Hartaugh's Waterloo

 311.

"How much do I want?" I almost scream.

"You have sunk so low, feeling bullet-proof and above the law, enough to attempt a bribe to keep all this out off the ten o'clock news and out of the courts?"

He does not answer but does unsheathe a wicked pair of eye daggers.

"You have a lot of nerve son," he opens his weak defense, "being, after all, charged with my security and singularly employed as a result of my lobbying efforts."

"Something for which I owe as much to my predecessor as to your insight into talent and ability, but let's not quibble over semantics," I make a show of pushing my sleeve high enough to display my watch, "we have less than twenty minutes to come to an agreement before landing."

"We can do this one of two ways Senator, and I believe this will be the final time I use that once honored prefix in your reference; One is you take the aforementioned honorable path, resign immediately, and I will ensure that the charges are reduced to their minimum," I start and hear him snort a "preposterous" in response. "Or, two, I can lead you down the ramp in stainless steel bracelets and into a waiting squad car."

"You have nothing on me that will stick. All hearsay, innuendo and speculation." He tries.

I take a deep breath having hoped we might avoid this part - although it does provide a deep perversive pleasure to watch him face the music in such an agonizingly horrified manner.

I display the small remote devise I have been holding in my left hand commanding the screen and play functions. Hartaugh immediately turns his head to see who might also be watching this block-busting premiere.

Inside of three minutes the alleged hearsay, innuendo and speculation has been visually and audibly rebuked and replaced with highlighted surveillance, pristine audio of conversations considered private, and a gavel-pounding black and white slide-show from the soup course of criminal intent to the flambe of a criminal plot against the government. The Queen has outdone herself in the feature's preparation and production, ending the short presentation with actual highlighted lines of the backup contract lifted from Goldson's account, detailing the nefarious 'agreements' and 'payout potential' for each party.

I turn the lights back up and see a furious Hartaugh, clenched jaw and pursed lips, smoke metaphorically spewing from both ears. I feel no empathy. None.

"Way number one, or way number two?" I repeat, making another dramatic gesture in looking out the GulfStream's port-side window and noting the landing strip looking like Christmas in Las Vegas with its strobing red and blue police lights.

"I will never forget this," He finally manages to spit out.

"We don't want you to Hartaugh. Justice, and the same oath we both took, demands that we defend our Constitution against all enemies, foreign AND domestic. And further, that the quality of justice is administered equally across the board, from the Senate chambers to the streets of the inner city, from white collar felony to blue collar misdemeanor. And you sir, have violated that oath to such an alarming, and racist, degree that I feel embarrassed that it has existed for so long on my watch."

He knows the horse race is over yet continues to squirm, flailing for, any, obscure option, the Get Outta Jail Free card that has been dog-eared and faded in his billfold as a joke, these many long and arrogant years.

The pilots voice comes on the intercom announcing our landing approach. The red and blue light show peppers the morning sky with the forewarning of loss. Loss of freedom, of dignity and of power.

I grab my radio and open communications with the local police on the ground, making sure that Hartaugh gets an earful.

"Thank you for the assist Sergeant, it appears that our transport has decided to cop a guilty plea, so we can take if from here," I look to Hartaugh with raised brows to gain his agreement, which he begrudgingly does. "You are dismissed and thank you again for your professional response."

"That a roger sir, always a pleasure helping you guys."

We both look out the porthole to see our approach. As we do the red and blue lights go instantly black.

"Seat belt sir."