Gambit

by Karna Small Bodman

  A staffer from the office of public liaison shouted, “Follow me,” and the bedraggled group rushed in after the president and headed to the wash rooms down the hall to try and dry their hair and clothes.

  The president led his guest, along with his seven assistants, back to the West Wing and into the Roosevelt Room where he explained they would have a briefing session with the assistant secretary of state for Asian Affairs and the head of the NSC’s Economic Affairs section. The president said he would continue their meeting later in the day and slipped out the side door.

  “Glad that’s over,” he said, brushing a few drops from his navy blue suit and straightening his tie. He walked across the hall and into the Cabinet Room resplendent with a new red wool rug with gold stars and a border of olive branches.

  He moved to the far side of the large oval conference table with a leather inset top, set on a series of pedestals and took his seat on the Queen Anne-style leather armchair in the middle, right in front of two flags set in stands against the sandstone walls. Six gold eagle-form sconces lit the impressive room along with three hanging bronze lights with tassel finials.

  The rest of the cabinet and a smattering of aides stood up to greet him and then sat down again after he did. Instead of having his secretary of state sitting on one side and the secretary of defense on the other, the president had Vice President Jayson Keller sitting to his right as the secretary of state would not be back in town until later that evening. Besides, the president had a special announcement to make. He cleared his throat and began the meeting.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen. Thank you for coming over on such short notice. You all have heard the tragic news about Austin Gage and the other innocent people shot out of the sky this morning at Dulles Airport.” Everyone nodded soberly. “And since we are engaged in this new war on terror, a war that has once again come to our shores, we need to move ahead with all speed to search for the perpetrators of these heinous crimes while we also analyze the best way to protect our commercial airlines and keep our transportation system moving.” They all nodded once more.

  “And so, I am breaking ground somewhat and announcing the appointment of Vice President Jayson Keller to take on the additional role as my national security advisor.” A murmur swept through the room as several cabinet members looked over at Stockton Sloan, the deputy national security advisor who sat stoically in one of the chairs along the wall with the other aides.

  “I realize this is an unusual move. However, I’ve made it for several reasons. First, I had already asked Jay to focus on one part of our challenge—to select the best of our technologies to protect the airliners. And, as you know, I had asked Austin to concentrate on the search for the terrorist group responsible for these crimes. Jay and Austin have been working closely together. Therefore, Jay is completely up-to-speed on all of our efforts.

  “Second, I wanted to move quickly to replace Austin and since this is a White House staff position, and not subject to Senate confirmation, I knew I could move ahead with great speed. As I said, Jay is on top of these issues, so he can make a seamless transition.

  “As for Stockton Sloan,” the president turned and motioned to the blond-haired former military officer with short platinum hair and wirerimmed glasses. “He will continue in his role as deputy national security advisor. I am very pleased to have him on our team.”

  What the president didn’t disclose is that he had cut a deal with Jayson Keller to appoint Sloan to be his secretary of state after the election when, they both hoped, Jayson would be sworn in as the next president of the United States.

  “One more point on this new assignment for the vice president. While some of you are obviously surprised that the man will be wearing two hats from now on, this is not entirely without precedent. You all may recall that Henry Kissinger served as both national security advisor and secretary of state for a good two years, if memory serves.

  “Now then, we have several other subjects we need to cover today,” the president said. “I decided to bring you all together because we need to maintain a concerted effort and united front when it comes to solving this most difficult situation.”

  He turned to his director of national intelligence. “I know you’ve been doing daily briefings on the terrorist search, but can you give us all an update?”

  The DNI checked his notes and said in a serious tone, “Mr. President, I want to assure you that we have deployed every agent we have available to key locations around the world. We are working closely with teams of FBI agents in this country, pooling our resources in our search for the culprits.” At this last statement, several aides exchanged glances, knowing full well that if the two agencies were in fact pooling all of their information and resources, it would be unique.

  The DNI continued. “NSA is utilizing advanced surveillance programs, as we’ve discussed, and may be giving us new leads any day now.”

  “Does this mean we’re infringing on the rights of law-abiding citizens?” the secretary of the interior asked.

  “We’re going to be hit with a new wave of lawsuits, you can be sure of that,” the secretary of HHS said.

  The intelligence director shot them both a withering stare. “Under the circumstances, I think we’d all agree that in these extraordinary times, extraordinary measures are needed.”

  At that point, the room erupted in noisy confrontation. “But, Mr. President,” the EPA secretary implored, “We can’t spy on Americans again …”

  “Who says we’re spying? We’re evaluating patterns,” the secretary of defense declared.

  “Do we have court-ordered …?”

  “What about subpoenas?”

  “We changed the FISA rules once.”

  “But the Patriot Act was amended.”

  The president pounded the table. “God damn it. This is not how we run cabinet meetings!” He took a deep breath and glowered at his colleagues. “While I do value your input, let’s remember, I run these meetings. And I have made the decision to give NSA the tools it needs to find these bastards who are shooting our planes out of the sky. If we have to ruffle some feathers in the process, I’d rather do that than let these terrorists shoot down the whole flock, so to speak. Now then, let’s hear what else the DNI has to say.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President. As I said, we have agents working round the clock, around the world to find these people. However, let me caution you that the CIA is still in a rebuilding mode. Ever since our ranks were reduced by twenty-three percent some years ago, we feel we’ve been playing catch-up ball in this war on terror. You’ll recall that at one point, back then, there were more FBI agents in New York City than we had CIA agents working overseas. Since then, we have engaged in crash recruitment programs, and I’m glad to say we have no dearth of candidates.”

  The president shook his head in resignation and turned to William Ignatius, his secretary of defense. “Iggy, you sent over a report about Russia’s TOR anti-aircraft missiles and how they’ve been selling them to Iran. What’s your take on the possibility that they’ve updated those weapons so that they could have been used in these attacks?”

  The secretary of defense explained how his department had been working closely with their defense counterparts in Moscow on all of these transfer-of-technology issues and said that they’d had some success in slowing down the sales. He went on to say that even if Russian missiles had been used, what would be their motive in shooting down our planes? And by the same token, what would be Iran’s motive? Even though Iran remained a huge problem for the United States, they and every other country that might be on our target list, would have to know that as soon as we discovered who was directing the attacks, we would immediately annihilate that country in retaliation.

  “People talk about ‘proportional response,’ Mr. President,” Iggy said, “But in this country, that wouldn’t even be a consideration.”

  “What do you mean?” the deputy secretary of state, who was sitting in for his absent boss, a
sked in an alarmed tone.

  “What I mean,” Iggy said, staring intently at the Harvard-trained diplomat, “is that this is America. Sure, we sit back and play the benevolent buddy when we give foreign aid to a hundred and fifty-four countries, send millions of dollars worth of medicine to Africa and Lord knows where else, and our people give more in charitable donations than anybody else on the planet. But when we’re hit like we were at Pearl Harbor, we don’t just go and bomb some shipyard in Japan, no sirree, we got into WWII full steam, and when they kept attacking, in order to put an end to it, we didn’t just send over a few more ships, we dropped two atom bombs on the bastards and leveled the place.

  “And as for 9/11, we didn’t shoot down a couple of planes, we moved into Afghanistan and saw to it that that they installed a whole new government. I admit that a few years ago under a completely different administration, we took a step back and just tried diplomacy. But now, we’re back on track. In this country, there will be no such thing as proportional response. Right, Mister President?”

  The president nodded solemnly, reached over and patted Iggy on the shoulder as the rest of the cabinet sat stock still.

  The secretary of transportation, Trenton LaSalle then gave his report, indicating that the air traffic controllers were about to take a vote on whether to go on strike, the Airline Pilots Association was demanding new technology to protect the planes within the month or they would stage a sit-down, and a number of the airlines had cancelled at least fifty percent of their flights.

  Even though the last attack occurred at Dulles, he summarized their surveys of all airports near water, Logan, LaGuardia, Kennedy, Reagan, Los Angeles as well as others, on the assumption that terrorists could take aim from a boat and quickly get away. He assured the group that special measures were being taken by the Coast Guard and Harbor Patrols in all of our waterways. And he closed by saying they were trying to delay any strike actions for as long as possible.

  Next the United States Trade Representative raised the issue of China, saying she had been asked to analyze a possible motive on their part. She emphasized that China was begging for more trade and less tariffs, and she pointed out that some years back they had ordered eighty Boeing 737’s to the tune of over five-billion dollars and had said they might be in the market for twenty-six hundred more planes over the next twenty years. So why would they want to bring down our airline industry?

  There was a pause in the proceedings as everyone pondered her statement. Finally, the president checked his watch, gathered his notes and stood up. “It’s time to wrap this up. I’ve got another meeting, and I know you all have to get back to your agencies and get us some answers. Either we find these groups and bring them to justice, or our economy will be in the tank and the American people will … justifiably … throw us all out of office. So get about it and report back to me as soon as you learn anything.”

  Everyone stood up as the president walked to the door, his chief of staff in tow. “So what do you think, sir?” the aide muttered as he held the door open.

  “What to I think?” the president echoed. “I think we’re absolutely nowhere!”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ROCKVILLE, MARYLAND

  “Are you sure you know where we’re going?” Cammy asked as she steered her Audi A4 off I-270 and headed down an unfamiliar road.

  Melanie flicked on the interior light and double checked her map. “I think so. We stay on this road for another four or five miles then there should be a turn-off.”

  Rain was coming down in torrents, and Cammy turned her windshield wipers to a higher setting. “How did you hear about this place, anyway?”

  “I read an article about all of the little puppies and kittens at this shelter, and it just broke my heart. So I called, and they said I could have any one I wanted. They usually charge a fee to adopt an animal, but they’re waiving all of that to encourage people to come and adopt right now.”

  Cammy strained to find a landmark or road sign. Then she checked her rear view mirror. “Amazing that anybody else is on this road tonight. There’s a car back there. Been with us the whole way. It sure doesn’t look like there are many houses out here.”

  “Maybe they’re going to the shelter too,” Melanie ventured.

  “Maybe.” With no street lights, Cammy was having trouble navigating. When she spotted a sign coming up on the right, she said. “Quick, read that.”

  Melanie peered out and read the words, “Adopt a Highway, Litter Control.”

  “Big help,” Cammy muttered.

  “Hey, don’t worry. We’ll get there. Should be just a few more miles,” Melanie said, trying to sound cheery. “It was really nice of you to come along and help me pick out a kitten tonight. I know you’re doing nothing but concentrating on your work these days.”

  “Concentrating is right,” Cammy said. “On this new laser. I’m wondering, where is David Copperfield when I need him?”

  Melanie giggled. “By the way, anything new from Hunt? I mean, since that meeting and all?”

  Cammy signed. “Nope. Not a word. Remember the vice president told me they’d sent him down to South America with Claudia Del Sarto.”

  “Who’s Claudia Del Sarto?”

  “That’s what I wondered, so I googled her.”

  “Really? What did you find out?”

  “Well, first of all, she’s gorgeous.”

  “Oh, no!”

  “Second, she joined the NSC staff a few months ago, and she speaks four languages.”

  “Oh geez! So they’re down in South America together?” Melanie said, “I wonder for how long?”

  “Beats me. Official business and all of that, I suppose.” She turned to her friend and added, “But that’s fine with me. I’m putting that guy out of my mind,” Cammy said defiantly.

  “That easy, huh?”

  “Okay, so a memory is a hard thing to delete. But I’m trying.” She looked at her mirrors again and saw that the one car was still trailing them. She tried to shake off a brooding sense of vulnerability, remembering her friend’s quick rescue the last time she had been threatened. She thought again about her previous stalker. It had been the most horrible experience of her life. It had been an awful nightmare, and she couldn’t help but look over her shoulder all the time.

  “Shouldn’t there be a turn-off here somewhere?” Cammy asked.

  “I think so,” Melanie replied. “Sure wish this rain would let up. It just keeps coming down.”

  “Like our 401K plans,” Cammy said.

  “Yeah. Those and the entire economy right now.”

  “Every time I pick up the Wall Street Journal and see all those articles about the airlines being near bankruptcy and the pilots refusing to fly and FedEx and UPS not being able to make their deliveries, except locally with trucks or even drones … I mean, what a mess!” She checked her gas gauge. “At least the price of gas isn’t going up.”

  “Course not. Nobody’s buying fuel for the planes.” Melanie looked up ahead and saw a street sign. “There it is. Next corner, turn right.”

  “Thank God!” Cammy said. As she made the turn, she saw that the car behind them continued down the main road. “Finally,” Cammy said as she let out her breath. She spotted the animal shelter up ahead, pulled in, grabbed an umbrella from the back seat and both women raced inside.

  They were greeted by a young woman in jeans, a T-shirt and leather sandals who led them into a room filled with small cages. Melanie pointed to the girl’s shoes and murmured to Cammy, “Did I tell you I went shopping for some sandals over lunch yesterday? I saw some kind of like hers only fancier, and they wanted four-hundred bucks for them.”

  Cammy replied, “Talk about slipper shock,”

  Melanie laughed and then pointed to one of the cages. “Oh, look at those cute little things.”

  The girl stopped and said, “Yes, they just came in the other day. A whole litter. Those kittens are ready for adoption if you want one. Take your pick.”
>
  Melanie and Cammy reached in, picked up a few of the kittens, stroked their tiny heads and debated which one to take home. “How about this one? I could call him Domino,” Mel said, pointing to a black and white kitten that was now purring contently in her arms.

  “Sure,” the girl said. “Take him.” She turned to Cammy, “You sure you don’t want one too?”

  “Wish I could. They’re really cute, but I keep such late hours, and I’m in and out. I don’t think it would be fair to have one right now.”

  “That’s okay. We’re going to run another ad in the paper this weekend. Maybe some other folks will come around.”

  Melanie took the kitten, wrote a check as a donation to the shelter, thanked the woman for the small bag of cat food to get started, and they ran back to the car. As they drove home, Cammy saw the kitten nuzzle up to her friend’s face, and she reflected on the unconditional love that an animal could show to a human being.

  Would she ever find unconditional love? From anybody? Certainly not from Hunt Daniels. She had thought … she had dreamed … that he might be the one. After a string of disastrous love affairs, she thought she might have finally found the right man. The timing would have been good too. How much longer was she going to slave away in her lab for a jerk like Stan Bollinger, even if she did want to continue to work on defense projects? After all, her body was telling her to take a break. She could always go back to her projects or maybe work part time in the future.

  She shook her head, trying to clear away the mental images of Hunt, the tall man with the warm embrace and the tender smile. No, she couldn’t think about a biological clock right now. It was the technological clock that she had to race against.

  She had been having a lot of problems with her new laser idea, and she didn’t know how much more time it would take to perfect it, fit it into a special pod that would be attached to some test plane and see if, once again, she had figured out a way to save lives. As she drove through the storm, she said a silent prayer that somehow, some way, she’d figure it out before it was too late.