EPISODE 8.11 - Written by Aim
THE REQUEST
TEASER
INT. AMBASSADOR'S OFFICE, US EMBASSY, QUMAR
10:00PM LOCAL (3:00 PM EDT) SUNDAY
"I am sorry it must be this way, Mr. Ambassador, but we can no longer guarantee the safety of your troops in our country. The things once only said by extremist fringe groups are increasingly accepted in the mainstream. It is a volatile situation that my government fears will only get worse since the recent election of certain extreme elements to the people's parliament," the Qumari Foreign Minister shrugged his shoulders and held his hands out palm upward to emphasis his powerlessness. "We are greatly concerned about the ramifications of an incident."
"An incident?" The
"If something were to happen involving an American serviceman," the Foreign Minister explained. The Ambassador wondered if it was possible for a man's voice to actually have the smooth consistency of champagne cake or if he was merely imagining it. "Mr. Ambassador, I accept that my predecessor was a terrorist and a traitor. There are those who feel you did us a favor by executing him, but there are those coming to power who feel differently and there are those in the general population who feel that Minister Shareef was a true patriot, Mr. Ambassador. The recent elections were an indication of just how popular he was."
"It's a military base, we can't just give you thirty days notice and then move," the American objected. "In fact, we have a lease authorizing us to be there for the next ninety years and you can't argue that your country doesn't need us here, showing the flag and keeping the Straits open and moving."
"Mr. Ambassador, all I can do is suggest you take our letter to your President."
CUT TO:
INT. RURAL HEALTH CLINIC, AMIIR,
"There's nothing I can do. I'm sorry." Dr. Perez bowed his head and pulled the blanket over the young woman's head to avoid looking at the family gathered in the small clinic.
The clinic's director stepped between the American doctor and the woman's husband, ushering the family outside into the darkness and allowing the nurses to move the body out of the clinic's small infirmary.
The woman had died after only a few days of treatment, her husband unwilling to seek medical attention for her until the situation had become dire. The cancer they'd discovered had spread too far to be treated; the only thing doctors could do was try to discover the cause and insure there was no threat to public health.
There was, of course, but there was nothing the clinic could do about it. The social mores of this small, mostly rural and tribal country allowed for men to be sexually promiscuous and were unyielding that women would submit to their husbands. So HIV and other STDs spread from prostitutes to married men and then on to their wives. This women's husband was a truck driver, where he'd acquired a case of HPV along with dinner at a rest stop one night. There was no such thing as gynecological care in this small country on the
Dr. Perez slipped from the infirmary and walked slowly to the quarters he shared with the two other doctors from the non-governmental organization he did non-profit work for.
"She die?" Dr. Hanson asked. They'd been expecting it since the woman had arrived. The only thing they had been able to do was make her comfortable.
"A few minutes ago, yeah."
"Bloody waste," the old Brit muttered. "Too bad they can't just air drop a load of that new HPV vaccine over here."
"Except that would cost the drug companies money."
"Chris, that's not entirely fair," Jeff Perez protested half-heartedly as he sat on his bunk and pulled his boots off.
Chris Martin snorted and raised his head to look at his friend. "You can use that line when you stop sending patients to
"The approval came what, five or six months ago? A year or so of gouging insurance companies and they ought to be ready to write off a few cases of it for use in the wilds of Third World Africa." Jeff lay back and closed his eyes.
"Too bad there's not a way to make that happen faster," Dr. Hanson muttered into the darkness.
CUT TO:
INT. US EMBASSY, QUMAR, 7:00AM LOCAL (MIDNIGHT EDT) MONDAY
It would have been fastest to send a cable, the Ambassador knew, but even with today's high secure encryption technologies, secure telephone links and satellite transmission systems, he knew he'd have to explain this in person. So he'd made the decision to sit on it overnight and leave first thing in the morning.
He sent a cable to the Secretary of State, letting him know he was on his way back to the
The Navy had a pre-arranged protocol for getting him out of the country in a hurry if he needed to, and within nine hours of the Qumari Foreign Minister's visit the Ambassador was aboard a government
Gulfstream jet on the first leg of a long trip home.
CUT TO:
INT. WHITE HOUSE RESIDENCE, 7:30 AM, MONDAY
"Stop playing around and eat your breakfast," Helen admonished. She'd left the breakfast table for five minutes and returned to find her children chasing each other around the room.
"Miranda started it!" Peter whined.
"No, I didn't!" his little sister cried in her own defense.
"I don't care who started it, sit back down and eat your toast. You're going to be late for school." Helen pointed uncompromisingly at their places at the table until both children sat down again.
"I hate school." The boy's complaint was accompanied by a throat-clearing cough that caught Helen's attention.
The cough had developed in the spring, but had never progressed into anything worse. She'd mentioned it to the kids' pediatrician when he'd graciously come to Washington a couple of weeks ago to do their back-to-school physicals, and Dr. Perez had thought perhaps it might be a beginning symptom of asthma, but in the absence of any other symptoms such as wheezing or shortness of breath or even feeling bad, he didn't want to overreact to what might just be an odd childhood tic. He told Helen to keep an eye on Peter and if the boy developed any other symptoms to give him a call immediately and he'd fly up to check things out.
Helen observed her son as he sullenly chewed his toast. He had been struggling at the end of the last year and she was worried it had coincided with her increased visibility and workload as First Lady. As much as she was enjoying the work she was doing, she promised herself nothing would come before her own kids.
"It's a short day today, Peter. You'll ease back into it." She gave him an encouraging smile.
"Mrs. Santos?" The lead agent on the kids' detail appeared as though on cue. "It's time to leave."
CUT TO:
INT. OVAL OFFICE, 30 MINUTES LATER
"So they're working on a settlement?"
"That's what Ainsley and Sam are telling me," Josh replied as the two men relaxed before the day began in earnest. "I told them to get it resolved as peacefully and quietly as possible. Based on what I've been briefed on we could let it go to trial and win it with no problem, but I don't think that's the politically expedient thing to do. I think we throw a little goodwill in that direction and put a gag order in the settlement and try to soothe the hard feelings."
"What would you have suggested if I hadn't blown the Mt. Saint Helen's call?" Matt asked. He knew the only reason Josh was capitulating on the environmental lawsuit was because people in that area were affected by ash from the [volcano] eruption.
"If we," Josh stressed the plural, "hadn't missed that, I would have entertained other options, but this is the best choice for the circumstances."
"Mr. President?" Ronna opened the door and interrupted.
"Yes?"
"Secretary Vinick is on line six, sir. He says it's urgent."
"Arnie?" Matt shot Josh a quizzical look and stood up to get the call. "I just had a national security briefing that said God was in his heaven and all was right with the world. What can be urgent at the State Department?" Matt picked up the phone and punched the button for line six. "Arnie? What's going on?"
Josh rose from his seat and approached the President, concerned by the look on his face.
"Okay, Arnie. I'll see him as soon as he gets in," Matt said and then hung up the receiver.
"What's up?" Josh asked.
"There was critical cable waiting for him when he got in this morning from one of our ambassadors saying that he was coming home immediately via military transport and needed to speak with me the minute he got here."
Josh couldn't help the sinking feeling in his stomach. "The ambassador to where?"
"Qumar."
SMASH CUT TO OPENING TITLES