Richardson was stunned by Komarov’s bold and direct approach. But he must admit that Komarov was correct. This was the right time to position himself for one of the top jobs. He knew what that position would be, but he wanted to hear from Komarov.
“It is a little too early for anyone to jockey for a place in the Cook administration. I do not even know which position Zachary thinks is suitable for me.”
“It is not important what Mr. Cook thinks but what Mr. Wilcox will choose. I would prefer for you to be Attorney General, but you do not have a law degree.”
Since he had been in direct contact with Komarov, Richardson started having a second thought about his relationship with the Russian president. He had worked hard to get a direct line to Komarov believing that they had pursued the same goal of white dominance. He had wanted and thought that they were equal partners. But he became aware that Komarov had been more preoccupied with getting the U.S. sanctions off the book and tried to play him by dangling the white supremacism carrot to get him to do his bidding. An extremely smart man of little patience, he had thought of dropping Komarov and the Russians. But a reality check overcame his hubris: He had no firm belief that the Movement would back him up and he had no one else he could call comrade in his pursuit of white dominance.
He breathed in and out a few times to clear his mind. The cards had been dealt. Everyone would play with their hand and the smartest would take the top prize. From the time he knew how to think critically, he had never thought for one moment that he was not the smartest in the room. He would just have to improve his hand. Whether Komarov knew it or not, he had just reinforced his hand by giving him Bart Hightower, the SOB that for a long time he had thought he had nothing in his head but coal. Richardson felt calm and relaxed.
“The other choice is the White House chief of staff,” Komarov said and before Richardson could wrap his head around Komarov’s new proposition, he added, “But you have to work much harder to get it because you have a formidable rival.”
“Who?”
“Aurora Cook.”
“But she is not a politician or even an administrator. She has no experience running anything,” Richardson blurted out laughing.
“But she has something that nobody in your circle has.”
“What’s that?”
“Mr. Cook’s trust.”
“I can handle Zachary,” said Richardson confidently and, to Komarov’s alarm, dismissively.
“I am a politician for a long time in an arena where there are no gentlemen, only hyenas. I know a few things. American politics may be more gentlemanly and civilized than Russia’s, but one thing is true regardless. A man can turn into a totally different creature when he or she has some power, exponentially so when the power is your White House. If Mr. Cook were elected president, he would have power over you and your Movement, not the other way around. If you and your friends are not prepared for that reality, you will be in for a big surprise.” Komarov paused for Richardson’s brilliant mind to take control of his arrogance.
“As I just mentioned, the ideal place for you is the Justice Department, where you can focus on dismantling the security apparatus and replace the current crop of security personnel and law enforcement with your own. That is where you start to implement your plan, step by step, to create a new nation for you and your fellow white supremacists.
“Since the justice department is not available to you, you must find a way including pushing Mrs. Cook aside, to get the chief of staff position. In this endeavor, I believe you will find many allies including Mr. Hightower and Mr. Wilcox.”
Richardson woke up from a nightmare that he, the brain of a supreme conspiracy to create a white world encompassing North America and Europe, was being lectured and guided by a former communist albeit one who was now the president of Russia. He knew that this was a risky relationship, but he had always trusted his instinct and intelligence; he had always come out on top.
“Before I say good night, and I apology for keeping you awake, I need to explain why I decided to talk to you directly. Sergei is not just working with you but with others in your Movement. Certain things should not be shared with others. If he conveyed this message to you himself, he might inadvertently leak it to the others. I am not sure it would be good for you and your plan as I do not know how much you have shared with the others and who are your true partners in your, eh, project.”
“Thank you, Mr. President.” Richardson also wanted to end the conversation; he was tired.
“Good night Mr. Richardson. This is the telephone number you can call whenever you want to talk to me personally.”
After Komarov hung up, he did not feel like going to bed. He went to his desk, pulled out a drawer, and reached for the watch box. He lifted the tray containing six watches off the box and took a small plastic bag from the bottom. He poured the white powder onto a piece of white, clean paper. He took another piece of paper to make a straw. He inhaled the stuff. With strict discipline, he indulged in recreational use of cocaine for a long time without developing dependence. He pulled his laptop to set it straight in front of him, turned it on, and started typing.
JOHN P. LE PHONG (This article can be found on Facebook, thelephongjournal.com, and X)
