by Reed Hill
Arthur Burke cleared his throat lightly, "If I may, Peter."
"Please," the DNI Chief deferred to the FBI Director, who was a bit of an elder statesman of the room. "Go ahead, Arthur."
Burke leaned forward and glanced at a file he had taken from his briefcase, "As of now, it appears that two of the new TALON 'spear tip' devices have gone missing from Los Alamos National Laboratory."
Shalitino cocked her head like a spaniel, "TALON? I don't think I'm familiar with that." She pursed her lips and shot Williams an inquisitive look.
Burke consulted his file briefly, "TALON is the limited footprint nuclear devices we have been working on for close to a decade for urban warfare situations. Not that it matters, but the acronym stands for tactical, anti-personnel, low-altitude ordinance nuclear. The concept was the delivery of a small-radius, anti-personnel explosive that would be overwhelming to troops and vehicles but keep the infrastructure mostly intact beyond a fairly tight blast zone. Very devastating within a quarter of a mile but dissipating quickly leaving buildings and bridges largely undamaged."
General Williams sat up a bit and picked up from there, "Yes, it had been sold to us as the 'surgical strike’ nuclear missile fired using the JDAM platform, so that most attack aircraft in the arsenal can fire it, from Apache helicopters to F-16 strike fighters. As such, it's considered a spear tip weapon with a variety of launch capabilities. It's the size and shape of a soda can, so I had heard that some of the artillery and ordinance officers and enlisted had started calling the 'Coke can nuke', but I hadn't heard much about it for months, if not years. I thought it may have been shelved, since we had withdrawn from Afghanistan and Iraq is now mostly a nation building and peace keeping mission. That is until I head something about it a few days ago in reference to the Israeli-Iran situation. We haven't shared that technology, have we?"
All eyes wheeled on CIA boss Jim Douglas, "I've got nothing direct to suggest that it has been verified to have been shared with any of our allies. Not as this point."
DiNardo stared at Douglas, "I'd like to see a memo with stronger wording than that, Jim." He looked at the rest of the group quickly in turn, "We need a task force on this to track down those devices, done with all possible speed and detail. No stones left unturned, is that clear Arthur?" He was glaring at the FBI boss.
Burke closed the file and looked at DNI DiNardo, "At the Bureau, we've run out of personnel at the Hoover Building who are qualified and experienced at running Critical Incident Response Groups." His tone and manner were detached, professorial as if reading a graduate school case study. "What has happened in the past twelve hours is simply unprecedented, Peter. We've moved several CIRGs to local sites to liaison with the law enforcement there. I have two analysts in the field running CIRGs that, under normal circumstances, one of my Deputies would be handling personally."
"We at DHS can attest to the unique nature of the events as well," Shalitino nodded in the direction of the FBI Director, who diverted his gaze to his papers. "We've deployed a dozen Special Response Teams in multiple areas in an attempt to intervene where possible, but we're overwhelmed and our intelligence has proven to be…consistently…untimely." She paused for a moment, consulting her tablet once again. "Three HSI Special Response Teams in Texas have been completely routed and the reports which have come back in the past two hours have suggested the interventions required may need to be military in nature. We have received inquiries from Fort Hood about providing support, but told them we are looking at our options."
"What's the source of the insurgency in Texas?" DiNardo looked about the room.
"Best intelligence as of now indicates it's Mexican drug cartel militia combining forces with sympathizers from the U.S.," Arthur Burke leaned his arm on his knee. "All signs suggest planning and coordination, but we aren't clear as to their objectives or motives. We don't have any claims of responsibility or communications from the insurgents' leadership."
"What do we know from the Mexican government?"
"Nothing," CIA Director Douglas shifted in his seat, his eyes bouncing from Burke to DiNardo. "President Flores and half his Cabinet are on vacation in Rio de Janeiro for the week. Things are quiet in Mexico from what we hear in the Agency."
"Well, we need to get on the phone with him and get some answers as to what they know. This border situation is as serious as a heart attack." DiNardo raised his voice, and settled into his chair. "I suppose we need to contact State and find out who's available to reach out, or whether it should be the President talking directly to Flores."
DHS boss Shalitino raised a finger, "One point, I'd like to offer is that all HSI counter-insurgency teams in the southwest, from Arizona to Texas have claimed that they were facing a military force rather than upset natives or ordinary gangs. It's DHS's opinion that this is military."
“If we don’t do something, this is another Benghazi, Libya – this time on our own soil.” Arthur Burke said firmly.
“We need to be developing military response options,” CIA chief Douglas echoed the sentiment.
DiNardo glanced over to the staid military man, "Opinions on that, Marvin?"
Williams rubbed the back of his hand momentarily before meeting the eyes of the DNI Director. Marvin Williams was a decorated war veteran, instrumental in the battle strategy in Afghanistan, where he oversaw a largely successful drawdown in forces and eventual withdrawal in an era of dwindling budgets and rather mediocre troop morale. Some had compared him to Colin Powell for his military acumen and overall presence and ambition. "The government does have domestic capability for deploying troops on U.S. soil under certain conditions. We've done some training, largely under the nose of mainstream media. Only the online kooks watch us closely."
"This President will not be declaring martial law, if that's where you're going, Marvin," Peter DiNardo adjusted his gold watch and scanned the faces of each one of those before him. "President Denton was once of counsel for and consulted for the ACLU. We won't be going the direction of martial law, I can assure you of that."
"Well, I clearly don't have a lot of direct influence here as this is clearly domestic," Jim Douglas broke in. "but, there are provisions under the Insurrection Act, which give the President a fair amount of leeway in deploying troops. It could be done, I believe, in order to maintain order as a result of a natural disaster, public health emergency or terrorist attack."
DiNardo stroked his clean-shaven cheeks slowly with his tanned hand, "Is that right?"
"We would need to consult with Justice to confirm, depending on the scenario," CIA Director Douglas' tone was matter of fact and confident. "But, the short answer is that yes, I think there are circumstances which would allow the President to order troops activated for putting down civil unrest of a threatening or dangerous nature."
National Intelligence Director DiNardo got up and went to his desk and picked up the phone. "Let's deal with the cyber-security on the west coast in a minute and settle this. It affects how we might look at our options on the problems in Atlanta and Chicago, and probably Phoenix too next. I want some answers on this troop deployment issue pronto." He leaned on the dark wood and said into the handset, "Get me someone from Justice over here."
"National security division," Douglas raised his eyebrows as DiNardo looked at him.
"As high ranking as you can get from the national security division," DiNardo continued. "We need him here in twenty minutes for urgent advice on critical matters of national security."
“Okay, now for cover.” DiNardo hung up the phone and clapped his hands together. “Let’s talk press conferences. Who’s doing them and what are the talking points?”
*****
Three Eagles Ranch
Outside of Hunt, Texas - July 5th, 2017 - 1:38 p.m.
Jeff Doyle admired the hand carved wooden sign which hung on a tall wooden post at the entrance of the courtyard of the main house. The three eagles facing left and right flanking a center one with outstretched wings. He wonder
ed what its significance was beyond its inherent craftsmanship and patriotic symbolism. It didn't fit with the Spanish mission architecture very well, but did match the rustic western feel which permeated the ranch. Jeff Doyle pushed through the rusty iron gate and strode up the long flagstone walkway through the low, stucco-walled courtyard to meet Ranger Billy Tompkins.
Doyle pushed the doorbell and stepped back, hands crossed in front of him. He heard footsteps moving toward the door, and the large ornately carved dark wood door swung open. They were greeted by a very attractive woman in tight jeans, a fancy western blouse and boots. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties, about six inches shorter than Doyle's six-foot two. Flinging her long tawny hair behind her, she flashed a wide, dimpled smile, "Welcome to the ranch, gentlemen." There was a glint of hospitality in her chestnut eyes, as a man in rumpled plaid shirt and dirty jeans appeared by her side at the door. The stubbly-bearded man with a crew-cut was broad-shouldered, with a bit of spare tire around the middle, and fatigue showed on his face. Time had worn Nick Brodie down a bit, but there was no mistaking the sharp blue eyes, hawk-like nose, and dimpled chin of Doyle's former company commander.
Doyle broke the awkward moment and extended his hand, "Captain Brodie, it's Jeff Doyle. Been a while."
Brodie grasped Doyle's hand forcefully, "It sure has, Jeff. Call me Nick or just Brodie, please. It's been a long time since I was a captain of anything except maybe a church league softball team." Brodie motioned to his Sara, "This is my wife, Sara."
Doyle and Sara shook hands, and she opened the door wider and flashed that broad, dimply smile, "We're being so rude. Y'all come in here, this instant."
The Texas Ranger who looked like an NFL linebacker stepped in first and said, "We will need to do walk-through of the building, before we let any members of the administration in, ma'am. If that is acceptable to you and your husband."
Sara waved her hand at the trooper in a rather coy way and let it rest on his arm momentarily, "Oh don't be silly. Of course, it's no trouble at all."
"We'll also need to do a sweep of the grounds and have everyone who isn't family speak with myself and my partner outside, while the members of the administration get secured inside. I'm sure you follow my meaning."
"No problem, sir," Brodie nodded and put his hands in his pockets, glancing at his wife. "I can vouch for everyone here. We're all longtime friends, and most of us served in the military." Brodie looked over his shoulder at a large group of men a huge vaulted room with a massive stone fireplace.
"Maybe, Nick, if you would take the group you have there out of the house for the time being," Doyle rubbed his chin lightly, "we can get the Governor settled in here." Doyle wasn't sure it was a good idea to have such large numbers – that many people made for its own set of security risks. No one could know they were here, or this plan would blow up in their faces. Media would descend on them and the feds would be close behind.
"That would be very helpful," the Texas Ranger nodded.
"You got it," Brodie turned and headed to the hearth room where twenty men were gathered on the couches and chairs, and some were standing huddled in familiar groups. Brodie whistled lightly as he approached the crew, grabbing their attention from their conversations and the television, which was tuned to a CNN for quick updates.
It was a very impressive house with high arched ceilings and cedar and pecan wood accents. The massive area was almost entirely open, in addition to the grand hearth room, he could see a formal living room, and a family room with a second, smaller fireplace as well as huge open kitchen which led to a large dining room. There was a little hallway off the family room which probably led to the bedrooms that wrapped around to the east and surrounded a patio and pool area, where a small pool house stood, in cream stucco and red tile roof like the main house. While its décor was a dated western and Spanish motif, the house itself would have been an obscenely expensive home to build anywhere in or near Austin. It was badly in need of repair.
Brodie whistled once more a little louder, getting most of the eyes in the room on him, "Okay, guys. Let me say something to you all now. The Governor is awfully appreciative of your being here, but his security detail needs us to clear out, so they can make sweep of the house and grounds. So they are asking for us to gather outside by the barn so they can secure the house, and they'll be out in a little while to talk to us. So if everyone would put their weapons in their cars for a little bit and meet me at the barn in a couple minutes, that would be appreciated."
The crew dispersed in just a few moments, going out the kitchen door. As Brodie watched through the bank of windows, his wife slid in next to him. Brodie whispered something to her as Doyle and Ranger Tompkins approached. She shot him a look of intense anger before rapidly replacing it with that gentle smile. Brodie glanced at his wife and bit the corner of his lip a bit. He was probably quite nervous at playing host to the Governor on short notice. He had always been a salt-of-the-earth type, and not some high and mighty regal officer, despite the fact that he was a ring-knocker from West Point. This had always endeared him to the enlisted men under him, Doyle recalled, and they had always felt he was down in the weeds with them no matter what.
Doyle followed Brodie out the foyer along with the Texas Ranger, and walked over toward the couple who stood at the big stone fireplace. The large Ranger glanced at Brodie and his wife. "If you one of you could give me a tour of this floor and other basements, crawl spaces or levels that would be great."
Brodie's wife guided him down through the hearth room with an extended arm and Doyle caught a glimpse of the tightness of her jeans as she walked away with the Ranger – she sure didn't look like she had kids, Doyle thought. He felt a twinge of guilt for stealing an admiring glance, but Brodie certainly had done well for himself.
"It's a ranch with no basement, so there's just this floor," he heard her say to the trooper. "We have these main rooms here, which are all open, except the dining room which is just opposite the kitchen." Brodie and Doyle started to follow but she waved them off, "I've got this, honey. You and Mr. Doyle can go see to the guys." She turned back to the trooper, sauntering toward to the kitchen, "Behind us, down that hall, is a library that the kids use as a media room to do homework and watch movies, as well as five bedrooms and a few bathrooms."
Brodie turned to Doyle, "You all are buttoned up about things now, I imagine."
"Yeah, we can't be too careful." Doyle scratched the side of his face. "Let's go talk your friends."
Brodie led him through the kitchen door and they started toward the barn. Brodie could see most of the guys had already begun to organize by the garage, and he thought it reflected well on the group.
"You really do have an amazing place here," Doyle looked over at the pool area and the orchard and garden beyond as well as the big barn. Doyle tried not to notice the areas of chipped stucco all around the decorative concrete walls that surrounded the main house. He even saw several areas on the main house and small pool house where the stucco was falling apart. It certainly had been a majestic home in its day but it badly needed repairs.
"Thanks," Brodie rubbed his stubbly beard. "If my father was alive, he would be getting on me like spider monkey over the disrepair, no doubt about it." Brodie chuckled sardonically. "I can't keep up with the maintenance lately – economy and all."
"I'm sure it's a tough task. How many acres do you have?"
"It's eight hundred, more or less."
"Well, it really is quite extraordinary, Nick. You certainly have a lot to be proud of here."
They walked the grounds a bit, and Brodie pointed out different features like Sara's garden, and the five acres of apple and peach orchards, and the scattering of cherry trees that overlooked the stable and attached workshops. It was a massive place, so perhaps the twenty men would be required. Doyle looked over the large barn as they rounded back toward the garage, "We're going to want the men with some training to help us with main security, working with the Ranger
s. We'll talk to each of them and see how they can best help. You and I will need to coordinate the rest for keeping an eye on the wire, as it were. If you're willing, I'd love to have you lead that effort, Nick."
"Sure, Jeff," Brodie wiped a bit of sweat from his neck. "Whatever you think the Governor needs. I'm here to help any way I can."
By the time they got back to the front of the garage, Sara was standing there with the Texas Ranger, so they all gathered together.
"Thanks for your cooperation, everyone," the hulking trooper stood with his hands on his hips. "At this point, we would like to move the Governor inside and start setting up security for him and the household. So in order to facilitate that, Mr. Doyle and I would like to speak with everyone here who is reserve or prior military. If that doesn't describe you, you're free work with Mr. Brodie. He will inform you about your role with us. We have a large property to keep an eye on here, and we're going to need a lot of eyes to keep watch on the area. No one should leave the compound from here on out, no exceptions. Those with military backgrounds, please meet me in the stable in twenty minutes. Thank you."
Doyle knew that he needed to build their confidence and convey appreciation at their service. These guys probably didn't know what they were signing up for when they got a call from Brodie. At the same time, he didn't know any of them. He and Ranger Tompkins knew they would have to interview them and find out if there were any bad apples as well as what special skills each of them had.
Doyle stepped forward as the Ranger walked to Governor's Suburban and disappeared inside the rear passenger compartment to brief Chase on the situation as they agreed.
"Thanks for all your help gentlemen. This is an unstable time for all of us, and I appreciate your willingness to assist the Governor and your state. Mr. Brodie will coordinate the patrols for the extended grounds while our Texas Rangers will be running the main house security as you heard, all of which I will supervise on behalf of the Governor. You'll be pleased to know that Captain Brodie and I served in Afghanistan together, so I'm only a recent convert to the world of martini lunches and paper pushing. I still eat dirt with the best of them," Doyle smiled broadly and saw the faces turn more upbeat.
