‘There are some contingency plans, but they are almost uniformly awful,’ Pileggi went on. ‘Some ships could try to head to Nicaragua and cross there. Most of Nicaragua can be crossed by travelling upriver to a point where the trip overland to the Pacific side is maybe eight to ten miles. The navy could pick up folks on the other side, but it would require heavy combat power on the ground to secure any transit, especially if Nicaragua goes under. Alternately, a convoy could sail around the tip of South America. But that route is vulnerable to Chavez and his navy. I also imagine there will be a significant rise in piracy throughout those waters should there be a breakdown in state control. Another option is to disembark any civilians on the Atlantic side of the Canal Zone, where our own forces could establish a defensive position of sorts. Those civilians would then be escorted overland to the Pacific side or to a useable airfield. Another nightmare.’
‘I’ll talk to Ritchie,’ said Musso.
There was no avoiding it. Over a hundred civilian craft lay at anchor down in the bay, most of them carrying US nationals who’d gravitated to the nearest and most obvious symbol of American power still in existence in this part of the world. Just feeding them and supplying enough fresh water each day was a Herculean challenge. They couldn’t stay. But getting them there was a non-trivial problem too. From Musso’s perspective, maintaining control of the Panama Canal was still a number-one priority for the United States. At least in the short term. He was responsible for the transport and protection of any American refugees who requested it, and that meant putting most of them through Panama. Where they went after that was a matter for diplomatic negotiations underway in Pearl.
PACOM HQ, PEARL HARBOR, HAWAII
‘It’s the low season for tourism, so we have plenty of spare beds, but nobody’s figured out how it would work – who’d pay, what arrangements we might need over the longer course, and whether you’d be looking at permanent resettlement and residency or eventual citizenship. But Canberra has authorised me to assure you that we’ll take as many as you can send.’
Admiral Ritchie thanked the Australian Ambassador – the new ambassador, of course. The previous one had disappeared in Washington. His colleague from New Zealand added that her government would likewise accommodate as many ‘displaced US citizens’ as possible. New Zealand’s diplomat preferred not to use the term ‘refugee’ and had twisted herself into linguistic knots once or twice trying to avoid it.
Ritchie placed a tick in a small hand-drawn box next to the letters ‘A/NZ’. He looked over to the Japanese Consul-General, seated near the window giving onto a pleasant view of the small garden outside his office. A riot of colour framed the small, dark-suited man, a pink and orange spray of flowering bougainvillea.
‘Mr Ude?’
‘My government is more than happy for you to initially house as many of your countrymen and women as you can within your military facilities on our soil. And with the suspension of the academic year, there are a number of temporary rooms available on some college campuses
Ritchie couldn’t help but notice the heavy qualifications in that statement, and he could feel the ‘but’ coming somewhere in the next few seconds.
‘However,’ Mr Ude continued, ‘you will appreciate that accommodation is severely limited on the home islands, and cultural factors mean that resettling many of your citizens within our borders is likely to be so difficult as to be… unfeasible.’
Ritchie stamped down on his annoyance and cut to the point. ‘But you’ll take them in, for now, if we bring them?’
Ude nodded, seemingly thankful for having something to offer. ‘Yes. Within such limits as are to be confirmed by my government.’
Ritchie placed a tick in the box next to ‘Japan’ but then placed a small question mark after it and wrote
Ritchie twice tapped the ballpoint of his pen on the notepaper, as if sealing the deal, and leaned back from the conference table around which sat a dozen civilians, most of them foreigners. The only American not wearing a uniform was the lawyer, Jed Culver, sitting in for Governor Lingle’s office. His blue pinstriped suit was every bit as crisp as the day they’d met at the state capitol, and Ritchie could only wonder where the man was getting it cleaned. He surely couldn’t have brought more than one suit on vacation, could he?
Culver’s presence, although much appreciated for the way he could smoothly negotiate a passage through the most impenetrable thicket of bullshit, only served to remind Ritchie that very little had been done to settle the issue of executive authority. Indeed, given the mess in Seattle, it was only getting worse. General Blackstone was cracking heads there, but Ritchie was beginning to wonder whether he was stomping down a little too hard. He’d virtually cut the state off from the outside world, save for aid shipments and chartered flights for foreign nationals. And under any other circumstances you’d have to describe some of his measures as a touch excessive. But Ritchie had no time to go meddling in Blackstone’s command. Stopping that nuthatch city from imploding was probably beyond the abilities of any normal man. Mad Jack was welcome to the job.
Ritchie turned to the lawyer now, formally introducing him to the meeting. ‘Mr Culver, who’s here as a representative of the Governor, the highest civilian authority we have at the moment, has a number of issues he needs to work through with you, ladies and gentlemen, regarding humanitarian aid and any possible resettlement scheduling.’
‘Thank you, Admiral,’ said Culver, smiling at the group.
‘But if you’ll excuse me,’ Ritchie added, ‘I’m not needed for the next part of this meeting, and I do have an important video-conference. Please, stay seated…’ He waved the Japanese Consul-General back down into his chair and withdrew as Culver thanked the diplomats for their countries’ help so far.
