Korean issue, always a sore point in that part of the world. Or perhaps it was something entirely unrelated, an alliance that no Western mind could easily understand.
Whatever the reason, T’ing had not brought up China’s position on Pakistan’s motion. And, since he hadn’t, Wexler wouldn’t.
At any rate, she thought, surveying the assembled delegates, the matter was moot now. The matter had wended its way into subcommittee and out at record speed, and was scheduled for a vote this morning.
The President had called earlier that day to ask her how she thought it would go. It was one of the few times she had no ready answer for it, and she felt a personal sense of failure at that. There was too much ambiguity, too many problems in the world that might be bargaining chips for her to predict that outcome.
The British ambassador had clapped her reassuringly on the shoulder before proceeding to his seat. “Stiff upper lip and all that,” he had murmured. The representative from Australia had also stopped by to offer a word of encouragement, saying, “No worries, mate,” and grinning that broad smile that always amused her.
Still, it was easy to be nonchalant about it when you weren’t the one forced into using veto power. It was easy to be charitable when you weren’t the one who would have to exercise a veto.
The vote began. With every passing moment, Wexler’s concern deepened. Even a short way into the roll call, it was clear that many of the smaller nations were going to be voting in favor of the Pakistani motion.
What bothered her most were the expressions of glee on some of the faces. It was clear that they were looking forward to turning the tables, to having the mightiest nation in the world dealing with foreign troops on her own soil. They’d tried this before, and it hadn’t worked, but never had the United States experienced such internal turmoil as it was experiencing right now.
Not that it would happen. With the problem over delinquent dues resolved, the United States was now a full voting member of the Assembly and still possessed a veto power.
Finally, the Pakistani ambassador rose and turned to face Wexler as he cast his vote. “Pakistan votes in favor of the motion, joining with our brothers and sisters across the world who have suffered at the hands of American imperialism. Let this be a lesson to all powerful nations that those standards they apply to us must apply to them equally.”
And that was the problem with the United Nations, she thought. It was the reason we set up a bicameral form of government in our own country, with the Senate having the same number of representatives from each state while the Congress reflects the population balance among states. Here, however, every pipsqueak nation in the world has one vote. No matter if they’ve lived off international welfare for their entire short-lived existences, they still get the same vote we do.
Finally, when the votes were tallied, the results clearly against the United States, Wexler rose. “The United States exercises its veto.” She paused, considering whether she’d elaborate, and then decided against it. Everyone knew what she had just done and why she’d done it.
“The motion is defeated,” the Secretary General announced. He gazed at Wexler, concern on his face. “This means the United Nations resolutions supporting coordinated action in the Middle East is also defeated. Does the United States understand that?”
“We do.”
There was a longer silence. Then the Bahamian ambassador said, “Under the circumstances, I believe United Nations intervention in the Middle East is absolutely critical. Without our presence there, including the overwhelming support of the United States, we face a world in chaos. Accordingly, as a representative of more thoughtful voices, I call on the ambassador from the United States to reconsider her veto. I am willing to hold this vote opened for a period of time, allowing the ambassador to confer with your president. Additionally, the time during which the United States may exercise its veto is hereby extended. These departures from normal procedure will, I believe, allow this body to continue its work in the Middle East while granting disagreeing parties time to work out a more acceptable compromise.” A storm of angry voices arose from the floor, needing no amplification to be heard. The Secretary General gazed out calmly at the protests. “So be it. This session is adjourned.” He banged his gavel, stood, and swept out of the rear exit.
The chamber exploded into the chaos. At least a few of the delegates appeared prepared to attack Wexler personally, each one convinced that she herself was the force behind the Secretary General’s action.
Wexler tried to tell them that she was as puzzled as they were, that she had had no warning herself. Surely that should have been evident from her reaction. However, the delegates were accustomed to her normal impassive expression, and simply thought her surprise was feigned.
The ambassador from Great Britain elbowed up next to her, adding his security forces to hers. “I suggest we leave now,” he murmured, gently urging her toward the door. His own security force and hers quickly melted into one team and herded their charges out.
“What the heck was that?” Wexler asked as they exited the chamber and headed for an elevator. “How the hell did the SecGen come up with that little maneuver?”
The British ambassador regarded her fondly. “It wasn’t so long ago that they were our colony,” he said quietly. “And, contrary to most expectations, the current government is often inclined to take our advice. As you know, we still provide considerable assistance to them and, unlike Pakistan and other nations, they have not forgotten that.” He fixed her with a stern look. “That skill is one that the United States needs to learn.”
“Thanks.” An elevator door opened, and her people broke away from the Brits and herded her into it. As the door closed, she saw the British ambassador smile.
SIXTEEN
Abraham Carter parked five miles down the road from the reserve center, pulling off on a road barely more than an animal track and following it until he was out of sight. Two trucks containing six other men followed him.
Abraham’s truck had a radio dialed to the frequency of his strike force, and he carried a shotgun in addition to the side arm. None of that was unusual, not in Montana. In fact, it would have been out of the ordinary if a vehicle didn’t have some firepower.
Jackson and two other men piled out of the truck and grabbed their gear from the back. Abraham watched them uneasily. This had to be done, and Jackson had insisted on taking the lead.
Jackson and his men took their time making their way from his father’s truck to the reserve center. He and his companions, Bill Thornburg and Jack Mertz, had known each other since their teenage days. The other two men were completely trustworthy and eager to participate in the mission.
The reserve center was maintained by the National Guard and the U.S. Army Reserve, with troops from both forces sharing the facility. The Army provided uniforms, equipment, and some operating funds. In exchange, the Montana National Guard was subject to mobilization and federalization, a process during which it would cease to become a state law-enforcement agency and become part of the federal military forces. A small Naval Reserve unit was temporarily attached as well, its prior reserve center a victim of the latest round of base closures.
The three-acre tract was nestled between two mountain ranges on a relatively flat bit of terrain. It was surrounded by a six-foot chain-link fence that had been there since shortly after the Korean War. In the last few years, the support posts had been extended and razor wire curled around the top rail. There had been some talk of installing motion sensors and pressure sensors along with remote-surveillance TV, but Montana was exceptionally low on the reserve funding list.
At each quarter of the reserve compound, a large streetlamp illuminated an area both inside and outside the compound. Large stretches of the area surrounding the building itself were still in darkness, and clumps of trees
