Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 09 (73 page)

 
          
“Then
why didn't you use the military more often? Conflicts all over the world,
nuclear weapons flying, threats to peace and security almost every year—and yet
you never once started any massive deployments, never called up the Reserves or
Guard. You massed a few carriers, put a few bombers back on nuclear alert, but
never made any real attempt to prepare the nation for the possibility of a
general war, even though you were clearly authorized and expected to do so.
Why?”

 
          
“Read
it in my memoirs,” Martindale snapped.

 
          
Thomas
Thom spread his hands in a symbol of surrender. “Mr. President... Kevin,” he
said. “I really want to know.”

           
“Why? Because you’re scared that
your precious, righteous philosophy of disengagement and isolationism from
world affairs isn’t working?” Martindale shot back, angrier than ever. “That
after a year of slamming me during the campaign about my ineptitude over how I
handled crises around the world, you’re discovering that maybe it’s not so easy
to do nothing?”

           
Thom couldn’t be goaded into firing
back. “Because I need to know, Kevin,” he said softly. “I know you didn’t do
nothing.
But why did you do what you did? Why didn't you just use the immense power we
have to solve these crises?"

           
Martindale fell silent, then
shrugged his shoulders, as if not caring if Thom knew his reasoning or not.
“Plain and simple: I hate the idea of losing,” Martindale finally replied. “Spending
weeks or even months mobilizing an army, then sending them across the globe to
fight and die in a war, just doesn't sound
right
to me. It sounds like a
wasteful, inefficient, risky thing."

 
          
“So
if you send in HAWC or Madcap Magician,” Thom summarized, “and they get beat,
you think you haven’t lost?”

 
          
“No,
I've lost, all right—but I've lost a scrimmage, not the real game.” Martindale
explained. “And both those units have been pretty damn good in their
scrimmages—sometimes they beat the bad guys so badly that there is no game
afterward. In any case, the secret units were fast, efficient, highly
motivated, they reported directly to me, and their funding and support were
buried in black programs with minimal congressional oversight. That is, until
now.”

 
          
“I
see," Thom said He looked at Martindale carefully— then, to Martindale’s
surprise, he smiled and nodded. “Very well. Thank you for your time, Mr.
President.”

 
          
“That’s
it? That’s all?” Martindale asked incredulously. “No threats, no warnings, no
condemnation?”

 
          
“Of
what?”

 
          
“Of—”
Then Martindale stopped. He smiled, wagged a finger at Thom, then stood up to
leave. “I see. Very clever. You shove me around a bit so I’ll reveal some
information, then simply leave me to fend for myself.”

 
          
“I
don't know what you're talking about. Kevin,” Thom said. “I just wanted to ask
you about some of the aspects of your tenure as president. I think I have a pretty
good idea now.”

 
          
“Let’s
stop playing games, Thom," Martindale said angrily. “You called me in here
for a reason. Spit it out.”

 
          
“Very
well, Mr. President—“

 
          
“And
stop with the ‘Mr. President’ shit,” Martindale interjected. “I'm not the
president—you are. You have about as much respect for me as I have for you.”

 
          
“All
I have to say is this, Kevin: what you're planning to do is dangerous—maybe not
to you, but to the men and women you’re recruiting to work with you,” Thom
said. “Executive privilege won’t protect you, and the Geneva Conventions won’t
protect them. No matter what you do, no matter whom or how it benefits, the
United States
won’t come to your rescue. As they said in
the old TV shows, we’ll disavow any knowledge of your actions. You’ll be
nothing more than high-tech vigilantes.”

           
“Then do something yourself.”
Martindale said, all traces of bravado gone for now. “Sponsor us. Underwrite
us. We’ll take the risk, but we’ll do it under your direction. We’ll keep
ourselves out of the spotlight, follow the spirit of the law, cooperate as much
as possible with domestic and foreign governments. But this isolationist,
laissez-faire policy of yours will drag this country down, and someone has to
act to protect our vital interests.”

 
          
“You
want to follow the law, Kevin? Drop this crazy scheme,” the President said.
“You’ve done enough damage as it is already.”

 
          
“We
haven’t even begun to fight, Tom,” Martindale said. “You are not going to be
able to stop us. You might as well work with us.”

 
          
“Who
else is involved in this, Kevin?” Thom asked. “Who in my administration? Which
active-duty officers? Which retired officers?”

 
          
“You
expect me just to give you a roster?”

 
          
“Don’t
you trust me?”

 
          
“Not
as far as I can throw you,” Martindale replied. “Of course, if you’d agree to
join us, or even not to interfere and to pass us some intelligence information
every now and then, perhaps I’d be convinced that you could be trusted.”

 
          
“I’m
not going to spar with you, Kevin,” Thom said. “I’ll assume you have some sort
of ultraminiature recording device on you. It doesn’t matter. I’ll say this
plainly: I’ll oppose anyone who wants to conduct their own foreign or military
policy. I don’t know if what you’re doing is illegal or not—that’s a question
for the Justice Department. But if you give me the names of all your members,
and if Justice deems your operation illegal, which I think they will—”

 
          
“Of
course they will. The Attorney General works for the President,” Martindale
interjected. “I know how that works, Thom, remember? I played that game. The
Justice Department doesn't stand for ‘justice’—it stands for whatever the White
House stands for. Justice’s job is to make the laws fit the wishes of the White
House.”

 
          
“—then
I'll give the participants you list one free pass. No judicial punishment.
They'll be allowed to go free if they keep their noses clean.”

 
          
“I’ll
give you an offer in return,” Martindale said. “You continue to do whatever the
hell it is you do in this place, whatever your pointed little head tells you is
the will of the people. When
Russia
invades
Turkey
or
Ukraine
or
Georgia
, when
China
tries to invade
Taiwan
or take over the
South China Sea
again, if
Iran
tries to take over the
Persian Gulf
or
Red Sea
, and suddenly the bad guys mysteriously
start losing ships and planes and bases, you just keep swearing that the
United States
isn’t doing anything. You promise to
investigate the matter, then simply drop it.

 
          
“Every
now and then, your folks pick up the phone and toss us some information or a
few old satellite photos or EM intercepts. Nothing direct—a file carelessly
left on a desk, a fax or e-mail to a wrong address, an intel package or
classified situation report mysteriously delayed a few minutes on its way from
the Pentagon to the White House. You continue to deny everything, chastise the
press for spreading accusations and being alarmist, and continue on your merry
mission of burying your head in the sand. Someone else will take care of all
the messes in the world.”

 
          
“You
think this is a big joke, eh, Martindale?” Thom responded. “I assure you, this
is a very serious situation. I can pick up the phone and have you arrested
right now. The FBI will eventually find the rest of the members of your little
gun club. You'll be disgraced and vilified for the rest of your life. Your
participants' lives and careers will be ruined.”

 
          
“Thom,
don't be an ass,” Martindale admonished him. “You know as well as I do that
nothing will be proven. You will have arrested, harassed, and slandered a
former president of the United Slates, and none of the accusations will be
found to be true. Congress will completely abandon you—you'll have zero chance
of getting one piece of legislation passed. You’ll be even more of a
laughingstock than you are now.”

           
“I’m giving you one last chance,
Kevin,’’ Thom said. “Abandon this crazy scheme. Tell me who your main officers
are, and they’ll be exempt from prosecution one time only, after we sit down
with them and advise them of the trouble they’re in and the punishment awaiting
them if they’re found guilty.”

 
          
Martindale
looked at Thom for what seemed like a long time, then shrugged his shoulders.
“It was nice talking with you, Thom,” he said, as he extended his hand to the
President. “Your naivete is exceeded only by your dedication to your
convictions. Maybe you really are the reincarnation of Thomas Jefferson, like
all the weirdos claim you are.”

 
          
Thom
looked disappointed, but he shook hands with Martindale nonetheless. “It was
nice talking to you, too, sir,” he said. “I don’t envy the path you’ve chosen
for yourself and your misguided followers. I predict it will be long and
difficult.”

 
          
“Sure,”
Martindale said, as he headed for the door. “Burn some incense for me when
you’re done communing with nature. Meanwhile, I’ve got work to do.”

North.
Las Vegas
,
Nevada

That evening

           
Duane Deverill popped open the
bottle of Duckhom Merlot and poured, finishing with a flourish. “There you go,”
he said proudly. “A pretty good ’95. Should go well with dinner tonight.”

 
          
Annie
Dewey had arrived a few minutes earlier, still in her flight suit. She plopped
her briefcase down on the sofa table. “Sounds great,” she said distractedly,
unzipping the flight suit to her waist “What are you fixing?”

 
          
“Fixing?
Me? Sorry, babe, but I called Pizza Hut. Hope you don’t mind.”

 
          
“Heck
no,” she said. “Red wine and pizza are my favorites.” He came over to her with
a glass of wine, touched rims, then gave her a kiss before they drank.

           
“Here’s to you,” he said. After he
took a sip, he added rakishly, “Hey, that was nice.”

           
She smiled enticingly, but pushed
him away. “Sorry. I need a shower first. I smell like I just got done with a
week in the cockpit instead of just three hours."

           
“Allow me." He sat her down on
the couch, removed her flying boots and socks, then helped her slip out of the
flight suit. She wore a white T-shirt atop an athletic bra. and cotton panties.
Smiling mischievously, he then started at her toes, kissing and sucking them,
then moved up her leg to her waist, then her belly, then back down to her
waist.

 
          
She
gently but firmly lifted his head. “Shower first, okay?” He smiled back at her,
but his eyes registered his concern. “Sure." He let her up off the couch,
then watched as she collected her flying gear. “Everything okay?”

           
She half turned tow ard him and
nodded. “Everything's fine. I guess I'm just tired. Long day today.” She turned
to face him and smiled wearily. “You're wonderful, you know that?”

 
          
“
That's
what I've been
saying!"
Dev said happily. He took a sip of wine and
watched Annie as she headed off toward his bathroom, shedding the rest of her
underwear. “Well, wine can
definitely
wait.” He kicked off his sandals
and pulled his T-shirt off with one hand. “I’ll join you."