CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Doug made notes on his PDA while June held the phone to his ear. Christian and Qualluf hung on his every word, even though they could only hear one side of the conversation. It didn’t take long. He put the phone up, grinning broadly.
“Okay, folks, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover. Vice President Santes is going to announce everything we told her to the whole damned country tomorrow morning, then…”
“Great!” “Wonderful”
He held up his hand. “There’s more. She’s flying to Atlanta right afterwards and wants all three of us, as well as Amelia, present tomorrow evening to repeat the same thing and to congratulate us all—on national television. Then she’s going to ask all of us to serve on a council that she wants to use to solve other problems elsewhere, even after martial law is lifted. She’ll ask for the council to be empowered by Congress to take action so it won’t wind up being just another talkathon. And by the way, she’s also going to recommend that martial law be lifted, beginning immediately, but in stages to make sure local authorities can handle affairs as the stand-down progresses.” He grinned again, even more broadly. “I guess she liked the way we finally decided to work together instead of fighting.” He yawned and that set off a chain reaction.
“I think we all better check with our deputies then get cleaned up and be presentable before we see the vice president,” Christian said. He sniffed the air near an armpit stained with successive layers of perspiration. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I think I’m becoming personally offensive. The TV announcers won’t come near me the way I smell now.”
That got a laugh.
After some final details were arranged, among them the withdrawal of the blacks from the CDC transient quarters and admin building, Qualluf stood up first. “I believe I have more work to do than you gentlemen, so I had better get busy.” He held out his hand.
Doug took it. Colonel Christian’s face lost its smile but he accepted the fact that his former enemy was suddenly an equal partner. He was a realist. He shook Qualluf’s hand and nodded.
Qualluf eyed him, remembering his psychology training. “I’m sorry about the casualties you and Doug suffered, but given the circumstances, I doubt either of you would have done much different had you been in my place—particularly after those rumors got started. And before we forget, I want to ask the vice president when I see her to investigate their origins. It… never mind. I’m sorry. A lot of good people died.”
Christian shook hands. “I’m sorry, too, Qualluf. I may not agree with some of the methods you used, but as you say… well, any of us might have reacted much the same if we were susceptible to the Harcourt virus,” Christian admitted. “If we do wind up on that council the vice president mentioned, let’s try to prevent it from ever happening again.”
“For sure,” Doug added. “He looked over at Fridge. “Old friend, I wish I could bring your family back.
As is, please try not to blame us. The majority of whites aren’t like those nut cases. And don’t let’s lose touch again, okay?”
Fridge nodded, shouldering his rifle. He took Doug’s hand, gripped it tight enough to hurt, then Doug pulled him forward and hugged him with his good arm. A wellspring of emotion prevented him from speaking for fear of bursting into a fit of crying.
They all departed, each to their respective headquarters.
The vice president’s announcement hit the country like a bombshell, taking even President Marshall by surprise. Had he known in advance, he would have tried to use the martial law edicts to prevent the media from disseminating the astounding story. But after thinking about it for a few minutes, he knew it would have gotten out anyway, either by the media refusing to obey restrictions or through propagation over the net. Give her credit, he thought. She did it exactly right—for her, damn her soul. Didn’t she understand the politics involved in something like this? It was going to mean he would either have to resign or see that martial law was clamped even more tightly on the nation. Why hadn’t she come to him first? His mind whirled with all the implications, but like most politicians, his thoughts centered on how they would affect him—and his hold on power.
He called his appointments secretary into the oval office and had him clear his calendar, then turned to Lurline. “What in hell was the woman thinking of, putting that stuff out without us approving it in advance?”
“Don’t you believe it, sir?”
“Goddamnit, yes, but there were better ways to handle it.” He tapped his fingernails on the desk, trying to think. So Edgar and the general were behind the whole thing. He wondered briefly whether they had anything to do with the second virus, the one devastating the Arab population, then decided it didn’t matter—except some of the damned ragheads were sabotaging their oil wells with radioactives, trying to make sure that if they couldn’t have them, no one else would either. Maybe having Newman and Tomlin arrested and tried by courts martial would settle the blacks and Hispanics down. But that would only mean they would begin calling for his resignation. Guilt by association, he thought, forgetting how secretly pleased he had been that so many blacks, a source of instability in the nation ever since its founding, were dying. Now it seemed as if perhaps they wouldn’t all die, after all; only about 60% of them, along with some of the country’s other dark skinned citizens. It would make for a simpler nation to govern if he could just hang on. Better to fire the crazy bastards and deny the whole story. The whites would believe him, he thought. They had a vested interest in staying on top, and this would mean far less competition.
His astute political mind knew that people believed what they wanted to believe and justified it later with religion, philosophy or other schools of thought they agreed with.
The president never stopped to think that most the problems came from whites believing darker skins meant inferior races, much like the Japanese thinking anyone other than them were barbarians,
“All right, here’s what we do,” he finally said. “Fix up an announcement denying the truth of the story and put a clamp on the press. I’ll ask Tomlin and Newman to resign, then congratulate the CDC on solving the problem of the Harcourt virus, even if they aren’t completely sure yet. If Johannsen pulls through his surgery, we’ll try him in a military court and execute him publicly. The black community will like that, and since they’ll believe they all aren’t going to die now, they’ll settle down and go back to work.”
Lurline thought of all the scenes of mass burial she had seen across the country, the world; the whole devastated continent of Africa with smoldering cities and deserted villages, dead lying unburied. And now
… now, to find that officials of her own government had been involved, had
“I’m sorry, Mr. President, I won’t be a party to simply sweeping this under the rug, no matter what the consequences.”
“What! Lurline, there’s nothing else to do!”
“Then you’ll have to do it on your own, Mr. President. I’m resigning, effective immediately. I hope you see fit to change your mind and do what’s right.” She rose and walked out of the office, wondering why she had stayed so long to begin with.
“I’m glad to meet you sir,” Captain Foley said after saluting properly.
Christian eyed the baby faced captain, the newest member of his headquarters staff. Foley had arrived while he was absent. He would have much preferred keeping Captain Russell rather than this newcomer, but he was still back in Charleston at Shane Stevenson’s erstwhile residence examining the captured documents. “Welcome aboard, Captain. Have you been orientated and issued all the equipment you’ll need here?”
“Yes, sir. The staff took care of me very well.” He shifted his pistol belt up a notch, wishing for a shoulder holster as he normally wore—but normally his assignments called for civilian clothes. Right now he was wondering how he could possibly carry out the latest orders he had received; to take out the colonel at the earliest opportunity.
“Fine. I’ll have the XO assign you some duties tomorrow. Right now, just get familiar with the status and
