Capitol Betrayal

by William Bernhardt

  The president took a sip of the hot coffee and then answered the admiral’s question. “Unfortunately, Admiral, I don’t know much more about the situation than you do. No one has claimed credit for the attack. We’ve been attempting to contact Colonel Zuko, but as you may be able to discern, he doesn’t always take my calls.”

  “How are they doing this?” Secretary Ruiz asked.

  “Somehow the enemy has managed to infiltrate our national defense computer systems. We’re not sure how. We believe they may have a high-tech satellite-maybe even something as low-riding as a dirigible-capable of penetrating our networks. But that’s speculation. Truth is, the only reason we suspect this…” He paused before continuing. “Is because we’ve been working on something like it ourselves.”

  “Don’t we have antisatellite weaponry? Isn’t that what Sky King does?”

  “It has been unable to locate the satellite. Or whatever it is.”

  “How is that possible?”

  The president’s shoulders rose and fell. “This is speculation, but our techies believe it must be equipped with some sort of cloaking device.”

  “Cloaking device? I’ve never heard of that.”

  “Sounds vaguely familiar, though,” Cartwright mused. “Have I heard about that at a briefing? Maybe related to the hypersonic attack missile project? Or from the papers on the planned orbiting antiballistic missile laser?”

  “Star Trek,” Ben said softly.

  “What?” Every head in the room turned his way, and Ben wished, not for the first time that day, that he had kept his mouth shut.

  “That’s where you’ve heard the term. The Romulans had them on Star Trek. Cloaking devices. Made a ship invisible to another ship’s sensors.”

  “But that’s poppycock!” Cartwright sputtered.

  “Unfortunately,” President Kyler said, “whatever it is these people have, it’s all too real. And all too effective.”

  “Isn’t there something we can do?” Rybicki asked.

  “Believe me, we’re working on it. But so far we’ve been unable to get the invader out of the system. Or to detect the cause of the invasion.”

  “How extensive is it?”

  “We know they control the Vernon missile silo-the one closest to the White House. They’ve blocked us out of the whole control system.”

  “Can we depower the system? Take them offline? Or drain the missiles of their fuel?”

  “Unfortunately, the invaders are also capable of igniting that fuel and have sent an email indicating that they will if we attempt to drain or depower the missiles. Those missiles use RP-seven fuel. It burns at about five thousand degrees Fahrenheit. In other words, if it’s exploded, it will do almost as much damage as if they had fired the missiles.”

  “How is this possible?”

  “Whatever these people have, it appears to be at least two, three years down the technological line from anything we’ve developed.”

  “So in effect, someone else is controlling our military weaponry,” Cartwright said.

  “To the extent that our weaponry is controlled by computer, yes. But not the entire arsenal. Only a small portion of the missiles located on the East Coast. And none of them is believed to be a nuclear weapon.”

  “So what is this small portion of non-nuclear missiles capable of doing?”

  “As I understand it,” the president said grimly, “they could take out about half of the population of the East Coast.” He paused. “Some of the most densely inhabited parts of the United States.”

  Secretary Rybicki jumped in. “This is unacceptable.”

  “I agree,” President Kyler said firmly. Ben admired his steady resolve in the face of a major crisis. He was the absolute antithesis of the man Ben had witnessed only a few minutes before, the one who’d been singing about a hole in a bucket. “We’re exploring all possible options. And our intelligence forces are attempting to find out who’s behind it. In the meantime-”

  “Mr. President!”

  Kyler jerked his head around, his eyes fierce. It was just possible he had been interrupted one time too often.

  “My apologies,” Agent Zimmer said. “But I thought you’d want to know this.”

  “Well, what is it, then?”

  Zimmer cleared his throat. “We have Colonel Zuko on the phone.”

  Kyler’s eyes widened. “Thank God. How did you track him down?”

  “To tell you the truth, sir, he called you.”

  “What? But how-why-”

  “He says he wants to talk to you.” Zimmer paused. His voice deepened. “He also says he wants to know how you enjoyed the gift he sent you. The one he had delivered to the Potomac.”

  6

  9:23 A.M.

  Ben felt a thudding in the pit of his stomach. So it was true. Kuraq-and its military dictator-were behind the attack. How else could Colonel Zuko have known?

  “How did he get this number?” President Kyler whispered. He looked as if he had had the wind knocked out of his sails.

  “I don’t know, sir,” Zimmer replied. “But I imagine that would be substantially simpler than infiltrating our military defense computers.”

  “Good point. Can I take it in the briefing room?”

  “Sorry, sir. The only phones are here. At the communications station.”

  Kyler grimaced. “Put it on speaker.”

  Zimmer nodded and pushed a button.

  Ben knew Zuko had been educated at Western universities, and the combination of the elevated British accent and the clipped Middle Eastern tones was unsettling, particularly coming from a voice that seemed permeated by false congeniality.

  “Good morning!” the voice over the intercom boomed, with such ebullience you might have thought it was coming from one of the president’s long-lost friends. “How are you, my American counterpart? Are you enjoying your life underground? And did you like your present?”

  In this instance, the president’s unflappability was perhaps the only thing that kept most of the people in the room from descending into total panic. “I take it that you are claiming credit for the firing of a short-range missile into the Potomac.”

  “My dear Mr. President,” the dictator said, “I take credit because it was I who did it, with the assistance of my scholars and advisors. Isn’t it amazing, the technological advances that are coming from… what is it you like to call us? The third world? Maybe it is time we were promoted.” The colonel chuckled, a bone-chilling laugh that had no mirth in it. “Perhaps it is you who represents the third world. Or the fourth. Possibly the fifth.”

  “Colonel Zuko,” the president responded, “we have reason to believe that you have knowingly and purposely interfered with our defense computer networks. I am formally demanding that you cease and desist all interference immediately.”

  “But my dear Mr. President, you are not in any position to make demands. So long as we control your missile systems, we can send a weapon to destroy any target in the eastern United States within five minutes.” He paused, and when his voice returned, it was slower, heavier, and absent the false amiability. “From here on out, it is I who will be making the demands.”

  “We’ll find your satellite eventually,” the president said.

  “Perhaps yes, perhaps no. But I believe time is on my side. You can rattle your sabers and desperately run about trying to catch up to me. In the meantime, I can destroy your people simply by making a phone call.”

  “My people tell me that your control is spotty and inconsistent. You may be able to launch a few missiles, but certainly not all.”

  “Mr. President, how many missiles do you think I need to bring your puny nation to its knees?”

  The president’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You are the new Hitler.”

  “Hitler? You self-righteous fool. Perhaps you should ask your secretary of defense to give you a history lesson when we are done talking. I understand he is a student of history. I am no Hitler, my friend. I’m the new George
Washington. I am a freedom fighter. Everything I do is to free my people, to cast off the yoke of the bully tyrant nation that attempts to control us and treat us like slaves.”

  “That’s absurd. We never-”

  “Do not attempt to persuade me with your ethnocentric view of the world. The American oppressor interfered in the Middle East for fifty years, and now you are planning to bring your oppression to my country. I will not sit idly by and let my nation become the next Iraq. We will fight. I have a duty to my people.”

  “You weren’t even elected by the people. You took over by military force.”

  “And if I recall correctly, there was much military force involved in the formation of your own country, true? Of course there was. But I did not call to debate history. You have declared war on my nation. And this is a war I intend to win.”

  “We never declared war on Kuraq.”

  “Your troops are just outside our gates! I can see them now on our radar. Do you expect me to wait until it’s too late to respond? I will not.”

  “If you fire another one of those missiles, people will die.”

  “In every war there is collateral damage. But still the war must be fought. The price of freedom is eternal vigilance. Did George Washington take lives at Yorktown? I believe he did, but he did it to defeat Cornwallis and to secure a new nation. I will do nothing less for my own. You may label me a madman if that makes it easier to carry out your aggressions. But I am a patriot, sir. A patriot. And like any good patriot, I will defend my nation till my dying breath.”

  “What’s this all about, Zuko? Why now?” While he spoke, the president was gesturing to Zimmer, who was quietly whispering into another line. Ben couldn’t know for certain, but he assumed they were making an effort to trace the call. Did that mean they thought he might be somewhere nearby? It seemed impossible. Or perhaps they knew he was in Kuraq and were trying to target him for some kind of military strike. “All we’ve asked is that you let our people cross your border and perform a simple rescue operation.”

  “Do not treat me like a fool, Mr. President. I may be many things, but foolish is not among them. I hold all the cards in this poker game. Do not pretend that we do not both know that your military forces have been swarming around our borders for weeks. We have intelligence, too, sir. I have seen your aircraft carriers in the Gulf.”

  “They are in those waters on peaceful missions and with the permission of the Saudi Arabian government.”

  “Do not treat me like a child!” Zuko barked. “I know what the planes aboard that ship are capable of doing. You have a least a thousand troops ready to invade at your command. I know that you have aircraft in Saudi Arabia that can be in our airspace in fewer than twenty minutes! I know you have planned an invasion of my sovereign state. Your own people have confessed it to me. Under torture, yes, but they confessed just the same.”

  The mention of torture cast dread into the hearts of everyone in the room. Zimmer was at a computer keyboard now. He appeared to be pulling up some kind of logistical or tactical information. Aerial maps came and went with such speed that Ben could not identify them.

  “Does that mean you’re responsible for the Mymidon attack and kidnapping?” the president asked.

  “I assumed you would know it was me, given how flawlessly the operation was executed. Today’s exercise will be no different. You are but the sand of the desert in my hands, Mr. President. You will bend to the shape and will of my hand, or you will slip through my fingers and fall apart. Permanently.”

  The president sat down in the chair at the head of the table. He leaned in very close to the speakerphone. “And was it also your highly efficient men who raided the Arlington armory a few hours ago?”

  Ben held his breath and waited for the answer. If this sadistic madman had a portable nuclear device, they would be permanently helpless, even if they did recover control of the computer networks.

  “Do you not understand, Mr. President? We are everywhere. We control everything. And now you will do everything I request-everything! Or the consequences will be horrible.”

  “Colonel Zuko, I will not permit you to commit genocide in the Benzai Strip.”

  “What action I take I do to secure our borders. And that is no business of yours! But it does not matter. There is nothing you can do about it.”

  Although he wasn’t taking notes, Ben had been clenching his pencil with a white-knuckled grip throughout the entire conversation. He dropped his pencil, and without really thinking about it, bent down to pick it up.

  While bent over, he looked under the table.

  The president’s feet were moving. Not swaying. Not tapping. But tap-dancing. Moving back and forth in a sprightly manner that did not affect what the others saw above the table. One of the darker secrets in Ben’s past was that in the second grade his mother had forced him to take tap-dancing lessons. He knew a shuffle-ball-change when he saw it.

  A foreign dictator was threatening to take out a large portion of the nation. And the president was tap-dancing.

  The president and Zuko continued talking. Ben knew his expression must have changed, because Sarie gave him a concerned look. “Is something wrong?” she whispered.

  He pointed under the table and mouthed, “Look.”

  “Trying to get a look at my cleavage?”

  Ben’s face flushed. He continued pointing.

  She looked.

  When her face came up again, it was ashen.

  “What’s going on?” Ben whispered.

  She spread her hands wide in a gesture of bafflement and helplessness.

  Ben didn’t know what to make of her reaction. But the situation didn’t seem to be shocking her as much as it was him. He asked: “Have you seen this before?”

  She hesitated before making any response, then, with considerable reluctance, nodded.

  “What’s going on?”

  She shrugged.

  “What does his doctor say?”

  She shrugged again, then added quietly, “He’s concerned.”

  Ben was glad to hear Dr. Albertson understood the president was exhibiting strange behavior, but somehow concerned didn’t seem nearly adequate.

  “How long?” Ben asked, careful not to attract attention.

  Sarie thought for a while before answering. “Month or so.”

  “Who else knows?”

  She shrugged again.

  Ben thought about that for a moment. More than once he had been amazed by the number of people the president met in the course of a single day. If he had been exhibiting these strange symptoms for a month, anyone could know.

  Even the dictator of a foreign nation.

  Ben began to whisper again, then caught a glance of Admiral Cartwright on the opposite end of the table, glaring at him. He felt as if he were being scolded for telling secrets in class.

  The conversation with Zuko must have been reaching a fevered peak, because for the first time ever, Ben heard the president raise his voice.

  “Colonel Zuko, the United States will not tolerate this!”

  “When will you get it through your sun-baked brain that you have no choice in the matter?”

  “We do not stand alone in the world, Colonel. The United Nations will not-”

  “The United Nations is only as strong as the United States, and at the moment the United States is helpless.”

  “We are not the only superpower.”

  “Who do you think will come to your rescue? Russia has far greater ties to the Middle East than to you. China owns you. You may have allies on paper, but what can any of them do for you? You stand alone in the world. You stand at my mercy.”

  In the corner, Zimmer, still wearing communications headphones and staring at a computer screen, gave the president a signal. Ben didn’t know what it meant, but his face seemed to have at least a trace of optimism.

  “My people are already working on this problem, Colonel. It won’t be long before we pry you out of our computers.�
��

  “It will be too late, Mr. President, because you have only thirty minutes before I let the next missile fly.”

  “You’re making a mistake.”

  “No, it is you who is making the mistake, a tragic one. You will withdraw your troops, and not just away from my borders, but from the entire Gulf. You will withdraw your forces from the Middle East, from our borders, from Saudi Arabia, from Iraq. Everywhere.”

  “That’s insane!”

  “My spy satellites are watching you. I know the truth, even if you do not care to reveal it to me. And I will not tolerate this.” He paused. When his voice returned, it was somewhat calmer. “I am not a barbarian. I am a civilized man. I will give you thirty minutes to order your men to retreat. If you have not begun to retreat in that time, I will launch the next missile. And this one will find civilian targets. That I can guarantee you.”

  “Colonel, be reasonable-”

  “Do not presume to give orders to me! I am not the one poised to invade your soil!” He sounded agitated, his voice jumping wildly in pitch and volume. “We do not meddle in the affairs of others. We do not attempt to play gendarme for the entire world. The American reign of terror has come to an end. You have meddled in the Middle East long enough, as your thirst for oil brought you to increasingly stupid decisions, extending your resources, living beyond your means, living the decadent lifestyle of high consumption and low productivity. Those days are done, Mr. President. You will withdraw your forces immediately. Or your people will face the consequences.”

  “I can’t do that, Colonel. Not while you still occupy the Benzai Strip. Do you hear me?” There was no response. “Do you hear me?”

  Still no response.

  “I won’t abandon our personnel. The people who went down in that helicopter are U.S. citizens. We have the right to retrieve them!”

  Still no response.

  “Are you listening to me, Colonel?”

  When the colonel’s voice finally returned, it possessed an eerie calm that Ben found positively chilling. “Your time begins… now.”