Elevated Threat

by William Robson

  The camera on the President pulled in for a close shot.

  “In fact, by the time this speech has been concluded they will have begun to gain an understanding of what happens when we reach the exhaustion of our restraint.”

  While the President took another pause, Anne and Clyde were literally in shock. They had never heard any elected official state anything so visceral. Clyde felt like a kid again listening to his Grandpa talk about the comeuppance of the town punk. They could hardly contain themselves long enough to listen to the rest of the speech.

  “My fellow Americans. Look around at this hallowed ground where we stand before you today. Many Americans who have come before us have given everything they had in order for this very place to exist. This ground now stands as a testament to the strength and resolve of all Americans. Many fortunes were lost by those before us so that we could live in a land where new fortunes could be made. Many backs were broken under the weight of the great effort it took to allow us today to live in a land where the weight of oppression has been lifted from us. And many people that previously walked this land have given their very lives in the fight for the freedom we have which allows us to gather like this and declare ourselves free forevermore.

  One thing I have come to learn firsthand after my years as President of this great land, is that the strength and resolve it took to create America was not restricted to just the people who forged this great country. That same strength and resolve also lives within the people who walk upon the land today. That’s why the snakes of the world can never defeat us. We all contain within us the strength that freedom and truth provide.

  God bless you all, and God bless this now UNITED States of America.”

  Clyde and Anne were now quite literally dancing around the office. Relief and jubilation at the thought of the changes to come were completely overwhelming their senses. Could it be true that a new era was at hand? When they opened the door to the trailer they could hear cheering and horns honking from every direction in Seattle. Tonight’s Fourth of July celebration would definitely be one for the record books.

  Then, right in the midst of the jubilation, Anne stopped dead in her tracks. She looked deep into Clyde’s eyes and grabbed his arm looking to support herself as she recounted to him the President’s words, “by the time this speech has been concluded, they will have begun to gain an understanding of what happens when we reach the exhaustion of our restraint.”

  “Clyde, what do you think that means?”

  WHAT IF WE FOUGHT WARS TO WIN?

  Name: General Mark Snow

  Age: 52

  Nationality: United States

  Education: West Point Academy, University of Texas. Masters of Engineering.

  Professional History: First Gulf War, Afghanistan, War Games Tactical Advisor.

  Family history: Father – (Robert) Retired from Marines, Mother – (Nicky) deceased.

  Current whereabouts: Presidential First Responder Team, Washington D.C.

  Name: Major Robert Milken

  Age: 36

  Nationality: United States

  Education: USAF Academy, MIT. Advanced Munitions Design.

  Professional History: Red Gun 2005, 182 successful missions flown.

  Family history: Father – (Allen) KIA in Vietnam. Mother – (Tina) K8 Teacher.

  Current whereabouts: Presidential First Responder Team, Washington D.C.

  Name: First Lieutenant James Dillon

  Age: 22

  Nationality: United States

  Education: MIT. Specializing in UAV design.

  Professional History: Youngest student ever enrolled with MIT Skunk Works Design team. Left for DARPA before graduating. Believed to have helped design a new type of radar invisible drones.

  Family history: Classified

  Current whereabouts: Presidential First Responder Team, Washington D.C.

  July 2, 2015

  Islamabad, Pakistan

  5 PM

  Richard Dreyer had been NBC’s chief foreign correspondent for so long now even he had trouble remembering all of the world’s conflicts he had reported on. Richard had been imbedded with US troops, Syrian rebels, and Libyan troops trying to topple the Kaddafiregime. He had worked in every dark nook and cranny of the Middle East. Richard thought nothing was left that could surprise him. Now, on another boring visit to Islamabad to interview a finance minister about a long overdue waterworks project that had been financed by the US, he received a message after the evening prayers that proved he was wrong. He had not yet seen it all.

  The message to Richard came from journalist friends in Islamabad and it described how imams and local elders from all over western Pakistan were beginning to issue a single command to all the “true believers”. The command was ordering them to take up food, water, and whatever arms they had in their possession and travel to the city of Wana in southern Waziristan. There they would be given instructions on how they could be part of the decisive fight for righteousness in the jihad against the unclean. The command declared that in Wana on Sunday, July 5th, divine instructions would be revealed to all that would lead them to grace.

  Even before Richard saw the message, the streets were buzzing with talk of the mysterious directive. Some considered it a hoax, some thought it was just a new way to poke the eye of the newly elected civilian Pakistani government, but many considered it was a directive from God.

  Richard immediately contacted his NBC bosses by satellite phone. He was incredulous when they told him they were aware of the proclamation and that it was not a story they wanted him to follow closely. They asked him to get some comments from the people in the street and to get someone from ISI to record an official comment for air. And they ordered him to complete the meeting on the waterworks project and then high-tail it to England for the meeting they had planned for him with MI6 to talk about the new prevention measures put in place to help prevent bus attacks.

  Richard did not get to be NBC’s lead correspondent by ignoring his internal nose for news. And this was big, despite what his chair-bound boss in New York thought. With several hours still left in the day, he decided to take a cameraman and try to get some comments from some of the underground military and ISI contacts he had in the city.

  To Richard’s great surprise, every single contact of his had nothing to add to the story. The best quote he could get from a usually reliable source was:

  “They do this sort of thing all the time. We will send a few informants to keep an eye on the gathering, but we are not worried about it.”

  With none of his contacts willing to expand on what sure seemed like a big story, Richard eventually bottled his frustration and headed back to his hotel. Perhaps he was overreacting. Richard decided to bring the subject up with the finance minister at his meeting in the morning, and if the minister also claimed it was a non-story, he would just drop it and revert to pressing him on the waterworks issue. The minister was a hothead and Richard knew he could at least get some good sound bites from him for the evening news back home. Despite his decision to not pursue the story until the morning meeting, all Richard heard at the hotel restaurant during dinner was background chatter from the locals on what the announcement had meant.

  When Richard arrived at the finance ministry the next morning he was pleased to discover that the finance minister only kept him waiting for ninety minutes past their scheduled 10:00 a.m. meeting. The minister was well known for keeping guests waiting in his office for up to four hours.

  Minister Gandapur was never known for his candor. More often than not, Richard had to read back the transcript of meetings with him several times to reach an understanding of the true meaning of the answers to Richard’s questions of him. But when Minister Gandapur walked in the door to meet with Richard this morning, he was refreshingly very direct and immediately tried to set the tone for the meeting.

  “Mr. Dreyer, before you ask, I want to assure you that I have nothing to say to you about the call to jihad i
n Wana which you have no doubt heard about and are surely going to inquire of me. To assist you, I have a written statement from the Prime Minister’s office that you are free to use as my response to your inevitable questions. Now, let’s talk about why your country has not sufficiently funded us for the waterworks program which we have successfully launched despite your lack of assistance.”

  Richard knew there was no point in bringing up to the minister the fact that the US had been paying for the project for three years and that most of the money supplied had ended up in various government officials’ pockets, or that the plant construction had barely started. Richard dutifully asked some questions about the lack of progress, recorded some useless quotes, and left the minister’s office as soon as he could do so without causing any embarrassment to Minister Gandapur. The only good thing about the meeting with the minister was that it was mercifully short.

  Out in the hallway, Richard read the official statement the minister had handed him and instantly realized there was a much bigger story going on. The Pakistani government was definitely hiding something. Something that would make the waterworks issue quickly forgotten.

  With a nine hour time difference between Islamabad and the NBC offices on the East Coast, the mercifully short meeting had left Richard with six hours to get his waterworks report delivered to the editing room in New York in order to make his 9:00 a.m. East Coast deadline. He decided that would be plenty of time to go out and dig for some answers on the jihad command from others in his vast network of contacts.

  One thing a journalist has at their disposal, when they have been in the field as long as Richard, is a vast array of places to acquire information. Richard set about the task of finding someone who was willing to talk. It wasn’t too hard to figure out that the official channels were not going to be much help, so he decided to go for a little more cloak-and-dagger digging right from the start.

  He decided to visit some American “contractor” friends who worked out of the American embassy. They could never speak to him on the record, but they may be able to point him in the right direction.

  It was quite a long taxi ride from the café across the street from the finance ministry, where Richard was now just finishing up his tea, to the US Embassy on Diplomatic Enclave, Ramna 5 Drive. But the more he contemplated everything he had heard, the more he was sure the long drive would be worth it.

  The embassy workers seemed to be especially busy when Richard walked in the door. Most of the workers at the embassy knew Richard well, but Richard also knew the protocol of secrecy that goes with such a post and he would never put these floor workers at risk of losing their jobs by asking them questions. So he just made small talk with them and waited around for Smitty.

  Richard had met Smitty way back in the initial “shock and awe” days in Bagdad where Smitty had been assigned to keep the, then young and energetic, reporter from getting in too much trouble while he watched the bombs fall on the old city.

  Richard knew he didn’t have to ask anyone for him. He knew that the embassy cameras and facial recognition software would have identified the NBC reporter the minute he stepped in the lobby. It was up to Smitty to arrive whenever he was ready to do so. When Smitty finally emerged from the hidden recesses of the embassy and came out into the lobby, the two embraced like the old friends they were.

  Even rookie reporters are aware that every government has all their embassies bugged and so talking about anything sensitive in the lobby was not going to happen. Smitty knew full well that Richard had not dropped by for chit-chat so he offered him some of the embassy’s special tea. Tea that was only available in one of the embassy’s back rooms. This particular tea room had no windows, used electronics that blocked all conversations, and even had walls that were vibration free. The tea was horrible, but the straight talk between the two friends was refreshing.

  “Smitty, you can probably guess why I am here. I was in the country to do some retread story about how our money keeps getting thrown down a black hole over here, when I heard about this widespread call to arms in southern Waziristan. What the hell is going on?”

  “Well, Richard, a few days ago, a message was distributed that reportedly was issued by Nek Mohammed, a Pakistani Taliban leader in southern Waziristan. His message said he had received a revelation in his sleep, that told him to put out a call to all “true believers” to come to Wana and to be prepared for the final jihad against the unbelievers. Nek declared in his message that in his vision he was told to expect a sign from above would happen shortly that would offer proof that his vision was true and from the Almighty. We traced the origination of this declaration to Bannu City. The message was delivered to just about every imam within 350 km of Bannu. Many of the imams, especially those that didn’t particularly care for Taliban telling them what to do, initially ignored or even outright rejected his message.”

  “So why are they behind it now?”

  “Well, it appears two things have changed their minds. First, they saw the President’s speech and they are always happy to jump on any opportunity to bash the US to build up their own followers. Then late that night, there was a massive flash in the sky over Wana that could be seen as far away as Khan and Bannu. Despite all the official, and even local, reporters explaining that the flash was just an unfortunately timed meteorite that broke up in the sky, word of the event traveled very quickly around the area. Once the popular opinion swung to the belief that the light was a sign from God, all the imams decided to start repeating Nek Mohammed’s message to the masses.”

  Richard looked at his old friend and grabbed his arm.

  “Smitty, what are we up to?”

  For the first time, Smitty started to get agitated.

  “Richard, I have told you the timeline of the events that occurred and the players involved. Now I am going to say something I thought I would never say to you. If you have a plane available, I want you to get on it today and go anywhere but Pakistan. If you don’t have a plane available, I will help get you on one. I realize this goes against every instinct you have as a journalist, but as your friend, this is the best advice I can offer.”

  Richard was shocked. He and Smitty had been through some grisly shit together and he knew that he would never suggest such a thing unless it was a matter of life and death. Richard also knew that there was no more information to be had from his friend, since protecting the security of the United States would never be compromised by Smitty, even for a dear friend. For a few uncomfortable seconds the two just stared at each other in silence. Finally, Smitty broke the silence.

  “Seriously, Richard, just this one time, file your report and get on a plane. I promise that I will send you more information as soon as I can do so. I will get you some good stories with enough lead time that you will be the first one to have them, but you need to be alive for me do so.”

  Richard nodded, shook his friend’s hand, thanked him for his warning before heading back to his hotel. There was lots to prepare for if he was going to get to Wana before Saturday.

  The production crew was just about wrapped up with the editing of the morning segment with the finance minister and they just needed Richard’s okay before sending it off to New York. Richard hollered a verbal approval to them as he ran through the offices looking for Max, his cameraman and closest confidant while on the road.

  Max Whiting had been with Richard for years, and despite Richard having all the fame that comes with being in front of the camera, it was Max’s bravery and skill at getting the right images in his viewfinder that had allowed the action Richard so adroitly reported on to come right into everyone’s living rooms every night at six o’clock. Richard relayed to Max what he had heard from the finance minister and from Smitty. Richard said he was going to Wana despite the warning, and then told Max that he needed his good friend to carefully weigh the substantial risks before deciding if the long trip to Wana was worth it. Richard instinctively knew what his answer would be, but he had to ask. Max�
��s response to the question was to simply just start packing his camera gear.

  Having the guts to make the twelve-hour journey to one of the most dangerous places on the planet is one thing, finding someone willing to take you there is something else altogether. Fortunately, when there is endless money available for bribes, thanks to NBC’s deep pockets, miracles can be arranged. After a few phone calls to some very shady characters, Richard found a driver named Uzair, who was a friend of a friend who had agreed to take them as far as Bannu and wait there for their return. Wahid, a second acquaintance with even deeper tribal ties agreed to meet them in Bannu and take them to the outskirts of Wana and would bring them back to Bannu after sunup on Sunday.

  With time short, preparations for the dangerous trip were something of a challenge. The two men quickly gathered the necessities, but little time was available for thinking the whole process through. Perhaps it was best that they did not have the time. Had they had time to prepare properly, they may have had the time to reconsider what they were attempting to do.

  Fortunately, money talks and Uzair showed up at the appointed time. A briefcase of cash was handed to an unnamed companion and the journey to witness the final jihad began. The drive from Islamabad to the first rest stop at Muslim Abad was uneventful but it was obvious that all three men needed to burn off some of the built-up nervous energy. Uzair wanted to fill up every jerry can on board with gas. In the part of the country that they were heading, there was never any guarantee of fuel being available when needed. While Richard and Max waited for Uzair to fuel up they decided to stretch their legs. While walking around the gas station they started looking up at the sky. Max was the first to notice the quietness.

  “Richard, listen to that.”