Drone Wars 1: Day of the Drone (13 page)

Once Ortega was off the screen and replaced with more talking-heads, Xander sighed deeply and said quietly, “This is going to be a fucking disaster.”

Tiffany looked at him, waiting for more to be said. When he remained silent, she asked, “What do you think will happen next?”

He shrugged. “First of all, we have to accept the fact that the RDC is gone, out of commission for at least six months. In the meantime, crews are going to have to get into the bunkers and start reprogramming all the flight controllers to accept new transponder codes. Then another facility will have to be set up where responses can be coordinated and acted upon, while they round up a couple of thousand qualified pilots and sensor-operators for the job. Oh, and did I mention we’ll all be living in caves and hunting with bows and arrows by then because there won’t be much of society left after the drones get through with us.”

“I thank you for that bright and cheerful dissertation, Mr. Moore,” said Tiffany with a bite in her tone. “But what I meant is what do you think will happen over the next couple days with regards to terrorist attacks.”

“Sorry,” Xander said, feeling embarrassed for his emotional outburst. He glanced at his watch. “It’s just past eight on the west coast, which means the sun will be coming up on the east in about eight hours. I would guess there are already terrorist units in place and ready to strike, just waiting for the outcome of the raid on the RDC. Now they’ll be given the go-ahead. It all starts tomorrow, Ms. Collins. If ever we could place a date and time for the beginning of Armageddon, this would be it.”

“All because
one
government agency was attacked?” Tiffany wasn’t sold on Xander’s grim view of the future. “I agree we’re going to see an increase in terrorist activities, and the Christmas shopping season may be impacted, but I have to believe we’re tougher than that, and that others will step up to fill the void left by the RDC. We still have all the military, the National Guard, local police, the FBI, CIA, NSA and a whole lot more.”

“I hope you’re right,” Xander said, “but the biggest question mark in this whole affair is what will Ortega do—what can he do—to make a difference? These terrorists know Americans and they know our institutions. It’s no accident that the attack happened when it did, and they couldn’t have picked a better time for their purposes.”

Tiffany got up from the couch and collected the empty teacups. Then she brought out a stack of thick cotton blankets and handed them to Xander.

“I take it I’m on the couch tonight,” he said, trying to act hurt.

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “You did a pretty decent job of keeping me alive today, but yes, you get the couch. But seriously, thank you. I’m sure that if you hadn’t literally landed in my lap, I’d be just another name on the casualty list at the RDC.”

 Xander grinned. “I couldn’t let that happen, at least not until I learned the name of your perfume.”

“
Bella Faito
—Beautiful Breath—I know, weird name, but it is pretty awesome, isn’t it.”

“That it is.”

With a seductive smile, Tiffany retreated to the solitary bedroom, and Xander Moore was asleep within minutes of the lights going out.

Chapter 11

After making the brief statement to the nation, President Rene Ortega walked back to the Oval Office with an angry and purposeful stride. His aides had trouble keeping up with him.

Why now?
he kept repeating in his head. He was so close to making a clean getaway after a rather lackluster term. With no great accomplishments to offset this tragedy, he was about to be labeled for all eternity as the president who lost the drone wars to the terrorists.

As he entered the iconic circular room—now full of people from cabinet members all the way down to porters—he was determined not to go down alone. That bastard Owen Murphy was due in the Oval Office any moment, and Ortega was going to get that SOB directly involved in every decision his lame-duck administration would make during the crisis. Just let him try to weasel out after that.

He already could hear the conversation:

“I inherited a mess left over from the Ortega Administration, so it’s not my fault that things are so shitty. Blame Ortega!”

“But, Mr. President, weren’t you directly involved in all the decisions made following the attack on the RDC? Didn’t you sign off on the actions taken by the prior administration?”

As he slipped into his large executive leather chair behind the Resolute Desk, Ortega let the fantasy fade away. Even though he would continue to consider politics in every move he made, he still had a major crisis to deal with. He was known for his level-headed decisiveness, yet even this early into the crisis he knew he had to make some drastic moves.

“Everyone not cleared for Level One, get the hell out,” he said in a normal talking voice. He didn’t need to repeat himself. When the President of the United State spoke, people listened. Within seconds only eight people remained.

“Admiral, what’s the latest?”

Ortega was amazed that here, at almost midnight, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Admiral Gregory Hagar, was decked out in full dress attire, sporting an almost obscene stack of service ribbons on his left coat pocket and six-inch wide series of gold rings on each sleeve of his navy blue uniform.

“The RDC is a complete loss, which compromises our ability to activate the units in the response bunkers. We’re calling up every capable drone operator we can find within the service ranks and placing them on standby to assist civilian defense assets once an event is initiated.”

“So you also anticipate a surge in terrorist activity?” Ortega asked.

“Yes, sir, without a doubt. The field is clear—at least temporarily. It would be foolish to have taken such action against the RDC and then not act on it.”

“How soon can we have a replacement to the RDC up and running?”

Acting Secretary of Defense Alice Grimes spoke next. She had been Ian Graves’ assistant for only two years, and with him leaving the administration only two weeks before to pursue a consulting job in private industry, she was a placeholder appointment until Murphy replaced her.

“Each branch of the military has a small drone program of their own going, yet after the consolidation debate of four years ago, all major operations were shifted to the RDC.” She looked to Admiral Hagar for moral support. “The most we can expect is about ten percent of the capacity of the RDC for civil defense, and that’s through four specific chains of command.”

“Bullshit! There’s only
one
chain of command, and it ends right here,” Ortega barked. “Admiral, assign your most competent senior officer to coordinate all military drone activity. All branches, everyone, will answer to him … or her. If you hear any grumblings from anyone, can their asses and get someone in who will follow orders.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Go ahead, Alice. Is there more?”

Just as Grimes was about to continue, the thick entry door to the Oval Office flew open and President-Elect Owen Murphy strode in as if it were his office already. He was followed by no fewer than six aides and advisors. Even though Ortega had invited him to the strategy meeting, his jaw still clenched at the arrogance and disruptive nature of his entrance.

Murphy walked up to the president’s desk and extended an arm across the wide expanse almost before Ortega could get to his feet. The two men shook hands—briefly.

“Welcome, Governor, we were just starting.”

“Thanks for inviting me, Rene.”

Only Ortega’s dark complexion kept the rest of the room from noticing the heat that rushed to his face as Murphy used Ortega’s first name rather than his title. He hesitated a moment before speaking to let his nerves calm down. “With the seriousness and scope of this crisis, I thought it appropriate that the president-elect should be involved from the beginning.”

Their eyes locked for a moment, which was confirmation that Murphy knew exactly what Ortega was up to. Whether he would let himself get trapped in a situation from which he couldn’t escape was another question. It would take some deft politicking on the president’s part to make sure he did.

Admiral Hagar gave up his seat in front of the desk to Murphy, who sat down without acknowledgement to the CJCS.

“My people have been analyzing the current situation and have concluded we could be in for a period of increased terrorist activity. What steps are you taking to prepare for this?”

There was a large, ancient clock on the wall opposite where the president sat, and Ortega noticed that only thirty seconds had gone by since Murphy entered the office—and already he wanted to toss the man out on his ear. It was not the president’s role to answer questions pointedly directed at him, at least when the cameras weren’t on. It was
his
job to ask the questions and demand answers. So he took a full five seconds before responding, sending a subliminal message that he would answer only questions he wanted to answer, and only when he damn well pleased.

“I’ve directed Admiral Hagar to set up a joint services response center to consolidate all our military defense assets and prepare for triage once the sun comes up. I’m sure we won’t have to wait long to see the aftereffects of the RDC attack.”

“That’s our belief, too,” Murphy condescended to say. “Have you opened a dialog with the various terrorist organizations to see if there is any way to reach an accommodation?”

“That
I
haven’t done,” Ortega said forcefully, emphasizing the “I” in the sentence. “We’re not about to be blackmailed by radicals when we don’t know the full extent of the crisis, or even who’s behind it.”

An aide handed Murphy a sheet of paper. “We believe the Arm of Allah is behind the RDC attack. Their leader, Abdul-Shahid Almasi, has the expertise with distant drone operations, and he’s very well connected with the other groups operating in the Middle East.”

“I know who Almasi is, Owen,” Ortega said. “And that’s what the CIA and others have also concluded. Yet so far we have no confirmation of his involvement. This attack was on a larger scale than anything before it, so even if Almasi’s group is behind it, they’ve brought in allies. It’s also apparent that the information needed to carry out the attack had to be acquired from inside the RDC.”

Murphy pursed his lips. “That’s our conclusion as well. A major security breach at the most significant national defense organization in the country. How could this have happened … Mr. President?”

Ortega pushed away from the desk and leaned back in his chair. He gave Murphy a thin smile. “They’ll be plenty of time to assign blame, Owen, but right now we have to gather our resources and prepare for what’s coming. The RDC was effective in shutting down ongoing events—as they call them. We—all of us—have to come up with an effective alternative to the RDC.” He looked to his chief of staff, Jack Monroe. “Jack, you’ve been looking into the economic impact of the situation. What can you tell us?”

Jack Monroe had given his notice a month ago and was scheduled to leave the administration the following week, a few days before Christmas, beginning an extended vacation. He was the longest serving member of Ortega’s team, having been with him his entire two terms. Earlier in the day he’d withdrawn his resignation letter. He would be with Ortega now until the bitter end.

“Prior to this, three malls had been hit by drone attacks in the last week, and already year-over-year sales were off fifteen percent in the brick-and-mortar stores. Online sales have been booming, however, so overall it was shaping up to be a pretty decent holiday season. The people I’ve spoken with this afternoon are taking a wait-and-see attitude, depending on what happens over the next few days. There’s only thirteen shopping days left before Christmas, which is the time when most transactions take place. Pressing the experts for a worst-case scenario if attacks on the malls pick up, they can see a fifty percent drop in sales as compared to last year.”

“Holy crap,” Ortega said. “What will that do to the rest of the economy?”

“Just as you suspect, Mr. President,” Monroe said. “All sectors will be impacted—retail, financial … all of it. Then the ripple effect it would have around the world would be catastrophic.”

“We can’t let that happen, Monroe,” Owen Murphy said, as if the Chief of Staff had some control over what the terrorists might or might not do. “This makes it imperative that we make contact with Almasi and his backers. It’s not a matter of whether this is blackmail or not, it’s a matter of economic survival. He wants something, and anything he wants is better than the alternative.”

Ortega glared at the president-elect. “You’re advocating premature capitulation, even before we have a chance to react?”

“We may not get a chance to react,” Murphy countered. “Even if the attacks are not as prevalent, or we can counter some of them, it’s the psychological effect this will have on the population that matters. If they’re scared, they won’t shop, and then everything goes to hell in a handbasket.”

All eyes were on Ortega, as he remained quiet for several moments after Murphy’s comment. Then he calmly leaned forward again and placed his elbows on the desk. “Admiral, please go and begin the coordination of all military resources for a response to the anticipated attacks coming our way. Morgan,” he said, addressing the head of Homeland Security, “begin making preparations for FEMA’s response to catastrophic events, and get with the CIA and FBI to determine if we can locate the head of the serpent behind all this. Jack and I will see if there is a political solution, following the very sage advice offered by Governor Murphy. We will look at all options—nothing will be off the table. Jack, see to it that the governor and his staff are given accommodations within the White House for the duration of—”

“That won’t be necessary, Mr. President.”

“I insist, Owen. I want you by my side throughout all of this, and free to offer any suggestions you deem appropriate. Now, it’s getting late. Let’s break for now and meet back up at ten in the morning, unless circumstances dictate otherwise. That will be all.”

********

Both the president and president-elect remained in their chairs, smiling thinly at each other, until all the others had left the room.

“Well played, Rene,” Murphy stated once they were alone.

“I wish we could put party aside and just work together for a solution,” Ortega replied.