by T. R. Harris
“Perhaps we should have done something more permanent.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, like maybe puncture the tires. We’d have to do two each because they’d have one spare per car.”
“That’s a brilliant idea. Let’s go back and do that.” Xander began to slow the vehicle.
“No, don’t!” Tiffany cried out.
Xander pressed on the gas again. “I’m just playing with you.”
“You bastard, how can you joke at a time like this?”
“It was worth it just to see the look on your face. Now buckle up. We wouldn’t want to get stopped for not wearing our seatbelts.”
“Maybe that’s exactly what we need—a cop. At least then we’ll have some protection.”
“And while we’re trying to convince some highway patrolman that we’re being chased by terrorists, the real killers show up with a small army packing automatic weapons.”
“So where are we going, if not to the nearest police station?”
“I know some people in San Diego who might be able to help, at least help us track down Jonas Lemon.”
“Why would you want to do that? It’s a little late, isn’t it?”
“Maybe, but he’s the only link to the terrorist group—or groups—behind the attacks. Just as they did with us, the only way to stop these guys is to take out their version of the RDC. Lemon knows who they are and probably where they are. Besides, I wouldn’t mind having a little face-to-face time with Jonas myself.”
“San Diego’s a two hour drive from here. I hope we can stay ahead of the guys with the guns.”
“I know some back roads. It’ll take us longer, but it’s not the normal route someone would expect us to take. They’ll be looking for us along the main roads.”
“I hope Jack and Doris are okay.”
Xander took Tiffany’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m sure they are. The bad guys didn’t hang around their place very long, and with all the ruckus they caused, all they’re going to be looking for is a way out before the police arrive in force.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Xander reached in the pocket of his jacket and pulled out Doris’ cellphone. “Here, hold on to this—just watch the minutes.”
Tiffany smiled, even though her blue eyes still glistened with tears of worry. “At some point I’m going to have to file a story about what’s going on. Maybe if I did it would shine a light on what’s really behind all this.”
“That’s a good idea; however, you might wait until we have some good news. All you can say at this point is what a deep pile of feces we’re all in. Nothing like starting a nationwide panic right here at Christmastime.”
“I think that horse has already left the barn. If the terrorists want to, they can have a field day with their little drones, along with every other crazy fanatic out there.”
“I hope people a lot smarter than us are working on a solution. If not, then we’re really screwed.”
Chapter 14
Hours before the scheduled ten o’clock meeting, the president and his staff were at work sorting through all that had happened across the country throughout the night. It seemed that the public had not come to grips with the consequences of the attack on the Rapid Defense Center the day before, at least not initially, and especially not on the East Coast. The tragic event was something that had happened on the other side of the country, so how could it possibly affect them?
On Tuesday morning Americans got in their cars, boarded trains, and entered subway stations, beginning the day like all the rest. But President Ortega and his staff had been right in their assessment. Abdul-Shahid Almasi had enlisted the assistance of several other terrorist organizations and placed them on standby, waiting for the time the RDC was taken out. That morning, forty-two simultaneous operations were initiated across America. Once the attacks got underway, they produced a variety of mind-boggling consequences.
The New Stock Exchange closed down over one thousand points in a shortened two-hour trading day—the largest single drop in history. Meanwhile, retailers across the country who had attempted to open that Tuesday morning in spite of deserted malls and no-show employees had, by one that afternoon, given up and sent everyone home. Airlines saw an eighty-percent drop in passenger loads that Tuesday, as people refused to leave their homes for any reason.
The other odd event—that basically tipped the hand of the terrorists—was when drones began to attack several of Amazon’s regional processing centers, as well as airports and sorting hubs for FedEx and UPS. Now even online orders were being refused, as companies discovered that the means of delivering their products was under assault as well. Workers streamed out of these facilities in a wholesale panic once the pattern became apparent.
Thirty-five hours after the attack on the RDC, at the economy’s critical time of the year, commerce in America came to a sudden standstill.
********
President Rene Ortega and his staff met this time in the situation room under the White House. President-Elect Owen Murphy was in attendance.
“So what more do we know?” the president asked, addressing this question to his CIA chief, Morgan Donahue.
“We’re pretty sure it was the Arm of Allah that carried out the main part of the attack. There was a conspicuous lack of electronic traffic circulating at that time, which is usually a giveaway. So far, we’ve been able to determine that around two hundred ninety drones took part in the operation, both in Las Vegas and against the various response bunkers and employee homes in the area. We’ve traced the bulk of them—the ones they call Lightning’s—to the break-in and theft of a storage facility near San Diego six months ago. When restrictions were placed on the sale of this particular type of drone, a lot of the manufacturers warehoused their existing inventory in the event the restrictions would be lifted sometime in the future. Over six hundred drones of various makes and models were stolen.”
“And you didn’t see that as a potential threat?” the president asked, dumbfounded.
“We did, sir, yet as in the case of previous thefts, we expected many of these units to make their way overseas for resale in countries that don’t have such restrictions. Black-market drones can go for four to five times their retail value here in the States.”
“Or they can be used for terror attacks right here at home.”
“Yes, sir. But there were also a fair number of larger drones—ones they call RPAs—that also took part in the raids. We’ve been checking the serial numbers—at least on those that have them—and we’re finding most are of North Korean manufacture that were sold through various Russian and Chinese companies to a variety of nations, both friendly and not so friendly. Some of the units were bought with weapons packages already installed. Others were sold as toys or for aerial photography and the like, with the weapons added later. The majority of buyers are in Europe or the Middle East, with some even in the U.S. Most of the bulk purchases took place over the past six months, and amounted to a three hundred percent increase in orders when compared year-to-year.”
“You mean American companies also bought these drones?” asked Governor Murphy.
“There are still plenty of drones being sold for legitimate purposes, Governor. They’re used extensively in movie production, aerial photography, surveying, mining, and for search and rescue, just to mention a few. It’s just a lot harder to pass the background checks and the continual monitoring that goes along with the purchases, yet there are still entities that go through the process. It’s the weapons package that makes these drones deadly. Certain companies, even here in the U.S., build weapons packages specifically for drone operations.”
“Is that legal?”
“Domestically, they only sell to the government for a variety of applications. For international sales they need approval from the State Department, plus a valid end-user certificate. But to answer your question more directly: yes sir, it is legal.”
Before Murphy
could launch into his next diatribe, Ortega spoke up: “Jack, we need to put a lid on this. I want an executive order drawn up ceasing the sale of all drones in the country, as well as to outside entities.”
Ortega’s Chief of Staff nodded slowly. “That will help … some, Mr. President, but most of the major drone manufactures are now located overseas, in China and Europe mainly. And Russia has recently jumped on the bandwagon as well. Without their cooperation, a localized ban would have little effect. Considering the tense relations we have with President Marko these days, I doubt if Russia will agree to any reduction in shipments voluntarily. We can ban sales in the States, but it will not prevent future attacks, at least not in the short term.”
“I understand that, Jack, but the people are going to demand action on this front. They have to realize by now how dangerous unfettered access and operation of these drones can be.” The president turned to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Admiral Gregory Hagar. “What’s our threat level in light of the RDC being taken out, Admiral?”
The admiral shook his head. “It’s amazing, Mr. President, what an increase in comm traffic there’s been since yesterday, and detected by the NSA and others. The terrorists aren’t even hiding it anymore. They were silent up until the raid, but now there’ve been continuous calls for action from across the board.” He looked to CIA Director Morgan Donohue. “Do you concur, Morgan?”
The tall, impossibly thin spy chief nodded. “There’s ample evidence of pre-planning, both for this attack and the Internet info-dump. Abdul-Shahid Almasi—who we agree is the prime suspect in the attack on the RDC—used the classified information to plan the attack before making it public, but he’s undoubtedly shared it with others. We suspect that enemy assets have already been moved into place and are just waiting for the right time to act.” He cast his gray eyes around the room. “That time is now, Mr. President. It’s going to get a whole lot worse from here on out.”
Ortega lowered his head and tried to clear the cobwebs from his lack of sleep. It seemed that all the dire warnings and what-ifs from last night’s meeting were coming true.
“We must take preemptive action—”
“Please, Owen,” President Ortega said forcefully, cutting off the president-elect. “Let me think. This is still happening on my watch, so I’m going to be held responsible for what does or doesn’t happen.”
Murphy’s face turned beet red. Ortega was sure it had been years since the governor had been spoken to in such harsh terms, but he didn’t care.
He looked to Jack Monroe. “Martial law—is that an option as a way to head off what’s coming?”
Murphy opened his mouth again to speak, but a glance from Ortega stopped him in his tracks.
Monroe looked concerned. “Martial law is usually reserved for events that have already taken place or are underway, Mr. President. As a precaution against a potential threat, it would be unprecedented.”
“But can I do it? I’m sure by the end of the day we’ll be in a full blown war with the terrorists.”
“There’s been a debate going on for years about the National Defense Authorization Act of 2012, regarding presidential authorization for declaring martial law. Some readings of Section 1031 say you do have the authority … preemptively.”
“If I may, Mr. President,” said Admiral Hagar. “Simply deploying military assets within the United States does not necessarily invoke martial law. Only when the authority of other law enforcement and legal entities is suspended does that become the true definition of the statute.”
“Is that true, Jack?”
“Technically, yes,” Monroe replied. “However, it’s a fine line you’d be walking when authorities conflict, such as within states’ borders or with the National Guard.”
“Does the National Guard have the capacity to accomplish what we need in this crisis?” the president asked.
Admiral Hagar shook his head. “Not even close, Mr. President.” He looked to the CIA director for support. “According to the scenarios we’ve worked out in the past, we would have to secure not only large public venues, but nearly every crucial infrastructure asset, such as power plants, dams, overpasses, waterways, as well as symbolic targets such as the Statue of Liberty and the Golden Gate Bridge. Even using all our military personnel to accomplish that would stretch us thin. This is a national crisis, sir, covering the entire gambit. After all, what’s classified as a potential target these days? It can be something as big as the White House or as small as a critical bridge over a canyon out west somewhere. The cost of such an operation to the terrorists is so small relatively that they could stage a dozen such smaller strikes rather than a single large event. The question is how do we protect against everything? The answer is we can’t.”
Ortega felt weak—weak and impotent. He knew the situation was serious, but as was the habit of military professionals, when put in the stark terms Hagar was describing, there would be … Armageddon.
In the tense moments that followed Admiral Hagar’s speech, even Owen Murphy remained quiet. All eyes were still on Rene Ortega, and no one was willing to offer a suggestion to something so expansive, so overwhelming.
In the thick silence of the room, a crisp knock came at the door to the Oval Office, a dissonant sound that made several of the people in the room jump. Without waiting for permission, the door opened and an Air Force colonel entered. He handed a sheet of paper to the president and then departed.
Ortega unfolded the paper, and if it was possible for his features to turn even more sallow, they did.
“It looks like the fallout has begun,” he announced. “Besides everything else happening this morning, the St. Louis Arch has just been brought down by a drone strike. And worse than that, Times Square is currently under attack. Local police were anticipating something like this, so they were already on-scene with defensive drones of their own. However, the locals don’t appear to be as proficient at this kind of thing as was the RDC. Casualties are estimated at a thousand already, and there are also reports of random drone bombings of the subway system. Governor Keller has just declared a state of emergency and is calling out the National Guard to protect the bridges and tunnels.”
The president could see the nervous rustling of his guests, as all were anxious to get to back to work rather than spend time in a strategy meeting. As the leader of the nation, Ortega was ready to act.
“Jack, do what you have to. In light of these recent attacks, as well as those that are coming, I’m declaring martial law throughout the Union. Admiral Hagar, coordinate with whomever you need to and then deploy your troops. We have to get a substitute to the RDC up and running as soon as possible. The military—other than the RDC—must have talented operators and drones of their own capable of stepping in, don’t you?”
“The best of the best were siphoned off over the years to the RDC, Mr. President,” Admiral Hagar reported. “And then budget constraints have kept us from continuing with any extensive drone program within the main military branches, at least as far as domestic operations are concerned. Frankly, sir, the problem is not capacity, it’s coordination. The thing that made the RDC so effective was their ability to provide a uniform response to drone attacks. Right now we have literally thousands of drones being used as private security. In addition, each branch of the military still retains a skeleton drone program. And then there’s the estimated seventeen-thousand combat drones currently sitting idle and disconnected from command authority in the RDC bunkers.”
“Did you say seventeen-thousand?”
“Yes, sir. All slaved to RDC command. So you see, Mr. President, America does have the resources necessary to repel the attacks we’re experiencing—what we don’t have is a unified command structure capable of coordinating all the responses or a way to gain control of the RDC drones.”
“And adding to that, Mr. President,” Alice Grimes said, “nearly all the pilots at the RDC have been killed or targeted for assassination based on the Interne
t information disclosed. Even if the Center was operational, they wouldn’t have the personnel to mount an adequate defense.”
Ortega looked to his now stunned-into-silence replacement. He cast Murphy a pleading look, one that asked, in essence: Do you really want to take my place? If so… then, buddy, it’s all yours.
“Admiral, last night I asked you to assign one person to coordinate the response. I know it’s only been a few hours, but how’s that coming?”
“I have identified the individual and he’s beginning to form his staff.”
“Greg, I need action, not more bureaucracy.”
“I understand that, sir, and so does he.”
“And how do we get access to the RDC drones—all seventeen-thousand of them?”
“We have crews combing through the wreckage of the RDC at this moment, trying to piece together the comm links necessary to upload new codes. Once this is done, my guy will have to set up a new command center and bring in every combat drone pilot he can find. Even then, it could be several days before we’re making an impact.”
“I don’t think we have several days, Admiral. This thing is spiraling out of control, not only domestically but around the world. We need to shut this down, and I mean now!”
********
At ten forty-five that Tuesday morning, President Rene Ortega went on the air to announce the implementation of martial law throughout the country. He tried to assure a terrified population that this was strictly a temporary action and aimed at the foreign entities operating within the borders, and not against any citizens of the country per se. Courts would still function and local police would be available as they have always been. However, now the military would be deployed to protect vital national interests and guard against strikes on venues attracting large masses of people, such as shopping malls and sporting events.
In reality, mass gatherings of Americans were already becoming a thing of the past by the time the president spoke. The National Football and Hockey Leagues had already cancelled all games until further notice, while high schools and colleges did the same. With drones buzzing the skies of New York City, all plays on Broadway were shut down pending a resolution to the national crisis.
