Saturday morning NSA sent me the morning updates while we were eating breakfast. I assumed there was something I should look at. The thing that was highlighted was Iran – again.

They were up their old tricks again – now they were flying drones over the Strait of Hormuz. They were entitled to by a mutually agreed treaty that gave them air space rights that in places went to the center of the waterway.

They were testing the response to excursions over the lines. It was normal intelligence gathering – the cat and mouse that powers played against potential adversaries.

The Soviets and Chinese were experts at it. They routinely flew such flights against our Alaskan airspace. The Russian flew Backfire bombers gauging our response and at what point our fighters were dispatched to challenge them.

The Backfires were loaded with listening equipment instead of bombs to monitor radio communications between our bases and the fighters.

The Chinese were even braver or else stupid. They flew spy planes miles inside the South Korean airspace, repeatedly ignoring all orders to leave. They flew while listening to frantic calls between fighter jets and control.

Of course the South Koreans were afraid to shoot them down. The Chinese had no such problems; they even shot down a KAL passenger plane in the past for an intrusion.

It wasn’t up to me to order them shot down, that was up to the host country’s defense – unless there was a mutual defense treaty. We did have a limited agreement with Saudi Arabia, United Arab Emirates, Qatar and Kuwait. Our radar installations were to notify them if we saw anything but were to take no offensive action unless they came close to a US installations.

The host countries were to take military action against intruders. It sounded great on paper; in reality it sucked. Their chain of command for defensive action was just too long and too slow to be effective.

I expanded the shoot down security circle around all US installations for drones, aircraft and missiles. I also removed approval steps necessary to shoot down drones and missiles. Before it took six steps; I reduced it to three. Every step took time.

The motorcade that was carrying us to Andrews was waiting in front of the White House. The national security group brought a briefcase with more updates. I was going to read them on the way.

I wanted to be on the ground in Vegas around 1100. This was an afternoon and evening fund raiser. I wanted to walk the convention center and look at the displays before it was packed. I was wearing thin body armor, the Secret Service brought their approved armor and Ziva had brought the full JBG HD body armor. I was going to be well protected.

By the time we landed I was finished with the security updates and the JBG updates from my mates. We had not talked a lot last night about JBG things; we were just too glad to be together.

The security zone was down to one hundred and twenty five French prisoners left; all of the cartel prisoners from the Mexican project had gone to meet their maker.

I thought about sending the worst of the illegals – the ones that had been deported for crimes and had returned to the US – there. It was a thought. Ice was not returning any of those back to Mexico yet.

I would order it on Monday. There was no need to send them back to Mexico for a second or third time; they would keep coming back again and again at the first opportunity.

So far seventy thousand homeless had been removed from the streets and fifteen thousand rioters. Today as the sun came up the rioters were gone in all the cities. They had decided it was time to get out of Dodge.

The street rumor mill had started late yesterday. Anyone arrested under martial law was subject to the military criminal proceedings, far more restrictions on attorneys and challenging evidence, and more aggressive penalties. Hard labor meant hard labor and ten years meant ten years. That was enough to scare some of them away. Not getting California’s lax criminal courts that issued no fines and no jail time took all the fun out of rioting/partying.

We landed at McCarran International a few minutes before 1100. A motorcade was already waiting. I put on the heavy protection and waited while the Secret Service had a quick meeting with the advance group.

Everywhere I went that was planned, an advance group went first. A C17 carried the second Beast and a backup decoy Beast and several heavily armored Suburbans. The Secret Service arrived days in advance to plan for emergencies.

With three of these a week until July they were going to be busy. The party was paying some of the cost to keep Congress from complaining too much.

The motorcade carried us by casino row on the way to the convention center. The convention center was two million square feet; half of it was set up in a springtime home renovation theme for the week.

The other half – separated by huge doors with just a walkway through – was set up for the political arena with thousands of chairs, tables and bleachers along the sides.

A commercial vendor had the concessions center along one wall to make hot dogs, hamburgers and American fries.

It took some doing but I finally was able to talk the agents into letting me and my entourage walk through the home renovation displays and tools and toys. By the time we got to the front it was time to do the PR work for the event.

There were dozens of well to do contributors who were residents of Arizona, Nevada and even a few from California, that had contributed very large sums to the National Conservative Party and the Nevada Conservative party.

Some had paid thousands to be seen with President Thomas. Given the circumstances, I was the best they were going to get. I was more than willing to have my picture taken with them – if they wanted.

I took off the heavy vest as we were in a controlled environment. Everyone in this room had been investigated as time would allow and been through the hand metal detectors.

The heavy vest was just that and I was happy to take it off. It made me look more natural and not like I was a line backer.

I did what I said I never was – a politician. I made nice, smiling and shaking hands. I stood for photographs and signed the pictures after they came off color printers. And most of all, I talked politics.

My beautiful mates did the same thing. They had dressed the part. Decked out, the best clothes they had, the best jewelry and they talked politics. It only took a few minutes for everyone to know they were my family, with interest in them growing tenfold.

They posed for pictures with the wealthy donors, by themselves, with their wives and as couples. They talked with the average person and politics. They even brought people that they thought I should speak to meet me after the Secret Service approved. They were state level representatives and delegates from Nevada, Arizona, California and with a few from Utah and Oregon.

They were amazed they could get access to say a few words, ask a question or two and even offer praise for the things I had done with terrorism, the drug issue and now with the homeless problem. And of course there were a few concerns.

Lunch was a cheese burger and fries – I needed something quick. I had worked too long politicking with the party chairman and VIPs from the area.

In an hour I was to give the first short speech. It was the normal; the party needs your financial help as well as footwork canvassing the neighborhoods for votes. I spiced up with the speech Adam and I worked on.

After the speech I took a break with the girls and my staff. Also in that time I got an update from California. Arrests had leveled off today, less than a thousand were arrested in all the cities.

Another ten thousand homeless were picked up. That was a good thing; there were only a few more tents left. A reduced number of troops were to ride the streets tonight looking for the ones that had been missed.

The streets were full of media today, all trying to get the big story. They even tried get into Camp Parks along with several senators and representatives.

They were wasting their time – I had left strict orders with the Generals that no politicians or media were to be admitted to the camp without my personal approval at any time, for any reason.

General Ingram called, on a conference call with General Wainwright. With the declining arrest and numbers of homeless the Generals were wanting to pull down the troops involved.

I agreed on two conditions; one was there be enough troops left at Camp Parks to handle any possible uprising for a few weeks.

The second condition was that a hundred trucks with several hundred soldiers to make a detour through Portland Oregon to do a recon.

Oregon was next on the list based on the homeless numbers. The several politicians from Oregon were more than interested if troops were headed their way.

I simply said ”Oregon is on the list and troops were packing to move today. California should have sent the clear message what happens if they don’t fix the problem. I only send the messenger once. When the troops arrive, so will federal agents with arrest warrants.” That interview was recorded by the Portland TV station.

Oregon had made no attempt to fix their problem; a few Army trucks riding around for a day or two may spur them into action. When I finished the second round of politicking, it was time for the next speech.

All the seating was full and there were even people standing. Several of the independent national TV networks were going to broadcast it live. Adam – with my help – wrote a ‘get them on their feet, pumped up and motivated’ speech.

I delivered while pausing at the right times, thumping on the podium and holding the teleprompter with both fists. I finished with, ”We conservatives have to have eight more years to fight terrorism, illegal immigration and to continue moving our booming economy even higher. We must continue to make good paying jobs for our children.”

”I need more conservative senators and representatives in Washington. I am depending on you to get out the vote and to vote. The next eight years will determine the fate of our country and our place in history.”

I started a chant, ”Eight more years! Eight more years!” My job was to pump them up and I did.

I stepped away from the podium and looked for my mates and security so we could leave. They were caught up in the energy of the crowd leading the chant. “Eight more years!”

I could see I was not going to get out of here for a while. The party chairman and the group with him were glowing and were chanting with the crowd. I waved them forward to the front of the stage and joined in the chant.

If the party chairman was worried if I could carry the torch, he could put his fears to rest. The first two fundraisers had been great; this one went off the scale.

We were back in Washington and at the White House at 2400; it had been a long but productive day.

Edit by Alfmeister
Proof read by Bob W.