Uncivil Liberties

by Gordon Ryan

She ignored the second question. “I like you, Pug. That’s why not.”

  “Reverse logic?”

  “Not at all. Basic female logic. I do like you. I really like you, and I can see that you like me. I could say I don’t date younger men,” she said, a broader smile crossing her face.

  “Forty-two and forty-four does not place me in the category of a Toy Boy,” he said.

  Rachel laughed out loud. “I guess not. It would appear that we’ve both done our homework on the other’s biography. And it’s forty-three, not forty-four.”

  “Guilty again. I looked up Senator Rachel Ann McKenzie’s congressional stats and life history. I’m assuming you’ve done the same. But am I entitled to any other explanation? I mean, let’s face it. Two single people our age, both educated, both involved in government, favorable toward the military, involved in similar political issues—at least, at present. What are the odds that we could find someone else who had the same values, same interests, card-carrying conservatives, so to speak.”

  “Very low odds, I would say, Pug.”

  “And you say you like me.”

  “Yes, I do, and that is exactly why I don’t want to go down this road.”

  Pug shook his head. “You told the president that the Senate confused you. I can only imagine what you do to them,” he responded.

  Again, silence for several moments. Then, “Okay, here it is in a nutshell, General Connor. My father was an Air Force pilot who was killed in aerial combat in Vietnam before my second birthday. My husband was a National Guard company commander and was killed, also in combat, in Afghanistan just over five years ago. Now, I’ve just met another military guy who is a Marine general with an outstanding combat record with a Bronze Star and a Navy Cross for covert actions that are not public information. While that makes you a brave and competent officer, a leader of men from your peer’s perspective, and the nation has expressed its gratitude, it makes you a poor risk for a romantic relationship with a woman who has more than paid her dues to America. Is that clear enough?”

  Pug stared into Rachel’s eyes, holding his tongue, absorbing the rhetoric she had just delivered. She had succinctly confirmed everything General Austin had told him that day in the Capitol. Her face was stoic and her demeanor quite serious.

  “A romantic relationship, you say? That sounds good to me, Senator,” he said, keeping a straight face.

  After about ten seconds of silence, both of them started laughing out loud.

  “Why don’t we just start with dinner sometime, Rachel? Sometime soon. Maybe I chew nosily, or pick my teeth. Maybe I’ll make you share the bill. You may not want to go down that road because it’s full of pot holes, not because the destination is unclear. . . or dangerous. Maybe I just want recreational sex. Maybe you just want recreational sex. Let’s not jump to conclusions too soon.”

  “Goodnight, Pug,” she said, opening the car door. “Thank you for a lovely evening and a ride home. See you . . . when I see you,” she said. “It sounds as if the president is going to put us in the same room together rather quickly. And I think we’ll both be too busy for any recreation.”

  “Goodnight, Rachel. And by the way, I like you too, Senator,” he said.

  Chapter 26

  Office of Strategic Initiatives

  Washington D.C.

  June

  “I want that pilot program approved now, General, not next month or next week. Now!”

  “I understand, Mr. Harford. I make the final presentation to Senator Culpepper’s sub-committee tomorrow. I see no reason for delay. I can assure you, we’ll get it done. I already have assets in the 4th Army command at Fort Sam Houston ready to implement. San Antonio will be the Army’s staging area for the pilot.”

  “The Army is in a supporting role, not the primary agency. Remember that. A lot’s riding on this, General Wainscott. I’m sure you understand. If we can prove the merits of our surveillance techniques in San Antonio, Colorado Springs, and even here in D.C., then the program will go national. I need experienced men to command that program. You’re about to retire and I’m counting on you to fill one of those roles. Do we understand each other?”

  “We do, sir. Just leave it to me.”

  Harcourt rose and started to walk toward the door of his office, a signal that the meeting was over. “Call me the minute the meeting ends and I’ll get things started. Remember, your Army cohorts are in an observation role only, to report on the results. By your own comments, this is not a program for the Army or the National Guard. I’ll take care of the tactical implementation. SI has that covered.”

  “I understand. I’ll call you tomorrow,” the general said, departing Harford’s office.

  Several seconds after Wainscott left, a side door opened and another man entered without comment. Harford looked at him briefly and returned to his seat behind the desk. The man assumed the seat occupied moments earlier by General Wainscott.

  “It would seem that your time has come, my Irish friend,” Harford said. “Did you ever envision the day when you would ply your trade on American soil?”

  At five ten, with reddish-brown, thick hair, and a skin darkened by years of outdoor living, the new visitor to Harford’s office did not present the appearance of an accountant or any other business professional.

  “I did, John. It’s not the first time I’ve been here on . . . business. I could see it coming as far back as 9/11. Those conspiracy fools who blamed their own government for those actions have only made it easier. And you certainly had that general dancing on a string.”

  “The world’s a funny place, Devlin. If I had stayed in the Army, I would have been a lieutenant colonel or perhaps a full bird, but I would also have been getting Wainscott’s coffee. Now, a four-star general is sitting in that chair, saying ‘yes, sir,’ and kissing my ass.”

  “Grab it by the bollocks, my pa used to say. When do we commence operations?”

  “Saturday, if all goes well tomorrow in the closed Senate committee meeting. Wainscott will testify and call me after the vote. Have you lined up both operations?”

  “Six men in Kansas City, random shootings at the mall, followed within an hour by a half-pound of Semtex in four separate locations at the Marriott, including the lobby. There’s a convention of city managers who will be in the adjacent grand ballroom. Our actions will be successful, barring an unexpected law enforcement presence or unusually alert hotel security. This attack will cause international news, John.”

  “That’s what we’re counting on.”

  “Some four hours later, with your pilot program already operative, the unmanned aerial surveillance over San Antonio will spot a suspicious van, and quick response alert forces manned by SI Troopers will capture or kill the six men inside as they attempt to initiate random shootings along the River Walk, thereby proving the merit of close surveillance. The attacking force in San Antonio is expendable, John. Primarily Middle Eastern, all with Muslim ties. Most, if not all of them, will die in the ensuing firefight with our security forces on the ground. The resident commander will see to that. I’ve worked with him before and he understands the importance of succeeding based on the intelligence I’ll provide.”

  Harford nodded. “Better if they’re all dead, Devlin. And by the following week, with media coverage rampant and legislative demand growing, the pilot program will be expanded to several hundred cities across the nation as quickly as we can gear up. How much do your ‘terrorists’ in San Antonio know? And the Troopers, especially the team leader?”

  Devlin Hegarty smiled. “They know where San Antonio is, John. Nothing more.”

  It was John Harford’s turn to smile.

  To the untrained eye, Devlin Hegarty would have appeared to be nothing more than a rugged-appearing businessman in an Armani suit. But beneath the tailored cloth, the fifty-four-year-old former IRA bomber had maintained the physical fitness of an Olympian. To the practiced eye, his face betrayed even more. His piercing eyes, beneath the reassuring n
ature of their deep blue, were hard and unflinching, reflective of years of close-in work during the heyday of IRA action in Northern Ireland. Those days were over, but despite the growing peace accords in Ireland, Hegarty had found ample work throughout the world. It had not taken him long to discover that there was never a lack of would-be leaders who thought that the opposition, or in some cases, the incumbent government, needed to change. Working alone for the most part, he occasionally tapped into the netherworld of mercenaries and soldiers of fortune as he had on this occasion for John Harford. Hegarty had been on SI’s black ops payroll on many occasions over the past decade, and John Harford had learned to trust the man, at least to the extent that Harford trusted anyone.

  “Well,” Harford said, “get your field teams in place and I’ll give the word by Thursday afternoon at the latest. This is only the start, Devlin. We have a lot to do these next few months to prove the success of our internal security program.”

  “Do you want the rovers to continue?”

  “I do. These impromptu shootings around the nation have succeeded beyond my expectations, instilling fear in every locale they visit. Retail sales are down nationwide, high school sports are poorly attended, if not cancelled. Politicians and law enforcement are impotent. We don’t want to ease the pressure in the rest of the country. How many teams do you still have operating?”

  “Forty-three two-man teams, at last count. Two have not reported in for over 48 hours, but that’s not unusual. They’re both in remote areas of Nevada or Arizona.”

  “What about the team captured in Richland, Washington?” Harford asked.

  “One’s dead, of course, and the other knows nothing. In fact, he was a last-minute recruit, brought along by his brother. I didn’t put them together for this exact reason. If he’d been with his brother and the older man had been killed, the young kid might have talked, at least as much as he knew and his brother might have told him more than he needed to know.”

  “Will he talk?”

  “Of course. He’s just a teenager and scared. But he knows nothing except that his brother is also part of the operation. That will give Homeland Security something to think about. Two Muslim Americans, not just Middle-Eastern infiltrators. Most of them have ethnic ties to the Middle East, but they were born here. The American intelligence agencies must be very confused by now, and the politicians who know the latest facts will be reluctant to admit to the public that their own people are perpetrating these shootings.”

  “He’ll certainly tell them how you communicate,” Harford said.

  “Probably, but they already knew we’d use e-mail or the Internet. Don’t worry, John, we’re safe.”

  “Well, keep them operating, and as soon as July arrives, start the forest fires in the Northwest, moving east to North Dakota. We’ll move into Oregon and California in mid-July. Just be sure the media continues to receive notice that World Jihad is taking credit for the actions. And have some World Jihad material in the car with the San Antonio terrorists. They’re a mix of Arab and American, right?”

  Hegarty rose and nodded. “Mostly Arab, just as you directed. And nothing will show success better than dead terrorists before they commence operations, right?”

  “Exactly.”

  “One more thing, Devlin. In a few weeks, after these two operations, I want you to scout out the federal prison facility near Chicago where they house the terrorists that were moved from Guantanamo. See if you can find a vulnerability.”

  “For a prison break?”

  “Perhaps, but more for a snatch during transfer. There’s someone in there who will be brought to court. I want him free . . . or dead.”

  “I’ll look into it,” Devlin replied.

  Hart Senate Office Building

  Washington D.C.

  june

  With General Austin at a western European security conference in Brussels, Pug Connor attended the Senate intelligence committee hearing in his place, specifically invited by Senator Culpepper. The sub-committee was comprised of only eight bi-partisan senators, including Rachel McKenzie. Pug and two other non-committee members, both on General Wainscott’s staff, made up the limited audience. Army Deputy Chief of Staff General Wainscott was the only witness seated at the forward table prepared for his presentation.

  Senator Culpepper gaveled the meeting to order. “Welcome, General Wainscott. The committee members have reviewed your presentation report and are prepared this morning to hear final argument on the implementation of the pilot program in the selected cities. Are you convinced, General, that this is the appropriate way to increase security for Americans?”

  “I am, Mr. Chairman. The Army has always fought—and won—America’s overseas conflicts. On home ground, it’s quite different. It’s paramount that we find a method to detect and capture these terrorists, preferably before they attack. A para-military force, bridging the gap between military and law enforcement, is the answer. Americans have suffered enough, from the Army’s point of view, and we need to end this chaos.”

  “You’ll find no disagreement on that score, General. However,” the older senator said, “We must not forget the liberties that our people take for granted. This pilot program does not include expansion of the Patriot Act, nor does it permit unrestricted detention of citizens as requested in SI’s proposal. Those components of the full program are still under debate. Do you understand those restrictions?”

  “We do, Senator.”

  “The Senate will not condone increasing our security at the expense of freedom for our residents or the terrorists will have won.”

  “Senator, it’s a thin line we walk, for both the Army, who has been called upon to provide internal security, and law enforcement officers in these communities. In order to protect our citizens, the people are going to have to accept some inconvenience. I for one would sacrifice some of my freedom to assure that my family could live and move about more safely. Haven’t we already done that in our airports, in our federal, state, and local government buildings where we now have metal detectors and personal search criteria? Domestic Tranquility has been designed to increase our safety with the least measure of intrusion into our daily lives. Most people will never even notice the aerial camera surveillance the same way we drive through an intersection or visit a bank and never even think about the cameras recording our presence. Think about it, Senator, when did you last consider that your picture was being taken every time you came through the halls of Congress, visited an ATM, walked through a metal detector or entered your bank lobby? We take it for granted now, when once it was non-existent. The White House was open to the public every Wednesday for cheese-tasting during Andrew Jackson’s presidency. Could we do that today? No, Senator, we have to deal with our times in the most secure, yet non-invasive way. Domestic Tranquility is designed for just that purpose.”

  “And presuming we move to the next phase, how do you defend the arrest and detention or suspension of habeas corpus without legal assistance?”

  General Wainscott nodded his understanding of the question. “An unfortunate departure from our history, Senator, but not unwarranted. The pilot program will show the merit of the proposal. It’s a rare law enforcement officer who would use the arrest power beyond its intended scope. These men and women are dedicated to our safety. You personally have met with principals of Strategic Initiatives. You know they have America’s best interest at heart. John Harford is dedicated to protecting America, as is the United States Army. I’m only sorry that for the first time in my career, we have to do so on our home shores. I recommend that we give Strategic Initiatives a chance to prove their mettle, to show how they can increase our security and enable us to practice the freedom we’ve come to expect.”

  The questioning went around the dais with several senators, those who had already determined their vote, conceding their question time to other committee members.

  “Mr. Chairman,” Senator McKenzie said from her seat, three positions to the left
of Senator Culpepper, “may I have a few moments for questions?”

  “Certainly, Senator McKenzie. The floor is yours.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Chairman. General Wainscott, I read your endorsement of the Strategic Initiatives proposal for Domestic Tranquility over the past several days. Several points come to mind, but the one that concerns me the most is the lack of a sunset clause, or an end-result timetable. Can you please explain the anticipated duration of these extreme measures and how long our citizens can expect to have to live under these restrictions?”

  From his seat several rows behind the table at which General Wainscott was sitting, Pug smiled to himself, knowing full well that Rachel was plucking at straws. Approval for the pilot program was a done deal. She had told him as much when he had dropped in to her office shortly before the meeting to invite her to lunch. To his surprise, she had readily accepted. She just wanted the general to go on record as having voiced his support for a program that had no end date. She had even acknowledged to Pug that it was unfair to ask the question, given the nature of the emergency and the intelligence community’s complete inability to estimate the duration of the attacks perpetrated by the mobile bands of shooters that the press had dubbed The Wild Bunch.

  “Senator McKenzie, I can appreciate your hesitancy to vote for a program that has restrictive components which will affect our citizens without full awareness of the duration, but I also know that you understand the nature of our enemy. He is relentless and does not seem to work on a timetable. The fact that the enemy is comprised to some degree of native-born Americans who have attacked their fellow citizens only exacerbates the situation. For all we know, these shooters have been directed to kill Americans until they themselves are killed or captured. This program will help to bring that about. As to the end date for the pilot program, in all candor, I would hope for the opposite. I would hope, would predict, actually, that this pilot will succeed and the program will be expanded. A successful demonstration of intervention should allow this committee to recommend expansion throughout America until we have eradicated these vermin.”