The Liberty Intrigue
Page 29
“The life amendment I propose seeks to rectify the deficiency Blackmun identified by defining the life of each individual person as existent from the moment of conception until natural death. Given the unresolved conflicts over life and death, and the marvels medical science has produced in just the past twenty years, this is a matter that should and must be decided by the people.
“The rest of my proposed amendments are more pragmatic. The tax amendment eliminates Congress’s power to levy an income tax by repealing the Sixteenth Amendment. This is essential to shifting our country to consumption-based taxation. The citizenship amendment would revise the Fourteenth Amendment’s Citizenship Clause to eliminate the granting of jus soli citizenship. Lastly is an amendment to regulate congressional conduct regarding pay, job perks, and self-exemption from laws applying to all other citizens. This amendment wasn’t necessary when public service was something you did toward the end of a productive life, but in this age of career politicians and bureaucrats who regard the public purse as a personal piggy bank, this amendment’s time has come.”
“Mr. President,” Douglass said politely.
“There is so much wrong with these proposed amendments that I hardly know where to begin. The right to abortion is a matter of settled law and this so-called life amendment usurps a woman’s right to choose. And natural death? This would prevent physicians from compassionately assisting those suffering with painful, debilitating medical conditions from ending their lives with dignity. Forcing a person to continue a life of agony is morally hypocritical and simply cruel.
“Progressive taxation of income is a necessary tool at the government’s disposal for serving and promoting the general welfare. Its elimination—a classic Republican pander to the rich—undermines our efforts toward creating a more just and equitable economic system.
“To deny birthright citizenship to the children of people who, in many instances, have risked their lives to reach these shores is again cruel and flies in the face of everything this great country stands for.
“And as to your amendment to rein in Congress, good luck with that.”
“Why thank you, Mr. President,” Egan said. “And since your rebuttal illustrates to the voters the vivid differences we offer, I have no further comment.”
“Returning to the proposed life amendment,” Douglass said to Egan, “in addition to ending abortion and physician-assisted suicide, wouldn’t it by necessity end the death penalty as well?”
“If we are to be consistent, yes,” Egan replied. “And while this stance might be troubling to some death penalty proponents, it is far less morally hypocritical, to borrow the President’s term, than defending the right to life for convicted murderers while simultaneously championing the right to end innocent life in the womb.”
“Moving to the environment,” Douglass continued, “Mr. President, your administration has sought to strike a balance between energy production and environmental protection, especially with regard to man-made climate change. Your efforts to curb our nation’s greenhouse gas emissions have resulted in legislative and executive actions both lauded and decried. How do you view where we are as a nation now, and where we need to be in the future?”
“Change is never easy,” the President replied. “But the effects of man’s activities on the environment are undeniable. The scientific facts speak for themselves and the finest minds are of one voice in raising this alarm.
“The most significant foreign policy accomplishment of my presidency is one we chose to undertake unilaterally for the benefit of all mankind. The New York Climate Exchange will open for business next week in a display of free market capitalism with a social conscience. It’s an exchange driven not by profit for profit’s sake, but profit for the planet’s sake. Our carbon emissions must be reduced, and we don’t really care how it happens as long as it does happen.
“The hard work of creating a private exchange for the public good is done, and over the next four years my administration will work to bring other nations on board to globalize the marketplace for carbon credits. China has joined us as a charter member and we are currently in serious discussions with India and much of Europe. By the end of my second term, I fully expect scientists around the world to report that the amount of carbon in our atmosphere is leveling off or even showing the first signs of declining.
“As important as curbing greenhouse gas emissions is, I fully recognize our nation’s need for reliable sources of energy. We have made great strides with clean, renewable sources of power, and transitioning from fossil fuel vehicles to hybrid and electric vehicles. I got the ball rolling in the right direction and we must keep it moving.”
“Mr. Egan,” Douglass said.
“The President and I are on the opposite sides of many issues, and this is certainly one of them. The President accepts the alarmist position on face value because it serves his purpose of increasing government control over the individual. As an engineer, I have trouble with any hypothesis that boasts such a poor experimental track record and is so deeply mired in politics. All I’m willing to say about the earth’s climate is that we don’t know nearly enough about it and any decisions we made now, especially economy-altering national transformations, would be done in ignorance.
“As president, I would fund basic research in climatology and put a constellation of satellites in orbit to collect as much data as possible. These are important scientific questions and they need answers based on facts, not politics.
“That said, I am all for energy efficiency in our buildings and vehicles and will certainly support improvements in existing technologies and the development of new technologies.”
“If you encourage efficiency, then why do you drive a Humvee?” the President sneered. “Its fuel consumption might as well be measured in gallons per mile.”
“As with far too many things, Mr. President,” Egan replied, “you clearly don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I take it you are a climate change skeptic?” the President countered.
“The appropriate term is realist,” Egan replied calmly. “The facts don’t support your rhetoric, and often contradict it.”
“I have a few facts of my own,” the President said smugly, “starting with your hypocritical wind farm scam.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
UMOJA HYDROELECTRIC POWER PLANT, DUTANNURU
OCTOBER 13
“… and this is where Tanu Baafi surrendered to Ross Egan,” the soldier said proudly.
Wearing camouflage fatigues and a black beret, the young soldier escorting Edward Turcott pointed to a circular marker of white stone that had been set flush to the earth near the edge of the helipad.
“Incredible,” Turcott said with a feigned touch of awe in his voice.
“I was here when it happened. Tanu Baafi surrendered Safo on this very spot.”
Turcott snapped a few pictures, and then scribbled some shorthand notes onto a small pad.
“There is something else I would like to see,” Turcott hinted.
“The powerhouse,” the soldier said knowingly. “Visitors are not permitted.”
“So I’ve heard. Still, control of this power plant was recognized by both sides as vital.” Turcott lowered his voice. “I understand that arrangements have been made.”
Turcott tapped an envelope concealed in his multi-pocketed vest. The soldier checked his watch and gave a curt nod of the head. Both men began walking toward the dam.
“Few are authorized to enter the power plant,” the soldier explained. “Before reunification, very high clearance was required. Very tight security.”
“And now?”
“The danger has passed. This plant requires few workers to function, mostly for maintenance. Security has been reduced to appropriate levels. A two-man patrol will soon finish their sweep of the area around the dam and move on to the perimeter. They will return in twenty minutes. You must be out of the powerhouse before then.”
&nbs
p; As they neared the powerhouse, Turcott saw a pair of armed men walking away along the fence line. His escort then guided him around the side of the powerhouse and held out his hand.
“As I told your associate,” the soldier said distastefully, “I require payment before I let you inside.”
Turcott pulled the envelope from his vest pocket and placed it in the man’s palm. The soldier quickly thumbed the stack of bills inside and nodded satisfactorily. He pocketed the envelope and unlocked a side door to the powerhouse.
“You have ten minutes. Knock when you are ready to exit. It will be bad for both of us if the patrol returns and you are still inside.”
“I understand,” Turcott said.
Turcott stepped through the doorway into a windowless vestibule. The soldier closed the outer door behind him. A single bulb illuminated the entry space. He opened the heavy inner door and discovered an eerie darkness. The air that greeted him smelled stale and musty. The space beyond was deadly quiet.
Careful to remain in the shallow aura of light from the vestibule, Turcott stepped onto a metal platform. His hand fumbled along the wall until it found a bank of light switches. The first caused the lights immediately overhead to flicker to life. He found the platform was the upper landing of a stairway that led down several flights to the powerhouse floor.
He flipped each switch to illuminate successive bays of the powerhouse. The cavernous space expanded with each bank of lights until it spanned the entire length of the building. The concrete structure showed its scars, clear evidence of past damage and repair. Cudjoe had ceded Dutannuru a ruin and Egan had vowed the despot would find the same if he ever took it back.
And instead of massive generators harnessing the kinetic energy of the river to power a nation, Turcott saw six gaping holes in the thick concrete floor.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
AIR FORCE ONE
OCTOBER 14
“Come on in, Daniel,” the President said as he finished reading his morning security briefing.
Page waited until an aide retreated from the onboard office with the briefing books before entering and closing the door behind him.
“Mr. President,” Page began, “I have some interesting news regarding Egan in Dutannuru.”
“Our October surprise?”
Page shook his head. “Still working on that, but our man is making progress. What I do have ties back to Egan’s background as an engineer. In the last debate, we went after him for cheating his power company.”
“The numbers don’t lie, and he didn’t refute it,” the President said smugly. “I scored some points there.”
“Yes, Mr. President, but there may be a problem. Do you recall the Umoja Hydroelectric Dam?”
“Where Egan gave the speech that made him famous?”
“Yes,” Page replied. “It’s not operational.”
“Was there an accident? I didn’t hear about anything in my briefing.”
“No. The facility was apparently never repaired after Safo ceded it to Dutannuru a decade ago.”
“Wasn’t that power plant Cudjoe’s main objective?” the President asked.
“It was. And in Egan’s own words, if Cudjoe took it back, he would have found it in the same condition as he left it. Everyone assumed the plant was booby-trapped and, if forced to retreat, the Dutannuru army would destroy it. Nobody thought to take Egan literally, but it makes sense. Why repair a vital power plant that’s within a stone’s throw of a hostile enemy?”
“If the Umoja plant doesn’t work, where is Dutannuru getting their power?”
“That’s the million-dollar question,” Page replied. “Dutannuru made it look like the plant was operational as a feint, believing Cudjoe would one day try to take it back. Egan not only rebuilt Dutannuru’s electrical infrastructure, he managed to hide an entire power plant. Tracking back the network of high-voltage transmission wires, we believe it’s located on a military base just outside the capital—about as far from the Safolese border as they could get it.”
Page laid several photographs on the President’s desk.
“I’ve had some experts look over these. Aside from some emergency generators, they can find no sign of a conventional power plant large enough to meet the needs of Dutannuru. Given the presence of an industrial-scale desalination plant providing a ready source of freshwater, they speculate that if there’s a power plant here, it’s nuclear.”
“How could Dutannuru have built a nuclear power plant without our knowing about it?” the President asked, pondering the implications.
“The Japanese and the Russians both have reactor designs that are basically plug-and-play, and if they paid a premium for discretion …”
“So it’s possible.”
“No one really pays much attention to that part of the world,” Page explained. “And Egan’s engineering background includes nuclear energy. What makes this all the more suspicious is his wind farm. It really is generating electricity, but those big windmills can’t be doing the whole job. Like the Umoja Dam, Egan has concealed his real source of power.”
“You need permits to build or operate a power plant,” the President mused.
“He has the required permits for his wind turbines, but not for any other type of power generator. Oddly enough, when they installed the turbines, Egan and his father pulled permits to drill monitoring wells scattered all over their property. We don’t have any of the reports, but they test the groundwater regularly.”
“If he’s taken such elaborate measures to hide his power source, odds are it’s either illegal or environmentally dangerous.”
“Or both,” Page agreed.
“I have to consult with the Attorney General,” the President said, “but I believe this pattern of suspicious behavior constitutes probable cause.”
“Egan has scheduled a press conference at his family farm to address the issues you raised in the debate,” Page said as he flipped through his notes. “This is so perfect it’s almost poetic. His press conference is set for the same time as the inaugural opening bell of the carbon exchange.”
The President smiled at the thought of celebrating the fulfilment of his boldest environmental accomplishment while simultaneously exposing his rival as an environmental fraud.
CHAPTER EIGHTY
MORAN COUNTY, MICHIGAN
OCTOBER 17
“Thank you for coming out on such a beautiful day,” Ross Egan began.
He stood beside his Humvee on a clearing along the northern shore of Lake Michigan, speaking to a gathering of reporters. The sun shone bright in a clear sky, the forest surrounding them ablaze with autumn color. Egan was dressed in blue jeans, a dark blue turtleneck, and a wool sweater.
Egan’s SUV was parked next to a fenced enclosure surrounding a metal-clad pole barn. Thick electrical wires ran from the gable end of the barn to a row of freestanding utility poles going out to the main road. In the distance, towering wind turbines spun slowly in the breeze off the lake.
“The President said a lot of things during the last debate—things that were at best empty rhetoric, at worst flat wrong. I’ve asked you all here today to address two of the latter.
“Most of you already know that I don’t pay much attention to what the President says, especially when he’s talking about me. Politics can be an ugly business and I knew what I was in for when I decided to run. The President is fighting hard to keep his job. I respect that. But in the last debate, he crossed the line. He insulted both my parents and my truck. In most parts of this country, those are fighting words.
Several reporters chuckled at the remark that would likely emerge as that evening’s sound bite from the campaign trail. Niki stood nearby with members of a Secret Service detail recording the scene with her camera. Egan opened the driver’s door of the Humvee and stepped up into the vehicle.
“The President claimed I wasn’t walking the walk on energy efficiency by driving a gas-guzzling SUV,” Egan continued. “He actually claim
ed that Henry Ford’s original Model T got better gas mileage than this beast of mine. Now, I can haul a lot with this truck, but what the President’s shoveling is a mighty big load.”
Egan pressed the start button and the throaty sounds of 6.5-liter V-8 turbo diesel roared from the vehicle’s engine compartment. He punched the accelerator a few times, revving up the volume and intensity of the sound.
“According to the President,” Egan shouted over the revving engine, “I just burned about a gallon of fuel and haven’t moved an inch. I assure you that not one drop of diesel died for this demonstration.”
Egan tapped another button on the dashboard and the vehicle fell silent.
“Did any of you near the back of my truck see or smell anything?” Egan asked. “Any exhaust coming from my tailpipes?”
“Just a clear liquid dripping out,” a reporter replied.
“No need to call the EPA,” Egan said with a grin. “It’s water. I won’t bore you with the details about what’s under my hood—especially since I can’t because of a nondisclosure agreement—but I can assure you it’s not available from the factory. Not yet, anyway. What I am authorized to say is that the prototype engine in my old Humvee was created without a single dime of DOE funding, and it will change the world. And to prove the point …”
Egan shifted the truck into drive and silently moved the vehicle forward a few feet.
“What you heard when I started my truck was computer-generated engine noise,” Egan explained. “Folks get a little too curious when a big truck like this rolls past without making a sound. And around here, it’s a good idea to give the wildlife a heads-up that you’re coming down the road. There’s enough deer hit around here without driving in stealth mode.
“Which gets us to the bigger issue—the kind of vehicle I drive is none of the President’s damn business. The government should play no part in telling private companies what to make and private citizens what to buy.