by Dale Brown
It was also a two-way exchange. Many thoughts, experiences, even realities existed in the subconscious mind, and the transcendental state allowed those waves of energy to emerge. In that sense, meditation was an educational experience, a way of reliving, preliving, or even creating a whole new lifetime in just an instant.
But like any exercise, the human mind can grow weary if left to roam too long, and through years of training and discipline, Thorn called his mind back to the conscious world and let the doorway to his subconscious mind close. It was not a sad or reluctant event at all. He knew the doorway was always there, to summon when needed, and he knew that the potential energy available to him there was limitless.
But the subconscious realm was an alternate reality he had created to explore the universe that was himself-the person, the being, the energy that was all of his pasts and all of his futures right there, in one instant, available for him to see and study and experience. He had created other realities-this one, of him as president of the United States, in the beginning of the twenty-first century, on the planet called Earth. It was time to play that role, immerse himself in that universe, and act out his part in that performance. But he could do so armed with the knowledge and experience that he had gained from his other realities, because to him they were all his realities, all pertinent, all interconnected.
He picked up his phone and punched a button. "Yes, Mr. President?" his vice president, Les Busick, responded.
"Your friend, the one you mentioned the other day? Is he in town?"
'Yes. "I'd like to talk with him. Today. Right now."
Busick hesitated for a moment. Ever since he had learned his "friend" was coming to town with a radical, dangerous proposal, he knew the President should meet with him. Every time he had brought it up, the President had turned him down. He might have been tempted to give him an "I told you so," but Busick knew that things had to be pretty serious for the President to want to talk with him now. "Where?"
"In the residence." Every place in the entire building-in the entire District, for that matter-was open to dozens of prying eyes, except for the residence itself; and as many presidents soon learned, there were many very discreet ways of getting inside the President's private residence without half of Washington finding out. "As soon as possible."
"Would you like me there, too?" "It might be better if you weren't."
"I see." English translation: I might be doing something you might have to deny. Finally, Busick thought, Thomas Thorn is doing something like a real president. "I'll buzz you when they arrive."
"This place is so neat and organized," the visitor said, with a smile. "Was I that big of a slob?"
President Thomas Thorn watched his visitor with a mixture of apprehension and irritation. They were seated in the President's study in the private residence in the White House, far from the prying eyes of the media, Congress-and, he hated to admit, some members of his own Cabinet. But now he had this gentleman to contend with. Somehow he had the feeling he was in the process of making a deal with the devil, and he hated the prospect of doing so. "Let"s get down to business, shall we?" President Thorn prompted.
"Whatever you say, Tom," former president Kevin Martin-
dale responded, casually concluding his distracted little tour of the residence and returning to the seat offered him. Since losing the White House to Thomas Thorn in the last election, Martindale seemed much thinner and had let his hair grow longer. It was just as wavy as before, with the "photographer's dream"-the two long curly silver locks that seemed to drop down across his forehead whenever he got mad or excitedstill present, but now the rest of his mane was very nearly the same shade of silver. He wore a short, thin, partially gray beard, too.
"This is a different look for you, isn't it?" Thorn asked. "I'm not in front of the public every day," Martindale replied. He regarded the President with a half-amused, halfaccusing expression. "But then, neither are you."
"Maybe that's how you always wanted to look," Thorn offered.
"We're both kids of the sixties, Tom," Martindale said. "We learned it was okay to be different, to follow whatever our hearts told us instead of what others were telling us."
"True." It was still a damned unusual look for Kevin Martindale, Thorn thought, and it didn't fit his image at all. Martindale was a career politician, and ever since he'd burst on the national political stage almost twenty years before, he'd always looked and acted the part of a savvy, smooth, wellspoken, intelligent insider. "Especially an ex-Marine-four years in the Corps, including two tours in Vietnam. State attomey-general, U.S. senator, secretary of defense briefly, then vice president, private citizen, then president."
"Then private citizen again," Martindale added. It didn't impress him at all that Thorn knew details about his background-he had been in Washington a long time, and the things he'd done had definitely set a place for him in the history books. "But I guess after all those years of being straightlaced and buttoned-down, it was time for a change." Thorn didn't say anything right away, so Martindale went on: "Talk about your big-time changes-Rambo to Mr. Rogers, warrior to wallflower? Will the real Thomas Nathaniel Thorn please stand up?" His eyes narrowed, and his casual smile vanished. "Why'd you call me here, Thorn?"
"I heard you've been doing some recruiting."
"Oh?" "Present, former, and retired military guys, especially special ops and aviators."
"That's interesting," Martindale commented. His sources would have advised
him if any U.S. or foreign intelligence agencies were checking up on him, and none were. Thorn might be guessing-and then again, he might not be. "What else have you heard?"
"That guys are joining up." Martindale shrugged and said nothing. "I just wanted to touch base, find out what you're up to."
"Since when, Thorn?" Martindale retorted. "Since when did you care about me? Since when did you care about anything or anyone?"
"Excuse me?" Was he trying to goad him into reacting? Thorn thought. How childish can a grown man be? "Tradition, respect, legacy, honor-none of that stuff means
anything to you," Martindale went on, "or else you would have attended the inauguration, and you would have stepped up in front of Congress and the American people and talked about your vision of the future of our nation in your first State of the Union." Thorn looked like he was going to say something, but Martindale interrupted him with an upraised hand. "Hey, I've heard your reasons before. 'It's not in the Constitution.' Well, the United States and the American people are much more than the Constitution."
"I know exactly what our country is, Mr. President," Thorn said. "I know the United States is embodied in the Constitution and our laws. I was elected because I believe that, and the American people believe it, too."
"You got elected because me and the Democrats were too busy hammering away at each other to notice you slipping up behind us."
"That's one good reason," Thorn said. "The military questions, especially the attacks on Taiwan, Guam, and the Independence, killed it for you." Martindale scowled. "Tell me, Mr. President-why didn't you retaliate?"
"Against whom?" Martindale asked, perhaps a bit more
sharply than he wanted. "China? Everyone said China was the 'obvious' attacker. But we still don't know exactly who planted the nuke on the Indy to this day, only that there were no nuclear weapons on the ship. I had no authority to attack China in retaliation for attacking Taiwan. As far as the attack on Guamwell, I had other players waiting to go to work. They did the job, and I didn't have to be the first American president since Truman to use nuclear weapons in anger."
" 'Other players,' " Thorn repeated. "You mean HAWC and Madcap Magician."
"I see you're familiar with them," Martindale said. "They're good troops-at least, they were until you sold them out. Now they're useless. What was the purpose of telling Sen'.kov who they were?"
"It put Sen'kov off guard, it bought us time, and it allowed our troops to get out safely," Thorn replied.
"Robert Goff is a good man."
"He's the best," Martindale said. "But his job is to run the Department of Defense, to keep the American military, such as it is, running smoothly. His job is not to help you formulate policy-his job is to carry out your orders. He's overworked and understaffed, and it'll hurt your military effectiveness."
"My military force structure and my staff of advisors is exactly what I'm supposed to have-no more, no less."
"That's true-if you were living in the eighteenth century," Martindale said. "But you're actually in the twenty-first century-maybe not mentally, but physically. You understaff the White House and force the Pentagon to do more
work, which understaffs them, and all the shit rolls downhill-it screws everybody up. Just because Thomas Jefferson didn't have a national security advisor. Well, I'm sure if he had thought of it, he would've gotten one. Wise up, Thorn."
"Fortunately, I don't have to justify or explain my budget or staffing strategies to you."
"I'm a citizen of the United States, a taxpayer, and a voter, not just your predecessor," Martindale reminded him sternly. "You sure as hell do have to explain that stuff to me."
"Maybe later, then," Thorn said irritably. "Right now, what I want to know is: why?"
"Why what?"
"Why were you so afraid of using the military?" "I wasn't afraid of jackshit, Thorn."
"Then why didn't you use the military more often? Conflicts all over the world, nuclear weapons flying, threats to peace and security almost every year-and yet you never once started any massive deployments, never called up the Reserves or Guard. You massed a few carriers, put a few bombers back on nuclear alert, but never made any real attempt to prepare the nation for the possibility of a general war, even though you were clearly authorized and expected to do so. Why?"
"Read it in my memoirs," Martindale snapped.
Thomas Thorn spread his hands in a symbol of surrender. "Mr. President ... Kevin," he said. "I really want to know." "Why? Because you're scared that your precious, righteous
philosophy of disengagement and isolationism from world affairs isn't working?" Martindale shot back, angrier than ever. "That after a year of slamming me during the campaign about my ineptitude over how I handled crises around the world, you're discovering that maybe it's not so easy to do nothing?"
Thorn couldn't be goaded into firing back. "Because I need to know, Kevin," he said softly. "I know you didn't do nothing.
But why did you do what you did? Why didn't you just use the immense power we have to solve these crisesT'
Martindale fell silent, then shrugged his shoulders, as if not caring if Thorn knew his reasoning or not. "Plain and simple: I hate the idea of losing," Martindale finally replied. "Spending weeks or even months mobilizing an army, then sending them across the globe to fight and die in a war, just doesn't sound right to me. It sounds like a wasteful, inefficient, risky thing."
"So if you send in HAWC or Madcap Magician," Thorn summarized, "and they get beat, you think you haven't lostT' "No, I've lost, all right-but I've lost a scrimmage, not the
real game," Martindale explained. "And both those units have been pretty dam good in their scrimmages-sometimes they beat the bad guys so badly that there is no game afterward. In any case, the secret units were fast, efficient, highly motivated, they reported directly to me, and their funding and support were buried in black programs with minimal congressional oversight. That is, until now."
"I see," Thorn said. He looked at Martindale carefullythen, to Martindale's surprise, he smiled and nodded. "Very well. Thank you for your time, Mr. President-"
"That's it? That's all?" Martindale asked incredulously. "No threats, no warnings, no condemnationT'
"Of whatT'
"Of-2' Then Martindale stopped. He smiled, wagged a finger at Thorn, then stood up to leave. "I see. Very clever. You shove me around a bit so I'll reveal some information, then simply leave me to fend for myself"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Kevin," Thorn said. "I just wanted to ask you about some of the aspects of your tenure as president. I think I have a pretty good idea now."
"Let's stop playing games, Thorn," Martindale said angrily"You called me in here for a reason. Spit it out."
"Very well, Mr. President-2'
"And stop with the 'Mr. President' shit," Martindale interjected. "I'm not the president-you are. You have about as much respect for me as I have for you."
"All I have to say is this, Kevin: what you're planning to do
is dangerous-maybe not to you, but to the men and women you're recruiting to work with you," Thorn said. "Executive privilege won't protect you, and the Geneva Conventions won't protect them. No matter what you do, no matter whom or how it benefits, the United States won't come to your rescue. As they said in the old TV shows, we'll disavow any knowledge of your actions. You'll be nothing more than high-tech vigilantes."
"Men do something yourself," Martindale said, all traces of bravado gone for now. "Sponsor us. Underwrite us. We'll take the risk, but we'll do it under your direction. We'll keep ourselves out of the spotlight, follow the spirit of the law, cooperate as much as possible with domestic and foreign governments. But this isolationist, laissez-faire policy of yours will drag this country down, and someone has to act to protect our vital interests."
"You want to follow the law, Kevin? Drop this crazy scheme," the President said. "You've done enough damage as it is already."
"We haven't even begun to fight, Tom," Martindale said. "You are not going to be able to stop us. You might as well work with us."
"Who else is involved in this, Kevin?" Thorn asked. "Who in my administration? Which active-duty officers? Which retired officers?"
"You expect me just to give you a roster?" "Don't you trust me?"
"Not as far as I can throw you," Martindale replied. "Of course, if you'd agree to join us, or even not to interfere and to pass us some intelligence information every now and then, perhaps I'd be convinced that you could be trusted."
"I'm not going to spar with you, Kevin," Thorn said. "I'll assume you have some sort of ultraminiature recording device on you. It doesn't matter. I'll say this plainly: I'll oppose anyone who wants to conduct their own foreign or military policy. I don't know if what you're doing is illegal or not-that's a question for the Justice Department. But if you give me the names of all your members, and if Justice deems your operation illegal, which I think they will-"
"Of course they will. The Attorney General works for the President," Martindale interjected. "I know how that works,
Thorn, remember? I played that game. The Justice Department doesn't stand for 'justice'-it stands for whatever the White House stands for. Justice's job is to make the laws fit the wishes of the White House."
"-then I'll give the participants you list one free pass. No judicial punishment. They'll be allowed to go free if they keep their noses clean."
"I'll give you an offer in retum," Martindale said. "You continue to do whatever the hell it is you do in this place, whatever your pointed little head tells you is the will of the people. When Russia invades Turkey or Ukraine
or Georgia, when China tries to invade Taiwan or take over the South China Sea again, if Iran tries to take over the Persian Gulf or Red Sea, and suddenly the bad guys mysteriously start losing ships and planes and bases, you just keep swearing that the United States isn't doing anything. You promise to investigate the matter, then simply drop it.
"Every now and then, your folks pick up the phone and toss us some infori-nation or a few old satellite photos or EM intercepts. Nothing direct-a file carelessly left on a desk, a fax or e-mail to a wrong address, an intel package or classified situation report mysteriously delayed a few minutes on its way from the Pentagon to the White House. You continue to deny everything, chastise the press for spreading accusations and being alarmist, and continue on your merry mission of burying your head in the sand. Someone else will take care of all the messes in the world."
"You think this is a big joke, eh, Martindale?" Thorn responded. "I assure you, this is a very serious situation. I can pick up the phone and have you arrested right now. The FBI will eventually find the rest of the members of your little gun club. You'll be disgraced and vilified for the rest of your life. Your participants' lives and careers will be ruined."
"Thorn, don't be an ass," Martindale admonished him. "You know as well as I do that nothing will be proven. You will have arrested, harassed, and slandered a former president of the United States, and none of the accusations will be found to be true. Congress will completely abandon you-you'll have zero chance of getting one piece of legislation passed. You'll be even more of a laughingstock than you are now."
"I'm giving you one last chance, Kevin," Thorn said. "Abandon this crazy scheme. Tell me who your main officers are, and they'll be exempt from prosecution one time only, after we sit down with them and advise them of the trouble
