General William Frampton, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, cleared his throat. He had a thoughtful, almost pensive face and the pouched eyes of a bloodhound. His uniform seemed the wrong attire for his scholarly demeanor.
He should have been in tweeds, the President thought. On the other hand, the Medal of Honor that he wore looked more appropriate with army green. He had commanded the 82nd Airborne Division earlier on in his career, he remembered. The two incidents in Fayetteville would have hit him particularly hard. Paratroopers and their wives and girlfriends and children had been killed and injured in both.
"Mr. President," General Frampton said quietly. "I would like to know more about the motives of these people. Horrible though these incidents are, these terrorist acts have no real military impact on us at all except in media terms. I do not wish to belittle the importance of public opinion, but I would like to understand better what these people hope to achieve."
The Director of Central Intelligence had been unable to attend the meeting. He had been laid low with a virus and an ever-increasing distaste for Vernon Slade. In his place he sent his Deputy Director of Operations, William Martin.
"Mr. President," said Martin. "Do you mind if I make a contribution here?"
The President nodded.
Martin continued. "I read a report recently by a man named Lee Cochrane. He runs the Congressional Task Force on Terrorism. He puts forward some interesting theories."
"Cochrane argues that we, in America, interpret terrorism far too simplistically. A terrorist blows up a building and we assume that the destruction of that specific building is the object of the exercise. The choice of building, in fact, is probably irrelevant. The significant element in many cases is the symbolism of the act of terror — not the specifics.
"Cochrane further states that we are evaluating acts of terror in the wrong time frame. We think in terms of immediate results. In contrast, many of the cultures we are up against are prepared to think in terms of decades or even longer. They have a strategic vision that we lack."
GeorgieFalls knitted his brow.
"Let me give you an example," said Martin. "I'll use Yaibo, the Japanese terrorist group, but the principles could apply to any other faction."
The President looked encouraging. General Frampton's drooping eyelids had risen a fraction. His interest was fully engaged. The hunt for these people was personal. No one was going to fuck with the 82nd and get away with it.
"Yaibo were quite successful in Japan for a while. Leaving out their long-term political aims, their acts of terror gave them influence. Corporations paid them protection money. Politicians voted in certain ways at their request. Senior government officials bent regulations or made other accommodations. All did this because they were afraid of Yaibo. So Yaibo had power and influence out of all proportion to their size. They were unable to change the Japanese political system fundamentally as their manifesto demands, but in other practical ways they were effective. Terrorism worked.
"Yaibo overreached themselves and, after losing much strength, they got forced out of Japan. They fled who knows where to lick their wounds and consolidate, but Lee Cochrane surmises that they are determined at some point to return to Japan. Accordingly, they are mounting attacks in the U.S. to raise their stock in Japan. They are saying, in effect, if we can strike with relative impunity at the most powerful nation on earth, then we are a force to be reckoned with and you people in Japan should pay attention."
"Why the U.S.?" said the Director.
"Because we give them the most media bang for their buck," said Martin. "Because we don't take terrorism seriously and we are vulnerable. Because we are the big guy on the block and they are jealous. Because we are constrained for all kinds of reasons from reacting properly. Because we are a shackled giant and we put on our own shackles."
Frampton rubbed his jaw slowly. "So Yaibo, for instance, attack soft targets in the U.S. instead of hard targets in Japan to raise their stock in Japan. It all seems very indirect to me."
"That's because you're thinking like a direct gung-ho American," said Martin. "And you're forgetting that it is a small world these days. Think instead of something like three-dimensional pool. Cause and effect can be kind of complicated if you don't know how to play, but it's all connected. You bounce a ball off one side to hit another, and maybe the effect ripples on. Let me put it another way. When we invaded Grenada, we weren't just invading Grenada. When we hit Panama, that was not just about Panama. We were making a point, we were sending a message, and above all, we were showing that we were deadly serious. And only incidentally, Grenada and Panama got taken out and our people got practice for bigger and better things."
There was silence in the room. Government and politics was mostly about firefighting, about reacting. Thinking long term — ‘the vision thing,’ as President George Bush had put it — was not high on the list of priorities. It was disconcerting to think that terrorists might have a ‘vision thing’ of their own.
"Director Martin is making good sense, Mr. President," said the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, "and I have a feeling for the Japanese agenda. But other groups seem to be involved in this. Certainly, we have identified Moslem fundamentalists."
"Lee Cochrane," said Martin, "makes the point that these kind of indirect objectives can be layered. Each individual group pursues its own objectives, but by working together another objective or, indeed, several can also be attained. As to what that is in this case, I really don't know. But if you accept Cochrane's premise, then what has happened makes a great deal more sense. Certainly, we know that multiple elements are involved."
The president was impressed by what Martin had to say, but it was not addressing the immediate issue. American citizens had been killed and a response was called for.
"If different nationalities are involved," said the President, "then they have got to get together somewhere to organize and train. These operations have been slick. They aren't just spontaneous outbursts. These have been planned and rehearsed. So where are they coming from? Libya? Cuba? Syria? Iraq? Iran? Lebanon?"
"We have found safe houses," said the FBI Director, "but there it ends. The people we have arrested are cutouts. So far, everything we have experienced could have been planned here in the U.S. or, indeed, anywhere. There is no definite link to any one base or any one organization. There may not be any central command. We just don't know. What we are experiencing is unprecedented." He paused and took a deep breath. "I'm deeply sorry, Mr. President. We are doing the best we can."
"I understand there was a kidnapping which may be connected to the Bastogne Inn business?" said the President.
"An Irish citizen, not an American," said the National Security Advisor.
"My mother was Irish," said the President. "I would not like to have seen her kidnapped while a guest in this great country of ours — and I would remind you, sir, that one-sixth of our entire population is of Irish decent. Well over forty-two million. There is a certain electoral majesty in that, is there not, Mr. Advisor."
Vernon V. Slade had absolutely no idea how to deal with the President when he was in this mood. It was as if the ghost of every past U.S. president was at his shoulder. A man who had risen to his high office by seeking to please everybody, he was becoming increasingly decisive. It was disconcerting.
"It is a difficult case, Mr. President," said the FBI Director. "We've accounted for every legitimate helicopter flight at that time and cross-checked flight control records. Nothing. Then we checked with the military. There was an exercise on at the time with the aircraft flying out of Pope. They were testing the integration of AWACS and JSTARS."
"And what is the bottom line, Mr. Director," said the President.
"We have an unapproved flight going out to a tanker in international waters, Mr. President. The tanker is Liberian-registered but is actually on charter to Tecuno Gas and Oil. Its next stop was Mexico, Mr. President. We asked Governor Quintana's people, and they said
they would have the vessel examined when it docked."
"And?" said the President.
"Nothing," said the FBI Director. A question hovered unspoken.
PresidentGeorgieFalls had campaigned long and hard for the North American Free Trade Agreement. It was one issue that he and Security Advisor Vernon agreed on spontaneously. Mexico might not be an American-style democracy, but it was a fast-evolving nation of 87 million people and it was not in the United States' interest to treat them as some kind of banana republic.
The sovereignty and dignity of Mexico had to be respected. It was in that spirit that he had issued National Security Executive Order FA/128 after that disastrous special-operations mission against the so-called Gulf Drug Cartel. U.S. forces were explicitly forbidden to mount any operation — covert or otherwise — that had not been pre-agreed with the Mexican government. Fundamentally, the Mexicans would have to put their own house in order. It was, after all, their house.
Nonetheless.
"Mr. President," said Slade. "The American people are exceedingly disturbed by our apparent inability to deal satisfactorily with these terrorists. We have to do something."
The President nodded gloomily. He did not need to be reminded of the decrease in his popularity. When he had been a TV anchor he had lived and died by his rating. He read the latest polls before he listened to his CIA-prepared daily intelligence briefing. They were not good.
"What exactly do you propose, Vernon?"
"Perhaps we don't know the terrorist's base, Mr. President," said Slade, "but we don know where some of them trained. Accordingly, I recommend military action against known fundamentalist targets. It will send a clear message and it will release much of this voter frustration. It will also demonstrate the decisiveness of this administration. Questions are being asked at present about our apparent lack of resolve."
Several of the group looked uncomfortable, while others concealed their feelings. Either way, there was a general air of embarrassment in the room. The headline above the morning's Washington Post editorial was fresh in their minds. "Falling Down on the Job Again" was the precursor of a piece that had not been kind.
The presidency of GeorgieFalls was in deep trouble. The National Security Advisor was right. Some kind of offensive against these people was essential.
"We know where many of these people train," said the Deputy Director of the CIA. "We know the countries and we know the locations of the individual camps. We have all the intelligence we need to strike tomorrow, from satellite photographs to agents-in-place. But there are always other political considerations which cancel out these advantages. Iran, Libya, Syria, Iraq, Lebanon, for instance. All of these places actively support terrorists and actions specifically directed against the United States. And there are more countries I could name, starting with Sudan. It's a long list."
"We can't hit Iran," said the Secretary of State, "because we want to the moderates to succeed and we do not want public opinion to be polarized against this country. We have already hit Libya, and it may well have cost us Pan Am 103. We're trying to bring Syria into the Middle East peace process, and progress is encouraging. As to Iraq, here we have a problem with international world opinion, and we need even them as a counterbalance to Iran."
"Which leaves Lebanon," said Vernon V. Slade. "They have got fundamentalist training camps. No one gives a fuck about Lebanon."
"It is within both Israel's and Syria's sphere of influence," said the Secretary of State, "and France, the ex-colonial power, still regards itself as a player. In contrast, Israel would be all too happy if we attacked the camps, but they will expect to be informed first. Further, the U.N. are in South Lebanon in some strength and they have forces near potential targets. There are Irish and Scandinavian troops there, among others. It is not that simple."
Whoever had thought of invading Grenada had been a positive genius, reflected PresidentGeorgieFalls. All that flexing of military muscle against an enemy who practically did not exist and a country that no one had heard of.
The debate continued acrimoniously for another forty-five minutes. Finally, the voices petered out and all heads turned toward the President.
"It is your call, Mr. President," said Vernon V. Slade.
"Give us a clear mission," Mr. President," said the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, "and I promise you that the United States Armed Forces can do the job."
We are the most powerful nation on earth, thought the Deputy Director of the CIA, but we have rendered ourselves impotent.
"Mr. Deputy Director," said the President. "I noticed a decided reaction from you when the Mexican state of Tecuno and Governor Diego Quintana was mentioned."
"It's a complex situation, Mr. President," said Martin uncomfortably.
"That's why we have the CIA," said the President unkindly. "You are there to help us simple folks unravel the knots."
"Can of worms in this case, Mr. President," said Martin. His conversation with Kilmara was still on his mind. He decided to go for it. "Frankly, what we think and what the administration wants are at loggerheads. You want harmony with Mexico, and meanwhile some bad people based in Tecuno are fucking with us."
"You have proof?" said the President. "Clear proof that would justify an overt intervention, or at least an approach to the Mexican government?"
"No, sir," said Martin. "And unfortunately Governor Quintana is part of the Mexican government. He is secretary of the PRI."
"You think Tecuno is a haven for these people?" said the President.
"That's the way it looks," said Martin.
"Well, if we can't go in the front door," said the President, "maybe there's a window we can sneak through. Any ideas, Mr. Martin?"
"There's the Irishman called Hugo Fitzduane," said Martin. "The man whose wife was kidnapped."
"Does he have any connection with this Task Force on Terrorism?" said the President, "and that terrible business in the FarnsworthBuilding?"
"Yes, sir," said the Deputy Director.
"He seems to have a nose for trouble," said the President. "I take it you are suggesting we help him point it."
"Unofficially, Mr. President."
"And if he brings back proof," said the President.
"We go in and we take them out," said General Frampton. "A maximum effort."
"Just like that, General?" said the President.
"Just like that, sir," said General Frampton. "I was in Fayetteville just after the bombing. I stood in the blood.
"This is war, sir, and we've got to defend ourselves."
* * * * *
"Why did we invade Haiti," said the FBI Director as they left the meeting. "I've never quite understood."
"For the same underlying reason that terrorists are active against this country," said the Deputy Director of the CIA.
"I don't understand," said the FBI Director.
"Because we could," said William Martin. "Because they can."
Book Two
Counterterror
10
The Humvee ground its way over the dirt road of Maryland's Aberdeen Proving Grounds.
If you wanted to test and lobby for a weapon, this was the place to be. It was far from the only place to prove out instruments of death and destruction, but it was conveniently near Washington, D.C.
The vehicle crashed into yet another pothole, and its massive suspension took the imposition in its stride. Kilmara's back was not so tolerant. General Shane Kilmara was not overly fond of the U.S. Army's replacement for the jeep. He considered it too slow, too heavy, too noisy, too hard to maintain, and far too uncomfortable at his stage in life — but since it was on loan from the U.S. Army complete with driver, he was not complaining.
Someone with clout was backing Fitzduane's little enterprise, and all Kilmara could do was speculate a little and give thanks. Cochrane had muttered jokingly about guardian angels. Kilmara had been networking on the international special-forces circuit for a long time, and he did not think
angels had anything to do with it.
"Sir, we're here," said the driver, halting the vehicle and applying the brake. She was about twenty-two, and her crisp BDUs bore sergeant's stripes and airborne insignia. Kilmara was all for having women in the armed forces if they looked like this. That was probably a sexist thought, but a man needed some variety from leathery sergeants.
"Sir, what are we looking for?"
"Dilger's Baby," said Kilmara absentmindedly.
"Sir, this is a weapons range," said the sergeant.
"I surely hope so," said Kilmara. He smiled. "Or we're in deep diddly."
He brought the field glasses up to his eyes. They had been given a map reference to drive to and not much explanation. He had been told to look, and he was looking.
He saw lots of land that looked as if things had exploded in it, on it, and over it rather too often, and not much else except armored vehicle track marks. There was not much cover. There were shell holes and the terrain undulated, but there were no bushes or trees or convenient dry stone walls to hide behind. This ground had been worked over.
Yet, if he had been informed correctly and if the crisp sergeant had navigated right, Fitzduane and Guntrack were within a few hundred meters of where he stood.
Kilmara searched by quadrant. Still nothing. He gave the binoculars to the keen-eyed young sergeant. "Look for a wedge-front tracked vehicle," he said, "probably under camouflage within, say, four hundred meters or so of here."
The sergeant made two circumferences. On the third sweep, her arm came out and pointed.
Kilmara looked where she indicated. He could just see something — maybe — but mostly it looked like more torn-up ground. He pulled out the personal radio he had been issued and pointed at the location. "Sergeant Hawkeye got you on her third iteration," he said. "I can't see a fucking thing."
"Encouraging," said Fitzduane's voice, "especially since there are five of us and we are all around you."
Fitzduane 03 - Devil's Footprint, The Page 16
