Harbinger (The Janus Harbinger Book 1)

by Olan Thorensen

  Obama shrugged. “This has been one of the most tightly held secrets ever. Except for a few of us, only a small number of the highest-ranking military know the whole story. We haven’t been directly involved since leaving office, but we’ve had a single yearly briefing by the four-star officer who was currently running the operation.”

  “But how did you keep this quiet? I’ve always thought the conspiracy theories about deep government secrets were just fantasies dreamed up for books, movies, and conspiracy lovers.”

  “It wasn’t as hard as you might think,” said Bush. “Remember, for the first years, not much happened. Initially, only a handful of people were involved, and the earliest report simply gathered dust. With no resources being expended, there was no trail for anyone to follow. I admit I was thankful for that. I had enough to worry about. I even forgot about it for long stretches.”

  “That’s all fine,” said Chesterton, “but if all the real changes occurred in the last few years, how did that work out?”

  Obama shook his head. “It all depends on your point of view whether the officers in charge of the secret were criminal conspirators or true patriots. There have been gaps in what the Oval Office knew of all this. At times, the country was so divided and political tension so high that the media and politicians had little time to notice something that well hidden and that used relatively few people and resources.

  “Still, it’s something of a miracle all this hasn’t got out yet. I don’t envy you, James. It will be beyond a miracle if you can hold the secret through your entire term in office. It may not seem like a consolation at the moment, but when it does come out, you can count on the two of us to back you up.”

  “No, it’s not a consolation. I’ve gone from being reasonably satisfied I knew my administration’s plan for the next four years—not that I expected to accomplish everything—to feeling like I’m about to be sucked under by quicksand.”

  Chesterton asked more questions, but the answers failed to clarify his thinking. His chief of staff peered in again and pointed to his watch.

  “Do rolling cancellations,” Chesterton snapped. “I’ll let you know when we’re finished.”

  Obama broached a final subject. “James, there’s something else you need to think about. Your cabinet nominees. At some point, the most important ones may be brought in on this, assuming everything comes to a head in the next year or two. So, the question is . . . which ones could you trust?”

  Chesterton sighed. “Handle in what way?”

  “Think about it, James,” urged Obama. “The fewer people in on this, the better. Why do you think the same generals kept getting reassigned to Special Operations over the years, instead of rotating out as is the usual practice? Is your defense secretary going to pry into every program and eventually find clues about Site 23? And when defense does find out, or you tell him, are they going to handle it well? The same for the secretary of state when other governments start getting suspicious, especially Canada.”

  “Actually, the most important position might be attorney general,” offered Bush.

  Obama nodded. Bush had the reputation of being less than brilliant, but Obama appreciated that he was shrewder than commonly given credit for.

  “George is right. Attorney general is the most problematic. Both of us have more than technically broken several laws by keeping this secret and by running Site 23 without authorization from either Congress or the Canadians. We’ve also skirted, and in many cases outright broken, God knows how many laws on civil rights, conspiracy, or whatever.”

  Obama shifted in his chair, then leaned toward Chesterton while clasping his hands in front of himself.

  “James, this is so off the charts compared to any precedent that we’ve all had to accept the necessity of taking some actions we otherwise would never dream of doing. No set of laws is or could be prepared for this. It falls under ‘extraordinary circumstances.’

  “There’s actually a precedent for working outside normal restrictions,” Obama added. “During the Civil War, Lincoln allowed citizens who were believed to be threats to be kept incarcerated in violation of habeas corpus. During World War II, the U.S. government issued directives on various issues, such as rationing, price controls, and so on, that had no legal foundation. No one complained because the situation was recognized as dire.”

  Chesterton frowned. “But that also led to disgraces like the Japanese internment camps. Just because the government can get away with something doesn’t mean it should.”

  “True,” said Obama, “but no one was prosecuted for authorizing or working in those camps, as wrong as they were. There was limited recompense years later, but society as a whole let it slide because of the war.”

  “But let’s be real about this,” interjected Bush. “That was then, this is now. If Jesus Christ returned and appeared on the Washington Mall, he’d be sued for causing traffic accidents on the surrounding roads, fined for staging an event without a National Park Service permit, and TV talking heads would dissect why he didn’t return earlier.”

  This drew a general laugh and elicited several other idiocies experienced by Bush and Obama. Chesterton did not join in. After all, he was now the one in the hot seat. “All right, I grant that this is so unprecedented that drastic actions may be necessary. But where does that leave me, and not only me but others involved, legally?”

  “Pardons,” said Bush. “What we did was simply issue blanket pardons and keep them locked up for contingencies.”

  “Pardons for what?”

  “Everything,” said Obama. “In my case, once I clearly understood the stakes, I wrote up pardons for anything the involved individuals had ever done. Not just as related to our mysterious Object up north, but anything in their lives. That was to prevent any future officials’ efforts to indirectly punish people who couldn’t be prosecuted for actions related to the Object.” Obama paused for a moment, then continued. “This included a pardon for myself and my family, in case attempts were made to get at me through family members whom people could claim, accurately or not, had knowledge of what was going on.”

  Chesterton’s expression changed from concern to doubt. “Can you really pardon yourself? And what about anything after the pardon is written? Can you pardon your own future actions?”

  Obama, the constitutional professor, answered, “Obviously, no one ever pushed such pardons to this extreme, but as far as I can determine, there is no limit to the pardoning powers of the president of the United States, at least for federal crimes.” Obama’s voice changed into a recital, and his eyes focused far away as he quoted, “The Constitution says, ‘The President . . . shall have power to grant reprieves and pardons for offenses against the United States, except in cases of impeachment.’”

  Obama’s eyes refocused on his companions around the small table. “This sentence is part of the Constitution and indicates no limit, or reach, to the pardoning powers of the president’s office. I can only see two limitations on these powers. One is the reference to impeachment. While no criminal charges could be brought against anyone, including the president, for any acts, anyone still holding government office could be impeached by Congress. But remember, it’s Congress that does the impeaching. Given the circumstances and all the other implications of all this, I doubt any Congress would seriously consider such actions as long as the security of the U.S. was not perceived to have been seriously endangered. That’s not to say there wouldn’t be posturing from all sides,” he added.

  Bush giggled. “The ACLU would have conniption fits, and the UN would call for special sessions to condemn the U.S.”

  Obama grimaced at Bush’s comment but nodded. “George actually has a good point—the international reaction. And that brings up the second exception to the pardon limitations. Presidential pardons are only valid within the U.S. They have no binding authority internationally. So, an international court, or courts in other countries, could bring charges.”

  “Yes, but then
we would just tell them to go pound salt,” said Bush—obviously pleased at the thought.

  “Crudely put but essentially correct,” said Obama. “There’s no way the U.S. is going to turn over a current or past president or any officials under them to an international court if the actions are covered by U.S. pardons.”

  “All right, I think I see the basic thrust here. You realize I’ll consider the pardon issue and find some excuse for Justice Department lawyers to look into it. So . . . bottom line . . . what are you suggesting?”

  “That you write out blanket pardons for yourself, your family, and anyone else who is brought into this, at least until it all becomes public,” urged Obama. “You should do it right away for yourself because just by knowing what you now know, you will be violating several laws by not immediately turning this information over to the Justice Department.”

  Bush nodded. “We’re already covered by past issued pardons, but you’re not. Even if you decide to think about this before making any major decisions, you still need to cover yourself.”

  “Of course, all this assumes I don’t go public right away,” said Chesterton.

  Bush grunted. Obama sighed and responded, “That’s your option, James, as it was for all of us. Part of me wonders if that might not be best—get it over with. However, it’s more likely that once you think of all the ramifications and unpredictable blowback, you’ll come down the same path we took.”

  Chesterton knew he needed time to process this . . . only God knew how much time . . . but the political portion of his intellect had already worked out scenarios. Clearly, his intended nominee for attorney general was out.

  Ellen Bartolo is a brilliant lawyer, a law professor, and has an impeccable record as Pennsylvania attorney general, Chesterton thought, but she’s also too much of a prissy “truth and justice” believer. She’s out. And the vice president? Shouldn’t she be brought into this? No, at least not initially. If I could have this dumped on me, then fuck being fair to Hopkins. If she ever has to take over, let her be surprised, too. I never liked her anyway. The last thought brought a smile to Chesterton’s mouth before he noticed Bush smiling at him.

  “Sorry,” said Chesterton, “my mind started wandering off to the consequences of this meeting. Political consequences, that is.” The other two nodded in understanding. Political ramifications were never far below the surface of any issue in the Oval Office, even one concerning outer space aliens.

  Two days later, Chesterton finished digesting the reports on Site 23 given to him by Hardesty in a two-hour briefing. He had also spoken again privately with Obama. He saw no way around the attorney general problem. His initial gut reaction was right—Bartolo wouldn’t work as attorney general. He could foresee that at some point, all this would become public, and as a run-up to that moment, they would need to lay some legal groundwork. Ellen would not be able to keep her mouth shut as soon as she found out. He had to withdraw the nomination. With a sigh, he punched in Bob Neller’s number and immediately had his chief of staff on the line. “Bob, please come into the Oval Office.”

  “Coming, Mr. President,” Neller responded sharply and within seconds opened the door to the Oval Office. He walked over to where Chesterton was gazing out onto the Rose Garden.

  “Did I ever tell you, Bob, that I hate roses?” Chesterton asked with a distracted tone.

  “No, I can’t say you ever did,” answered Neller—puzzled where the question had come from.

  “I always like dahlias better. Do you think there would be a fuss if I had the roses replaced by dahlias? After all, I’m president of the United States. I’m supposed to be the most powerful man in the world, at least while I sit in this office.”

  Now Neller was more than puzzled—not quite alarmed, but more concerned for the mood of his president and friend. “Well, since the Rose Garden has become a recognized part of the White House image, it would probably be best to leave them. I’m sure the groundskeepers could put in some dahlias.”

  Chesterton turned to face Neller. “Well, we mustn’t upset any rose lovers or give the media any silly issues to focus on, must we? Forget it.” His voice had changed from the soft musing out the window into the voice of POTUS—the President of the United States.

  “Bob, we need to get Senator Culbertson over here tomorrow. I’ve decided to withdraw Bartolo’s nomination.”

  Neller sat stunned for several moments while he came to grips with this unexpected turn. When he spoke, his tone was cautious, as if stepping around some unknown object whose origin he was leery of. “And the reason for the withdrawal . . . ,” leaving the sentence for Chesterton fill in.

  “Let’s just say I’ve come to realize that Bartolo is not the attorney general I want to work with so closely and that she’s a little too judicially theoretical for such an administrative role.”

  “Okay . . . now what’s the real reason?”

  Chesterton’s slight smile to Neller conveyed a sense of resignation.

  “Bob, it’s turning out this job is a little more complicated than I envisioned. For reasons I can’t go into, even with you, I’ve come to see that a different attorney general than Bartolo will be better for this administration. So, how best to proceed with this?”

  Neller was confused but also chagrined that Jim had made up his mind without consulting anyone, especially his chief of staff and friend. But maybe that was part of Neller’s friend turning into the president. So be it. Neller’s primary responsibility was to serve the president.

  “I see three problems. One is how to handle Ellen. How are we going to explain this in a way that doesn’t alienate her supporters? Second is the Senate. After getting several reluctant senators to agree to support her nomination, now we’re pulling it out from under them. Feathers will be ruffled—something we don’t need with all the major legislative initiatives we’ve planned. Third, and perhaps most troubling long term, is the media response. As with any flock of vultures, they circle looking for issues to blow up for the nightly news cycle. This could make a brand-new administration look indecisive and vacillating.”

  Chesterton nodded, following Neller’s points, all of which he had already considered. “So, Bob, what if we handle it this way? The story is we decided, after becoming more familiar with Bartolo’s background during the vetting process, that she would be a good candidate for the next Supreme Court opening. There should be at least two openings in our first term. Two of the oldest justices have health issues. We can say that we decided it best to have an attorney general stay in place during the entire first term, instead of replacing the AG if Bartolo moves over to the Court.”

  Neller, despite his initial negative reaction, smiled and nodded. “Nice, very nice, Jim. I think Bartolo will buy the argument. She’s probably more interested in the Court than attorney general anyway. Culbertson will be annoyed that he should have been consulted as majority leader in the Senate. Still, those party members supporting Bartolo will like the idea of seeing her on the Court. Culbertson will swallow his annoyance if it keeps peace within the party caucus. The media, as always, will dig for every possible explanation, and talking heads will bring this up as a possible negative sign for a new administration, but I think we can spin it our way. Instead of vacillating, it’s evidence the administration is willing to make quick decisions for a greater good—that is, a sign of strength instead of weakness.”

  Chesterton nodded again. “Yes, those are along the lines of my thinking. Give it some more thought, and let’s go over it after the reception tonight at the Lincoln Center. If all seems okay, we can arrange to bring Culbertson in on this early tomorrow, and then get Bartolo in here to buffer her reaction.”

  “Okay, Mr. President, I’ll draft it up by this evening.” Neller turned to leave, then stopped with his hand on the door. “And do we intend on Bartolo actually going onto the Court?”

  Chesterton’s expression was flat, his eyes giving nothing away, which was disconcerting to someone who had known the p
resident for thirty-four years.

  “Well, that’s some time off, and who knows what considerations may be necessary in a couple of years?”

  So, Neller thought, we may throw Bartolo away. But why? Not that he had any prohibitive qualms about political hardball, and he knew neither did Chesterton, but what was this all about?

  CHAPTER 20

  VR

  A month passed from when the VR system arrived at Site 23 until it was operational. Ralph and Andrew took turns testing it, starting with the simplest scenarios and working back to those more complex—including the last scenario Andrew used in Santa Clara. The grznart hunting pair killed him six times before he achieved his previous best level. In contrast, Ralph was back to top scores by the second try. Mueller notified Sinclair after they were confident the system was stable. Sinclair called a meeting of all Level 3 staff for the next morning.

  The entire Level 3 staff gathered in the main workroom. Some sat at stations where they worked, others around the common table. Some sat silent, in their own thoughts or reading something. Others carried on conversations with nearby staff members.

  Finally, the last person entered and sat. Charles Adams was habitually late for meetings, raised the most questions, and always seemed on the cusp of being aggrieved.

  “All right, let’s start,” said Mueller. “Harold, you’re the closest to a hardware guru in your trio, so why don’t you outline the system? I expect not everyone here is familiar with the details.”

  Nieze had already been primed that he would be called on. His lanky frame rose from his seat, and he walked quickly to the front of the room to face the staff.

  “The VR system, at least in the tested configuration—which we will begin with—is composed of three IBM Blue Magic computers. I’m afraid I can’t give you many details. That’s because we can’t access the insides. The little I’ve learned is that despite their appearing too small, each Magic is composed of 48 thin blades, each with 16 Intel X9 chips. I can only surmise the ‘blades’ are called that just in reference to existing computer blades, and these may be a different type of module. If you haven’t heard about either the IBM Blue Magic or the Intel X9 chip, it’s because they have been highly classified and are still in development. General Sinclair authorized me to tell you what we know—he says it falls under your blanket security status.