The Apology

By Steven Sarshik

George Bushs plane is forced to land in Athens . . . and the Greek
authorities arrest him for war crimes! They want him to explain why he
used enhanced interrogation techniques like waterboarding on prisoners
while he was president. Whats the first thing that Bush does in response to
this predicament? He orders Spinach Pie from a Greek restaurant near the
Acropolis.
This is the first big surprise in The Apology. How does George Bush,
the outrageous Texan, manage to grapple with his problems in the land
of Socrates? Does he decide to drink hemlock? A clever, and sometimes
riotous, political tale with appearances by Barack Obama, Joe Biden, Rahm
Emanuel, Hillary Clinton, Condoleezza Rice, James Baker, General Petraeus,
Antonin Scalia, Clarence Thomas, Ben Ginsberg, Alan Dershowitz . . . and
of course, Lindsay Lohan.Faced with charges that he committed
war crimes while in the White House,Bush decides to enlist the help of a beautiful Harvard MBA student who is working part time for the CIA. He comes up with an ingenious strategy
to prove once and for all that waterboarding is not really torture.Does this strategy work? Or is Bush tripped up by his own brilliant mind? Youll have to get to the last page of
this compelling story before you find out Bushs fate.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 24, 2012
• ISBN: 9781469179926

Steven Sarshik

Steven Sarshik is a New York City trial lawyer with more than thirty years experience handling all types of politically charged cases. His cases have been featured prominently on the first page of the New York Law Journal. He is currently the editor and publisher of AppealMagazine.com, an online magazine for attorneys.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Zombie Spectrum Disorder

Barack Obama looked out at the multitude, the small dots of white, red and olive green, on the brisk January afternoon and paused.

Not as good as Lincoln’s Second Inaugural speech, he thought. Not even close. No one would be studying his speech a hundred years from now. The words had been carefully crafted and he had put in the effort, but there was no uplifting theme. It was probably unfair to compare the two speeches. Lincoln had spoken to the country in the middle of a great civil war and had used the occasion to begin the healing process.

With malice toward none, Lincoln had said, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation’s wounds.

Obama stared out the crowd and waited. He had only a few more sentences. Some thought from deep inside him pushed to the surface. It will not always be like this. There will not always be a crowd waiting to hear my every word. There will not be people willing to stand in the brutal cold to hear my pronouncements. It will be a good life, there will be fun and laughter and fulfillment, but there will not be this type of glory and grandeur . . . . and I will miss it.

He waited another moment, looking out at the audience, observing the bright flecks of color and the white printed banners whipping in the wind, until he had to return to his speech. He finished the last few sentences probably too quickly, gave an appreciative smile, and nodded to the crowd.

Michelle leaned over and whispered in his ear, What happened there, at the end? Did the teleprompter go out?

No, Obama said with a distracted smile, just preoccupied for a moment.

Malia, near her father’s side, was not in the mood to be kind since his behavior had been a source of embarrassment to her. Definitely a case of zombie behavior spectrum disorder, she said. Zombies have attention-locking problems. When they see something, they fixate. It resembles damage to the parietal lobe.

Obama started to respond, but stopped when he noticed that she was already looking at her iPad. He walked up the steps of the Capitol and stopped to speak to Hillary and Bill Clinton, the former President looking thin and surprisingly fragile in the cold air. Hillary leaned closer to speak into his ear.

I just got tweeted by one of my aides, she said. George Bush’s plane developed engine trouble on the way back from Saudi Arabia. The pilot’s not sure he can make it to Rome, so he’s going to land in Athens, and they’ll switch to another plane.

Obama looked surprised. He’s not flying on a military aircraft?

No. A private plane provided by the royal Saudi family.

Okay, Obama said, shivering slightly. I’ve got a Congressional luncheon that’ll keep me here for about an hour. Just let me know if there’s any type of problem.

CHAPTER 2

I am Spartacus

The Saudi Airlines 747-8 hit the runway with only a slight bump, and George Bush did not even bother looking out the window. He was watching ESPN SportsCenter on the large screen TV, and all the talk was about the NFL play-off games.

You think the Cowboys can beat the Forty-niners? he asked the military attaché sitting next to him.

Condoleezza Rice, who was leaning against a wall with a vodka martini in her fingertips, rolled her eyes in exasperation. She had been listening to the former President rattle on about football for hours, ever since the plane had lifted off from Riyadh. How had she been able to work for this guy for eight years? His range of conversation ran the gamut from professional football to Nascar racing. The finance conference in Saudi Arabia had been of no interest to him. He had the sophistication of a high school student at a beer party. And to think that she had been so enamored with her former boss that she had once made a slip and referred to him as her husband at a Washington luncheon.

She had been so annoyed by the wearisome sports chatter that she had refused to follow the instructions of the flight crew and had remained standing during the landing.

I don’t make any picks for these games until I hear what Troy Aikman thinks, Bush prattled on to his military attaché.

Condi Rice rolled her eyes again, and looked down at her drink.

Bush reached across the mahogany coffee table and grabbed a handful of pretzels. The secret service agent standing a few feet away turned white. Bush pushed a few pretzels in his mouth and started to choke. He made frantic gestures with his hand and then pointed at his windpipe. The agent jumped over a sofa chair and grabbed Bush from behind pounding at his back. Bush broke away and then turned to face the agent, I got you, he said laughing, I really got you. Thought I was going to die on your watch, didn’t you?

There was a buzz of static and then the pilot’s voice came over the intercom. We’ve landed at the Athens International Airport. We’ve just come off runway two and we’ve received instructions to taxi over to hanger eight.

Bush looked out the window to his right. There were only a few minutes of daylight remaining. Off in the distance, he could see a convoy of fuel trucks approaching.

The plane rolled closer to the hanger. It was creeping along at about thirty miles an hour. The convoy of fuel trucks continued forward and then split into two streams, three trucks curving around to the left and three to the right.

Are we going to have to refuel? Bush asked puzzled. We were only in the air for a few hours.

The green fuel trucks circled slowly around the plane. One stopped directly in front, one near the tail, and the others near the wings.

Instructions just came down from the tower, the pilot said over the intercom. They want us to wait here. They said they would be sending a diplomatic counselor from the President’s Office.

Bush looked out at the tarmac. The fuel trucks were now positioned in a circle around the plane.

A moment later, Jay Monaghan, the head of Bush’s Secret Service detail, entered the back cabin. You see what’s going on? he asked the former president.

Sure, Bush said, putting his feet up casually on the coffee table. He was slouched down so far down on the sofa that Monaghan thought he might slip off.

Who’s on board? Bush asked.

Monaghan opened a blue loose-leaf book. We’ve got two pilots, a crew chief who is also an experienced pilot, six flight attendants, a doctor, a nurse, three political aides, seven members of your Secret Service detail including myself, Secretary Rice, a military attaché, an official with the Saudi Arabian Airline, two secretaries, and a chef.

Anyone on the plane speak Greek?

Monaghan looked doubtful. I don’t think so. I’d have to ask.

Bush glanced over at Condoleezza Rice. She shook her head slowly. You know I don’t speak Greek. I have a working knowledge of Russian, and I know a little bit of Chinese.

The pilot’s voice again came over the intercom again. The tower has asked us to open the door for the diplomatic officer.

Should we let him come on board? Bush asked Monaghan.

Not sure, Monaghan answered with a strained voice. There’s no standard operating procedure for this kind of thing. Will we be able to search him before he gains access to the cabin?

If he’s with their foreign service, he’s got to realize that it’s necessary under the circumstances.

I can pat him down for weapons, Monaghan explained. But I won’t be able to test for chemical agents.

Bush looked surprised. You mean anthrax?

Monaghan did not want to be pinned down when it came to possible threats. I mean all chemical agents.

Bush shrugged. Let him come in. Search him thoroughly. Do your best to make sure he’s not carrying chemical weapons.

A few minutes later, a bald middle-aged man in a light gray suit entered the cabin with Monaghan and another agent standing next to him.

My name is Peter Andreas, he said to Bush. I’m with the Supreme Court Prosecutor’s Office. I have the duty to inform you that the Government of Greece is placing you under arrest. You are charged with War Crimes and Crimes Against Humanity. An ironic smile suddenly appeared on his face. Of course, as they say on those American TV crime shows, you have the right to remain silent . . . . Anything you say can and may be used against you.

CHAPTER 3

What’s the Bad News?

President Obama was sitting on a large sofa in the Oval Office decompressing from the inaugural speech with his Vice-President Joe Biden and political aide David Plouffe. Obama was talking about his legislative program for the upcoming congressional session when one of secretaries pushed through the door. There’s a call from Condeleezza Rice on line four. She says that she’s with former President Bush at the Athens airport, and there’s a serious problem.

Obama looked over at his Vice-President and raised his eyebrows. You take the call, Joe. Put her on the speakerphone so we can here it.

Biden leaned over and tapped a few buttons on the phone. Condi, this is Joe Biden. The President asked me to speak to you. What type of problem are you having?

"Well, the good news I suppose is that our plane is equipped with both flotation cushions and life preservers."

What’s the bad news? Biden asked with some trepidation.

"The bad news is that we’re having a legal problem with the Greek government. About fifteen minutes after landing, some official from the Greek prosecutor’s office came on board and informed President Bush that he was under arrest for war crimes and crimes against humanity."

Obama, who had been looking out through one of the large windows in back of his desk, turned and stared at Biden.

Where is President Bush right now? Biden asked.

He’s still on the plane, in one of the back cabins. After he heard the charges, he had the Secret Service escort the official off the plane. It got a little shaky there because the guy didn’t go happily.

Obama walked over to the door and instructed one of the secretaries to summon Richard Kaplan, the White House Legal Counsel.

Biden wanted to get as many details as possible. Did you get anything in writing from the prosecutor? he asked.

No, Rice informed him. Everything was verbal. He didn’t even consult a document. He wanted President Bush to submit to arrest right then and there, but of course that wasn’t going to happen.

Richard Kaplan sat down opposite Biden with a legal pad in his hand.

Are you talking to us on a secure line? Biden asked.

No, definitely not, Rice stated. I’m calling from one of the forward cabins of the plane. I’m using my cell phone. President Bush is not in the room, but he knows that I’m making this call. Right now he’s trying to reach his father. Forty-one.

Kaplan introduced himself, and then started to pepper her with questions. What kind of plane are you in?

It’s a 747-8 from the Saudi fleet. It’s not an American plane.

What about the crew?

The pilots are all Saudi. So is the flight crew.

Kaplan frowned. How many Americans are on board?

About twelve. That’s counting the seven Secret Service agents assigned to guard the President.

Do the agents have any instructions for this type of situation?

I don’t think so, Rice said. You can understand this type of situation is totally unexpected.

Have you thought about taking off, getting the hell out of there, even with the mechanical problems?

We can’t go anywhere. They’ve positioned some fuel trucks around the plane. We can’t maneuver to get out to the runway.

Give me a status report of the plane, Biden asked. How are you with regard to supplies, and food and water?

"We’re fairly comfortable right now. I think we have about five or six day’s worth of