I'm busy reading (and enjoying) Double Down at the moment, when this damn thing popped into my head. Yes, I really am wondering what if Santorum was the Republican nominee in 2012...
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February 15, 2012
“I don’t like it.”
Willard Mitt Romney looked at Katie Packer Gage, his deputy campaign manager, with some exasperation. “Yeah, but I’m still doing it.”
“Governor, why fly private? Why not public?”
“Because I’ve got to get to La Jolla and I’ve got to get there now. I’m going to get home and then work out how to cross Michigan like a devouring flame and stop this so-called surge that Santorum’s got going now. Katie, I’ve got to do this.”
“I’m not denying that Governor, but there’s only going to be room for you and your Secret Service detail on that plane. No campaign staff means no strategizing. I think that it’s a mistake. We need every minute we can get to plan this thing out.”
Romney held his hand up to stop her. “Katie, this is how it needs to be. The rest of the staff who are coming with me to California will follow on. I’ve got the initial plan and I’m going to work on it a bit during the flight.”
She looked at him. He looked tired as hell. His face was drawn and almost ashen and his hair was disordered slightly. What he really needed was sleep. “Ok Governor. Safe flight.”
“Thanks Katie. I’ll see you in California.” And then he strode off to his plane, the Secret Service agents hovering around him.
She sighed and walked off to the main commercial part of the terminal. She found Stuart Stevens, her boss, slumped on a bar stool in one of the bars, looking every bit as rumpled as Romney. He had a blackberry in front of him and he was distractedly flipping through his emails. He looked at her. “Has he gone?”
“He’s gone.”
“Great. Good timing – they just called our gate.”
“California here we come.”
She slept for most of the flight. The sleep of exhaustion. Too much to do and not enough time to do it in tended to take it out of her. Stevens even slept as well, as far as she could tell. As soon as they landed and started to approach the terminal the blackberrys and cell phones came out and were switched on and Stevens soon started to scroll through the dozens of emails that had arrived during the flight.
Gage frowned at her own phone. Nothing from the Governor. But a message, no three messages and a voicemail from Tom Barclay, from the Secret Service. “Stuart? Have you got a message from Tom Barclay to call him at once? Stuart?”
She looked over at Stevens and then paled. The man had his blackberry to his ear and had gone totally white. So white that she moved to his side at once. Was this a heart attack? “Stuart? Stuart are you ok?”
Still white as a sheet Stevens lowered his blackberry, his eyes very wide and far away. His mouth worked for a moment and then he turned to look at her, before he suddenly pulled her close and placed his lips to her right ear. “That was Barclay,” he whispered dully. “The Governor’s plane is missing. It disappeared from the radar after reporting an engine problem.” He gulped audibly. “They think that he’s dead.”
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February 15, 2012
“I don’t like it.”
Willard Mitt Romney looked at Katie Packer Gage, his deputy campaign manager, with some exasperation. “Yeah, but I’m still doing it.”
“Governor, why fly private? Why not public?”
“Because I’ve got to get to La Jolla and I’ve got to get there now. I’m going to get home and then work out how to cross Michigan like a devouring flame and stop this so-called surge that Santorum’s got going now. Katie, I’ve got to do this.”
“I’m not denying that Governor, but there’s only going to be room for you and your Secret Service detail on that plane. No campaign staff means no strategizing. I think that it’s a mistake. We need every minute we can get to plan this thing out.”
Romney held his hand up to stop her. “Katie, this is how it needs to be. The rest of the staff who are coming with me to California will follow on. I’ve got the initial plan and I’m going to work on it a bit during the flight.”
She looked at him. He looked tired as hell. His face was drawn and almost ashen and his hair was disordered slightly. What he really needed was sleep. “Ok Governor. Safe flight.”
“Thanks Katie. I’ll see you in California.” And then he strode off to his plane, the Secret Service agents hovering around him.
She sighed and walked off to the main commercial part of the terminal. She found Stuart Stevens, her boss, slumped on a bar stool in one of the bars, looking every bit as rumpled as Romney. He had a blackberry in front of him and he was distractedly flipping through his emails. He looked at her. “Has he gone?”
“He’s gone.”
“Great. Good timing – they just called our gate.”
“California here we come.”
She slept for most of the flight. The sleep of exhaustion. Too much to do and not enough time to do it in tended to take it out of her. Stevens even slept as well, as far as she could tell. As soon as they landed and started to approach the terminal the blackberrys and cell phones came out and were switched on and Stevens soon started to scroll through the dozens of emails that had arrived during the flight.
Gage frowned at her own phone. Nothing from the Governor. But a message, no three messages and a voicemail from Tom Barclay, from the Secret Service. “Stuart? Have you got a message from Tom Barclay to call him at once? Stuart?”
She looked over at Stevens and then paled. The man had his blackberry to his ear and had gone totally white. So white that she moved to his side at once. Was this a heart attack? “Stuart? Stuart are you ok?”
Still white as a sheet Stevens lowered his blackberry, his eyes very wide and far away. His mouth worked for a moment and then he turned to look at her, before he suddenly pulled her close and placed his lips to her right ear. “That was Barclay,” he whispered dully. “The Governor’s plane is missing. It disappeared from the radar after reporting an engine problem.” He gulped audibly. “They think that he’s dead.”
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