His vow fell on deaf ears. Maha fainted into Matt’s arms, her warm blood melting the snow.
Chapter Six
The Tonight Show
As the host began to wind up his opening monologue, the live audience was in an exceptionally festive and jovial mood. “Well, I see you people are really wound up, and just as well. We have a great show for you tonight. Of course, unlike Bill Clinton, we can’t get our current President on the show. In fact, I don’t know of anyone who’s even heard from him lately. And speaking of the President,” he said, with a wink, “I’ve been continuing my study of genetics. I find the subject fascinating.” Several in the audience jeered loudly, recalling his earlier jokes.
“My recent studies have led me to some startling discoveries. As you know, genes control such things as hair color, eye color, and even, I have recently discovered, behavior. Why just this afternoon I made a startling discovery while comparing the DNA of an ostrich and the President. They both contain the same gene for putting one’s head in the sand.”
The Oval Office, 7am
Horns from early morning traffic blared along 17 ^th Street. President Ross Pierce, insulated by thick glass from the outside noise and outside threats, sat alone at his desk in the West Wing. He looked straight ahead. A bust of Abraham Lincoln, sitting on the fireplace mantle, stared back. “I wonder which is better, Mr. President, to know you’re an assassination target or be taken by surprise?” Lincoln just kept staring.
Nearly three months after the suicide attack that killed Dr. Andrew Norman and so many others, he was still troubled. His minor flesh wounds were healed, but he still ached for all the people slaughtered. Even more troubling was how to respond. Congress, the press, the American people-indeed, the entire world-clamored for an official U.S. response to the attack, as well as a major policy statement on terrorism. Everyone demanded some type of action.
The hidden door next to the office of the Chief of Staff opened slowly. “You wanted to talk with me, Mr. President?”
Ross Pierce stood up and motioned to a chair. “Yes, Karl. I do. I thought maybe we could talk a little before the day really hits.”
Karl van Ness sat comfortably in the massive wing chair. “What about?”
“Why don’t you sit over here, out of the sunlight. It shows off your wrinkles, and reminds me of mine.”
“Both sets earned in the service of our country, Mr. President,” van Ness said gravely.
“Mine were earned getting my ass in a sling, and yours were earned saving it. For which I’m eternally grateful, Karl.”
“So, how can I help?” Van Ness sat uneasily now.
“Coffee?”
“Thank you.”
Ross poured his mentor a cup of coffee, a touch of deference reserved only for this man he both trusted and needed.
“I want to talk about that female terrorist attack, how things are shaping up.”
Van Ness waited. His coffee was hot, and bitter.
“As you know, I’ve made dozens of speeches since the attack. I’ve promised the American people, and the world, that the United States would not stand for such cowardly acts.”
“And they’ve been good speeches, Mr. President. People can feel your conviction and..”
“My string is running out, Karl. I know it and you know it. People want action, not talk.” Pierce set his coffee mug on the desk, careful to place it on the coaster.
“And what are you not telling me?”
Ross stared, startled at the blunt question. Then he nodded. “Something big is afoot, something evil. I don’t know what, but someone tried to kill me once, and I don’t think they will stop. I got into this seat on promises of bringing about peace, one way or another. Now they bring the issue right to my doorstep, and I still don’t have a fucking plan of action I can believe in.”
“I understand, Mr. President. And I wouldn’t advise an approach like your predecessor launched in the wake of September 11. Costly and unfortunately ineffective.”
“I know. That’s one of the reasons I’m sitting in this chair today. However, in the eyes of the world it looks as if the war on terrorism is being lost, not won.”
Van Ness continued to listen. The coffee cup sat on the side table, ignored.
“Let me spell it out for you. The polls tell us the American people are fed up with the fear and uncertainty. Not knowing when and where the next attack will come. They’re afraid terrorism will reach into their local communities. No one feels safe anymore. And I don’t blame them. I’m practically a prisoner of this office. I can hardly go out and meet the people.” President Pierce stood up, clutching the large coffee.
“And the protesters. Have you seen those slogans, Karl? Nuke the Bomber Bitches, Fight Back Now Before It’s Too Late, and Don’t Wait for Another Pearl Harbor. ”
“They’re difficult to miss.” Van Ness watched the President move towards the windows facing the south lawn.
“I’m getting thousands of letters and e-mails demanding America take a firm stand to protect itself. Most of them want us to launch a retaliatory strike right now.” He shook his head. “In all my years as a governor, senator, and now President, I’ve never seen such vitriolic displays of public anger.”
“From my discussions, Mr. President, it appears the military, along with the CIA, fully support the public demands for all-out retaliation.”
“I know. I’ve been briefed until I can’t look at another slide. They keep saying they have the targets and the means. All they need is a thumbs-up from me and the righteous force of America’s high-tech weaponry will put the terrorists out of action forever.” He glanced at his mentor. “That’s a direct quote.”
Karl van Ness nodded. “The major defense contractors are pressing their Congressmen. And several senior politicians are afraid of losing their hefty PAC contributions. It’s not pretty on the hill, Mr. President.” He stood by the fireplace, waiting for the name he knew would come up.
“And that arrogant asshole, Mason Stevens, chairman of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence, has been meeting with the press almost daily. He’s leading the crusade for retaliation. Shit, his office phones here just about every hour for another meeting to press his case.”
“He has a point,” van Ness said. “If there is fresh intelligence data identifying the nations harboring and actively supporting terrorist networks, it could become obsolete if we don’t strike soon.”
“I know it, Karl, that’s what worries me. And he’s whipping the American people into a frenzy. Just watch this tape of the Larry King show last night.” Ross Pierce walked over to the wall unit and grabbed the remote control. A large flat screen TV boomed to life. The tanned face of Senator Stevens emerged. “Watch this sonofabitch. And look at that hairdo. Coiffed for the occasion.”
The Senator’s deep voice boomed out. “The reason we’re confronted with increasingly bold and bloody acts of terrorism is because terrorism works,” the senator barked. “Blatant acts of murder and mayhem get these cowards an enormous amount of attention from the liberal media and catapult them onto the world stage.”
“Whoa, Senator,” replied King, pushing back his chair. “Are you saying terrorism is also a propaganda tool?”
“That’s right. Then the ineffective United Nations and certain cowardly members of the international community go soft whenever there is an opportunity to prosecute and put the terrorists in jail.” Senator Stevens pounded his meaty fist on the table. “Their lame excuse is that they need to better understand the causes of terrorism. Some governments even express the stupid opinion that these groups must have some validity to their grievances if they engage in such open displays of violence. It’s all just rhetoric-what they’re doing is avoiding the real issues.”
