Rigged

by James Rosone

  American exceptionalism…more like American imperialism if they don’t get what they want, Behr thought.

  Like a petulant child, America would routinely lash out at various countries of the world when it didn’t get what it wanted, using its economy and its military to bully smaller countries into submission. He found comfort that those days were quickly coming to an end.

  Only a few more days and America—and the world—will change for the better.

  “Mr. Secretary-General,” said his assistant, breaking his trance and bringing him back to reality.

  He turned to look at his assistant and saw him walk in, accompanied by a Canadian general, a man by the name of Guy McKenzie.

  The Canadian general had built a well-known reputation both within his own country’s forces and those of the UN as a true warrior diplomat. He’d spent large portions of his career in the Canadian Special Forces and then in various functions developing the small Canadian military into a well-trained professional force. He’d been the commander of numerous UN peacekeeping operations around the world. The few UN-led peacekeeping operations that hadn’t been plagued by scandal or marred by indifference, like those in South Sudan, were the ones specifically led by McKenzie. When it came time to develop a true UN standing army, there wasn’t a single military officer in the world that held the level of respect needed to make this concept work other than General Guy McKenzie.

  Secretary-General Behr smiled warmly at the two men as he stood up to greet them. He’d been waiting all day for this meeting. Walking around his desk, he shook both of their hands excitedly. “General, it’s good to see you here in New York. How are things coming along?”

  “Rough around the edges, sir, but coming along,” answered General McKenzie in an upbeat tone.

  The Secretary-General guided them over to a table at the far side of his office. “Please, General, tell me how things are going and what more I can do to help or make calls to get things moving faster for you,” Behr pressed.

  McKenzie nodded. “No disrespect, but is Mr. Vollmer cleared for this?” he asked, tilting his head toward Bruno Vollmer, who was sitting next to the general.

  Behr waved the comment off. “Bruno is fully aware of what we’re doing. He’s helping me orchestrate the political side of things here at the UN, so please feel free to speak freely in front of him.”

  “Very well,” General McKenzie responded. Then he opened a locked pouch he had with him and pulled out some papers and a folder to begin their discussion. “The plans for the exercises are going well. We have advanced parties for the participating nations’ militaries arriving this week. The United Nations’ Operation Restoring Order training exercise is shaping up to be a huge success.”

  “Wait, what are you calling it?” asked Bruno with a quizzical look on his face. The name for the operation had only been settled on a few days ago, so it was still not widely known.

  “Um, we settled on calling it Operation Restoring Order, since that is essentially going to be the function of the new standing army. For short, we’re calling the training exercise U-N-O-R-O. I guess you’d pronounce it yoon-OH-roh.”

  “I don’t mean to interrupt, but how many nations have finally agreed to participate?” Secretary-General Behr eagerly asked. He’d been so busy trying to get the political side of this exercise taken care of that he hadn’t been able to delve too deeply into the nuts and bolts of the details.

  General McKenzie smiled. “As of right now, we have forty-two nations participating in one form or another. The largest contributors to the exercise are France, Germany, Turkey, Belgium, the Netherlands, Norway, Spain, Italy—and surprisingly, China and Russia have agreed to send forces as well. Many of the other nations are contributing less than one hundred soldiers, mostly observers who’ll presumably report back on how well things go or don’t go so their home nations can determine if they want to support it and how many soldiers they want to commit.

  “When the exercise is complete, we’ll have a better idea of how many nations will want to contribute forces long-term to the standing army. Once I have those figures, I’ll be able to develop my report of how many soldiers we’ll need to recruit to fill out the gaps in the force and that’ll tell us what the costs will be.”

  Looking at one of the papers he had pulled out, McKenzie added, “Of the major nations participating, this is the troop breakdown. China is sending a total of 3,500 soldiers. Most of the Chinese soldiers are part of their air force and navy, no ground forces. Once they arrive in Vancouver, they will head to the Canadian Forces Base Comox, northwest of Vancouver. In addition to the air force, a total of ten Chinese People’s Liberation Army Navy ships will make a port call at Canadian Forces Base Esquimalt.

  “The Russian Federation is sending 22,000 soldiers to participate in the exercises that will be taking place at the Canadian Forces base in Trenton. In addition to the ground forces, the Russians are also going to send two squadrons of fighters to allow our NATO-based aircraft a chance to do some real training against some of their frontline fighters. We’re actually really excited about this opportunity to train with the Russians and move from always viewing them as a foe to a new potential UN peacekeeping partner.”

  Secretary-General Behr grunted. He still had his suspicions about the Russians’ motives, but at this point, he needed them.

  “Germany is sending the largest contingent, 24,000 soldiers. Then France is sending 18,000 soldiers.” He paused for a second as he rifled through the papers to find what he was looking for. “Ah, here it is. Turkey and Pakistan are sending a combined force of 9,000 soldiers, and the remaining countries have contributed a combined 17,000 soldiers. All in all, we’re looking at having a total of 68,000 soldiers from all forty-two nations.”

  Behr let out a soft whistle. He was impressed that they were able to organize so many peacekeepers from so many different nations—in the dead of winter and traveling to Canada, no less.

  This is going to work out better than I’d hoped, he thought.

  “Incredible, General,” Behr said. “Truly genius what you’ve been able to put together. This will be the largest UN military force since the Korean War.”

  Smiling at the high praise, McKenzie added, “And it’ll have all been done without any help from the Americans. A true effort by the nations of the world without having to rely on the United States to accomplish it.”

  “How are we getting all of these nations’ military equipment moved to Canada?” Bruno asked as he jotted down a note. “Also, how long will the exercise last and what are you doing to keep them all fed and occupied?”

  General McKenzie smiled at the questions, obviously not at all put off. “For decades, the United Nations peacekeeping forces have been poorly trained and poorly led because the organization has been dependent on receiving whatever forces each member state is willing to loan us. In many cases, we’ve been handed poorly trained and poorly equipped units as the member states hoped these units would receive the training and experience they themselves were unable to provide. They were essentially just giving us warm bodies with little skills or experience and expecting us to somehow stop a civil war or impose peace on a war-torn nation with these inadequate forces.

  “Unfortunately, this has resulted in an abysmal peacekeeping record and tarnished the UN’s name. In some cases, we’ve caused more harm than good. Our track record in South Sudan and Somalia is a good case in point.” McKenzie looked sad as he mentioned those two countries, but then he perked back up. “This training exercise is meant to address many of those problems; mostly it’s meant to fix our logistical problem of shipping a military force to a foreign land and then keeping that force supplied.

  “In this case, we’re relying heavily on nations like the Netherlands, Denmark, Germany, France, China, and Russia to do most of the heavy vehicle and equipment transport. Most of the equipment is due to arrive on the east and west coasts of Canada in the next couple of days—from there, it’ll be shipped
via rail to the various Canadian military bases until the soldiers start to fly in from around the world. Most of the soldiers will start to arrive in Canada around November third. Within five days, all participating soldiers will have arrived and will begin collecting their equipment and begin the process of getting it ready.”

  Pulling out a calendar, McKenzie added, “The first day of the military exercises will be November seventh, and they will continue for a full forty-five days. When they’re done, there will be a five-day period where we’ll conduct an after-action review of all the soldiers involved to find out what went right and what went wrong, so we can work on fixing the problems as they’re identified.”

  Bruno smiled and nodded at the information. He wrote a few other things down on his pad of paper before returning his gaze back to the general. “What are the exact scenarios you’ll be training for?”

  McKenzie nodded. “Well, in this case, we’ll be training for a couple of scenarios. The first scenario is a restart of the Korean War. In this scenario, we’ll be training our combat forces to carry out joint maneuvers to deal with a much larger North Korean ground force. Mostly it’ll be a lot of maneuver training, having units shift around from one base to another under strict timelines while pretending to meet a specific North Korean division. It’s a giant logistics and supply exercise, which is a huge challenge for any army to have to deal with.

  “The second scenario is more in line with our traditional peacekeeping missions. Helping to restore order in a country after a coup or working with a local government to prevent a coup. This exercise will result in a lot of community interactions between UN forces and training in how to properly handle those interactions. We’ve utterly failed in those areas in the past, so it’s a much-needed exercise.

  “What these exercises will also do is allow us to identify specific officers and NCOs inside of each host nation that may be better suited for future UN missions. This way, when a call goes out for a UN force in, say, Gabon or Sierra Leon, we can request specific officers and their units from a host nation and know those individuals have been properly trained and will react correctly in certain situations.”

  Leaning forward, Behr asked, “And what about our test of the American aerospace defense networks? Have those units been briefed on what to do and what to look for?”

  McKenzie nodded. “Yes, our Canadian officers serving at the joint US-Canadian bases will be monitoring things from their end. As to our side of the border, the Russians and Germans were most eager to have an opportunity to buzz an American airbase and practice carrying out mock bombing missions. It’ll give us a good test of the American aerospace defense system.”

  Secretary-General Behr beamed with pride as McKenzie finished his brief. He couldn’t be prouder of the UN or what it was transforming itself into. Since his time as the German foreign minister, he’d wanted to see not just a strong, dominant European Union emerge as a counterweight to the US, but a strong and effective United Nations.

  For decades, the UN had not only been a bloated bureaucracy that had proven to be largely useless, it had lacked any real teeth to enforce its mandates and policies. How many resolutions had the UN passed sanctioning North Korea, Saddam Hussein’s Iraq, or even Israel for their inhumane treatment of the Palestinians? None of them were worth the paper they were written on without a standing army to enforce their edicts. For too long, any semblance of a UN army was forced to be made up of US forces. This would ultimately mean the UN was used once again as the US’s proxy weapon to advance their causes, their goals—even if it went against the good of the world.

  Looking at General McKenzie with pride, Behr felt he was finally on the cusp of having the very tool every past UN Secretary-General lacked—a real military force that could enforce its mandates.

  Chapter 18

  Fate of the Republic

  November 2, 2020

  Washington, D.C.

  J. Edgar Hoover Building

  FBI Headquarters

  The polls were now less than thirty-six hours from opening, and the FBI was still no closer to stopping the impending terrorist attacks than they had been two days earlier. The information they had received from Kosovo had enabled them to arrest two individuals, but they had yet to find the rest of their cell or the others involved in the plot.

  When they’d raided the home being used by the two individuals, they had discovered something truly horrifying. Their 2019 GMC Savana cargo van had been turned into a giant mobile version of a Claymore antipersonnel mine. When the bomb squad had torn the vehicle apart, they’d seen that the inner walls of the van had been covered in several layers of tiny steel ball bearings. Behind the ball bearings was a layer of C-4, which would act as the propellant that would throw the ball bearings in a wide arc, away from the vehicle. The terrorists had even shaped steel plates to fit behind the explosives, to further ensure the pressure from the blast expanded out in the direction they wanted it to go.

  They had even marked the van to look like a police evidence van, complete with all of the proper markings, vehicle numbers and everything needed to make it look official. They still hadn’t figured out how the terrorists had planned on using it or where it was going to be detonated, but based on the type of explosives they’d found and the way it was configured with the ball bearings, they knew it was going to be used against a soft target, a place where lots of people would be gathering together.

  *******

  At precisely 9:07 a.m., Attorney General Malcolm Wright and one of his aides walked unannounced into FBI Director Nolan Polanski’s office.

  Looking up a bit surprised by the sudden appearance of the AG, he stammered, “I, um, I wasn’t expecting you, sir. What can I do for you?”

  With a bit of heat in his voice, Malcolm said, “I need to know where we stand with the questioning of these terrorists. You’ve had them in custody now for a day, and we still don’t know who their co-conspirators are or where they were planning to carry out this next attack. I need answers, Nolan! I’ve got the President breathing down my neck, and the election is tomorrow.”

  Angrily, Director Polanski shot back, “I don’t know, Malcolm! We’ve been pressing them nonstop since we detained them. They’ve freaking lawyered up on us, and somehow the ACLU got wind that we’ve detained suspected terrorists, and now I’ve got them breathing down my back, demanding that they be arraigned and allowed representation.”

  The FBI Director slumped dejectedly in his chair, frustrated that his agents weren’t getting the information they needed fast enough. He knew they were on the clock—a terrorist attack was going to happen tomorrow, and thus far, he was powerless to stop it.

  Malcolm wasn’t having it. He slammed his hand down on his desk, jarring Polanski back to reality. “Damn it, Nolan! You’re the Director of the FBI. Use every tool you have at your disposal to get them talking. As to the ACLU—tell me who’s giving you grief and allow me to handle them. These guys fall under the Patriot Act; they have no rights. They don’t get to see a lawyer, and furthermore, they’re not even US citizens. Get me answers, Nolan, and stop this terrorist attack from happening.”

  The two of them sat there for a moment, staring at each other without saying a word before Director Polanski finally nodded. He picked up the phone on his desk and spoke a few hushed words to someone on the other end.

  “I’ve relayed your concerns, Malcolm. They’ll amp up the pressure on them.” He crossed his arms. “You’d better not burn me on this later,” he retorted. He was frustrated that while his agency wasn’t breaking the rules, they were certainly about to bend them to get the answers the AG wanted in the timeframe they were given.

  “If another attack happens, Nolan, it’ll be both our heads—so let’s just focus on getting these guys. Now, what have your people figured out regarding the poisoning of the Supreme Court justices?” Malcolm asked.

  “We believe they may have been poisoned while they were in deliberations sometime early last week. Sadly,
the last four justices will die either today or sometime tomorrow. The radiation poisoning was just too severe for them to be saved.”

  Shaking his head, the AG asked, “Have we figured out how they were poisoned yet?”

  “The best we’ve been able to determine is that they were probably fed the poison in their drinks sometime last week. We’ve scoured the kitchen and interrogated all but one of the staff members that work there. The remaining staff member is on a preapproved vacation, so we’ll interview her when she returns. So far, we haven’t been able to find any traces of the polonium. Chances are, whatever was used to poison them with has already been thoroughly cleaned, and the half-life of this stuff is fairly short. In a way, we’re lucky it wasn’t placed in the HVAC system of the building. Had it been, it could have poisoned hundreds of people.”

  Malcolm snorted. “I’m not as worried about a few hundred people being killed so much as the fact that between today and tomorrow, all nine Supreme Court justices will be dead at the same time. This is far more catastrophic to the fabric and stability of our nation than a few hundred visitors, lawyers and petitioners before the court.”

  The FBI Director found himself in agreement at the morbid assessment. “What’s the President going to do about the justices? We can’t have a Supreme Court completely unable to hear cases, especially given the current executive order about the election. Has anyone officially determined what’s going to happen with that? We’re kind of running out of options and time.”

  Shaking his head, Malcolm rubbed the right side of his head with his hand. He looked at his colleague with sadness and uncertainty written on his face. “I don’t know, Nolan. I just don’t know what to do anymore. The President needs to nominate new judges, but the country is still mourning their loss—not to mention we have an election tomorrow that, in all honesty, is probably not going to be legit. You’ve seen the pundits and what the Tate campaign is putting out there. They’ve whipped people up, saying this whole terrorist plot and these postal workers the FBI arrested are just a diversion from Sachs losing. You and I know that’s ridiculous, but how do we convince the other half of the country that’s drinking the Tate Kool-Aid?”