2030

by Albert Brooks

  And the screen went blank. Kathy knew that everything Max did once he got on that ship was going to be monitored. But at least he said exactly what she had told them. She was not part of this. But of course she was. Here was a message, after all, from the man holding thousands of people hostage.

  She made a decision at that moment to try to save her own ass. Knowing the FBI would have already seen the message, even before her, Kathy knew that not telling them would look as though she was hiding something. She decided to contact them first. “My name is Kathy Bernard,” she said to the man she was put through to. “I received a message from Max Leonard when I arrived home and wanted to make sure you were aware of it.” Of course the FBI man acted as if he knew nothing; what else was he going to say? He asked Kathy to forward it to him and said that if he needed to he would contact her for further questioning. She did what she was told and then left the house, deciding just to drive and think. You were so smart, Max. You could have run for office or something. Don’t be stupid now. Make your point, but don’t be stupid.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  Air Force One landed at two forty-five in the afternoon. The President took Marine One to the White House and brought Susanna Colbert with him. When the helicopter landed on the White House lawn, both John Van Dyke and General Mike McGuiness were waiting. They walked with the President, who glanced back to see if Susanna was following. She chose to let them go ahead and went back to her office, alone.

  The President went to the bathroom and then headed downstairs to the Situation Room, which by now had every person who was involved with this crisis in place and waiting to brief him. McGuiness started.

  “In the last hour we have been able to send twenty SEALs to scour the area. They have been all over the outside of the ship. Under it, behind it, everywhere, and there are no signs of explosives. So our satellites tell us there are no explosives and the SEALs confirm it. It would be highly unlikely for both to be wrong.” The President felt somewhat encouraged.

  “So you put this at what? Ninety-nine percent?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Have we been wrong before?”

  “Not with both, sir.”

  “Let’s say you’re right. What does that allow us?”

  “It allows us to board the ship and to try to take these men out.”

  “And the hostages? If they see us, they’ll kill hostages, won’t they?” Admiral Boyle had an opinion on this.

  “Mr. President, there is always a chance they will kill hostages. But if they are lying about explosives, then there is a good chance they are lying about other things as well. It’s one thing to take over a ship, but to kill thousands of people takes a certain kind of mind-set, and that mind-set would have used the explosives.” The President thought this over. It sounded so pat.

  “Where do you get this opinion, Admiral?”

  “From experience, sir. I’m not saying that some individuals may not be shot or even killed, but if we’re talking about blowing up the ship, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

  “But if they kill ten people, isn’t that ten people too many?”

  “Mr. President, if the goal is to end this without compromising you, then I think losing a few people would be considered a success.”

  “What do you mean, compromising me?”

  General McGuiness was quick to answer. “I think that we board this ship before you talk to them. Take them out without having you humiliated.” John Van Dyke agreed with the general’s assessment.

  But Matthew Bernstein agreed with Susanna. Of course, he would never let on that he had had this conversation with her, but he didn’t understand why talking to Max Leonard, especially if it could save lives, would be the worst outcome. “Explain to me again why talking to this man would be so humiliating?”

  Van Dyke answered. “Mr. President, if every hijacker thought they could give their opinion to the president of the United States, it would embolden them. People would see that as a reward for committing the crime. It would be a means to an end. Hijack a ship and you can talk to the president.”

  The President turned to General McGuiness. “When was the last time a ship with almost three thousand Americans was hijacked by another American?”

  McGuiness looked at Admiral Boyle and then at John Van Dyke. “Never, sir.”

  “Okay,” the President said. “So it’s not like this is a daily occurrence. I say that I talk to him if he will assure us that after that, he will leave the ship and leave the people unharmed. If he guarantees that, then a conversation would be worth it, don’t you think?”

  “He’s a hijacker, Mr. President,” Van Dyke said. “We can’t believe him just because he says he’ll do that.”

  “Well, you’re giving me mixed signals here, gentlemen. First you tell me that a man who is faking about setting explosives is not a man who would blow up a ship, and then you tell me that a man who gives his word will never keep it because he’s a hijacker. That is not a personality profile that I can work with. He either is someone who will act in a certain way or he isn’t. Aside from the conversation, what are his demands that we know of right now?”

  “He wants a helicopter to take his group to Cuba and he will take five hostages with him that he will release when he has landed and is safe.”

  The President thought for a moment. “Admiral, do we have a clear shot at the bridge?”

  “Yes, sir. From a drone we could get anyone who was standing there.”

  “And where is this Leonard fellow right now?”

  “When he was speaking to us he was on the bridge; that’s where the communications are. Then he leaves and we don’t know where he goes.”

  “So if I did speak to him, wouldn’t it be the best way to keep him in one place?” General McGuiness looked over at Admiral Boyle. Boyle had an expression on his face that could be interpreted as, “I guess so, what do you think?” McGuiness looked at the President.

  “Yes, sir, that would be the best way to keep him on the bridge. But the other five men could be anywhere. They are probably with the hostages.”

  “So here’s what we do,” Bernstein said. “I will talk to this man. That is the best way to get his attention. While I am talking to him, you will get men aboard the ship. If you have older men who can do this job, I would say dress them like passengers, but get them aboard. I will draw out the conversation until you tell me that we have a presence. I don’t see any other way to do it.” General McGuiness gave a quick glance to the admiral. He then did what he was supposed to; he followed the order.

  “Yes, Mr. President.” The general decided that he would let the President make all of the decisions now, since he was not being listened to. “Do you want to land the helicopter as if we are willing to get them off?”

  The President thought for a second. “I think we can land the helicopter, but I don’t want it taking off again with hostages. But if it will buy us more time, then getting a chopper there is fine. It would be nice if men could come in that way.”

  “I think they would be expecting that, sir,” Van Dyke said.

  “Exactly,” the President replied. “So one would think at least two or three of their men would be waiting for it. That should help us in locating them, don’t you think?”

  General McGuiness looked at the others. He didn’t agree with any president talking to hostage takers, but he had to admit he was impressed that Bernstein had thought it through to this degree.

  * * *

  Max Leonard was getting impatient. The drugs were making it worse and for the first time he worried that this could go badly. That he wouldn’t be able to make his arguments and he would be forced to kill people without the world understanding anything. Then he got a communication that made him feel somewhat better.

  “Mr. Leonard, this is Admiral Boyle. I have been authorized to tell you that the President has agreed to talk to you.” Max was pleased, but why wasn’t the President just on the line? Why was a new person
now telling him this?

  “Just put him on the screen; I don’t want to talk to anyone else now but him.”

  “It isn’t that easy,” the admiral told him, stalling for as much time as possible. “He is on the way back to the White House and we are setting everything up at this moment. He will speak to you as soon as he gets there.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “He is en route.”

  “You told me this two hours ago. How long does it take the fucking President to get to his house?”

  “Mr. Leonard, to get him to agree to talk to you was a big job. It is not a decision that can be made in an instant. I hope you understand how unusual it is that you are able to speak to the president of the United States. I hope you appreciate that.”

  “And I hope that you appreciate that I will blow up this ship if I don’t.” There was silence. Admiral Boyle’s delay tactics were working, at least for the time being. Even having this discussion gained precious minutes, while thirty of the best Navy SEALs were in the water, surrounding the boat, ready to try to board when given the order. “I want the helicopter on this ship before my conversation begins, is that understood?”

  “It’s understood,” Boyle said. But that was not what was going to happen.

  Soon they were going to say that the President was ready to talk, even though the helicopter had not landed yet. They were banking on the fact that Max Leonard, having the President of the United States staring him in the face, would be thrown off, and they would say that the helicopter was in the air and would land during his conversation. Something happened to people when they faced a president, even if it was over a screen. People became unglued, and the military was relying on this to execute the plan.

  The admiral concluded the conversation by saying, “The President will be in the White House very shortly. The helicopter is being readied and will take off as soon as it is fueled and prepared.” Max didn’t argue. He had never done this before and had nothing to compare it to. It sounded as though his demands were being met and they weren’t stalling anymore.

  “I am here and waiting. Don’t keep me waiting much longer.” And he disconnected. And when he did the drone could clearly see that he left the bridge.

  * * *

  The camera was set up in one of the press rooms. The President did not want the background to look official or important. It would be him alone sitting in front of a blue curtain. No flags. No United States symbols represented in any way, except, of course, for its President. Bernstein wanted this to look as if he was forced into it. As if he was being held hostage.

  He entered the press room and sat behind a small desk. Facing him was a screen, ninety-five inches in diameter, with a camera on top, pointing at the desk. Bernstein had given consideration to what he would wear. No tie. He wanted to have an open shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a look that would suggest that Max Leonard was not important enough to get dressed up for.

  As he took his seat, he asked that Susanna Colbert come down to the room as quickly as possible. Only General McGuiness and John Van Dyke were present, and when she walked in, neither smiled or greeted her in any way. The President asked her to sit next to the two men. Van Dyke could barely contain his contempt. It was one thing for the President to spend his private time with her, but asking the secretary of the Treasury to be present at a crisis that had nothing to do with finance or business was unseemly.

  Bernstein took a sip of water, then signaled that he was ready to speak. An important decision was made that this would not be aired. Max Leonard had not demanded it and the White House certainly did not bring it up. It would be shown to the hostages in the dining room, but that was it. No other broadcast was going to take place. The President knew it would get out—everything did—but the fact that they could stop it from airing live around the world felt like an accomplishment. They had been worried that Leonard would insist on that and they had prayed that it would slip by. They were thrilled when it did.

  Max was informed that the President was ready to speak with him. As expected, he was so nervous he didn’t realize it was happening before the helicopter landed. The drone saw him enter the bridge and go to the screen. And there it was. Matthew Bernstein looking directly at Max Leonard. For years, Max had tried to get his point across. Meetings and confrontations with all the wrong people. Now he was speaking to the President of the United States. It overwhelmed him for a moment. His heart raced with the anticipation of what he was going to say. The President spoke first.

  “Mr. Leonard, this is Matthew Bernstein. I have agreed to talk to you providing you keep your end of the bargain and no harm comes to the people you have taken hostage.” At that moment Max realized the helicopter was not there.

  “Where’s the helicopter?”

  The President knew what to say. He didn’t need to look at the three people sitting opposite him, although the one person he glanced at was Susanna. More for support than anything else. “The helicopter is on its way. It will be there before our conversation is through. Now why don’t you tell me what is on your mind?” As Max launched into his tirade, the SEALs got into position. The plan was that they would wait for the helicopter to approach. As it landed, which would happen as slowly as gravity would allow, they would split up and rush the helipad, the dining room, and the bridge at the same time. All of them prayed that they were right about the explosives.

  “You have made this country no longer livable for the younger generations,” Max began. “You have saddled us with debt and all you care about is extending life for those who have already lived. The rest of us are stuck with the bill with no hope of getting out. Your priorities are backward. You should be helping the young, not the old. The old have lived already. What about us? Being young in this country means that you don’t count. We’re not here to service you, do you understand that?”

  Max knew he was speed-talking, but at least it made sense to him. And Matthew Bernstein was impressed. So this is what it’s all about? Obviously this was something Bernstein had thought about himself. Now he was going to have to argue a point that he actually agreed with.

  The hostages were also seeing this conversation. Almost three thousand of them stared intently at the two big screens. And many of them, for the very first time, were hearing it articulated as to why people were killing them. They knew there was resentment in the country, but very few thought that it had gone this far. And they were nervous. To them, Max Leonard started to look like a man who would blow them up. They hoped the President had an answer of some kind.

  “Mr. Leonard, I hear your frustration.” Before the President could continue Leonard launched into another speech. He was becoming more agitated.

  “I want this changed right now! I am speaking for all young people in this country, and the world!”

  At that moment the helicopter came over the horizon and approached the ship. The chopper dropped slowly, making as much noise at it could, its two large blades causing everything in its wake to blow frantically. When it was just twenty feet above the ship, the SEALs went into action.

  Max Leonard could see the helicopter from the bridge and looked away from the screen for a moment to make sure he didn’t see any armed men aboard. He didn’t. He turned back to the President and continued. “I want your word that you will change the laws in this country. You don’t allow people to vote until they are eighteen, and yet once they do, you allow them to vote forever until they die. There must be a law that ends the voting age the same way it begins. After seventy there should be no more voting allowed. It will be the only way to make sure that the generations share power. The old people have too much power and that must stop!”

  At that moment Max Leonard was shot almost thirty times. The drone had let loose a hundred small laser bullets that didn’t even break the glass. They passed right through and stopped in Leonard’s body. It was like being electrocuted. As soon as they hit him, he dropped to the ground.

  The President had gue
ssed correctly. Three of the remaining five men were waiting for the helicopter with drawn weapons. But the SEALs were not in the helicopter. They came from the sides of the ship and took out the men with four shots. Other SEALs rushed down to the dining room. The last two men were guarding the entrance there and Louie was one of them. The other man, a Mexican named Santos, was taken out before he knew what hit him. Louie thought he was going to be killed in the next few seconds, so he panicked; he turned and fired into the crowd. Before they could kill him he shot fifteen people, including Brad Miller.

  Brad fell off his seat onto the floor. People around him were screaming. Barbara was holding him, yelling for help. But there was too much confusion, everyone running in all directions. People trying to escape with their own lives.

  Walter Masters saw that Brad was shot and rushed over. As soon as he saw Brad up close, he knew it was too late. The blood was pouring from his heart and his head. He took Brad into his arms and held him while he died. Barbara wailed uncontrollably and Walter Masters realized that not since his wife passed away had someone died in his presence whose death he had no control over. All he could do was witness it, and he broke down in tears.

  * * *

  Matthew Bernstein got up from his chair and walked to the Oval Office. General McGuiness and John Van Dyke were congratulating him. The ship had not blown up and most of the people were saved, but the President felt that those who lost their lives were his responsibility, and he felt no joy. He was also haunted by what Max Leonard had said. He knew there was truth in it, but he didn’t know how to react. He certainly could not publicly acknowledge that this madman, who was responsible for killing innocent people, could be right in any way. For now he had to act as if the military had saved the day, and he would have to make it seem like the people who died were heroes. That their deaths somehow saved everyone else. It wasn’t true, but it was what you said when you were the president; that’s what the job required. You had to keep your real thoughts inside. It’s why he was in love with Susanna. She had become the only safe person to tell what he was really thinking.