The F.L.O.P. – Your Eyes Only Mr. President

Every writer has at least one flop in their notebooks. That story that didn’t work, or the character you love everybody else hates. So, with the encouragement of my Wife, I decided to purposely choose my flop story with a character who’s code name is known as the F.L.O.P. .

It was this play on words that I loved about this character. PruittWrites had a contest to decide who would be the star of our 140 Mile Stretch serials, and this one lost. As you hopefully know, the action star of it is Cameron Taylor. My choice, Edward Sandstone didn’t win. I hope you enjoy the introduction of one of my Wife’s favorite characters, The F.L.O.P.!

If you are reading this, then you either set behind the resolute desk, or work for the man who does. It is with respect that I begin this way. In the situations that I find myself, I’ve chosen to write the rest of this, as if this was a journal, it simply makes recording this easier.

It was 4:00 am when the alarm went off, I wanted to throw it, but I knew I couldn’t. By 5:00 am I was at the office, in my boss’s office to be exact. It doesn’t sound impressive, until you realize that he’s the President of the United States. He wasn’t scheduled to be there until 7:00 am, but he walked in two minutes later.

As you know, there are no records that I’m anything more than a Secret Service agent. I’m just one of many agents, who never officially leave the residence without accompanying the President. Of course, I had only seen the White House twice this year, once after a visit to … project Porter.

For the record, I’m Edward Sandstone, here is my bio.

Edward Sandstone, is a second generation American on his Mother’s side. He speaks at least 10 languages, and is a diplomat as well as a soldier. His Mother, a famous South Korean author, married a member of Silicon Valley’s technical elite. Raised in an innovative and imaginative home, he uses both of these gifts to operate “special” missions under the direction of only the President himself.
He looks more like a professor than an agent, but that is intentional. Hiding his physique in slightly oversized suits, he attempts to cause his opponent to underestimate him intentionally. His nickname reflects the President’s sense of humor, “The F.L.O.P.”, It stands for “Friend and Liaison Of the President”.

Your Predecessor Mr. President had an interesting sense of humor, so I became the Flop. It’s a name you seem to be fond of as well. Anyway, your predecessor and I met with you, at that time the President Elect, to explain my real position. He also explained the mission that I would find myself on for the next four weeks, which is why I missed your inauguration.

As I recall, you were as interested in the answers to some questions as he was. Which is how I found myself two nights later, on a boat to a certain island in Canada. I wish you both would have let me drive across the border, but I understand why it wasn’t possible, given my cargo.

Jean Luc and I arrived four days after that, neither one of us was happy about the partnership, but we had resolved to a silent, mutual distrust. Our contact was late, probably due to the fractured leg that he had just experienced from Meyersmith. It was going to be a long week, and my allergies weren’t helping, but then neither was my partner.

140 Mile Stretch

140 Mile Stretch

Secretary Harris was nervous as he walked in to the heart of the nation’s intelligence building.  He couldn’t imagine how many covert operations had been carried out here.  “Good morning Mr. Secretary, she will see you now.”  Director Wilson’s secretary pressed a button to open the inner door.

“Good morning Tom, it’s good to see you again.” She wheeled around from behind the desk, Phyllis Wilson was a formidable ally to have.  She was eighty four, but still had the strength of a person much younger.  Her slate gray curly hair flowed over her shoulders, her green eyes seemed to be aware of everything in the room.

She lost the use of her legs in the line of duty, a secret service agent who saved the President.  Then she went into politics, first Governor of California, then Senator.  She was a third generation American.  Her Grandparents immigrated from Harare, Zimbabwe.  Her Grandfather, Dr. Wilson, moved to the states to head up medical research at John Hopkins.

Although friends for years, like most Washington veterans, they sized each other up.  Tom was losing his hair, but not his nerve.  What he had left was white, he was eating to many doughnuts, but he knew that Alice was trying to get him to cut down.  His blue eyes and pleasant smile would make you underestimate him if you weren’t careful.  Some of his opponents had made that mistake, right before losing the election.

“Thank you Phyllis, I don’t mind telling you I’m a little nervous.”  She smiled, “You should be, you’re the first Secretary of Agriculture to ever enter this building.”  He smiled back, “True, there’s only one thing that reassures me my friend, the fact that for once, you need me more than I need you.  Shall we go?”