The Trust Of The People (Conspiracy Trilogy Book 2)

by Christopher Read

  “Any new ideas?” Flores seemed prepared to allow his new associate free reign, the FBI determined to make the most of Anderson’s supposed expertise.

  “Not yet. I take it there are no reports of anything unusual happening around Washington? Presumably Dick Thorn must know the odd general or two?”

  Flores shook his head, focusing on the first of Anderson’s questions, “There’s nothing out of the ordinary. Together with Homeland Security we have units watching all of the military bases around D.C., but everything seems quiet.”

  “What if someone attacks the White House and the Secret Service can’t cope: what then happens?”

  “They’d mobilise the Old Guard,” Flores replied positively. “More formally known as the 3rd United States Infantry Regiment; they’re based at Fort Myer just three miles from the White House.”

  “And that wouldn’t create some sort of constitutional crisis?”

  “The President can execute an order for them to help keep the peace and suppress a conspiracy, but their actions are limited by Posse Comitatus and the Insurrection Act. I’m not certain, but D.C.’s Mayor might also be able to federalise the National Guard.”

  Anderson filed such facts away for future reference. The torpedo attacks had reignited his curiosity as to the possible relevance of Wilhelmshaven, but Flores had simply brushed off Anderson’s questions, more worried as to what was happening closer to home. Both of them remained confused as to McDowell’s next step – no idea as to the what or even the when.

  * * *

  The White House Situation Room was now at full stretch, reports from across the world filtered in order of priority. With no sign of domestic disturbances, the situation in the South China Sea remained Cavanagh’s prime concern, the news of a second artillery attack on Khabarovsk now an additional complication.

  Thirty-two dead aboard the USS Milius, another five critical. One torpedo had destroyed the destroyer’s decoy, a second exploding under the Milius’ stern, but not breaking her back. The submarine had definitely been destroyed, the resultant floating debris minimal and totally unhelpful as to its nation of origin. The acoustic evidence had re-affirmed the submarine’s identity as China’s Ming-class 310 but with only a 72% certainty; consequently, there remained a worryingly large element of doubt. If not China, then there was still North Korea or Russia, Cavanagh left with the impossible choice of simply picking which country to blame.

  The proof as to which nation was actually responsible lay some 1200 metres deep, and it would be at least another day before a suitable ROV (Remotely Operated Underwater Vehicle) would be on station to try and give them some answers – longer still if the worsening weather didn’t improve. Cavanagh didn’t have several days in which to make up his mind, enemies and allies alike anticipating something more immediate.

  Without the complication of Wilhelmshaven, no-one in the Situation Room would have had any doubt that China was responsible for the attack; now, they had to consider that it might well be Russia – it was even possible China was pulling some sort of double bluff. The U.N. brokered military freeze agreed with China had effectively been abandoned, the exclusion zone announced by the Philippines and Vietnam still due to be enforced in just over forty-eight hours.

  Cavanagh planned to speak to the nation at 8.30 p.m., with all the major networks choosing to carry his prime-time address. The actual speech was as yet unwritten, the exact thrust still unclear. Apart from the attack on the Milius should he also respond more forcefully to Thorn’s accusations? Was that even appropriate for a prime-time address? And what about the threat of a coup? The mere mention of the latter would undoubtedly feed the rumours as to his supposed paranoia.

  With respect to Thorn, the White House had so far restricted itself to a single press release, acknowledging Thorn’s past contribution and defending his right to voice his opinion. The specific criticisms within Thorn’s speech were referred to in turn, each one branded as an exaggeration or a distortion; where possible, suitable authoritative data was included to illustrate his colouring of the facts. The press statement had avoided the danger of being too personal in its condemnation of Thorn, merely noting the President’s disappointment as to the tone of the former Secretary of State’s speech.

  The desperate situation in the South China Sea meant desperate measures were needed. Fourteen hours after his TV appearance, Cavanagh would address an Emergency Special Session of the United Nations General Assembly; a high-profile speech to detail the United States’ response to the crisis in the South China Sea. That gave the inner cabinet just twenty-four hours to come up with a suitable strategy; preferably one which would drag the United States back from the brink of conflict without totally destroying Cavanagh’s already tarnished reputation.

  Public faith in his Administration was at an all-time low, his approval rating slumping to just 21%. The United States required stability to deal effectively with the external crisis, and the lack of a Vice-President created its own insecurities. Cavanagh was close to being ready with a name, needing to get his nomination confirmed as soon as possible after the Midterms. Whatever the election results, the present makeup of the Senate and House of Representatives would remain until the new Congress began on January 3rd, Cavanagh wanting to formalise his nomination by November 14th at the latest.

  No Vice-President, an acting Secretary of State, Ulrich being pressured to resign, and the Chief Justice rushed to hospital with food poisoning – chaos to some, but of relatively minor concern to the actual governing of the United States, the problems far more one of public perception than reality.

  The Republicans were similarly in difficulties, struggling to agree on a new Leader of the House, Daniel Quinn’s murder leaving a gaping hole with no obvious successor. The Speaker had also become embroiled in the financial scandals sweeping through Congress: a book deal and ‘cash for influence’ supposedly netting him a million-dollar bonus. In addition, two Republican Congressmen had been named as being involved in an illegal – and racially motivated - purge of voters from the voting roll, or ‘voter caging’ as it was called.

  Social media still managed to save most of its spite for Cavanagh, and an online petition demanding his resignation claimed to have received close to 300,000 votes in just 24 hours. A second internet campaign urged voters to boycott the polls in protest against the two-party stranglehold and political corruption. Despite it being a Sunday, early voting was continuing in certain states, the turnout almost certain to be a historic low. Unconfirmed reports from Ohio and Texas told of designated polling places remaining shut or protestors physically blocking entry, the police having to intervene.

  Cavanagh felt pummelled from all sides, dealing with one issue to be instantly faced by another. He had spoken to some of the families of those killed on board the USS Milius, trying to offer something in the way of comfort, genuinely upset by their tears and anger. Several had refused to speak to him, some no doubt cynically assuming he was merely doing what was expected of a president and commander-in-chief at such times.

  Then had come reports of a second artillery attack against Russia, followed within minutes by live TV pictures from Khabarovsk.

  On the main monitor opposite the President was a map of south-east Russia, the border with China shown as a jagged black line: starting west of Vladivostok, the border traced its way north to Khabarovsk before turning west to follow the Amur River. Admiral Wade Adams, the CJCS, moved to stand beside the monitor, highlighting the border region some fifty miles south of Khabarovsk.

  “We can make certain assumptions just from the TV evidence,” Adams said, directing his comments to the President, “then match and compare that to our own satellite data. Official reports put today’s toll at fifty killed, several hundred injured; a total of around thirty shells, that’s twice as many as Friday. China’s Type-05 self-propelled gun fires satellite-guided munitions with a range of sixty miles, accurate to maybe a hundred and twenty feet. The relatively brief timescale s
uggests that each attack involved just a single unit; one based south of Khabarovsk, the second to the west. Satellite surveillance has confirmed heat signatures consistent with the firing of artillery and this time we were able to establish a rather more accurate fix.”

  The highlighted area shifted north-west and the CJCS paused, as though working out how best to reveal the next set of data. “To within a few hundred yards, the location is forty-two miles west of Khabarovsk, very close to the border, on the north bank of the Amur River.”

  He waited patiently, but it was several seconds before someone realised exactly what he was suggesting.

  “The north bank?” repeated Cavanagh slowly, not quite believing what he was hearing. “You’re telling us the Russians launched the attack against their own people?”

  “It would appear so, Sir.”

  “We can prove this?”

  “We can publish the satellite images, as can China; I imagine Russia will publish its own images proving that we’re both either wrong or simply lying. Unfortunately, the Russians set up some sort of laser-based shield which distorted the relevant images; in addition, because of the meandering border, a good part of the shells’ flight path would be inside Chinese territory. The evidence we have so far is thus fairly subjective. I’m advised that many independent experts would be more than ready to agree with Russia’s analysis.”

  “And I assume we also can’t prove it’s a Russian self-propelled gun rather than Chinese?”

  “I’m afraid not, Sir. What makes it more difficult is that the maximum range of Russia’s laser-guided and rocket-assisted munitions is relatively poor; thirty miles at best.”

  Cavanagh persisted, needing to be absolutely clear as to what Adams was suggesting. “So is it Russia attacking Khabarovsk or China? No guesses, Admiral; just a fact-based judgement using whatever evidence we presently have – forget what anyone else might claim or argue.”

  “Russia,” replied Adams with barely a moment’s thought, “without a doubt.”

  Cavanagh finally seemed convinced. “‘An unprovoked attack’ were Golubeva’s exact words,” he said with feeling. “If Russia is willing to shell its own cities, then we obviously need to re-examine the possibility that submarine 310 might in fact be Russian. Moscow is doing its best to lead us into a war with China and all we can do is claim that the data isn’t convincing enough. If we sit and do nothing, I will be condemned on all sides as indecisive and weak. I need solutions people, and fast.”

  Jensen was the first to speak, either brave or foolish. “The crisis in the South China Sea was inflamed by Louisa Marcelo and others, most likely under direction from McDowell. He in turn ultimately receives his orders – through Sukhov – from President Golubeva. Maybe China over-reacted with Mischief Reef, but would we have done any less with the Anaconda? I genuinely don’t believe that they are responsible for the subsequent torpedo attacks. The evidence to confirm China’s innocence is temporarily out of our reach on the sea bed – somehow we need to find enough time to retrieve that evidence. Combine that with the satellite data on Khabarovsk and people will understand why we’ve held back.”

  “And then we attack Russia rather than China; it’s a bastard choice whatever we do.” The Secretary of Defence, Bob Deangelo, was merely repeating what they all felt, although he was prepared to go one stage further. “It could be argued that we should make the most of what we have here – President Golubeva is virtually offering us an alliance against China. They secure Siberia and their Far East; we secure our allies’ demands in the South China Sea. The only problem is the hundreds of thousands of lives that will be squandered as a result.”

  The U.S. had long-since prepared a doctrine to counter China’s increasing dominance in the South China Sea, planning for the time when war was inevitable. Based on the assumption that the U.S. would maintain its technological superiority, the strategy proposed an aggressive and blistering attack against China’s military infrastructure. Derided by many as potentially leading to a limited nuclear war, the Pentagon had grown tired of emphasising that it was merely a ‘concept’ and not a definite plan. The inner cabinet had spent just minutes reviewing its proposals, Cavanagh wanting nothing to do with such an extreme response.

  “So,” said Cavanagh dispiritedly, “the only option on offer is to ally ourselves with Golubeva, the one person who might well have provoked all of this. Khabarovsk gives her the perfect pretext to attack China; I assume she won’t wait for too long.”

  “If that’s Golubeva’s plan, then she’d be foolish to delay,” Jensen confirmed. “She presently has the full backing of the Russian people; in a month Beijing might come up with something to convince the world this wasn’t their doing.”

  “What if we tell the media everything,” Pittman said slowly. “Lay it all out warts and all. Golubeva, McDowell, this doppelgänger sub and Khabarovsk – let them understand why an attack on China is unjustified.”

  There was silence around the table, with Cavanagh eventually finding his voice. “It’s certainly an option, Amy; I’m just not sure we’re ready for that just yet. And the Philippines and Vietnam might well argue that we already have plenty of justification to support them against China.”

  He turned to Jensen, “Paul, what incontrovertible evidence do we actually have to work with – something conclusive to throw at Moscow or Beijing and see how they react?”

  Jensen considered a moment, “Not much, Sir; I’m afraid. In their shoes, we would all be suspicious of an ulterior motive, worrying that every piece of data had been falsified or exaggerated. I guess we could tell Beijing about Hanson and Wilhelmshaven, and hope they might be less coy about the whereabouts of their submarines.”

  “They could sail submarine 310 into Pearl Harbour and we still couldn’t be certain it was the genuine boat,” said Cavanagh, frustrated. “We need some physical evidence from the bottom of the South China Sea: Chinese, Russian or North Korean – we have to be certain which it is.”

  “We could still threaten to tell Beijing what we know,” suggested Jensen. “That might just be enough to give Golubeva pause for thought.”

  “And if Golubeva calls our bluff, then what?” Deangelo said sharply. “We’ve merely made China into the innocent party, and that has yet to be proved. It’s certainly not to our advantage to assume anything so contentious.”

  Admiral Adams had heard enough, “It’s all bluster anyway. None of us can really go to war; the threat of nuclear escalation is just too much of a risk. Russia just hopes to create instability in China, probably in the U.S. as well, and then it’s a land grab in the Ukraine or somewhere else. China and the U.S. have the financial might to bring Russia to its knees – that is what we should be telling Beijing.”

  It was an argument going nowhere, the solution as far away as ever, the problems too complex to work out in an hour or even a week. Cavanagh’s speech still needing writing, the people of the United States looking for real leadership out of the crisis, and hoping that Cavanagh for once would actually show a bit of backbone.

  * * *

  Anderson sat in the FBI’s command centre, coffee in hand, working hard to convince Flores that – despite him mishandling Aldie – the principle behind his search for McDowell and Carter was still valid. He might have over-exaggerated the case somewhat, but he remained convinced that their base was hidden somewhere not too far way. Public dissatisfaction with Cavanagh was building steadily and even though the anticipated large-scale protests hadn’t yet happened, they could only be days away.

  There had been several more incidents of voters being prevented from casting their votes: Chicago, Minneapolis and San Francisco – no pattern, and certainly nothing significant, a few hundred votes delayed at worst. It would still be a nervous two days before the polling stations could finally shut their doors, the Republicans now expected to retake control of both the Senate and House of Representatives. It just seemed odd to Anderson to have to wait another eight weeks before such changes
took effect, especially with a new Vice-President and a Secretary of State to be confirmed.

  But then America seemed to do a lot of things in an odd way. The FBI certainly wasn’t immune, chasing after Anderson one minute then using him as an ‘expert’ adviser the next. Anderson’s understanding of how McDowell and his colleagues operated came less from his own personal experience and more from detailed research into Golubeva’s rise to power. McDowell had primarily been an observer then, but he had obviously been an avid student, adapting the strategy to suit America’s unique circumstances.

  “I presume you’ve done your own business and building checks?” pressed Anderson, not willing to give up just yet.

  Flores almost looked embarrassed, “Not exactly, and certainly not using your specific criteria. You’ve no proof he’s in Virginia; he could be anywhere within a thousand miles.” Flores knew he was being defensive but it wasn’t quite as simple as Anderson supposed. He had tended to downplay Anderson’s fears of an inside source, but the FBI’s lack of success in finding McDowell might well indicate that he was correct. If Hanson was a typical example, then there were likely to be other loyal Americans who truly believed they were doing the right thing, somehow deluded into helping what was now officially regarded as a conspiracy against the President.

  “McDowell seems to have far more limited manpower than was the case with Russia,” said Anderson, trying to sound like he knew what he was talking about. “I just don’t believe he would want to split what resources he has a thousand miles apart. Washington will eventually become the main focus; McDowell has to be based no further north than Baltimore, maybe as far as Fredericksburg to the south. His job is only half-done; surely it’s worth a shot?”

  “If I assume you’re right,” Flores murmured thoughtfully, well able to follow Anderson’s logic. “Then what next? Repeat your search but with a different set of criteria?”

  “We use the same criteria,” said Anderson, “but extend the search area to the whole of Virginia and Maryland.”