61
After leaving Paxton’s office, Morrison decided that it was necessary to get a legal reading on what was happening. As he walked down the hall, he heard sounds behind him and, turning, saw the Secret Service guard at Paxton’s door being replaced by a military guard.
Without thinking, he quickened his pace to his car.
As he drove toward Maryland, what Frank Morrison noticed, what began to penetrate his conscious awareness, were the troop carriers—the proliferation of them since the morning. There were canvas-covered trucks in full army camouflage, vans, and buses all in military greens and grays—more military vehicles than he could ever remember seeing in Washington. And these were not the parade vehicles, the let’s-show-it-for-America vehicles. These were the working vehicles, the transports for troops going somewhere on a mission.
Morrison looked at his watch. It was seven o’clock. Although it was past the rush hour, he could not help noticing that the nonmilitary traffic had almost disappeared completely. And all the military vehicles were heading one way, toward the center of Washington.
Frank Morrison called the Chief Justice at his home. “Chauncey, Frank Morrison. I have to talk to youn0o, I hadn’t heard about the bridge in OhioI don’t know what the hell it means. It’s one bridge, Chauncey, and not the end of the world for America. But we’ve got a much worse problem. I need to talk to you about the special session the vice president wants to call. I need your reading on itI’m calling from my car. I’ll be at your place in a few minutes. Do you know about the roundup going on?I’ll fill you in when I see you. Chauncey, have you a Secret Service or an army guard on your property?oh, Armyyes, I think two is enough.” Morrison tried to think. He was only a few minutes now from the home of the chief justice. Slowly, he pulled his car over to the side of the road and came to a stop.
Instead of going in, Morrison decided to call the chief justice from his car phone. Morrison quickly summarized his conversations with Latimer and Paxton. He needed guidance and he needed it pretty quickly.
“It’s like this, Chauncey. This special session business is operating in molasses time and the relocation plan is kicking into hyper time. Do you understand? Whoever is right will not matter soon because the army will be in charge. I’m afraid if the guards see me at your house I’ll be carted off to the relocation site and I’m not sure right now that that’s the best thing for this government, for America, or for me. What is your reading of all this Chauncey? And Chauncey, I need real advice quickly. Keep it short and sweet.”
Morrison listened. After several minutes he thanked the chief justice for his time and hung up the phone.
He quickly pressed the keys for Paul Latimer’s emergency direct line. It only rang once before the vice president picked up the phone. “Yes.”
“Paul, it’s Frank. You know about the roundup? Amanda is missing.”
“That fucking son-of-a-bitch is rounding up everyone in the goddam Executive branch above a fucking secretary. He’s even grabbing some of the better placed secretaries. They’ll need a goddam concentration camp if this keeps up. Do you know that New York has declared for martial law, Frank? Frank the doubting Thomas. What the hell do you say now, Frank?”
“Paul, should you be in your office at this time?” It was the only thing he could think of.
“You bet your ass, I’ll be in my office. I’m going public with this. He can’t just come in and in one evening sweep everyone away and the next thing we’re all gone and the people know nothing about this. And Congress is sitting on their dead asses, just drooling at the sight of the Drummond administration in shambles.”
“Paul, you’re beginning to lose it. Pull yourself together. How sure are you about Slaider?”
“I’m telling you, I know he’s behind this stuff. The evidence is solid. We have pictures and taped conversations of the son-of-a-bitch who’s been the operative for all this. But we had to do things quickly and some short cuts were taken. The evidence is useless to us in a courtroom. Frank, I’ve told you this before. There’s no doubt whatsoever that Slaider is behind this, the attack on Emerson, on the demonstrators, the power lines in the northeast, everything. Slaider’s been planning it for weeks with his little hired band of scum bags. God, we’re so gullible and so vulnerable. It’s only a small group. Key military commanders, mostly army, have joined him, perhaps naively, perhaps as willing conspirators. It’s hard to say at this point. But they have brought us to our knees. And while Congress debates which hand to wipe their ass with, Slaider is taking over the country. Now Talbot is gone and practically the whole fucking cabinet.”
Morrison noticed the headlights of a military vehicle coming up the road behind him, heading away from Washington. He wondered briefly at the significance of that.
“What do you mean by going public, Paul?” Morrison asked.
The headlights got closer and brighter.
“I called a news conference for 7:30. Let’s see that motherfucker stop this on prime time. They’re setting up the cameras now.”
The truck pulled alongside Morrison’s car and stopped.
“I’ll blow this thing wide open. We’ll worry about the evidence and who it implicates later. We’ve got to save the country from this nut.”
An army MP got out of the vehicle and approached Morrison’s window.
Morrison rolled down his window.
“Mr. Frank Morrison?” the soldier asked.
“Frank . . . Frank, are you there?” Paul Latimer asked.
62
To Ranjit Lal it seemed incredible that so much could happen so quickly, so unexpectedly. Was the world continually to be the victim of senseless acts? He tried vainly to trace the sequence of events leading to the present crisis.
At 37,000 feet, as the aging Boeing Alliance was beginning its descent over Nova Scotia, he was informed by a member of the flight crew of an imminent address by President Drummond to the American people. Lal switched to the channel on which he could listen to the address using the earphones that he picked up from the seat next to him. As the president began to speak, Lal took the top off his pen and opened the little notepad he always kept in his breast pocket.
The president’s voice was weak, but direct.
“My fellow Americans, as you all know, since early yesterday morning the United States has been the victim of a ruthless, organized, and determined conspiracy. It is only by the grace of God and the quick action of our military forces that the attempt on my life was unsuccessful. I am in the able care of excellent military physicians.” There was a long pause at this point in the transmission. The sound of muffled coughing was heard. After a moment, the president resumed his address.
“I have the sad duty to inform you that in addition to the attempt on my life, the conspirators responsible for all we now suffer have succeeded in either kidnapping or killing the speaker of the house, my close and great friend, Brian Romer. Also missing and presumed captured or dead are Chief Justice Chauncey Gerlander, and Admiral Crowell, chief of naval operations. In addition, ten servicemen have been killed. They died with honor attempting unsuccessfully to protect these fallen leaders of our country.
“As you also must be aware by now, severe damage to the national electrical power grid has been accomplished through a series of bombings that began this afternoon in the northeastern portion of the United States. The bombings continue and have spread west to Chicago and I am told are now occurring in San Francisco. I can assure you that these cowardly attacks on me and these good Americans and on our American way of life will be stopped and that those responsible will be caught and punished.” The president paused to catch his breath.
“However, the first order of business is to the effective functioning of government in this time of extreme peril. The governors of New York, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and California have all asked for and received a declaration of a state of emergency. They have all asked for the immediate imposition of martial law under the joint
command of both state and federal forces. I have ordered General Morgan Slaider, chairman of the joint chiefs of staff, in concert with Trent Halloway, director of homeland security, to ensure that this process be initiated forthwith. Defense Secretary Whittaker is with me and is being kept fully advised.
“In this time of trial for the United States, I ask all Americans to return quietly to their homes or wherever you may be and observe a twenty-four-hour curfew, to begin at twelve o’clock midnight tonight. I expect this to last no more than three days. All patriotic Americans, regardless of their political persuasions or personal political agendas cannot fail to recognize the need to restore order in our cities, to stem the tide of anarchy now rolling from east to west across our land. I have instructed the commanders of the several military police forces that will serve in the states named above and others as may prove necessary, that all patriotic Americans will heed my appeal to leave the streets, to return quietly to their residences. All others will be dealt with in swift military fashion as potential agents or abettors of conspirators bent on the overthrow of the government of the United States. There was another long pause while the president seemed to be gathering sufficient strength to continue.
“I have also ordered all military forces of the United States worldwide to be placed on the highest level of alert and to stand at battle-ready status. The strategic forces of the United States in particular have been placed on the highest level of offensive readiness.” There was another more protracted pause. Again, the faint sound of muffled coughing could be heard.
“I have ordered the National Guard and State Police of all states to immediately declare, impose, and enforce a twenty-four-hour ban of vehicles on all state and federal roads, highways, and throughways, to begin at twelve o’clock midnight, tonight. I ask that all vehicular and nonmilitary air traffic come to a standstill for the next twenty-four hours to allow our military and police forces to deploy for the protection of our electrical power infrastructure and other vital installations and to halt the easy movement of both internal and external conspirators throughout our country.
“It must also be recognized that the kidnapping of such highly placed officials of government urges us to extreme caution. To ensure the security and integrity of the executive branch of government, I have ordered the vice president, all senior level members of the executive branch, including all cabinet members, members of the National Security Council, and directors of all our internal and external security agencies to reassemble with me at the secure relation site designated by Congress. These sites, (the sound of coughing) were established to be used in just such an emergency as this to ensure the continuance of constitutional government under even the most extreme challenges. Special military forces have been dispatched to assist in their conveyance to me to these secure locations. This relocation of your government is in accordance with plans formulated and approved by Congress in 1942 and renewed in 1962 and again 2002.”
Again another pause.
“My friends, I will not try to fool you. I am tired and I am in pain. But my faculties are clear, my course is set, and with God’s grace and my good team around me, we will vanquish and excise this vile cancer that has entered our homes and villages and the halls of government like a thief in the night, unnamed like the cowards they are. I will speak to you tomorrow night at this same time. Until then, in accordance with emergency powers vested in the president by Congress, all regular broadcasting will cease and you will be advised to tune to your local emergency channels for further information. God bless you. God bless all of us.”
The closing of the president’s address was followed by a shower of static. Lal took off his headset. He looked down at his pad. There were no notes. He had been too captivated by the drama of the moment to write. The captain looked back at Lal through the cockpit door. Neither man said anything to the other. After a moment of silence, Lal rose and walked to the cockpit door.
“Captain, may I impose on your courtesy for a few moments? May I just sit here a moment to compose my thoughts?” He needed just then to be around people with a clear sense of purpose.
The captain nodded his head toward a pull-down seat along the side wall of the cockpit.
Lal said, “Thank you, Captain,” and lowered the seat, his mind already searching to make order out of chaos.
His brain raced through the bits of information, the known terrorist groups, their agendas and leaders, the wider fringe elements, the recent rhetoric, his recollection of’ his own meticulous intelligence reports, anything that he could attach to these events unfolding before him, before the world. And what was President Drummond’s medical prognosis? Was he in mortal danger from his wounds? What was happening in the streets of America—in New York, in Washington, on the West Coast—right now? How would martial law be imposed in a city like New York? And when would it be lifted? How would it effect the free movement of the diplomatic representatives from the United Nations? What opportunities, if any, presented themselves by theses events?
The crew of the Alliance slowly turned their heads away from Lal as he sat alone, thinking.
Lal’s staff had been busy attempting to get landing approvals while he was still in flight from England. It was not easy to determine if permission was needed, much less who would be authorized to provide it. In the end, the UN liaison office succeeded in getting enough assurances from enough US military officers that Lal’s flight was permitted to proceed to New York City. Lal’s appraisal was that if it was so difficult to ascertain the authorizing powers, it was very likely that no effective infrastructure had been established yet to take responsibility for withholding permission much less to enforce such a denial of permission.
After landing at Kennedy, Lal took the helicopter to the United Nations grounds. The only passenger in the helicopter, he looked out the window and wondered at the powers that shaped this city and its endless stream of car lights moving on its tar and concrete arteries? And what greater power could suddenly make those lights, those cars, and those human industries they represent disappear? Just how fragile are our modern icons? How had the Bible put it?—”There were giants in the earth in those days.” We presume to think that there are giants in these days as well. And here was one, just outside his window, this great metropolis, fallen over and stricken. Lal acknowledged the sense of excitement at being present at a major event of historic proportions. He knew it was better to accept such feelings and move on than to waste energy denying them.
From the helicopter vantage point as he flew above the city, Lal could see the fires burning to the north, to the south, and to the west. Tall columns of smoke rose into the air, lit as if from within by the orange, red, and golden glow of the flames below, forming diffusely lighted beacons against the shadowed skyline of Manhattan.
It was after midnight when Lal arrived at the grounds of the United Nations complex at Forty-second Street in Manhattan. The streets around the UN were deserted as they always were late at night. Lal moved quickly to his office as his staff, despite the lateness of the hour, converged on him, anxious for direction.
First there would be the Arab delegations, all outraged over the looming threat of detention of so many of their nationals. And the curfew had left hundreds of delegation personnel stranded, unable to get to or from their delegation compounds or other protected properties. Also, according to new reports, US forces were beginning to deploy around all properties in the diplomatic registry and around the United Nations property itself. While many on his staff favored calling this action a provocation, Lal chose to interpret it as providing protection.
As to who was responsible for these terrorist acts, for the next twenty-four hours at least, it did not matter. The first priority was the integrity of the institution of the United Nations and the protection of its accredited personnel. Later he would concern himself with possible diplomatic issues swirling around these events.
There would be no sleep tonight, yet tomorrow he will have to ma
ke difficult decisions and think clearly and accurately. Why, he thought, were the dynamics of crisis always such as to oppose rather than facilitate effective decision making? Tomorrow would be as difficult as today and he will have had no sleep. And others will have had no sleep. Yet decisions will be made and actions taken by people progressively more and more exhausted.
And was that not the mark of a special man—to meet such challenges and triumph over them? He wondered if he had that ability to reach deep within himself for the extra measure of strength, of fortitude, of resolve, while others, perhaps, faltered.
He would be tired tomorrow. But he has been tired before, Lal thought. He will exhaust his staff tonight. That will not matter. He will not need them tomorrow. He will pick them clean tonight.
63
James Marshall had nowhere else to go. He sat on the stone step to Sylvia Carlyle’s brownstone cooperative and waited.
He had walked around lower Manhattan for hours, through the Wall Street area to the Battery. Finally, as night began to fall, he walked back to the Brooklyn Bridge and took the promenade back to Brooklyn Heights. Traffic had thinned noticeably and military vehicles that had crossed the bridge from Manhattan as he walked over had begun setting up a checkpoint on the Brooklyn side by the time he arrived at that end. His newspaper identification passed him through with only a brief delay to verify his credentials.
On Deception Watch Page 24
