our next move in the morning.”
“Yes, sir.” Sandy said.
“Isn’t it too soon, sir?” Nash asked. “Hadn’t we better wait until the nation calms down after the election?”
“Are you questioning me?” He scowled.
“N-n-no, sir. Sorry, sir.” Nash stammered.
“Sandy,” Dom began giving his next order. “You are to shift all focus away from me and this administration. Right now, focus on the other camp…who knew what, who paid whom, that sort of thing. Get with Sam if you need any official documents drafted. Call out anyone not on my list of affiliates as liars. We need to create more distrust of the media.”
“Nash, I need you to start working on dismantling the social networks those fools cling to as a lifeline. Rip it from their bleeding hands if necessary. Sew more seeds of discontent within the masses. I need them ready. I need them begging in the streets for help. I need them willing to accept anything at any price.”
Nash and Sandy left the oval office to begin phase three.
To be continued
© Teresa Grabs, 2018. You can find me on Twitter @TeresaGrabs.
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