“We just got a memo,” Jones said, back at his desk by the front door. “Want to hear the latest?”
“You tell me, Jones. Do I?”
He made it succinct. “DEFCON Three.”
There it was. Just as she had feared. The Strategic Air Command and the associated military alerts had been ratcheted up another notch. Christina knew that had happened only three times since the DEFCON system had been devised: first during the Cuban Missile Crisis, then after 9/11, and now.
The attack on the president, the slaying of the first lady, not to mention so many Secret Service agents and civilians, had sent shock waves rippling through the nation. Homeland Security had issued its first-ever Red Alert. The Dow Jones had gone into a free fall; airports shut down; most retail businesses had closed and remained closed. There was no point in being open. Few people were leaving their homes if it was not absolutely necessary. Even if it wasn’t entirely rational-there was no sign that anyone other than the president had been or would be targeted-the horrific incident had left such an imprint on the country that most people just felt more secure staying home.
The upward spiral in hate crimes against Americans of Middle Eastern descent-or in some cases, dark- skinned souls some redneck thought were Middle Eastern-was equally frightening. All across the country, people were lashing out, venting their fear in the form of violence. International tensions were at a fever pitch; the hostility between the United States and the Arab world never seemed so ominous. Many foreign leaders had spoken out, demanding reprisals, asking for the president to make a public statement.
So far, the president had remained silent.
The entire United States intelligence community was making a concerted effort to work together and discover who was behind the heinous attack. The FBI, CIA, NSA, and Homeland Security were acting as one, sharing information on a daily basis at Pentagon and White House rendezvous, wiretapping and spying and making the most of their international allies. Diplomatic inquiries were being made wherever possible, though no one had much hope that they would be useful, because no one really believed the attack had been orchestrated as a formally sanctioned act of a foreign power. The military top brass were engaged in major saber rattling. The Pentagon was requesting permission to employ new high-tech weapons and eavesdropping equipment. On CNN, analysts were saying that it wasn’t a question of whether America would go to war-only when. Public support was clearly there; so in all likelihood the politicians would accommodate once the identities of the perpetrators were known. Pundits predicted that the U.S. military readiness standard could go all the way to DEFCON 1 inside of a week, depending on the temperament and inclination of the president.
And still the president remained silent. He had not been seen or heard publicly since the tragedy occurred. At a time when the nation needed leadership most, he was providing least. While the nation worried about its future- the president grieved for his wife.
No one knew what would happen next-least of all Christina. But she knew some action would be taken soon.
And that worried her.
She remembered the White House study back in 2006 that revealed that the war in Iraq had actually increased global terrorism rather than squelching it, due to the wave of reprisals that followed with ever-increasing gusto and fervor.
After a tragedy of this magnitude-what might happen next?
Near the front of the office, Christina heard someone clearing his throat.
With no small degree of regret, she opened her eyes.
“Jimmy?” She rose as she was approached by James Claire, the Senate Information officer who had been assigned to this wing of the Russell Building. “More news?”
“Or the lack thereof,” he said, adjusting his collar. He was new in this position, and Christina knew he was not altogether comfortable with it yet. Only last week he had been the lowest ranked clerk in Senator Dawkins’s office. After the tragedy of three days before, he had been recruited by the Information Office to help fill the huge surge in demand for news about the tragedy. “At any rate, I’ve been instructed to provide updates to all my offices twice a day now, so here I am. Is Senator Kincaid around?”
“Uh, no. He’s still…sick. But I’ll pass along any information you have.”
“I know. It’s just that I’ve been told to speak directly to the senators.”
“Jimmy.” Christina placed her hand on his shoulder reassuringly. There were not many people who worked in this building who were younger than she, but happily, he was one of them. “You’re talking to the senator’s chief of staff, not to mention his wife. Isn’t that good enough?”
He smiled a lopsided, somewhat goofy twenty-something smile. “I suppose.”
Christina guided him to the nearest chair in the lobby. She did not mince words. “Have they caught the bastards who did this?”
Jimmy sighed. “That’s always the first question. No, they haven’t caught anyone.”
“Do they know who’s behind it?”
“Several groups have taken credit-more than a dozen, in fact. It’s hard to know who to believe.”
“Surely it must be terrorists. Maybe al-Qaeda?”
“We don’t think so. The intelligence community is investigating several other satellite Middle Eastern groups, especially one called Saifullah.”
“I don’t think I’ve heard of it.”
“Who has? The name is a religious reference, naturally. Means ‘sword of God’ in Arabic.”
“And the Feds think they were behind the attack?”
“They sent the President’s Office an e-mail that provided a lot of details about the attack. It’s possible they’re just good guesses, but the intelligence community is taking their claim seriously. And they’ve made a list of demands.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, everything you would expect. Complete withdrawal of U.S. and UN troops from the Middle East, including Iraq and Afghanistan. Shutting down all U.S. military bases in the region, including those in Saudi Arabia. Turning over all oil operations, including pipelines, to native businesses. Promising not to invade sovereign nations unless we’re attacked first or demonstrably threatened. Allocating funds to needy Middle Eastern nations matching those provided to Egypt and Israel. Publicly declaring that Islam is a great and sacred religion.”
“Pretty standard stuff.”
“Exactly.”
“Every Middle Eastern terror cell known to man has been making the same demands for decades. Do they ask for anything specific? Release of a prisoner, maybe?”
“No. We’re not aware that we have any members of Saifullah in captivity. But frankly, we barely knew anything about the group.”
“That seems incredible.”
“Bear in mind, we didn’t know that much about al-Qaeda while their members were buying box cutters and taking flying lessons in Florida. Took 9/11 to put them in the public consciousness.”
“So maybe that was the real point of the attack. To put themselves on the geopolitical map? To make them players?”
“It’s not impossible.”
Christina laid her head back against the sofa cushion. “High school kids want attention-they spray-paint a bathroom wall. Terrorists want attention-they kill the first lady.”
“The first lady was collateral damage. But still-” Jimmy lowered his head. “Yeah. Same mentality.”
“Surely the Feds have found some useful forensic evidence,” Christina said. In the past, she had worked with Ben on any number of cases where eyewitness testimony proved dubious, but carefully analyzed forensic evidence solved the case.
“Not that I’ve heard.”
“Computer facial recognition? DNA? Eyewitness? Fingerprints?”
“Not so far.”
“The combined force of the entire United States intelligence community has come up with nothing?”
“As of my last briefing.”
“Not even a weapon?”
