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Authors: Vince Flynn

BOOK: Separation of Power
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It was at that precise moment that President Hayes decided he was going to destroy Albert Rudin. It was
the first and only time he’d ever been moved to such thoughts in his twenty-five-plus years of politics. But now he savored the thought of the absolute and utter destruction of Rudin’s political career. Rudin had been warned, not just by Hayes, but by the leaders of the party to back off and keep his mouth shut. He’d been admonished severely, yet he still continued. He would pay for his irritating insolence and stubborn self-righteousness. If Rapp and the Delta team could pull it off they would give Hayes the sword he needed to do the job, and if they failed, they’d be giving the sword to Rudin. Either way, only one of them would survive.

As Hayes turned to do another circuit behind the table, a sheaf of papers was shoved under his nose by his chief of staff, Valerie Jones. “Give this the once-over.”

The president took the four sheets of paper without comment and began reading them. He was relieved to have something to take his mind off the mission. Midway down the first page he stopped, and holding the sheets against the wall, he crossed out a word and inserted a different one. He was reading a statement written by Jones and White House Press Secretary Michelle Bernard. The press room upstairs was packed to the gills with reporters and photographers who were waiting for Bernard to fill them in on what was going on. Hayes quickly finished reading the pages and made just a few changes.

He handed them back to Jones and said, “It looks good. Add one more thing at the end, though.” Before Hayes could continue General Flood’s baritone voice filled the room.

“Mr. President, the extraction has been completed and the team is en route to Saudi Arabia.”

Hayes looked at Flood and then the big screen. The five blue triangles that he’d been so concerned about were finally moving. With a smile on his face he looked back to the general and asked, “Every single person has been accounted for?”

Flood smiled back. “Every single person.”

Hayes felt like screaming for joy, but kept his composure. The extraction was the easy part. Surface-to-air missile batteries in the western Iraqi desert had just been pounded mercilessly for the last hour by planes and special forces personnel. The AWACS had reported that the missile threat to the planes had ceased. If there were any SAM sights left they’d be too afraid to draw any attention to themselves.

Turning to Jones and Bernard the president said, “Get upstairs and give the briefing, and when you’re done tell them I’ll address the nation tonight at nine o’clock.”

Jones stood first and said, “Slow down for a second. We need to discuss this.”

All the president could do was smile at his always cautious chief of staff. “It’s all right, Valerie. I know what I’m doing.”

“But, sir, you don’t even have a speech prepared.”

The president kept smiling as he ushered his two advisors toward the door. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m going to say.”

When he returned to the conference table General Flood motioned for the president to sit next to Kennedy. He leaned over and said, “Mr. President, we
still have the flight of F-111s holding. What would you like to do?”

Hayes glanced over at the board for a second. He knew the secondary targets well. They’d selected four command and control bunkers and four of Saddam’s expansive presidential palaces. The folks over at the National Reconnaissance Office had chosen the palaces from a list of over twenty. They’d done so after studying thousands of photos. The four that they picked were the ones deemed most likely to be hiding production facilities for weapons of mass destruction. The president knew the time would never be better to strike. He had to balance the potential loss of civilian life against the possibility of delivering a crippling blow to Saddam. The superpenetrator bombs would decimate their targets. After a brief moment of consideration the president looked at Flood and said, “You have my authorization.”

Relieved by the president’s decision, Flood brought the phone to his mouth and said, “It’s a go.”

Kennedy placed a hand on the president’s arm. “Sir, we need to make some calls.”

Hayes sighed. The list was long, and he had a lot of explaining to do. Kennedy suggested that they should call Prime Minister Goldberg first and the president agreed. A moment later the two men were talking via a secure satellite uplink.

“Prime Minister Goldberg,” started the president.

“I’ve been waiting for your call, Mr. President,” answered a slightly irritated Israeli leader.

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you know about the operation in advance, but for obvious reasons security has been very tight.”

Goldberg, in his typical short manner, chose not to acknowledge the president’s reason and instead asked, “Do you have any news to report?”

“I do,” replied Hayes. “Approximately an hour ago U.S. Special Forces personnel stormed the Al Hussein Hospital in Baghdad and achieved their primary objective. The weapons we were after are in our possession, and the facility has been destroyed without any damage to the hospital.”

There was an incredibly long period of silence on the line before a heartfelt Goldberg replied, “Mr. President, the country of Israel is forever indebted to you.”

The president smiled at Kennedy, who was listening on an extension. “That is very kind of you to say. I’m sorry I can’t talk long, but I’m looking forward to our visit next week.” The Israeli prime minister was due in town shortly for scheduled peace talks with the Palestinians.

“Are you sure my Arab neighbor will show up after what has happened tonight?”

“Oh, I’m sure Yasser will be here. I’m not going to sit on our little secret. I’m going to let all the world know what Saddam was up to.”

There was apprehension in Goldberg’s voice when he spoke. “I hope that my country’s role in this will not be mentioned.”

“I appreciate your concern, David, but that goes without saying.”

“You are a great ally to the Israeli people, Mr. President.”

“And Israel has been a great ally to the U.S.” Hayes
said this with considerably less conviction than Goldberg had. The president looked at Kennedy who mouthed a name to him. Hayes nodded and spoke into the phone. “David, would you do me a favor and pass along my gratitude and apology to Colonel Freidman.”

“I would be happy to, but whatever in the world would you need to apologize for?”

“I gave him a bit of a chilly reception when he was in D.C. last week.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” laughed Goldberg. “I don’t think he expected you to be happy with the news he delivered.”

“Well, that doesn’t change the fact that I was less than hospitable. It was wrong to treat him the way I did and I would like to apologize. In fact, I think you should bring him along next week. America owes him a debt of gratitude, and I would like to thank him personally.”

“In light of the efforts you’ve made, Mr. President, I think Colonel Freidman would be honored by such a request.”

“Good then . . . tell the colonel that I look forward to thanking him in person next week. I have to run now, David.” The president listened to Goldberg thank him one more time and then he hung up the phone.

In an extremely rare show of emotion Irene Kennedy smiled and nodded her head in a show of satisfaction. “That was perfect, sir.”

46
T
HE
W
HITE
H
OUSE
, M
ONDAY
E
VENING

T
he president had spent much of the last four hours trying to reassure his chief of staff that he was making the right decision to address the nation from the White House press room. Jones wanted him behind his desk in the Oval Office in a controlled environment. She wanted him reading a carefully scripted speech from a TelePrompTer so there was no room for error. No surprises from an overzealous reporter who might be looking to make a name for her or himself. No slipups by the commander in chief on an important issue. The situation was already delicate enough, and there was little room for error.

President Hayes strongly disagreed with his chief of staff. He knew that the truly great speeches, the ones that won people over, were given off the cuff, from the heart. Not when reading from some TelePrompTer. Sure, the historians with all of their diplomas would fawn over the great written speeches, but not the people, not the populace. They wanted you to act like a fellow citizen, not a robot. That’s what he would do tonight. He was at his best when he just stood up and let it fly.

The president was alone in the Oval Office, taking
a moment to organize his thoughts before he went out in front of the cameras. On a legal pad he scratched out his major themes. Like a loosely scripted play he outlined the first, second and final act. It helped immensely that victory was complete. Rapp and the Delta team were safely back in Saudi Arabia with the nukes, and every air crew and special forces soldier was accounted for. His critics both domestically and internationally were still spouting off, taking him to task for the bombing. Either through innuendo or direct attack they were all saying the same thing; that he’d bombed Saddam for political cover. In a few minutes they would all look very petty.

A knock on the door interrupted the conclusion he was working on and then he remembered that he needed to speak to someone before the briefing started. “Come in.” The president stood and walked around his desk.

Kennedy entered the room with a very nervous looking Anna Rielly. The president met them halfway and directed them toward the couches by the fireplace. Hayes imagined that NBC was wondering why the president had asked for a private meeting with their White House correspondent just minutes prior to addressing the nation.

“Ladies, please sit.” Hayes sat on one couch and Kennedy and Rielly the other. “Anna, Irene tells me you’ve had a very difficult week.”

Rielly, not wanting to talk about her personal life with the president, gave him a curt nod. The truth was it had been hell. If the entire matter in Milan
hadn’t been bad enough, she’d had to deal with the deluge of phone calls from family, friends and coworkers after Congressman Rudin had showed Mitch’s photograph on national TV. The whole world now thought of him as an assassin.

“Well,” continued the president, “after all you’ve been through, I thought you deserved to know a few things before I go out there and address your colleagues.” The president paused briefly and then began explaining the events of the last week to a shocked Rielly.

T
HE
W
HITE
H
OUSE
P
RESS
R
OOM
, M
ONDAY
E
VENING

P
RESIDENT
H
AYES BOUNDED
onto the platform at the front of the room like the young man he once was. Irene Kennedy, General Flood, Secretary of Defense Culbertson and National Security Advisor Haik stood behind him against the blue curtain backdrop. His chief of staff and press secretary stood just off to the side by the door. Hayes looked supremely confident.

The president gripped the podium with both hands and took a moment to look over the gallery of reporters jammed into the small room. “This afternoon I gave the order for our forces in the Persian Gulf to attack Iraq. I did not inform our allies prior to commencing military operations, and I informed only a few members of my Cabinet and only a handful of senators and congressmen. This was intentional on my part, and if you’ll bear with me for a moment
I’ll explain why I went to such great lengths to keep this attack a secret.”

The president paused to sip from a glass of water sitting under the podium. He wanted the tension to build. “It should come as no surprise to any of us that Saddam Hussein has been on a quest to develop and obtain weapons of mass destruction for some time. Well, last week I was confronted with a horrifying reality. I was informed that Saddam was less than a month away from having three fully operational nuclear weapons.” The president stopped and looked out across the hushed room. “It seems that for the past several years he has been developing these nuclear weapons with the help of Park Chow Lee, a North Korean nuclear physicist.”

The president turned and nodded to Kennedy, who approached an easel and flipped over a piece of foam board, on which a photograph of the scientist was printed.

“Dr. Lee was on loan from the North Korean government,” continued the president, “along with another half dozen scientists. In return for providing Saddam with these experts, the North Korean government was given some forty million dollars in crude oil. Dr. Kennedy will provide you with documentation to prove this when I’m done.” Looking to Kennedy the president said, “Next photo please.”

Kennedy moved the photo of Lee out of the way and replaced it with an aerial shot of a city. One building in the middle was circled in red. “Saddam went to great lengths to hide what he was up to. So much so that he placed the production facility for
these weapons under the Al Hussein Hospital in Baghdad.” The president paused again. “I don’t need to explain to you his motives for doing this. Let’s just say they were less than noble. None of this should shock any of us.” The president shook his head with sad conviction. “Confronted with this untenable situation I was left with no other alternative than to take these weapons out. A man like Saddam Hussein, a man who has used poison gas on his own people, must never be allowed to obtain the destructive power of a nuclear bomb. At nine o’clock this evening, Baghdad time, we commenced offensive operations to take these weapons out and destroy the facility. U.S. Special Forces personnel conducted a daring raid on the facility at exactly the same time as an air raid started. I am pleased to announce that the operations were a complete success. The facility was destroyed and there were no civilian casualties. I repeat, no civilian casualties. In addition, the special forces team that conducted the raid was able to take the three nuclear devices with them when they were extracted. Those weapons are safely out of Iraq, and we are in the process of arranging an inspection by a U.N. team and any U.S. senator and congressman who is still in doubt as to the integrity of their president.” The comment was a well aimed shot, but the president wasn’t done. He wasn’t even close.

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