Morgan. “Somebody tell him we’re coming over at 0900, and he better be listening.”
8
General Tim Scannell and General Bart Boyce, accompanied by Admirals Dickson and Morris, arrived unannounced, in two Pentagon Staff cars, at the West Wing entrance to the White House. Three of them were in uniform, as instructed by the CJC. Only the retired Navy Battle Group Commander George Morris wore a formal dark gray suit.
Both Secret Service Agents on duty were somewhat uncertain whether to detain this illustrious military quartet while visitors’ badges were issued, or whether to escort them immediately to the reception area outside the Oval Office.
Like all guards, the Secret Service Agents were indoctrinated with a strict code to play every issue by the book. That meant badges. But this was different. The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, the Supreme Allied Commander of NATO — that’s two Four-Star Generals, plus the Chief of U.S. Naval Operations, and the Director of the National Security Agency. Both agents arrived at the same conclusion. Fast. This was no time for visitors’ badges.
They escorted the four officers to the Oval Office holding area and informed the secretary precisely who was there to see the President. Within one minute, Bill Hatchard was on the scene and summoned them to his office down the corridor.
“You would like to see the President?” he asked amiably enough.
“Correct,” replied General Scannell.
“That’s going to be extremely difficult this morning,” he said. “President McBride has a very busy schedule.”
“That’s okay. You’ve got a full five minutes before we either walk into the Oval Office or instruct the Marine guards to search the place until they find him,” said General Scannell. “So hurry up.”
“Sir?” said Bill Hatchard, looking desperate. “Is this some kind of a National Emergency?”
“Find the President,” said General Scannell. “Now.”
Bill Hatchard was not an especially clever man, but he was long on native cunning. And he recognized real trouble when it reared its head. If he continued to defy four of the most senior military figures in the United States, he could very likely be out of a job by lunchtime. Quite frankly, he would not give much for the President’s chances either, if this situation was as serious as it looked.
Bill Hatchard rose. “I’ll be right back with some more information,” he said quickly.
“Forget the information, soldier,” snapped General Scannell, a lifetime of sharp commands to lower ranks suddenly bubbling to the fore. “Come back with the President.”
Bill Hatchard bolted out of his office. He was back in three minutes. “The President will see you now,” he said.
“Well done, soldier,” said General Scannell. “You accomplished that with forty-five seconds to spare, before we relieved you of command.”
“Yes, sir,” said Bill Hatchard. “Please come this way.”
They walked down to the Oval Office, where President McBride awaited them. “Gentlemen,” he said, “what a nice surprise. I have ordered you some coffee. Perhaps you’d like to sit down.”
All four of them sat down in large wooden captain’s chairs, and General Scannell immediately produced a copy of the communication from Hamas.
“May we assume you have read this short letter, Mr. President?” asked the CJC.
“You may.”
“And may I inquire as to your views?”
“Of course. I have taken on board the last communication, allegedly from Hamas, in which someone wrote, one week after the fact, to reveal that he had just exploded Mount St. Helens. It now looks as if the same person may have written again, to suggest he is going to do something else, somewhere, tonight.”
“That is correct, sir,” replied General Scannell, deferring to the President’s rank as Commander in Chief of the U.S. Armed Forces. “And do you have an opinion on what, if any, action, we should take?”
“Yes, I do. Since both letters are plainly the work of a nutcase, my answer is to do nothing. In the great offices of State we can’t spend our lives chasing around in pursuit of every damn fool threat that comes our way.”
“Sir, there were in fact three communications, as you know…suggesting he blew the volcano, demanding we vacate the Middle East or he would blow another volcano in the eastern Atlantic and wreck our East Coast. And reminding us that we are ignoring him at our peril. And that tonight he will show us precisely how dangerous he is.”
“Well, we do not have one shred of proof that he’s ever done anything. So why should you expect me to turn the world upside down, moving half the U.S. Armed Forces around the world?”
“The answer to that is very simple, Mr. President,” replied General Scannell. “Because he might actually be telling the truth. Maybe he did blow Mount St. Helens, maybe he is going to pull off some outrage tonight. And maybe he could cause one of the world’s great landslides, and put New York and Washington under 50 feet of water.”
“Well, I don’t think so. I think we’re dealing with a crank.”
“Sir. In the military we are taught to think precisely the opposite. What if he did? What if New York was underwater?”
“What if, General. What if, what if?” The cry of the civil servant, the cry of the frightened executive. “What if…I would remind you that I did not get to sit in this chair by running scared. I got here, to use your parlance, by facing down the enemy…Do you really think that one man could possibly wreak the havoc and destruction you are forecasting?”
“Yes, Mr. President. I do. For a start, we have incontrovertible evidence that cruise missiles may have been fired at Mount St. Helens. And if they were, they came from a submarine.”
“From the documents I have read, you were relying almost entirely on a bank manager who appeared to have drunk a half-gallon of Dewars Scotch?”
“The bank manager was actually the President of one of the largest financial institutions in the West,” interjected Admiral Dickson. “He will probably run for State Governor at the next election, and the half-gallon of Dewars was unopened. The proof that he heard what he heard is evidenced by the fact that he escaped from the foothills of the mountain, when no one else did.”
“All he heard was a couple of gusts of wind, and that’s not enough hot air to have me redeploy half the U.S. Army, Navy, and Air Force.”
“Sir, we have come to see you to offer advice involving the safety of this country. If our enemy is indeed planning to do something tonight, something quite possibly beyond the scale of 9/11 and Kerman’s last attack on our soil, we should be on full alert. I do not need to confirm that the Pentagon is already in a state of readiness. I suggest the White House do the same.
“I also ask your permission to begin deploying the fleet into the eastern Atlantic on a search for the submarine, which might be carrying nuclear missiles, and to begin a substantial troop and aircraft evacuation of our bases in the Middle East. Essentially I’m trying to buy us some time to locate the Hamas assault ship.”
“I’m certain we’d be chasing our tails, General. Permission denied on both counts. Let’s just wait till midnight and see what happens.”
“I should warn you, sir, that if anything drastic happens at midnight, either to ourselves or to someone else, you will have to consider your position very carefully. Remember, unlike politicians, we in the Military are not trained to lie.”
“General, I resent that remark…”
“Do you? Then I suggest you spend the next fourteen hours wondering what you’ll say…if you are proven
