GPS mapping software and weather models for wind direction, the site determined likely death counts and fallout patterns. Real homey, comfy stuff.
In short, America was scaring itself to death, and doing almost as much damage to the national psyche and commerce as if the other 23 bombs were on the loose.
Then the extreme lunacy hit. Hiccock was reluctantly appearing on a talk show under the agreement that he was to be the only guest on for an entire half-hour segment. With the administration’s approval, he went on to separate scientific fact from science fiction. The show was going well until the last commercial break for Bill’s segment. That’s when a senator who was on the next segment “bullied” his way onto the set just before they were going back on the air.
“Mister Hiccock,” Senator Barnes said, “when is the administration going to make public its retaliation policy for when the bomb goes off?”
Hiccock should have gotten up and left right there and then, but the stage manager called out, “Back in 5, 4, 3, 2….” Then threw his finger cue.
“We’re back and are joined now by Senator Barnes,” host Wolf Blitzer said. “Welcome Senator Barnes. Senator, during the break you were asking the President’s science advisor a rather poignant question. Would you mind repeating that for the benefit of our viewers?”
Barnes repeated it exactly as before and Hiccock’s brain went into overdrive. To answer this question was to fall into a huge trap. “When the bomb goes off,” meant that any positive answer would signal that the administration believed the detonation inevitable. Any negative response meant the President wasn’t “going to make public our retaliation policy” and was therefore not being forthright with the public. Bill hated this political crap; it was another good reason why he believed he should never appear in public in any official capacity. As Bill’s inner play clock ticked down, he looked the senator in the eye, trying to figure out where he was coming from, but felt politically inept for not even knowing whether this guy was a friend or foe of his boss.
“Would the Senator care to further elaborate on his question?”
“Sounds plain enough to me, Mister Hiccock. When is the administration going to make public its retaliation policy for when the bomb goes off?”
“Oh, okay. First off, it’s Professor Hiccock. And second, I thought I didn’t hear you right the first time because that is the most ill-informed, ill-composed, and ill-conceived question ever asked. It presupposes a whole series of non-factual and fantastical assumptions. It is, to put it simply, a trick question. And I don’t do tricks, Senator.”
Wolf Blitzer’s jaw seemed frozen open. Bill could hear the scratchy sound of the producer hollering at Blitzer from the control room through the little earpiece stuffed into the ear away from camera. The senator looked to Wolf for some cover, but Wolf was distracted by the screaming in his ear.
“Wolf, you need a minute here, buddy?” Hiccock said with the smallest of smirks.
“Senator, would you like to rephrase your question?”
“No, Wolf, let’s move on. I and many on my side of the aisle are calling for a simple, clear, declarative statement from the President on a retaliatory policy that would force the nations who sponsor and support terrorism to clean up their own act and stop this heinous crime before it is carried out.”
“What are you looking for the President to say, Senator?” Wolf asked.
“That five Arab capitals will be targeted by our ICBMs. That if the suitcase nuke goes off on American soil, the capitals of Syria, Jordon, Iran, Libya, and the Sudan will be wiped from the face of the earth.”
“A sweeping proposal. Mister…Professor Hiccock, as a member of the administration, would you care to respond to that?”
“No. But I’d like to respond as a private citizen if I may.”
Blitzer was visibly uneasy with the request but acceded without thinking.
Hiccock leaned over towards the windbag senator. “You are out of your ever-loving mind, my friend. Thank God you, nor any of your cohorts on the hill, are the President right now, because that is the dumbest, most counterproductive idea since somebody elected you into office, pal. Do yourself and the government of the people you are sworn to protect and serve a big favor and shut the hell up!”
Hiccock sat back in his chair again. “There; that was me, the private citizen, voicing my personal views. Speaking for the administration again, I have no comment.”
The senator recovered quickly from the attack. “You bastard! The American people will not stand idly by while Islamic terrorists detonate a nuclear device on our soil. You and your President may be too weak-kneed to get tough with these Arab thugs, but the American people are sick and tired of these terrorists threatening us and terrorizing us. The American people are demanding and deserve a get-tough policy, not some touchy-feely approach that the Hate America First crowd and academics like you, Pro-fes-sor, embrace.”
“Now gentlemen, let’s try and keep the tone of this debate…”
Bill leaned forward again. “Senator, first of all, he’s not just my President. He’s yours too, unless you and your Capitol Hill cronies are also rescinding the constitution in your new order. And secondly, threatening to kill millions of innocent people over the acts of madmen makes us nothing more than madder madmen with bigger bombs. Wolf, this fear mongering serves only cheap politicians who are posturing for votes by perpetuating exactly the kind of fear, rumor, and innuendo I came on your program to address. If there was ever a time in American history to let diplomacy and our State Department make policy, this is it.”
“Gentlemen, I am afraid we are out of time. Thank you for this… lively…and… spirited discussion, we’ll be back after this…”
“And we are out,” the stage manager announced. “Four-minute break.”
“You fellas really went at each other….” Blitzer stopped talking when Hiccock tore off his lapel mic, got up, and moved right into the senator’s face. The man backed up in his chair, hands gripping the arms, searching the studio for his security people.
Hiccock clamped his finger over the lapel mic clipped to Barnes’ blue suit and unloaded. “As for that academic crack, you go to intelligence oversight committee, you get cleared for top secret/need to know, and then you find out what kind of action this ‘academic’ has been involved in, Senator! Until then, don’t ever demean my patriotism again.”
Hiccock punctuated those last words with two finger jabs to the shoulder, which were strong enough to make the senator wince and rub the area as Hiccock walked off set.
Blasting through the studio doors, the makeup lady ran to catch up to Bill to give him two paper towels so he could wipe the pancake from his face. At that minute, the show’s producer came out of the control room.
“That was great TV! What did you say to him just then? We couldn’t hear…”
“Don’t worry about what I told him. Worry about what I’m telling you, hard-on. You ever lie to me again or blindside me on the air with another asshole like that, and I will kick the living shit out of you. Do you hear me?” Hiccock took the two makeup smudged towels and stuffed them in the producer’s breast pocket, then brushed him aside. “Half-hour exclusive my ass!”
When Hiccock got into his interagency motor pool car, his cell phone rang. It was Margaret Lloyds, White House Press Secretary.
“I think that went well, don’t you, Peg?”
Janice was laughing. “So he got the full Bronx treatment? Oh, to have been a fly on the wall.”
“Yeah, I guess I kinda got all Gunhill Road on him and the producer. I swear that little producer nerd didn’t know whether to shit or go blind.”
Bill placed the dish with the half-eaten peanut butter chocolate pie on the cocktail table. “You know, your cravings better include a fat husband.”
“Not a problem, but count your blessings. In some species, the male dies after fertilization.” As she placed her practically-licked-clean plate next to Bill’s, Janice was about to take his uneaten half, but a look from Bill dissuaded her.
“So you’re just fattening me up for the kill?”
“More of you to love, Billy.” Janice stood. “Well, I’ll clean up.”
“I’ll do it. You sit and contemplate life after fatty dies.” Bill took the plates, cups, and forks into the kitchen.
Janice felt around the couch for the TV remote. She turned on the set and found CNN. Bill was on the screen.
