Code Word: Paternity, A Presidential Thriller (8 page)

Chapter 14

As the air force Gulfstream V climbed,
the president sat in the forward cabin, eyes closed, hands clasped in his lap.
He was glad he’d insisted this be a quick, unannounced visit without
journalists because he had no good answers for the questions they would be
asking right now.
Well, the questions
won’t go away, so you’d better use this flight to get some answers.

Rick opened his eyes and saw Ella
watching him. His look asked her to speak.

“My God! That was something from hell.
How are they ever going to get everybody under shelter? Conditions are so
awful!”
 

“Yeah, I know. Let’s see what Bart and
Sam think.” Unbuckling, Rick rose, opened the cabin door, and said, “Bart, Sam,
come join us.”

“OK, how do we manage this?” said the
president after they were seated. “It’s gonna stay on TV, twenty-four seven.
It’ll play as Katrina all over again.

“Sam?”

“We don’t try to spin it. We don’t try to
soften
it. We couldn’t if we tried!
We
emphasize the scale and the suddenness. We blunt the comparison to Katrina with
the facts of how much bigger this is. We come up with metrics that show
progress. We give examples of the ingenuity and dedication and heroism of the
victims and the responders. We highlight the volunteers. And as soon as we can,
we get them to focus on your initiatives to make the country and the world
safer.”

Which I haven’t figured out yet
, Rick thought.

Guarini leaned toward him. “I agree, Mr.
President. And I think that principle—get it all out there—
is
our communications strategy going forward. It’s what you
promised in the campaign
and
it’s the
best we have. You pledged to keep the American people in the loop. That’s one
of the places Bush and Rogers
got it wrong. They let the reality perceived by ordinary Americans get way out
of line with the reality
they
perceived.”

“Yeah, but how can
openness
work, since the reality that
I
perceive right now, and that I’m betting you perceive, is
uncertainty and fear of another attack!” Rick’s voice rose. “We don’t have any
idea how they blew up Las Vegas,
who
they
are, and whether they have
another bomb, or two or three!”

Sam and Bart exchanged wide-eyed glances,
acknowledging Martin’s panic. Guarini was especially surprised because Rick
Martin was not a let-your-hair-down guy. Even with Guarini, the man almost
never let his emotions into the room. Early in their alliance and friendship,
Bart believed Martin was simply ultra-cautious and that he, Bart, had not yet
earned his full confidence. Later he realized
that
Rick
was
always
in his head,
weighing evidence, choosing his words, thinking things all the way through.

 
Guarini broke their strained silence. “Mr.
President, we can be pretty sure that the
how
was loading the bomb in an SUV or truck and driving into Las Vegas. We also can be pretty sure that
they
are al-Qaeda or a group with
similar motivations and roots. I’m betting that after DOE has analyzed the
debris we’ll know if the bomb was
homemade
or
was assembled by experienced nuclear engineers. That’ll give us a handle on who
helped them do it.”

Guiltily, Rick wondered if he should
remain silent about Paternity.

“So, Mr. President, we’re not clueless. I
think that—actually—our biggest challenge is how to deal with what we’re pretty
sure of.”

Even
without knowing about Paternity, Bart, you’ve certainly got
that
right!
thought Rick

“Yeah, you’re right, Bart. And it’s not
only the
how
, but also
who.
A moment ago, Sam referred to my
initiatives to make the country safer and to get better control of the world’s
nukes. Today those initiatives are just sound bites. We haven’t had time to
work on them. I’m thinking maybe I should pull back from recovery and internal
security in order to develop and work those initiatives.”

“Relief, recovery, and internal security
are
huge
jobs and they have more
daily impact on Americans than diplomacy!” said Yu. “Your administration can’t
appear to be leaving people to the bureaucrats. Remember Katrina!”

Rick’s eyes widened, looking toward
something beyond the cabin wall. Then he grinned. “How about putting Bruce
Griffith in charge of all that?”

“Which takes him out of the main loop in
our diplomatic and military responses. I like that!” said Guarini. “Of course,
he
probably
won’t
like it, for the same reason.”

“I can convince him it’s in the country’s
best interest, because it is. Bruce
is
a
patriot; he’ll be able to see that this job
has
to be broken into two pieces and that the president is the one to be working
with other governments. He’ll also be able to see that, if he does it well,
having this piece of the action will make him look presidential.”

“We don’t
want
him looking presidential during
your
first
term,” said Ella.

“I’ll take that
chance. What do you think, Bart?”

“I think it’s a good idea. But it’s
tricky—it has the potential to give him more visibility, and favorable
visibility at that, than you get. It’s also tricky on resources. What resources
does he control? Certainly, it’ll have to be FEMA, but what about the rest of
DHS, like the coast guard? What about the military units around Las Vegas? How do we link
in the attorney general and the FBI?”

“Yeah, Bart, that’s gonna be a mess to
sort out.” The president smiled at his chief of staff. “Looks like you’ll have
to earn those big bucks the government pays you.

“Sam, what do you have to say?”

Sam knew this arrangement would cause a
ferocious turf war with the vice president’s press secretary, but also saw both
its logic and the fact that Martin and Guarini believed it was a good idea. She
decided not to try to stop the train.

“Like Bart said, it’s tricky. It’s
probably going to get ugly from time to time, but it sounds to me like it’s
what we need to do. I’m not so sure Griffith
is going to want this; if there’s another attack, or somebody gets caught
scamming, like what happened after Katrina, he’s going to be right in the line
of fire.”

“OK then, here’s what we do next: Bart,
set up a meeting, in the Oval Office, for the two of us and the VP. Let’s see
how that goes and what he wants to control.” Martin smiled. “Let the games
begin!” he said, in a self-mocking tone.

“Mr. President, Director Hendricks.” As
he spoke, the air force sergeant gestured toward the handset on the bulkhead.

Chapter 15

“Hello, Aaron.
What have you got?”

“Mr. President, the full Paternity analysis
has been completed and double-checked. Our first indications have been
confirmed.”

Martin’s stomach heaved.
It
was
North Korea!

“I have Scott and his lead analyst with
me now, but I’d prefer to have a face-to-face.”

“OK, let’s do that. We’re due at Andrews
at . . .” Martin looked inquiringly at the sergeant, who replied, “0030, sir.”

“0030, I’ve just been told. Let’s do it
after the regular brief.”

“Yes sir. Until
tomorrow, then.”

Martin replaced the handset. Rivulets of
perspiration now ran from his armpits; he hoped they didn’t show on his shirt.

 
“Aaron and Scott have information from
analysis of bomb debris and fallout. Let’s circle back to what you said, Bart,
about the possibility of getting a handle on the origin of the bomb. Let’s
assume we’ll eventually accumulate considerable circumstantial evidence but
that it won’t be conclusive. What’s our approach to that evidence? What do we
do with it?”

 
“Well, first of all, we should put it out
there,” said Guarini. “I go back to my point about staying on the same page
with the American public.”

“Yeah, but suppose Aaron and Scott are
goosey about revealing sources and methods—which they usually are!”

“You may just have to tell them sorry and
go ahead. We don’t have to hang
all
the laundry on the line, but for sure we have to say what this administration
believes
after considering the
evidence.”

Martin looked at
Sam Yu.

“Mr. President, when Bush got it wrong
about Saddam’s WMD, and then so much of the world became persuaded that he had
lied, it put the credibility of all future
administrations in hock. To reclaim credibility, we would have to lay out
all
the evidence—air-tight. Short of a
fully documented claim by al-Qaeda—assuming they’re the bombers—there’s
nothing
journalists would consider
air-tight. Trust me, I am one!”

Yu made a wry expression and continued:
“So my approach is to reveal as much as you and Aaron are comfortable with and
then just deal with the disbelief as factually and unemotionally as I can. And,
yes, state what the administration believes but only after it’s your settled
belief. Once it’s out there, there’s no credible way to change your mind
without new evidence, evidence you’re willing to put on display.
”

Martin nodded, then said, “now for the
really
hard
question. What do we
do
about it if we believe the bomb was
built by Nation ‘X’?”

If
Rick has one trait that bothers me
,
thought Guarini
, it’s his preference for
“we.” All of us in politics use it reflexively because it serves our constant
search for the cover of collective responsibility. Senators don’t have “I”
moments, unless they’re talking about successes or failed policies they
opposed. I’m that way for sure, so why should it bother me that
he
is?

Because
he’s
the president.

Having listened silently for a while,
Ella suddenly spoke up, her voice cold and hard: “We hold them accountable. We
do it in a way that tells anybody else thinking about providing a bomb that
they’d better think again!”

Rick said, “Ella has no doubts! She wants
an eye for an eye.”

Ella’s eyes flashed and narrowed at
Rick’s condescension, but she held her tongue.

“Well, Mr. President, that’s surely gonna
be on the table,” said Guarini. “Another way of putting Ella’s words is to say
that deterrence has failed and unless it’s restored, where’s the barrier to
more bombings?

“But doesn’t what
you
do depend a lot on the identity of nation X? I’m not sure we
learn much discussing it in the abstract. You’re going to have to do
something
and most Americans have to
feel it’s right. Beyond that, what can anybody say right now?” Guarini
shrugged, palms up.

 
“Dinner’s ready in the rear cabin, sir.”

“I’m not hungry; you all please go eat.
I’m going to catch a nap.”

Ella shot Rick a look that said, “Are you
OK?” He nodded and smiled, hoping she’d go eat because he was angry but didn’t
want to have it out. She knew that, too, so she squeezed his shoulder and went
aft with the others.

At first Rick’s thoughts were a jumble.
What am I going to do? No, what are we going
to do? I’m going to involve
Congress
and the public
. I said I would be open and I
will
be open. But
Bush got Congress
and the
public and the UN involved with Iraq
and spent six months trying t
o find a course that had
real
support. No, he didn’t exactly do
that. He spent six months trying to develop support for what he had
decided—invasion. I’ll do it differently. I won’t try to sell; I’ll lead a
genuine national and international dialogue.

But
what if there’s another bombing? What then? And how much time do we have to
sort this out? The economy is panicked. I laughed when Bush urged Americans to
buy and sell, go to dinner, take that vacation, but he was addressing the
problem I have right now: if Americans don’t resume normal activity soon, we’re
going to have a meltdown. And that nightmare in the desert—I’m going to be
blamed when it’s not all tied up neatly in a month!

No!
There are opportunities for me, particularly after I hand security and recovery
off to Bruce. And after I hang the bomb on Kim, I can make a strong case that
he has to go . . . hold summits to get the support of the Russians, Chinese,
Japanese, and South Koreans . . . probably use this as the lever to unite
Korea. And if I position the South to run the country, they’ll support
reunification. Maybe they’ll even provide the troops if force is required to
remove Kim. Then there’s the opportunity to establish stronger accountability
for nuclear weapon
s and materials, maybe give
the IAEA real teeth.

 
I have the chance to put the world on a safer
course!

***

The man being interviewed in front of a
very large tent wore scrubs and exhaustion. “Yes,” he said, “we’ve put the
worst injured in these tents. There’s nothing we can do except make them
comfortable with drugs and give family members a chance to be with them.”

The screen changed to a stand-up of a
reporter looking almost as tired as the nurse.

“And so it has come to this,” she said
with a delivery that had once been brisk but now was slurred. “The American
medical system is completely overwhelmed by Las Vegas. All of the technology, all of the
drugs, all of the dedication of its people, and the best that can be done is to
make thousands of terribly injured human beings
quote
comfortable
unquote
in a sweltering desert until their lives flicker out.

“Will the president’s visit change
anything? Now that he and the first lady have seen and felt the horror here,
will the Martin administration do more? People here are praying it will.

“This is Ellen Shapiro reporting from
Creech Air Force Base, near what used to be Las Vegas, Nevada—or maybe, from
hell.”