by Mike Maden
“I condemn in the strongest terms possible the irresponsible and sensationalist reporting by the Los Angeles Times. Hiding behind the First Amendment and in the name of public safety, they have created an artificial crisis that has led to the injury and death of an untold number of persons and the destruction of millions of dollars in property, all for the sake of selling a few newspapers. I’ll take your questions now.”
Lane shut the audio back off. “Has the mayor been fully apprised of the situation?”
Eaton nodded. “Yes. I thought it best to level with him. I didn’t want him to be caught by surprise by your speech tonight and made to look the fool. I explained the national security dimension. He’s promised to play dumb until we give him the green light.”
“God bless Ronnie,” Chandler said. “He always was a team player.”
Lane turned to his director of national intelligence. “How did the brief with Gaby and Bren go?” The secretaries of state and defense were both in Beijing, making final preparations for the summit. Lane asked Pia to update them and solicit their advice.
“They’re both up to speed. SecDef will contact Chairman Onstot later today for further details. Secretary Wheeler has already been in touch with her EU counterparts.”
“And President Sun?”
“Secretary Wheeler assured me he’s in your corner.”
“Good news, finally,” Lane said.
Abbott nodded at the business channel on the monitor. “The New York Stock Exchange is down four hundred fifty points,” Abbott said. “It’s not clear if that’s a reaction to the L.A. situation or the rumor that the Fed is going to raise interest rates again.”
“Wonder what it will be after my speech,” Lane said.
“I think the market will rally,” Chandler said.
“Nothing like a war to drive up profits,” Garza said under his breath.
“The drive-time talk shows are all abuzz this morning, too, as well as the TV news. People are on edge.”
“Maybe you should hold off on the speech,” Peguero said. “No point in dropping a match into a gas can.”
“The networks are expecting a live broadcast from the Oval Office at nine p.m. Eastern Standard Time. If we back off now, we’ll only feed the rumor mill,” Abbott said.
“My dad always said the best way to tackle a problem is head-on,” Lane said. “I’m giving the speech. But I’m not waiting until tonight.”
“Sir?” Abbott asked.
“This thing is spinning out of control. I need to get ahead of it. I want to be live and on air at noon.”
Abbott’s face blanched. “I don’t know if I can pull that off.”
“You’ll figure it out. Better get to it.”
Abbott opened her mouth to protest, then checked herself. “Yes, sir. I’ll make the arrangements right away.” She sped out of the room.
Lane turned toward the others. “You’ve all read the speech. Any last-minute suggestions?”
Heads shook around the table. No suggestions. Chandler and Grafton smiled enthusiastically. Peguero appeared resigned. Pearce was grim.
“This will be the most important speech of your administration,” Garza finally said. He grinned. “Don’t fuck it up.”
Lane burst out laughing. He could always count on his salty security advisor to say the most inappropriate thing at exactly the right time. The tension in the room dropped. The room laughed with him.
Except for Pearce.
“Something wrong, Troy?” the president asked, still smiling.
“Just did the math.”
“What math?” Chandler said, still chuckling.
“Tomorrow is the fifth day. The day the letter promised we’d be destroyed in unquenchable fire.”
The room quieted like a tomb.
Nobody was laughing anymore.
50
THE OVAL OFFICE
President Lane’s boyish good looks played well on national television, especially in hi-def. Abbott made sure all of the production details were right, especially the lighting. Unfortunately, the average American was focused more on optics than substance these days. The wrong tie, too much makeup, or a speck of lint on his lapel would garner more attention in the Twittersphere than the speech itself and detract from his message. She sometimes wondered if her feckless fellow Americans deserved the right to a self-governing republic at all.
All the broadcast and cable networks agreed to the last-minute changes, especially after Abbott stressed the significance of the speech and the accelerated schedule. She insisted on Lane delivering an “Oval” because the office of the president, especially the weighty desk—carved from the timbers of the HMS Resolute and first used by JFK—conveyed the gravitas of both the man and the moment. The utilitarian James S. Brady Press Briefing Room just wouldn’t cut it.
Abbott stood on one side of the camera and the floor manager on the other. Abbott whispered a prayer as the manager counted down with her fingers.
Three, two, one . . .
—
“MY FELLOW AMERICANS,” Lane began, “I come to you today with both hard news and a clear path. Three days ago, my office received a letter threatening a series of escalating terror attacks unless I agreed to fly the black flag of ISIS over the White House. Since then, a series of attacks were made against the American aviation industry, the American trucking industry, and just yesterday, a threat was made to the Los Angeles public water system. In regard to the Los Angeles water attack, I want to assure all of you, and in particular, the residents of Southern California, that your drinking water is perfectly safe. There’s no evidence whatsoever that the water has been contaminated in any way and we continue to monitor water quality by the minute in California and throughout the nation. The airline and trucking attacks resulted in minimal property damage, but unfortunately, there are several deaths directly or indirectly associated with the trucking attack. We grieve with their families today.
“Though we continue to pursue the perpetrators of these attacks with all of our resources, we now face a hard but clear choice in the days ahead.”
Lane paused for effect. “The first option is to raise the ISIS flag over the White House. Some in my cabinet have argued that it’s just a piece of material, nothing more, and that raising that flag might satisfy the terrorist demands. I respectfully disagree with this position. The ISIS flag represents the face of evil in the modern world. It holds a great deal of meaning and significance for those who follow it—and for those who have suffered under it. For that reason alone I could never fly it. More important, the American flag is a flag worth fighting and dying for because of what it represents. I refuse to lower a great flag to honor a lesser one. Too many have sacrificed too much to protect our flag. I won’t dishonor their sacrifice in the vain hope of preventing further attacks. Our long history with terrorists shows us that appeasing them only leads to more violence.
“The second option is to do nothing and hope the danger goes away. As some of my other advisors have suggested, while the nature of the terror attacks points to potential catastrophe, in reality almost nothing has been done. The terrorists claim they are restraining themselves out of some misguided sense of mercy. But some of my advisors speculate that the limited scope of the attacks is proof the attackers can’t follow through because of their limited resources. In other words, these attacks have been designed to make us believe they are more powerful than they actually are. In my judgment, the attacks have proved to be sophisticated, well designed, and strategic, and the threat of potential catastrophe is all too real. I take them at their word that they are murderous thugs intent on doing us great harm and I refuse to cede the initiative to those who would destroy us.
“The final option is the clear path I believe we must take. It will be a difficult and perilous road, but it’s the right one. ISIS has declared war on the United Stat
es and the West. Without question this is a war between civilizations. This war didn’t begin three days ago or even on September eleventh, 2001. It began in the seventh century, when an army of Islamic zealots began spreading the doctrines of the Koran by the power of the sword. ISIS claims to be a direct descendant of those same zealots, and now they have brought their swords to this country. I do not intend merely to stop the attacks against our homeland. I intend to destroy ISIS in Iraq and Syria, root and branch.
“I have also made the decision that the United States will fight this war without a coalition. We have strong alliance partners in Europe and the region, but we don’t have the time to assemble a coalition or manage it. Our goal is simple and measurable. Destroy the ISIS Caliphate. Nothing more, nothing less. And the time to do it is now.
“I have consulted with the House and Senate leadership and have formally requested they pass an unlimited Authorization to Use Military Force against ISIS and their so-called Caliphate with its capital in Raqqa, Syria. I am under no illusion that destroying ISIS will end our struggle with Islamic terror. ISIS is merely one of a thousand hydra heads now biting at our throats, but that is the head I intend to cut off. My prayer is that the destruction of ISIS will be so total and definitive that it will deter other radical Islamic groups from waging jihad against the West.
“Ten minutes ago four U.S. aircraft began dropping emergency leaflets in Raqqa, warning the civilians to evacuate within twenty-four hours, after which a bombing campaign will begin and the city will be leveled. Any civilian still within the city limits after twenty-four hours will be considered an enemy combatant, even if ISIS thugs prevent them from evacuating. Any civilian deaths will be on the heads of ISIS, not the United States government.
“There will be no negotiations with ISIS. There will be no compromises with ISIS. There will be no mercy for ISIS. We will cut off the head of the snake, then kill the snake. Abu Waleed al-Mahdi, the leader of ISIS and the caliph of the ISIS Caliphate, will either be captured or killed, as will each member of his ruling council. The region now identified as the ISIS Caliphate will be occupied and pacified until the territory can be turned over to the legitimate governments from which it was stolen.
“I want you all to be assured that the departments of Justice, Homeland Security, and all other national security and law enforcement agencies have been working around the clock to find and stop the perpetrators. I’m confident that they will do so in the near future. Until then, you can help. ‘See something, say something’ means you can actively assist us in the search. This is not an excuse to persecute or discriminate, but don’t let political correctness keep you from picking up the phone if you suspect anyone who poses a legitimate threat. If you see suspicious activity, do not take matters into your own hands but contact your local law enforcement agency or the FBI immediately.
“Finally, I want to remind each of you that our country has faced many crises in our past, some far worse than this one. We have always prevailed, and we will do so again with courage, determination, and faith. God bless every one of you, God bless all peace-loving people everywhere, and especially, God bless the United States of America.”
51
WASHINGTON, D.C.
Pearce sat in his office at the EEOB, channel-surfing the television and scanning the news feeds, a dull depression gnawing in the back of his mind. What he saw on the screen didn’t surprise him.
The usual flock of neocons, chicken hawks, and posturing politicians all favored Lane’s “Kill the Snake” doctrine.
On the other side, the talking heads for the American Islamic Association, pacifist groups, and isolationist and libertarian think tanks all came out swinging against it. Street protests broke out for and against Lane’s call to arms in Washington, D.C., and in state capitals around the country. Code Pink, Black Lives Matter, Occupy Wall Street, and pro-Sharia groups made the most noise, but the pro-war protestors fielded the largest numbers. Law enforcement kept them as far apart as possible.
The Russian government filed an official protest with the United Nations, claiming President Lane’s unilateral action violated the UN Charter, especially Article 33. They also pressured the rump government of Syria, or what was left of it in and around Damascus, along with Cuba, Venezuela, and North Korea to join them. Anti-American, antiwar, and anarchist protests erupted in the capitals of Western Europe, the largest in London. Only Poland, Hungary, and the Czech Republic formally endorsed Lane’s announcement and offered their support.
Al-Mahdi issued a slick new video message on Al Jazeera and on social media sites, urging the apostate Saudis, pagan Russians, degenerate Americans, and all other “Romans” to “hurry to their doom.” He pointed gleefully at a map of Syria, showing them the location of the city of Dabiq in the northwest. “Here is your final destination, in case you don’t know where it is,” he said, laughing. “Here is where you will die, and where the Apocalypse begins.” The video garnered more than seven million views worldwide in less than an hour.
There were also news reports that web traffic on militia group websites was spiking, especially those recruiting new members. Law enforcement officials issued warnings against vigilantism. Local news agencies showed footage of civilian national guardsmen in their uniforms leaving home for active duty, hugging proud spouses and weeping children as they departed. The governor of Massachusetts, a staunch opponent of President Lane during his primary run, announced she would ignore the federalization of her national guard units. Constitutional scholars debated the standoff on C-SPAN.
No doubt the protests on the streets and the shouting matches on the TV shows would only escalate in the days to come—democracy’s version of a relief valve. But Pearce knew none of them mattered. Cataclysmic decisions like war didn’t take place in front of television cameras or radio microphones. They happened in well-appointed government and corporate offices with period furniture and air-conditioning, by people with manicured fingernails and hair plugs and bleached teeth.
Pearce checked his latest e-mail from Dr. Ashley. Over 60 percent of the country was now under Gorgon Sky surveillance. It would be nearly 100 percent before the week was out, Alaska and Hawaii included. He wasn’t sure how she had pulled that miracle off. Lane should give her a presidential citation for her herculean efforts. Pearce wasn’t sure how he felt about living in a surveillance state, but he felt even less comfortable living in a war zone without it. The chickens had, indeed, come home to roost.
Pearce shut off the television. The news was only feeding the animal growing inside of him. He turned to his computer. He had a mountain to climb now and few ropes to work with. Lane instructed him to draw up Drone Command plans to conduct long-term operations in the Middle East. Despite Pearce’s strenuous objections, these included supplying the Saudis with all of the MQ-9 Reaper drones they could afford to purchase. In a perfect world he’d coordinate with the DoD and the armed services, but there was no way in hell he could overcome the bureaucratic resistance he’d meet as they each pursued their own drone acquisition and operational plans, especially now that they were on a war footing. That battle would have to wait until after his confirmation. For now, all he could hope to accomplish was to draw up the Drone Command operational plan and lay out his vision for the future of drones without regard to the rest of the federal government.
His fingers tapped haltingly on the keyboard as he tried to formulate the first sentence of the first paragraph of his executive summary, but his monkey mind was in full swing, a thousand ideas crashing around in his brain all at once. He pushed away the keyboard. What was the point? Besides, something was wrong with this whole setup, but what? He couldn’t put his finger on it. Too many moving parts, too many players, too many deals getting cut behind closed doors far beyond his reach.
Lane knew the score. He even said it in his speech. Al-Mahdi would never let the civilian population of Raqqa evacuate. Air Force Global Strike Command wou
ld unleash holy hell on the city and kill more than two hundred thousand residents in hopes of killing the half hundred lunatics trying to start Armageddon. Of course, al-Mahdi and his closest advisors wouldn’t wait around. Hell, they were probably already long gone and hunkered down in the basement of some other third world shithole.
Morality aside, the destruction of Raqqa would be a public relations disaster of the highest order for the United States. Maybe that was the ISIS plan all along. No matter that they were the ones pulling the temple down on their own heads. They’ll still blame us for it, Pearce knew. They’ll never forget it. They’ll use it to recruit more terrorists who will cause more destruction in the West, and the West will retaliate again, and again and again.
How do you fight the fanatical Muslim mind-set? Pearce had been asking that question for years while trading potshots with them. And the answer was always the same: bullet to bone.
Unfortunately, the murderous cowards liked to take their shots while hiding behind the skirts of women and children.
If they don’t care about their own, why should we? He’d asked that question a thousand times, too.
And the answer was always the same: Because we’re not them.
And that’s why he feared they may win in the end.
Total war was the only answer, he was sure of it. Lane chose half a war, which meant a forever war. Just as many would die in the long run, but there would be no victory for the United States, and the drone attacks at home might continue anyway.
Pearce failed to convince Lane to steer away from starting the war if he wasn’t going to finish it. The whole point of getting back into the political arena was to try to change things from the inside. Isn’t that what Margaret had said?
