Covert Warriors

apologize to the American people for what had happened. He gave me his word, officially and as a friend, that he and every branch of the government of Mexico will do everything possible not only to apprehend and quickly bring to justice those responsible for the deaths of our fellow citizens, but to locate and safely return the missing officer to his family.”

Frankly, Zeke, I am not holding my breath. From what I saw in Mexico, every other cop is on the payroll of one of the drug cartels.

Castillo even bought-from the damn Federales-a Black Hawk the U.S. gave them to help fight the drug cartels. Charley used it to fly us onto the island.

I wonder what happened to the Black Hawk after we flew it back to the USS Bataan? Charley said that when the Bataan got back to Norfolk, they should say nothing; just unload the helo onto the wharf, then let the Mexican ambassador explain how it got there after the Mexican government had told us it had been totally destroyed fighting the drug cartels.

I can’t believe Natalie Cohen would go along with that, but I thought it was a great idea.

“We came very close in 1914 to going to war with Mexico. .”

Again. I’m sure you will recall, Zeke, that we also had one with them in 1846. You know, like the Marines sing, “From the halls of Montezuma”?

“. . And we came close, as you all know, to war recently. Our late and beloved President, faced with a very difficult choice, decided it was his duty as Commander in Chief of our nation to launch a preemptive strike on what he believed was a factory in the Congo manufacturing a dangerous substance that could have been used against us.”

“What he believed was a factory in the Congo manufacturing a dangerous substance that could have been used against us”?

Where did your late and beloved predecessor get a wild idea like that? Was he supposed to take the word of the guy who runs our biological warfare lab and personally go to the Congo to have a look?

“Like every other patriotic American, I fully supported-perhaps even cheered-his courageous decision.”

I seem to recall you saying, in front of a microphone you thought had been turned off, that it was “idiotic and reckless.”

“And then, when God in His infinite wisdom took our Commander in Chief from us, and I found myself in that role, I came to understand how difficult the decision he had taken was for him.”

Where the hell are you going now, Mr. President?

“The President was a wise and knowledgeable man. More than anyone else, he knew how close his decision would bring us to a nuclear war, and he knew full well that could have meant the end of the world.

“I came out of my study, my appreciation, of what the President had done with two things: First, an even deeper admiration of his wisdom and character than I had had. And, second, an awareness that I was ill equipped to step into his empty shoes, and that without God’s help, I simply could not do so.”

Zeke baby, you finally said something I agree with.

“So I ask you, my fellow Americans, to pray for me. Pray to God to give me the wisdom and the courage that He gave to our late Commander in Chief. Pray to God that when another problem challenges our country, He will give me the strength to not act impulsively but rather with tempered wisdom.”

I hate to tell you this, Zeke, but getting God to give you tempered wisdom’s going to take a lot of praying.

“I was informed just before I came up here that there are matters requiring my immediate attention at the White House. So I will not be able to take questions.

“The Vice President and others here with me today will answer any questions you may have.

“Thank you. God bless you. God bless the United States of America.”

The President then stepped from behind the podium and walked quickly to the edge of the stage and down a shallow flight of stairs.

What the hell? That’s it?

Before you take off, Zeke, you’re supposed to wait until one of your pals in the press corps, cued by Porky Parker, cuts off the conference by saying, “Thank you, Mr. President.”

The cameras followed the President and recorded Porky Parker as he fended off the White House Press Corps as they shouted questions and tried to get close to the President.

Roscoe looked at the stage and saw on the faces of the assembled dignitaries that they were as surprised by President Clendennen’s sudden departure as he was.

Secret Service agents and the CIA police kept the press corps from chasing the President and Porky into the corridor. The chasing press and those who hadn’t chased the President now turned their attention to the podium.

And the podium was empty.

The dignitaries looked at one another in visible confusion, until finally both DCI A. Franklin Lammelle and Vice President Charles W. Montvale at once began heading for the podium.

Lammelle deferred to the Vice President, and stepped back into line.

Montvale stepped to the podium and was under immediate assault by shouts of “Mr. Vice President!” from the press corps.

Danton shook his head at the sight of the melee, and thought, This has turned into a Chinese clusterfuck!

“When everybody has calmed down. .” Vice President Montvale began, and then stopped when he realized his microphones were not working and his voice could not be heard over the shouts asking for his attention.

He first looked at the microphones in front of him for a switch, and then, finding none, bent to look behind the podium to see if he could find a switch there.

Lammelle broke ranks again and went to the podium to help.

Unbelievable! Danton thought. Un-fucking-believable!

CIA functionaries, uniformed and in suits, came to the stage and the podium to help.

A moment later there came a piercing electronic scream, quickly followed by a full volume broadcast of the Vice President’s voice saying, “Oh, shit!”

This served to almost quiet the room.

“As the President has left the building,” the Vice President’s voice came over the loudspeakers, “this press conference is over.”

That’s “Elvis has left the building,” Montvale!

The Vice President then stepped away from the podium and walked briskly off the stage. The other dignitaries quickly followed him. CIA functionaries kept the press away from them.

The CIA can’t even make their microphone work!

And since this farce is on eleven zillion television sets around the world.

Wait a minute! I’m missing something here!

What the hell?

The glistening Sikorsky VH-60 White Hawk helicopter, known as Marine One when carrying the President, was waiting for the President beside the CIA headquarters building.

Supervisory Secret Service agent Robert J. Mulligan, a tall and stocky forty-five-year-old, came out of the building and quickly checked to see that everything-other Secret Service agents, a fire engine, and an ambulance- was as it should be, and then signaled to the President that he was free to board Marine One.

Mulligan had been on Vice President Clendennen’s security detail, but as one of the agents, not as the supervisory special agent in charge. When Clendennen had suddenly become the President, he announced he wanted Mulligan to head his security detail. When it had been-very tactfully-pointed out to President Clendennen that there already was a supervisory agent in charge of the Presidential Security detail, the President had replied, “I don’t want to argue about this. Mulligan will do it. Got it?”

President Clendennen, trailed by Porky Parker, walked quickly to the White Hawk and climbed aboard, failing