Act of War

by Dale Brown

  In a flash of movement, Boroshev’s left hand whipped out and slapped Gemici full in the face, hard enough to make the captain stagger backward. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that, you old donkey-fucker!” he roared. “You may be the captain of this tub, but you are not my commanding officer!”

  The captain wiped blood from his mouth. “Do you think that smoking dope right before entering American waters was a good idea, Boroshev?” The Russian didn’t answer. Instead he pounded on the steel bulkhead at the rear of the chain locker with a code tap, and moments later the wall started to move.

  “About fucking time!” a soldier inside said in Russian, lowering his shotgun. “It’s freezing cold in there!”

  “Shut up and go check the pumps and the uppermost pressure relief U-pipe on deck—they opened both of them up for an inspection,” Boroshev said. “Scan for listening devices.” The man nodded and hurried off. Boroshev issued more orders, and one by one another nineteen men hidden in the false room inside the chain locker filed out.

  “They had radiation detectors, every one of them,” Gemici said. “What in hell are we carrying? What is in those pumps?”

  “Your job is to get us and our equipment to Richmond, not to ask questions,” Boroshev said. “We have all used the highest level of security. Believe me, the less you know, the better.”

  Gemici looked skeptical. “Tell me, Boroshev. I won’t tell another soul. Drugs? Weapons? Money? If the Americans come back, I should…”

  “I said no questions. Don’t worry about the damned Americans. They left, didn’t they?”

  “You think they’d try to arrest us all if they found something? They’d get off the ship, alert the entire U.S. Navy, and surround us.”

  Boroshev hesitated, licking his lips apprehensively, but finally shrugged. “Well, it would be the shits to come all this way and get caught within sight of our objective,” he said, “but that’s the way it goes. But I’m telling you, we’re fine. As long as we find any bugs they may have planted, and we stay on the lookout for aerial surveillance anytime we’re on deck, everything will be fine.”

  “They found your private locker too. They made the engineer’s mate open it.”

  “They didn’t take anything, did they?” Boroshev shook his head. “You see? If they found anything critical, they would have seized this ship, I’m sure of it. You worry too much, you old hen. The Americans are not stupid: after the Houston bombing, they are on full alert. We can expect their security to get tighter as we get closer to port, but if we stay cool everything will be fine. When do we get out of this rough water?”

  “We’ll be in U.S. waters in about two hours,” Gemici replied. “We’ll take on a pilot entering the bay, probably have to undergo another inspection—we should be in San Pablo Bay in three to four hours. They’ll make us anchor in the bay overnight, and then we should be allowed to dock sometime the next day. We should clear customs a couple hours afterward, and then start offloading the shipment.”

  “Good,” Boroshev said. “We’ll check for bugs, but I tell you, we’re fine. Good job.”

  Gemici was worried, but in the end he didn’t really care. His job was to get the package onto the wharf in Richmond, California; Boroshev’s job was to get it to its destination, wherever that was. When the pumps and whatever they contained hit the trailer beds and the men stepped foot on the wharf, the money would hit Gemici’s Cayman Islands bank account. Then, Boroshev was on his own.

  “Let’s get out of here, dammit, I’m freezing,” Boroshev said, patting Gemici on the shoulder. “Another few days, and you’ll be finished. Then we’ll be on our way back to Alexandria or Damascus or anyplace warm.”

  Gemici nodded and left the chain locker. Boroshev was right behind him, but stopped and grasped the arm of one of his men who was waiting nearby. “Those radiation shields were all in place, weren’t they?” he asked in Russian.

  “Yes, sir,” the soldier responded. “We checked the readings carefully for leakage. They’re secure.”

  Boroshev nodded, silently hoping that was true. “Very well. Carry on.”

  The Americans were making it tougher and tougher to infiltrate their borders, Boroshev thought as he made his way topside to join the captain, but they had anticipated this and were ready. They’d passed their first test that day—or so it seemed. They had a few more tests to go, but they were that much closer to their ultimate objective.

  The White House, Washington, D.C.

  The next morning

  Robert Chamberlain strode through the door to the Oval Office with a single folder in his hand. The President was at his desk, with his chief of staff, Victoria Collins, looking over his shoulder. “What’s up, Robert?” the President asked. He saw the folder Chamberlain had in his hand. “Comments on the speech?”

  “Mr. President, do you really mean to say this?” Chamberlain asked incredulously. “This part about asking folks to go on with their lives?”

  Victoria Collins blinked in surprise. Collins was a former college track and field star, Fortune 500 CEO, and two-term Illinois senator. As the first female ever to hold the office of chief of staff, she was very comfortable in the rough-and-tumble world of politics and had been in plenty of high-stress situations in her ground-breaking career; her presidential aspirations were well known to the entire nation. “Exactly what do you recommend we say to the American people, Robert—run and hide in your homes because we can’t handle the situation?”

  “Exactly the opposite—I think we should be telling the American people to offer their services and help in this time of crisis,” Chamberlain responded. “I think we should tell them that they should step forward and do everything they can to help their nation and their neighbors get through this crisis.”

  “What?” Collins cried. “What do you expect them to do—pick up a rifle and go hunt terrorists in their backyards?”

  “I would like all retired civil servants to go back to their old jobs and volunteer to help,” Chamberlain suggested. “We will need thousands of new background security checks, baggage screeners, record checkers, instructors, and countless more jobs done in the coming months, and we simply don’t have the manpower or the money to hire and train new personnel. The budget is already blown through the roof, and our existing employees are already overworked. We need help, and the best solution is to ask for volunteers.”

  “This is crazy, Robert!” Collins retorted. “They’ll think we’re out of control. And who will retrain the retired guys?”

  “The current trainers will, of course,” Chamberlain replied. “It’ll be more of a recertification rather than a full-blown initial training program, since they already know their business. They will…”

  “And you expect these people to volunteer to do this?” Collins asked. “Why should they? They put in twenty or thirty years in their job, they have a good pension, a comfortable retirement…you think they’ll respond to a call to leave their comfortable lives and return to those jobs for no pay?”

  “I think they will, enthusiastically and in large numbers—if we ask them,” Chamberlain said. “Mr. President, that’s why this speech is so important. After 9/11, the message was ‘Don’t panic, be aware, be vigilant, but go about your normal lives because otherwise the terrorists win.’ It was a good sentiment, but it was the wrong message. The last thing we want is for Americans to go about their lives as if nothing has happened.”

  “You’re inviting panic, confusion, chaos, and a tremendous backlash against this administration, Chamberlain…”

  “Nothing like the panic and confusion there would be, Miss Collins, if we didn’t do anything and there was another nuclear terrorist attack in the States,” Chamberlain said. “Look, it’s simple: We need the help, but we can’t afford to hire half a million new civil servants. We inspect ten percent of containerized cargo coming into our ports right now. What if Congress orders us to inspect even fifty percent? It’ll take at least five times the manpower we have now! Who�
��s going to do the background checks for all those people? Who’s going to train them? Who’s going to train the trainers or check the checkers?”

  “But you’re suggesting that volunteers do it?”

  “Exactly,” Chamberlain said. “These retired and former civil servants, military personnel, teachers, and experts know their business. We can rescreen then, recertify them, and let them work their old jobs when they want. We gain a new pool of help for very little additional cost.

  “But more important, we communicate to the American people that we are at war,” he went on. “Telling the people to go about their lives as if nothing has happened doesn’t convey the sense of danger or urgency we need if we want to go forward eventually with a declaration of war…”

  “You obviously didn’t get my memo,” Collins said. “The staff attorneys for the White House, State, Justice, and Defense all are recommending that the President not go to Congress to ask for a declaration of war against terrorism. There’s no legal or historical precedent for it, and it would be too unpopular and politically dangerous…”

  “I read the memo, Vicki, and it stinks,” Chamberlain snapped. “It’s incomplete and based on opinion only, not on hard evidence or factual research. The political damage has already been done here when the terrorists attacked Kingman City and we were completely unprepared and unaware of the plot—now is the time for the President to step forward and pursue an offensive, forward-leaning, aggressive program to stop future attacks. I realize it may take time and some convincing to get the congressional leadership on board…”

  “ ‘Some convincing’? The leadership thinks we’d be nuts to try it, and there’s no way anyone will endorse it,” Collins interjected. “I’ve spoken informally and off the record about it, and there’s no way it will ever fly…”

  “Can you possibly be any more negative and wishy-washy here, Collins?” Chamberlain asked angrily. “The President directed the staff to lay the groundwork for a declaration of war against terrorism. You’re not supposed to ask ‘pretty please’ and float trial balloons—you’re supposed to implement the President’s directives. This speech does nothing to advance the President’s agenda.”

  Collins stepped forward and was about to take on Chamberlain face-to-face, but the President touched her arm to stop her. “So what are you suggesting, Robert?” he asked.

  Chamberlain handed him the folder. “I’ve redrafted your speech to include my recommendations,” he said. “This speech should be a call to action, not a ‘Don’t worry about a thing’ lullaby. The speech directs the departments of Justice, Defense, Homeland Security, and State to put out a call to all former employees and contractors to volunteer to assist in helping to ramp up operations, and directs all agencies to make retraining and recertifying these volunteers a top priority. We need at least a thirty percent across-the-board increase in manpower in the next six months to help in border security, security screening, background checks, record checks, surveillance, inspections, support services, and administration…”

  “That’s five percent a month!” Collins exclaimed. “It can’t be done!”

  “It can and it must, for the sake of our nation,” Chamberlain said. “If we don’t get volunteers, we should consider drafting citizens to do it—not drafting citizens to go in the military, but drafting them to serve their country to help in the war on terror. High school graduates and everyone between the ages of eighteen and thirty will be required to do at least one year of paid government work in a field of their choice, and will then be required to work at least four weeks per year until age sixty…”

  “Where in the world is this idea coming from, Chamberlain?” Collins retorted.

  “Israel has been doing a similar program for decades, and it is highly successful,” Chamberlain said. “The United States could be under siege like Israel if we don’t act.

  “I’m proposing a straight volunteer program right now, but I also propose we ramp up the volunteer program so we can increase our manpower by one hundred percent within the next fifteen to twenty-four months,” Chamberlain went on. “I suggest we offer Americorps or G.I. Bill–like incentives for volunteers: credits for home loan programs, tuition rebates, discount Medicare cards, job training opportunities, tax deductions for volunteer expenses, even tax cuts if necessary.

  “I also propose bringing home each and every Reserve Force soldier from overseas duty and putting them to work on domestic security tasks,” Chamberlain said. “The National Guard and Reserves were always meant to be there to help protect the American people on American soil, not helping the active-duty troops fight overseas. We should increase pay for the Reserve Forces and strengthen the laws that protect their civilian jobs while they’re away on Reserve duties, even if it means the government pays their salaries for the jobs that were lost.”

  “This is insane, Mr. President!” Collins said as she read her copy of the draft. “None of this has been staffed. We won’t be able to address the most basic questions—how much this will cost, who will be accepted, who will be rejected, who will oversee the program, and a million other questions! Legal hasn’t even been alerted that you were going to recommend any of this. We’re not going to get the media and the American people all hot and bothered with this idea and then find it’s not legal or constitutional. You can’t expect the President to make a speech about this tonight without doing the staff work first!”

  “Mr. President, I’ve already got my staff doing the basic legal research,” Chamberlain said. “They’ll have their results to me this afternoon in plenty of time to brief you before your speech to the American people at nine P.M. So far there’s nothing we can’t address. The union or civil service status of the volunteers and draftees is a prime concern, but that’s not a barricade. Vicki is overreacting, and as usual she’s erring on the side of extreme caution, which is precisely what we don’t need at this time. What we need is bold, decisive, determined action.”

  The President looked over at Collins, who was silently reading the edited speech, shaking her head, a grim expression on her face. “Victoria?”

  “I can’t even begin to list the holes in this proposal, Mr. President,” she responded. “Who will assume legal responsibility for the volunteers? How do we work this program into the departments’ budgets? How do we handle information and operational security issues…?”

  “That’s all flak, Mr. President,” Chamberlain said. “It’s details. My staff hasn’t uncovered any major glitches in the idea so far. Once the department and congressional staffs jump on this I’m sure they’ll uncover problems, but I’m also sure there won’t be anything that can’t be solved. More important, sir, it shows you doing something positive and proactive. Extreme times call for extreme measures.”

  The President finished reading the speech, thought about it for a few moments, then nodded. “Victoria, give this to Communications and have them polish it up and put it out to the staff. I want comments and changes forwarded by four P.M. this afternoon.”

  “Do you want the press and Congress to get a whiff?”

  “Yes,” the President replied immediately. “The more eyes looking at this proposal, the better. Might as well have as many folks as possible vet this idea—might save our staffs a lot of legwork.”

  “Do you want this idea to come from the White House or the office of the national security adviser?” Collins asked. “Since you haven’t had time to think about it, it might be better to give credit for the proposal to Mr. Chamberlain at first.”

  “His office and mine are the same,” the President said. “I’ll give credit but take responsibility for the proposal. It’s a good idea, Robert. Thank you.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President,” Chamberlain said.

  “Try to give us more of a heads-up next time, but with this Kingman City crisis, everyone is on the run.”

  “Yes, Mr. President.”

  Collins shot Chamberlain an evil glare as she departed the Oval Office. The President
read the edited speech over once more, then commented, “I see you scheduled yourself to view some kind of demonstration over at Andrews Air Force Base. What else are you working on, Robert?”

  “A demonstration of that manned robotic exoskeleton technology that did that rescue out at Kingman City at Andrews Air Force Base this morning,” Chamberlain replied. “I’m going to propose that we build a unit of those things and put them to work hunting down terrorists.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “I’m also going to propose that we build a joint task force—the military and the FBI, working together, to hunt down terrorists,” Chamberlain went on. “I want this task force to have the mobility and lethality of a special-ops unit, the striking power of a Marine expeditionary unit, and the legal and investigative capability of the FBI; it should be able to operate worldwide.”

  “You don’t believe in thinking small or forming a consensus with your fellow advisers, do you, Robert?” the President commented with a chuckle. “All right, you’re authorized to put together such a task force under the National Security Council’s authority and discretionary budget. Don’t have them do a thing without my express written authorization—they can form, organize, and train together, but they can’t do anything in the field yet. You’re in for an uphill battle on this volunteer program idea, and even more of a turf war over this joint civil-military task force idea. But if anyone can get these programs approved, it’s you.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President.”

  “Who are you going to propose to lead this joint task force?”

  “My aide, Army Command Sergeant Major Raymond Jefferson.”

  “Not an officer?”

  “Jefferson is the best of the best in special-operations fieldwork, Mr. President,” Chamberlain said. “He’s led both Ranger and Delta Force teams in missions all around the world for almost twenty years. He’s tough, he’s got lots of special-ops experience, and he’s itching to get out of Washington and back into the real world.”