from a luncheon with two of the Joint Chiefs to find a voice mail requesting his appearance in Secretary Austin’s office at 3 P.M. He glanced at his watch, which read 2:40. He grabbed his notes and briefing papers from the morning meeting and walked briskly down the stairs and across the street, entering the White House grounds. As he cleared security and entered the corridor, he met General Austin just coming out of his office. Austin inclined his head, signaling Pug to follow.
“Good timing. We’re headed down the hall,” Austin said.
“Are we going where I think we’re going?”
“We are. Dixie called and said the president has squeezed twenty minutes into his schedule and asked us to join him. We’ll just play it by ear. I think Admiral Barrington will be there too, along with Patrick Collins, the president’s choice for Secretary of Defense.”
Admiral Barrington was outside the president’s office when they arrived, and Defense Secretary Designate Patrick Collins and newly confirmed Vice President Hank Tiarks were already in the Oval Office. Dixie, the president’s secretary, stood and motioned them through the doorway. Inside, President Snow rose to greet them.
“Good morning, gentlemen. Let me introduce Vice President Hank Tiarks and Patrick Collins, soon to be the Secretary of Defense,” the president said. As the men shook hands, the president motioned the group to a small cluster of chairs and a large, deep burgundy leather couch. The president gave a nod to Pug, then took his seat. “I’ve read the brief on the interrogation transcripts and the overview of the attack plan. We’re short on time this afternoon, so let’s hear your analysis, Secretary Austin,” he said. “What unwelcome visitors can we expect?”
“Mr. President, we’ve compiled a fairly confident picture that several of the various terrorist groups have concentrated their objectives and plan to hit us-and our allies, I might add-where we are most vulnerable, on our own soil again.”
“Are you telling me we know the target this time?”
“No, sir. The target is America-everywhere. But this time, as you saw from the summary, no airplanes, no plagues, no dirty bombs, and no chemical contamination of water supply or anything like we’ve considered, although those possibilities are always on our watch list. No, this time, Mr. President, we have reason to believe that the various terrorist groups, we don’t really know which one, intend to infiltrate America. If there is one central command, they possibly already have the people in place-small teams of snipers-in America, Australia, and England. From our experience this past couple of years, I wouldn’t be surprised if we didn’t have native-born Americans mingled in with the infiltrators.”
“Snipers? And Americans, too, you say?” Snow repeated.
“Yes, sir. Hit teams. Religious zealots, primarily. Mr. President, if you recall, there were two snipers a decade back who brought the D.C. and Virginia areas to a standstill. That’s what we believe they intend to do, but on a much larger scale. Hit us at the local level, a killing here, a killing there, a drive-by shooting in a mall parking lot, with this scenario replicated across the country every day or every week. From what we can gather, there is no large objective, no catastrophic disaster. The only possible objective of a small-scale operation like this is to terrorize neighborhoods and communities. Make our people believe that their government can’t protect them.”
“You mean throughout the country? Random killings?”
“Yes, Mr. President. That’s how we see it.”
“Do you concur, Admiral Barrington?”
“I do, Mr. President. The body count will probably not be high, statistically speaking-in fact, far less than from automobile accidents every weekend-but once the media gets on to it, we can certainly expect that as these groups take credit and try to obtain publicity for their terror tactics, the public fear will be rampant.”
“And the Aussies and the Brits as well?”
“Yes, sir. Our intelligence leads us to believe they’re also on the list.”
“Issuing a higher domestic threat alert won’t do any good, will it, General Austin?”
“No, sir. What could we tell the public? Stay home because there may be a gunman waiting on the grassy knoll? I personally think that would just fuel the panic. And that’s exactly what these people want to create.”
The president nodded his understanding. “Then they’re correct. The government can’t protect their citizens. How do you suggest we deal with this type of threat? Pat,” he said to the designated Secretary of Defense, “How could the military be applied? Martial law? Occupy our own cities? If this shooting starts soon, similar questions are bound to come up in your confirmation hearings.”
“Mr. President, I think Secretary Austin and Admiral Barrington have laid out the problem to the extent we understand it. In the end, if it turns out that we’re right and we see multiple sniper teams in our cities, then it will be a matter of vigilance on the part of local law enforcement, rather than the military. It’s not the kind of threat that can be repulsed by a squad of soldiers. Heaven forbid it should come to armed National Guard patrols on our streets like they had in northern Ireland in the seventies and eighties, but a public panic could eventually require exactly that.”
“That’s drastic, isn’t it?” the president asked.
“I hope it’s not necessary, Mr. President,” Collins said.
“More likely, various armed militia groups, especially in the western states, will try to take the lead with uncoordinated, locally directed patrols. Roving bands of citizens, like the Minutemen who manned the Arizona and Texas border against illegal immigrants a few years ago,” General Austin added.
“What do you mean, General? American militia?” President Snow asked.
“Primarily the western militia groups, Mr. President. They’d find it their patriotic duty to defend their homeland, to search out and destroy the infiltrators. And they won’t be particular about the evidence they need to convict someone. The wrong skin color or foreign accent will suit their purpose. Any ethnic group different from the basic Anglo-Saxon European will be as afraid of the militia as they are the terrorists. They would both become terrorists, essentially.”
The president leaned back in his chair, his face a mask of discontent. “That’s all we need-a few hundred self-directed posses with the hanging rope in the back of the pickup. Do we have a contingency plan?”
General Austin answered. “Mr. President, we’re not completely helpless, but the lack of knowledge about targets, cities, or even timing is the worst problem. We can’t ask local law enforcement to go on to double shifts in a constant state of alert. They’re complaining already about the cost of overtime and man-hours. But we’re working on it. These snipers will need to communicate, to contact their central command, if there is one. We’ve asked the NSA to focus their electronic intercept search patterns for communication in that area.”
The president rose and walked back toward his desk. “Okay, gentlemen. I appreciate your briefing. Keep me informed. Oh, by the way, General, I need to get my cabinet nominees through the Senate quickly, if we’re to deal with this threat. If these, uh, snipers are coming to America, what are the possibilities you could direct a couple of them to the Hill before the confirmation hearings get started?”
Austin smiled broadly as he stood. “Well, Mr. President-”
President Snow waved off the reply. “I didn’t say that, General. I really didn’t.” He continued, “Secretary Austin, if you have time, I would like you and General Connor to remain for my next meeting. Pug, this is relative to your prior assignment in California, and Secretary Austin should be brought up to speed. Joyce Jefferson served as my lieutenant governor, then she was elected governor of Arizona. She called a few days ago and asked to meet with me. She’s a wonderful person and an outstanding leader, but I don’t have a good feeling about her agenda.”
“Yes, sir,” Austin replied.
As the Oval Office cleared of participants from the prior meeting, Dixie stood in the doorway and guided several people into the room. “Mr. President,” his secretary said, “Governor Jefferson is here for her appointment.”
The first person through the door was an attractive, well-dressed black woman, followed by three men. Pug immediately recognized one of them as Dan Rawlings, the California legislator with whom he had worked on the secession investigation. The other three, including Governor Jefferson, he did not know. President Snow rose to greet the group.
“Joyce, how lovely to see you again,” the president said, kissing her cheek.
“And you, Mr. President. May I introduce my associates. Donald Tompkins is currently serving as attorney general for the State of Utah, Harry Phillips is mayor of Eugene, Oregon, and Dan Rawlings represents the 8 ^th
