Devona Tench ~ 3-28-2029, 10:44 AM EST

“I don’t like it, Devona, and I don’t think I need to tell you why.” Isaiah Rollins is pacing, back and forth, behind his desk. His white hair is in a slight disarray, the result of his fingers running through it. In these moods, aggravated as he is, his mouth is an ugly gash across his aging face, his blue eyes are tightened to the point of squinting. Devona finds it hard to be attracted to him, like this. His urbane charisma is entirely gone. Still, he is the President; power has an attraction of its own.

“Mr. President­­,” Garibaldi begins.  

Isaiah cuts him off. “To hell with your excuses, Garibaldi, this is your mess! I had assurances from Harmon, from Manson­-­-hell, I had assurances from Orlandic himself that Walsh was going to be tidied up properly! Do you have any idea how this looks? We had worked so hard to position him as a respectable challenger for my re-election! Now he’s dead and there’s god knows what forensic evidence...” 

Devona, seated next to Rollins’ desk rather than across from it, reaches out and touches Isaiah’s arm. “The evidence is being taken care of.” 

Isaiah fumes. “This is Watergate­­--this is worse than Watergate! This is if Nixon was involved in the Kennedy Assassination!”  

“Nixon was involved, but only secondarily,” Devona concedes. She draws in Logos, just a bit, not enough to alarm the initiates within the Secret Service. She uses the power to bolster her aura of confidence and leadership. “And you won’t make the same mistakes that Kennedy and Nixon made. We’ll protect you from the press and any public inquiry.” 

Isaiah relaxes under her touch and her voice and her Logos. His mood becomes more pliable. He looks at Garibaldi. “Alright. What is it you’re looking for from me?” 

Garibaldi’s smile widens. “A certain number of loose ends have to be cleaned up. Most of these have already been dealt with, but the list may grow as these matters resolve. Obviously it would be best if Federal authorities were to turn a blind eye to these various mishaps.” 

“Keep the FBI sitting on its ass?” Isaiah scoffs. “Yes. I can do that. What are you going to do about Allen?” 

“We have to wait to see what the Knights’ next move is.” Devona forces the derision out of her voice. “They were undoubtedly monitoring Walsh in an effort to blackmail the Brotherhood. Allen can’t help them with that, she doesn’t actually know anything.” 

“So why are we worried about her?” Isaiah asks. He sits down behind his desk, squaring his broad shoulders. Still, his mood has improved.

“We needn’t worry about her, so long as the situation remains stable. She’s more dangerous as a rogue element, young as she is,” Garibaldi interjects before Devona can begin.

Isaiah looks away, running his fingers across his lips. “So we should leave her family alone, for now?” 

Garibaldi nods. “For the moment. They live in California, in the territory of the late Moishe Lyman. The Orlandic cartel would have to handle the job.” 

“Richard Orlandic put me in the White House,” Isaiah says. “He wouldn’t finger me for mass murder.”

“Perhaps not,” Garibaldi says. “But his organization is not as tightly run as the Brotherhood, nor as efficient as Synesis itself. He has many ambitious subordinates; one might show... initiative.” He stands up. “I will keep you informed of any developments.” 

After Garibaldi leaves, Isaiah turns to Devona. His gaze is distant, thoughtful. “I want a contingency plan to advance our timetable.”

Devona raises an eyebrow. “We don’t have the pieces in place to launch our full assault yet.”

“Maybe not the whole thing. Maybe a distraction. We might need breathing room.” Isaiah steeples his fingers. “Hit a city with the virus. Could you bring the Lavender Cabal around to that idea?”

“Possibly. It would be dangerous. They would have a great deal of questions…” Devona thinks the matter over. “But it might be worth considering how quickly we can move, when the moment comes…”

Rollins nods at her. His phone buzzes, the voice of his secretary coming through. “Admiral Fitzwallace to see you, sir.”

“Send him in.” Isaiah stands and gestures Devona to the door. “I’ll see you tonight? Betsy’s out of town.”

Devona smiles at him. “Of course.”