Empire

operations.”

“You think they’re through with symbolism.”

“The way they see it, they can’t afford to make any more empty gestures. And with all respect to those who died on 9/11, that was an empty gesture. It made us angry; it goaded us to a brief moment of national unity; it led directly to the fall of two Muslim governments and the taming of many more.”

“They want to hurt us this time, not just slap us.”

“They have only one target that makes any sense at all,” said Reuben.

“The President,” said Coleman.

They stood in silence, looking out over the water.

“So let me put this together,” said Coleman after a while. “You came up with practical, workable plans to kill the President of the United States and turned them over to your superiors at the Pentagon. But you also fear that you’re being observed even when you come out to the tip of Hain’s Point, a city park where a bunch of schoolchildren climb all over the statue of a giant rising out of the earth.”

Reuben waited for his conclusion.

“This spot is part of the plan?” said Coleman.

“Part of the best plan. The simplest. The surest. Oh, lots can still go wrong. But each part of it is well within the reach of any terrorist group smart enough to think of it—and disciplined enough to keep its mouth shut during the training phase.”

“Not the clowns we’ve been catching.”

“The clowns keep us busy and give us a sense of complacency. ‘Our counterterrorism is working,’ we tell ourselves. But we haven’t come up against the big boys since 9/11. Since we routed them out of their hidey-holes in Afghanistan.”

“Do you sail?” asked Coleman.

“No,” said Reuben. “I leave that to the SEALs.”

“I grew up sailing. My dad loved it.”

Reuben waited for the moment of relevancy he was sure was coming.

“You learn to see the water’s surface and notice things. For instance, we’ve got almost no breeze right now, hardly a ripple on the Washington Channel here.”

“Right.”

“But did your plan involve something underwater? Something that passed right through here?”

“Yes,” said Reuben. “And therefore my plan suggested that the Joint Force install additional listening, sonar, and imaging devices in the water of the channel.”

“Which they haven’t done.”

“Which they haven’t done yet.”

Coleman pointed toward the water only a few dozen yards from where they stood. “There’s something under the water—there, there, there, and there. Maybe more farther out, but those four are the ones I can see.”

Reuben couldn’t see a damn thing.

“As a sailor, I’d be wondering if the disturbance in the tidal flow—it’s a rising tide, for any landlubbers present—hid a sandbar. It doesn’t, because all four of them are moving, slowly, with the tide.”

“Inward. Toward the city.”

“That’s the way the tide goes, sir.”

Reuben laughed. “So you’re suggesting that right here, when I happen to be having an unscheduled meeting with my new assistant, is the exact time and place that they’re launching exactly the attack that I planned for them?”

“Is there any reason why your presence here would confer immunity from attack?”

“I still can’t see them.”

“Sir, they’re making decent progress toward the city. I’ve never seen dolphins stay under the water in such perfect formation while making so much disturbance on the surface above them. In case you were thinking it was really big fish.”

Reuben pulled out his cellphone.

The bars kept going up and down, and the “Out of Service Area” message kept coming up, then going away.

Coleman had his cellphone out. It was showing the same thing.

“We’re getting jammed,” said Coleman. And without further warning, he dropped to the ground, fully prone. “Get down, sir!”

Reuben understood what Coleman believed—that someone obviously knew they were there, and might start shooting at any time. “Do five pushups immediately. One-handed,” said Reuben. “Then laugh like it’s a joke.”

Coleman did as he was told, then bounded back up to his feet, laughing. “You think they want us alive,” he said.

“They don’t jam cellphones when they plan to kill the caller,” said Reuben.

“You’re being set up,” said Coleman. “You’re the fall guy.”

“They have a complete set of plans for this terrorist operation, written by me, and I’m right here at this site.”

“Who knew you were coming here?”

“I always come here.” Reuben started walking toward Coleman’s car. “Get your keys out,” said Reuben. “You’re driving.”

“I’ve watched the movies. I know how this plays out. My car is going to get shot up and wrecked and fall into the river, and your car will be fine.”

“My guess is that my car won’t start,” said Reuben.

They kept up the casual walking until they were in the car. “Drive gently for a while,” said Reuben. “How fast were those underwater things going?”

“Slow swimming speed,” said Coleman.

“But this is the area where Fort McNair maintains listening devices.”

Coleman drove around the curve of the point and started back up toward the ranger station.

“A little faster now,” said Reuben. “If they’re following my plan, then they’ll switch on the submersibles and make a lot better speed the rest of the way up into the Tidal Basin.”

“And we’re going to intercept them where?”

“We’re going to the ranger station to make some calls on land lines. And to get some guns and some guys who know how to shoot.”

“So what’s the plan?” asked Coleman. “They get out of the water, take off their scuba gear, and run across the Mall and attack the White House from the Ellipse? That area is so blocked off and guarded that they’ll be dead before they get close.”

“They get out of the water, they set up their rocket launchers just above the retaining wall at the inside of the Tidal Basin, past the Independence Avenue bridge.”

“Rocket launchers,” said Coleman, nodding.

“You can’t see the White House from there—the Washington Monument is up on a hill, and the White House is invisible. So for the past couple of weeks, they’ve been practicing how many degrees to aim to the left of the monument in order to hit the White House. And they’ve got the range set to the micron. They probably know how to put one through any window in the White House that they want.”

And they were at the ranger station.

They parked the car illegally and ran inside, ignoring the remonstrances of the park ranger who followed them in, shouting, “Intruders!”

Great. Here there was something approaching vigilance.

Reuben had his ID out and was flashing it to the security guard and then to the receptionist. “I would appreciate your close attention,” he said, almost softly, though with a great deal of intensity. He didn’t want them to be afraid, he wanted them to obey. “There is a possible attack on the White House coming out of the Tidal Basin at any moment. It will be a rocket attack. We need to notify the President to get low and get out. We need troops mobilized and sent to the Independence Avenue bridge at the Tidal Basin. And we need the best rifles you can muster with all the ammo you have at hand.”