On Deception Watch

by David H Spielberg

  Slaider stood up and paced the floor, moving back and forth in front of Senator Paxton’s desk, silently, thoughtfully. Senator Paxton began to drum his desk with his fingers slowly as if timing himself, as if asking himself, “How much more time can I give this lunatic?”

  Finally, Slaider stopped, looked searchingly at Paxton, and slowly sat down again.

  “Senator, you know it is the sign of a good soldier that if he doesn’t succeed one way, he tries another. I came to you hoping that my goal of supporting Alex Llewellyn for president could be made a common goal through an appeal to your patriotism and the common threat to America’s security that a Latimer presidency would represent. Clearly I have not succeeded in winning your support for Secretary Llewellyn with that argument. So I must try another, one based on self-interest.”

  Paxton stopped drumming his fingers.

  “Senator, we both, but especially you, have many good friends in the oil patch. And not just in this country. Worldwide we are, shall we say, well-connected? The world is facing what might be considered to some folks a catastrophic change in the energy supply picture. I represent powerful interests in the industrial-military complex. And you, Senator, represent powerful interests in the oil patch and every company and worker dependent on petroleum for a living for themselves, for their families, for the economy as a whole. Drummond had stars in his eyes and dreams of a place in history where his administration would mark the beginning of a new era. He was drunk on that thought; addicted to it, you might say. But it made him blind to the certain disruption that would come along with the dubious benefits of fusion energy. We simply exchange one form of pollution for another.”

  Senator Paxton leaned forward at his desk. “What do you mean? What form of pollution?”

  “Don’t you read your briefing papers, Senator? Is your staff asleep at the switch? The signature of the fusion reaction is a burst of neutrons. Those neutrons are used to create the methane that AJC Fusion is touting as their source for hydrogen, but those neutrons also contaminate the housing of the target chamber, making it radioactive. Eventually the chamber material degrades and has to be replaced. But where do we put the contaminated housings? We’re still trying to figure out what to do with the nuclear mess we’ve already created with our fission reactors. We’ve been dealing with that mess for almost a century and we still have no safe way of disposing of the nuclear waste they produce. We all just keep stockpiling it.”

  How is it, Slaider thought, that there are no free lunches? If there is a god, he is a malicious one with a cranky sense of humor. Every step forward has its penalties, its hidden consequences, its trail of tears with its flattering fools and sanctimonious cannibals that eat their own and call it progress.

  “What has this to do with me? I’m a busy man right now, General, and have no more time for your shenanigans.”

  “Why, it has everything to do with you, Senator. It has to do with funding your campaigns. It has to do with money, Senator, money you get from your friends with their black gold, money that they share so generously with you and for which you honor them so generously with your support and your votes, money not always so transparent and accounted for.”

  Paxton eyed Slaider with suddenly more focused attention. He was no longer interested in giving a civics lesson in the separation of powers of government. He needed to know just what Slaider knew. “I’m proud to count among my friends and supporters folks of many and diverse interests, General Slaider, as any man of politics is. I have nothing to hide.”

  “Come, come, Senator. Don’t waste my time. I know your friends killed at least one of Cranshaw’s people in a clumsy attempt at intimidation. I know you infiltrated Cranshaw’s team, that Philip Layland was your inside man who turned to you when he couldn’t get a piece of the action from Cranshaw, that you meet with him, protect him, and share him with your petroleum buddies. There’s a lot of smoke around you, Senator, that could be seen once a person is told where to look. Conspiracy is a nasty word and the country is in no mood now to coddle friends of the oil patch. I’ve seen to that.” He paused to gauge the impact of his words on Senator Paxton. Paxton was an old hand in Washington and had been in plenty of dog fights in his years on the Hill. Slaider did not expect him to fall easily into his plan.

  Paxton began a slow drumming of his fingers on his desk again, looking at Slaider, weighing his options. Slaider returned his steady gaze. “Not a very subtle approach, son. I appreciate a man who lays his cards on the table. And you are right. I have very powerful friends, friends who know how to destroy a person without bullets. I think you had better understand that in me you are dealing with a dangerous man. People have threatened me before. Many times. But I’m still here. Are you sure you want to go down this path, General Slaider?”

  “Senator, I’m not threatening you. You misjudge me badly if that’s what you think. I’m merely pointing out that we share common interests in opposing this whole laser fusion business, a business that is not as wonderful as it looks at first view and that the collaboration with the UN is in no way in the best interest of the United States to pursue. We, I for military security reasons, and you for sound business reasons must crush this before it goes too far. I merely point out that in this we are natural partners, I, to preserve the security of our country, and you, to preserve a multitrillion dollar segment of our economy.

  “Drummond is gone now, but Latimer would continue Drummond’s policies. There is too much at stake to allow that. People have been killed for a lot less than a trillion dollars, Senator. And the stakeholders in fossil fuels are worldwide with huge, really, close to unlimited funds at their disposal. With our support of Israel, the Arab world was aroused by religious fanaticism to a cult of suicide bombers. That is nothing compared to their rage at Drummond’s attack on their pocket book. With more than a hundred trillion dollars worth of oil still in the ground, I hardly think the oil cartels will sit back and watch that inventory suddenly become worth a hundredth of that. It’s been a long and cherished tradition among the Arab peoples that the enemy of my enemy is my friend. But that works both ways, Senator. The friend of their enemy becomes their enemy as well.”

  He paused to let his words find their mark again. Paxton made no comment and Slaider continued. “There is a safe way to stop this slide into economic and military chaos. A safe way, an honorable way, a way the country will accept now. Not in a few months perhaps, but now. That way is for Congress to decide the issue of who our next president is by deciding in favor of Alexander Llewellyn. Alex is a good man. He is doing a good job as caretaker. Everyone acknowledges that. His position on AJC Fusion is not well-known. His determination to protect the country and return it to constitutional order is accepted in the press and by the people. He is a hero right now. There would be no dishonor on your part in supporting him. And I know, I assure you, I know he will kill this plan with AJC Fusion. He will nationalize their technology under the aegis of the Department of Energy. He will kill the treaty with the UN. And he will turn it back into a research project based on the need for more information about the nuclear contamination hazard. He will kill it the way the government killed action on acid rain. We will research it to death.”

  Paxton remained silent.

  “So I ask you once again, Senator Paxton, to support Alexander Llewellyn as the next president of the United States. It’s within the prerogative of the Congress to do this. It just needs prodding from the right people, people like yourself who can sway those who are uncertain what to do. And it is a step that can be supported as constitutional. ‘The Congress shall decide the issue.’”

  “General, this is a lot to think about. And a lot to accomplish in one day. Congress is convening tomorrow. I have been on the phone all day counting heads and assessing the mood of Congress. A joint session is prepared tomorrow to declare Paul Latimer president. Even if I wanted to support your move to promote Llewellyn for president, there is no time.”

  “I will buy you the
time. Right now the country is witnessing an insurrection by the Air Force. There is fear of a civil war if this goes on. I am a hero to many, but so is Latimer and General Stoner. The media are divided, the talking heads are divided, the people in the streets are divided. I have seen to that. To many, Llewellyn is a hero untainted by conflicting claims of treason. He is the shepherd who will lead the people back to safety. Right now, he is the father figure everyone wants to see.

  “Paul Latimer and I are the problem. Llewellyn can be promoted to public as the solution. He can finish out Drummond’s term of office. In a year-and-a-half he will solidify his hold and run as the incumbent. With the money and support that adheres to an incumbent, and with his natural charm and talent, and having brought the country back from the brink of chaos, he could easily win an elected second term. Latimer will be tied up in investigations and charges. Believe me, with what is at stake, evidence will be found to destroy him if not legally then politically. Is this really such a bad scenario for the country, given where we are now? Right this moment? Right now in history?”

  “You paint a pretty benign picture. You make it sound like what you’re doin’ is heroic and patriotic when a cooler head might call it a conspiracy to capture the power of the presidency. What happens if I choose to go my own way to skin Drummond’s plan?”

  “Because you can’t do it without me and I can’t do it without you. Senator, it all comes down to how best to kill this technology and this joint venture. I think I have offered you the best choice among several difficult paths. Llewellyn is a good man. There would be no shame in supporting him.”

  “And if I decide not to go along with your plan?”

  “Then Latimer’s insurrection will continue. I will see to it that he gets just enough success to continue with his crusade and the Executive Council will continue to govern and the people will call for new elections; after all, they didn’t really vote for Latimer. He just came along when Drummond won. And Llewellyn will win anyway because Latimer will either refuse to participate out of principle or he will lose because he has become tainted or more likely, he will be in jail.”

  “What the people know and what I know, Morgan, are two different things. I will seem the patriot proposing a political solution that makes me look clever and patriotic, exactly how I like to look, by the way. But I will know that is a sham. I will know that I violated the trust of my people, that I did not, truly, defend and protect the constitution of the United States.”

  “There’s that of course. But this is hardball politics. You are no stranger to that. Please don’t insult my intelligence, Senator, that you would not be altogether displeased if this, shall we call it regime change, happened. Our friends in the oil patch, and all their friends will also be happy, I assure you, if Alexander Llewellyn is the next president of the United States.”

  “What about the world community? You’ve gotten us into pretty dark waters, son, with almost everyone else on earth. Not bad for one man. And the UN? You’ve got them on their knees but there still is a faction in America that sees this organization from hell as a sacred cow not to be touched while you’re practically raping it in the town center . . . at lunchtime . . . on a warm sunny day.”

  “Let me be even more frank with you, Senator. Here is my goal in all this,” Slaider said. “Driving the UN out of America. There is no greater threat to our safety than the United Nations with its diplomatically immune agents roaming our land. I will drive the United Nations from our soil. Our foreign policy will be one of predictable self-interest. And those countries that threaten world order will be dealt with. We will not tolerate weapons of mass destruction in the hands of irresponsible heads of state. And if we have to kill for peace, it will be no contradiction in terms. It will only be the vocabulary of an imperfect world. And America will never again fight a political war, never again a war of attrition. We will fight, if we must, as Sherman and Patton and MacArthur and Powell fought—hard, fast, and with overwhelming strength.”

  “Morgan . . . ”

  “And we will not allow America to be drawn into wars born in Europe, in the Middle East, or in Asia, spawned by the insane self-interest, petty jealousies, and hatreds of a hundred different nationalities and tribes. Tribes! By god, does it get any more primitive than that? Power that is unwilling to control is power that is sowing the seeds of its own destruction. I understand the difference, Senator, between power and control. Your lesson will begin soon with or without your participation.”

  “Listen to yourself, Morgan. Your passion, the passion we all admired you for, is beginning to sound to me like zealotry. Zealots tire me. They’re always dangerous and almost always demand compliance with an insane point of view. Your actions, even if you continue to pursue them and I, hypothetically, endorse or participate in them, will still be illegitimate.”

  “You think so, Senator. Tell me who is more insane. You and the Congress and our president have let weapons of mass destruction fall, country by country, into the hands of petty tyrants no further from psychosis than you may think I am at this moment, but because they control a government your stupid rules force you to accept them as credible and legitimate instead of the spreading cancer that they are. What constitutes legitimacy, senator? More crimes and death have happened in the name of your stupid rules of legitimacy than through anything I will do.

  “You let the Russian empire come crashing down, cheering and encouraging the destruction of the only stabilizing force in Eastern Europe. Once started you couldn’t wait to see how fast it would crumble. And the consequence of this narrow vision is ten countries and fifty ethnic nationalities at each other’s throats.

  “You rushed to save money and withdrew our troops from Europe. You rushed to save money and withdrew our troops from Asia. You rushed to save money and withdrew our fleet from the Middle East. How is the world safer now that there is no power center in the world? Where does one turn for protection? Who is setting the limits of acceptable international behavior? The UN! They are bankrupt, financially and politically. You think I’m insane? Have you looked lately at where your so-called sanity has taken us?

  “Jeb, we’re running out of time. The world needs control again. And through Alex Llewellyn I will give it to them. But first we need the chaos to clarify the need for control to our people. And Senator, I’m telling you. Tomorrow there will be no swearing in ceremony. There will be time for you to set this right, to set the country back on a constitutional path. There will be time to stop the intramural warfare among the armed forces of our wonderful country. There will be time to protect the security of America and the investments of your friends at the Petroleum Institute and beyond. Make a list, Senator. The pros outweigh the cons. I assure you, though we have made the oil patch the enemy now in order to promote our agenda, Alex is one hundred percent in agreement with me about protecting oil interests and stopping Drummond’s plan. Once he is president he will be free to work his own agenda.”

  Senator Paxton stood and paced a bit. Then he stood by his window overlooking the expanse of lawn outside. He sat again at his desk, reached into a draw, pulled out two glasses and bottle of bourbon. Carefully and slowly he poured an inch into each glass and offered one to Slaider.

  “Just what do you expect of me, General?”

  77

  Ranjit Lal had not been home to sleep. At times such as these, if there were times such as these, he stayed at his office and slept in the small bedroom that was part of his office suite. One learned to sleep when one could. Take advantage of the opportunities, so to speak. There had been few opportunities recently.

  It was an interesting time, he thought. Not so much because of anything that was happening, but rather because of the sense of anticipation that he felt worldwide. Every government he had been in contact with was simply waiting and watching. Military levels had stabilized. Communiqués had virtually stopped whereas only the day before every channel was saturated with traffic. Protests in Europe over control of nu
clear weapons had stopped. Protests over the American invasion of diplomatic compounds had stopped. The attacks on the United Nations had stopped. The staged revelations had stopped. There was simply a fascinating suspension, a worldwide pause, a collective gathering in of one’s breath.

  Lal had received a personal call from Paul Latimer. He asked Lal to attend tomorrow’s Congressional session as his special guest. It would be a joint session of the Congress. A two-thirds vote of those assembled in quorum would be required to certify, in spite of the acknowledged death of President Drummond, that Vice President Latimer is the new president of the United States. Good. That much, at least will be settled.

  Lal reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cigarette case. Absentmindedly he opened the case and lit a cigarette. It was yet still a puzzle—how this had all started. Several small extremist groups, one in Italy, one in Sri Lanka, and one in Argentina had each claimed responsibility for the electrical tower bombings and the assassination of President Drummond. His intelligence sources discounted each of those claims as delusional. In fact, he was quite puzzled. These things do come out, he had found from experience. The perpetrators do not ever remain unknown. Always, for their own reasons, they seek to authenticate their kill. Like hired thugs, he thought, cloaked in heroic rhetoric, yet still like hired thugs. And the first to claim responsibility never have been the ones. Never! Yet this time, there is no trail. This time, there is no credible origin for these events.