Power Curve (35 page)

“Sir,” Hazelton said, “General Overmeyer is on the line. I can put him on the loudspeaker.”

“Don’t bother,” Shaw said. “We all got our marching orders, and I’m not about to wake Maddy over some dumb-ass request from an admiral who wants his fifteen minutes of fame.”

Bender stepped between Shaw and the door. “Wake the president,” he said, packing his voice with all the punch he could muster.

But Shaw had experienced it before and was not moved. “No.”

“Then I will,” Bender said.

Shaw smiled. “You go on the second floor of the residence tonight and I’ll have the Secret Service all over you like a pit bull on a French poodle in heat.”

Hazelton’s eyes grew wide in the silence. It was more than two male egos butting heads for supremacy; it was a contest for power and who had access to the president of
the United States. A grin flicked across Shaw’s mouth before retreating into some dark hiding place deep inside his psyche. “Do believe me on this, son.” Bender stood aside and let him pass. Hazelton dropped her eyes, afraid to look at Bender. He had lost.

“Sir,” she said, “General Overmeyer is still on the line.”

Bender hit the monitor button so she could hear the conversation and asked for his evaluation. “I concur with CINC PAC,” Overmeyer said. “But we got to do it within the next few hours, preferably at night, before the Japanese have to withdraw for refueling and resupply. We need a decision. Now.”

“I can’t get to the president,” Bender said.

“What the hell is going on over there?” Overmeyer demanded.

“I can’t get past Shaw,” Bender admitted.

“We won’t get a chance like this again.”

“I know,” Bender said. “Look, we still have some time. Plan the strike and have everything ready to go. I’ll try to get her permission in the morning when she’s awake.” He broke the connection and told Hazelton to go home. “I’ll watch it,” he said. “I hope we didn’t miss the one chance we had to end this with a minimum of bloodshed.”

“I think we did, sir.” She picked up her bag and briefcase and left, leaving Bender alone in the Situation Room.

He collapsed into a chair and clasped his hands between his knees, his head bowed. “Sir,” a military aide said, “we have an update on the battle.” Bender knew he was tired and needed rest. But he had to do this. He looked up at the TV monitors and forced himself to concentrate as information from satellites, reconnaissance aircraft, over-the-horizon radars, and communication monitoring sites filtered in.

Maybe
, he thought,
just maybe, we’ve got more than ten hours
. He knew what he had to do. “Colonel, I’m going to sack out in an office down the hall. I want you to wake me in four hours.” He called a valet for a pillow and blanket and went to his old office, which was still
unoccupied. Within minutes, he was stretched out on the floor and sound asleep.

Turner took her seat in the Situation Room at exactly 6:30 Wednesday morning. She looked rested and fresh after a good night’s sleep and nodded at the men. “Good morning, gentlemen, I hope you have some good news for me.”

“Not exactly, Madam President,” Overmeyer said. He hit the remote control button and the TV monitors scrolled with the latest Intelligence reports as he briefed her. He finished by saying, “The battle has reached a critical point and could go either way within the next few hours. The key is Kumejima. If we can neutralize it, the Japanese can prevail.”

“How do we do that?” she asked. Overmeyer outlined the strike that was planned and ready to launch on her command. “I see,” she said.

“Twelve F-15E Strike Eagles are loaded and ready to launch at Kadena,” Overmeyer repeated. “We need to hit Kumejima now, while the Japanese still have the capability to exploit the advantage.”

“Have the Chinese threatened or attacked our people?” she asked. Overmeyer confirmed that the battle had not reached Okinawa. She turned to Bender. “Robert, how will the Chinese respond if we attack Kumejima?”

“Militarily,” he answered, “they can’t since they are preoccupied with the Japanese. I’d expect a great deal of diplomatic howling and saber rattling but little else.”

“Can we be sure of that?” she asked.

“No, ma’am, we can’t” This from Barnett Francis, the secretary of state. The DCI agreed with him.

“In that case,” Turner said, “we will do nothing. This is not our war.”

Overmeyer stiffened. “Madam President, I beg you to reconsider. We will be drawn into this conflict sooner or later. Better sooner and under our terms.”

“My decision is final,” she said. The meeting was over, and she walked out of the room.

Bender shook his head in frustration. “I’m going out
side for some air,” he said. He walked slowly up the stairs and into the Rose Garden, his head bent in frustration.

A gardener he recognized from what seemed years ago walked past. “Good morning, General.”

“Good morning, Stan,” he replied automatically.
Did I remember his name right?
Bender thought. The smile on the man’s face told him he had. He clasped his hands behind his back and dropped his chin as he walked.
So close
, he thought,
so close
. But inaction, the failure to strike at an opportune moment, had guaranteed the deaths of countless more men. He couldn’t make a difference when it counted. Was it time to quit?

Mazie Hazelton stepped out of the White House and walked quickly toward him. “General Bender,” she called, “you’re needed inside. General Overmeyer has resigned.”

Washington, D.C.

T
urner burst into the Oval Office and stood behind her desk, glaring at Bender. “That bastard,” she said. “He’s playing politics. His resignation couldn’t have come at a worse time.” She stared at her advisors, daring them to speak. Only Shaw had seen her in a rage and had sampled the gale-force intensity of her anger. The only safe course of action was to wait for the storm to blow through.

Bender accepted the challenge. “Madam President, he resigned because he disagreed with your decisions not to support the Japanese as, I might add, we have pledged in the past.”

“He did it at the exact time I need the unqualified support of the military.”

“You still have the full support of the military,” Bender replied.

“So I have it now—when I didn’t have it before?”

Now it was Bender’s turn to be angry. But nothing in his voice betrayed the emotion he felt. “The Department of Defense has supported you and been as responsive to your will as any branch of your administration.”

“Really,” she spat. “As I recall, the only advice I received from the Pentagon was to act; we have a plan for this—implement it before it’s too late. Pardon me? What makes a goddamned plan so sacrosanct? Why is speed everything?” Her anger whipped at Bender and he did not
answer. This was a side to Madeline Turner he had never suspected. He expected to see tears, but her eyes were a perfect reflection of the anger and determination in her voice. “I love the way the military works,” she said. “Pass the buck up the chain of command until it stops at my desk. You’re only good soldiers following orders. You’re not the ones responsible for the lives of your people. I am.”

“General Martini will be glad to learn that,” Bender said in a low voice.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded. “Are you trying to say a one-star general is—”

“What I’m saying, Madam President, is that a one-star general has repeatedly made the right decisions to protect his people while everybody else was sitting on their thumbs. He never hesitated to act nor has he tried to pass the so-called buck. There’s one other thing, Madam President. He will do exactly what you tell him to do, he won’t complain, and he won’t go running to the press when it gets tough. He understands loyalty, which is something you can’t say about everyone on your staff.”

Shaw’s head came up.
Where’s Bender taking this?
he thought.
Does he know about the group? Have the Pentagon’s boys in the basement been digging around in my closet? Or has Leland double-crossed me?
Shaw caught himself hyperventilating and forced his breathing to slow as he calculated the odds of Bender knowing that he had given Maddy up.
I’ve given her up
, he repeated to himself. He calmed. At best, Bender could only suspect. He had covered his tracks too well.

“Don’t lecture me on loyalty,” Turner said. Her anger was gone, and she sat down behind her desk. “So tell me, what do I do with Overmeyer? I don’t need a public discussion of why he resigned, not at this time.”

Secretary of Defense Elkins cleared his throat to gain her attention. “General Overmeyer is bound by the constraints of his office. He will remain at his desk and dispose of routine matters until you accept his resignation. Then he will be on terminal leave while his retirement orders are processed. During that time, he won’t discuss
it. Afterward, well, he will be free to go to the media or write a book.”

“They all want to write a book,” Shaw muttered, sotto voce. “Throw him a bone, Mizz President. Issue a press release that you ‘reluctantly accept his resignation,’ Spread some bullshit around about him being ‘a fine officer acting in what he believes are the best interests of the service.’ I’ll get the word to him that if he goes public anytime in the next twelve months, I’ll serve him up like grilled chicken liver.”

“That would be a mistake,” Bender said.

“We’re playing in the major leagues here,” Shaw replied. “There’s a penalty when you rat on the president.”

“More important,” Turner said, “who replaces him?”

“I’ll get a short list to you as soon as I can,” Elkins said. “How far do you want me to go down the list?” The men waited for her answer. It was not unusual for a president to reach down the seniority list to find a chairman for the Joint Chiefs of Staff who was politically attuned to the administration.

“Go as low as you need to find a general who will support my policies,” she told them.

“May I suggest,” Bender said as Jackie Winters entered the office, “that Dr. Elkins start with the current Joint Chiefs?”

“Look lower,” Turner snapped, cutting off any further discussion.

“Madam President, your next meeting is in three minutes,” Jackie announced. “You are meeting with the Council of Economic Advisors and the chairman of the Federal Reserve Board to discuss tax reform.”

“Thank you, Jackie,” Turner said. She rose and left the room.

Liz Gordon stood in front of Lafayette’s statue and raised her microphone when the Betacam’s red light came on. “Lafayette Park is quiet now, the peace drummer and the demonstrators gone. But like the shot at Concord that was heard around the world, the echoes from the aftermath of the attempted assassination on Vice President Kennett are still being heard. Did President Turner violate the law
when she cleared the park early Tuesday morning? Congress wants to know, and the Senate, at the urging of Senator John Leland, has initiated a full-scale investigation.”

She paused so a clip of Leland filmed earlier could be inserted in the studio. The senator was most eloquent in condemning Turner’s violation of the demonstrator’s constitutional rights and demanding the Department of Justice appoint an independent prosecutor. Ben, her cameraman, keyed her to continue. “Meanwhile, the crisis in the Far East took a new turn as General Tennyson Overmeyer, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, tended his resignation early this morning. Reliable sources claim General Overmeyer resigned in protest over the president’s handling of the crisis. Many insiders are privately asking the question, Has Madeline Turner lost her grip on the reins of power? This is Elizabeth Gordon, CNC-TV News, reporting from the White House.”

“That’s a good one,” Ben said, shutting off the camera. “Who are the insiders you mentioned?”

“I made it up. But it’s a safe bet someone’s asking the question.”

Shaw reverted to profanity when he couldn’t find the private road that led to the farmhouse in the Virginia countryside. Shaw was good at many things, but not at navigating. Much of the snow had melted from his first visit and everything was different. He cursed fluently and wished he had kept the directions from his first visit. But that was a piece of paper he didn’t want surfacing at the wrong time in the wrong hands. A black Jaguar convertible flashed by him going in the opposite direction and he caught a glimpse of a blond mane of hair. Once, that would have been a distraction but not now.

He peered into the night and tried to remember the directions from his first visit.
That was less than a month ago
, he moaned to himself,
and I can’t remember a gawddamn thing
. Fast moving headlights approached from his rear and flashed. He pulled over to let the car pass. The same black Jaguar convertible pulled alongside and
slowed. It was Jessica, his contact with the group. They stopped, and her window lowered. “Lost?” she asked.

He gave her his lopsided grin and followed her to the farmhouse.
How many other people saw me flailing around out here?
he wondered. One of Leland’s dark-suited young aides opened his door and directed him into the house. He entered the same rustic den. But this time, the room was full of people. It was a council of war. “So this is the group,” he said.

Leland stood up, and they shook hands, honorable enemies currently erstwhile allies, a convenience of politics. “I believe you know everyone here,” the senator said.

Shaw froze. Sitting next to Gwen Anderson, the secretary of health and human services he had trashed in her bid to be vice president, was Dr. John Weaver Elkins, the secretary of defense. “Gawddamn,” he muttered. “People are hopping from bed to bed so fast I can’t tell who’s buggering who without being there myself.”

Leland stood by the fireplace. “In the last few months,” he began, his words rolling with a sonorous finality, “we have seen our President sacrifice our nation on the altar of compromise, stupidity, and inaction.” He paused for effect. “Not to mention her unconstitutional efforts at tax reform.”

Heads nodded in agreement and a low mutter of “Traitor” echoed from the back of the room.
Someone’s getting emotional
, Shaw thought.

Leland smiled. “Patience, my friends, patience. Our polls show her negatives are surging.” Shaw came alert as Leland recapped the latest poll results. The senator was on Shaw’s home turf, and he made a mental note to have his experts do some of their own probing. “Her trending,” Leland continued, “is reaching the point when we can move, which is why we are all here. First, what is the vice president’s condition?”

“He’s still on the critical list,” Shaw answered. “There’s a problem with infection, and he may lose his left arm and a lung.”

“So he is effectively sidelined,” Leland said. “That opens a window of opportunity since we have stripped
away most of her political base on the Hill. But we still need to isolate her within her own administration.”

“I can delay in finding a replacement for Overmeyer,” Elkins said. “Besides me, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs is her only other link to the Department of Defense.”

“Can you keep it that way?” Leland asked.

“For a week, maybe ten days,” Elkins replied.

“Excellent,” Leland said. “That is more than enough time. Now it becomes solely a question of character. Did you know her personal aide, Jackie Winters, is a lesbian?”

“That’s never been a big secret,” Shaw said. “Winters has always been very discreet and has not been, ah, active in years.”

“You mean she doesn’t have a lover,” Gwen Anderson said.

“I didn’t know anything about this,” Elkins said. “Had I known, I would have resigned immediately.”

“It looks like we’re all resigning,” Shaw muttered.

Anderson smiled at him. “In our own way.”

Leland paced back and forth, excited with the prospects looming in the near future. “We are so close, so close.” He stopped and looked directly at Shaw. “The public has the right to know their president consorts with the morally degenerate.”

Shaw almost laughed. Classifying the Jackie Winters he knew as a moral degenerate was the stuff of high comedy. She was a lonely middle-aged woman whose only life was her job. “Her and Bender are in a race for tightest asshole of the year,” he muttered. He savored the quip and would use it again. Then his political instincts kicked in. He had no qualms “outing” Winters but the truth had a way of ultimately backfiring on those who twisted it to their own purposes. In Shaw’s world, the whole truth and blatant lies were equally bad and to be avoided. It was much safer to operate in the gray areas of subterfuge, misstatement, and misdirection. Let other people play with the truth. “This can’t come from me.”

“Are you afraid of the truth?” Leland asked.

Damn right
, Shaw thought. “If I’m involved in any way,” he replied, “Maddy will know and fire me in a heartbeat. Count on it. You need me on the inside.” He
almost added a caution about not underestimating Maddy Turner but thought better of it. Leland might question his commitment.

“Who can she still rely on for support?” Leland asked.

“Her kitchen cabinet,” Shaw said. He added a few legislators and cabinet members to the list. “All are lightweights.”

“What about Bender?” Gwen Anderson asked.

“He’s a nothing,” Shaw said. “No political base, alienated from the generals, nothing.”

“He’s an unknown quantity,” Anderson said. “He worries me.”

“Patrick,” Leland asked, “can you sideline him by this weekend?”

All of Shaw’s alarms were sounding, warning him that events were moving at a rate beyond his control and he was only along for the ride. He hoped he was in the right wagon. “I can do that,” he promised.

Leland drew himself up, and Shaw saw the vengeful prophet emerge. “One more incident, my friends. That’s all we need to act. It is time to remove this woman and save our great nation.” Shaw sank back into his chair as the group chorused its approval. Jessica looked at him, her eyes alive with excitement and lust.

Okinawa, Japan

Martini slowed when he drove past the Base Exchange. A large number of people, all wearing BDUs, helmets, and flak vests, were entering and leaving. Some were eating on the run while others carried packages. A teenage boy and girl in civilian clothes walked past. They were holding hands. He drove to his office in the headquarters building on the west side of the base. Much to his surprise, his civilian secretary was at work arranging piles of folders on a long table. “You’ll never get caught up,” she told him, eyeing the stacks of paperwork that marked the everyday world of the Air Force. Life was definitely returning to normal.

The chief of Kadena’s Office of Special Investigations
detachment was waiting. He was a young-looking man dressed in civilian clothes and wearing a photographer’s vest. “How closely are we being watched by the Chinese?” Martini asked.

“We’ve identified three separate teams,” the OSI agent answered. He pulled out a large-scale map of southern Okinawa and circled three areas. “Each team is constantly on the move within its own area of responsibility. Between them, they are always positioned to monitor takeoffs and landings and any movement into or out of the munitions storage area. Sometimes we lose track of them. But they always resurface in a day or two.” He paused. How much more should he tell the general? He took a deep breath. “We have also identified four Japanese agents monitoring us.”

“Are you surprised?” Martini asked. There was no answer. “I want you to neutralize two of the Chinese teams but leave the one monitoring the munitions storage area in place.”