by James Rosone
“Another pot’s on the way, Joe, so hang in there,” Malcolm said with a smirk.
Joe smiled. “Thanks, General. I don’t think I’ve had more than four hours of consecutive sleep a night in the last two months.”
Malcolm nodded. “I feel the same.” He let out a deep sigh. “So, tell me, do we have enough evidence to proceed with bringing the postal workers and the foreign spies to trial?”
A couple of the prosecutors who would be heading up the case put their pens down for a moment as they looked at Joe to hear what he had to say.
Looking at the group gathered around the conference room table, Joe nodded. “I believe my agents have collected more than sufficient evidence to obtain a conviction of all of the postal workers. I also believe we’ve got enough evidence to make the charges of providing material support and aid to foreign terrorists stick to the foreign agents we’ve apprehended.”
Smiles slowly crept across the faces of the prosecutors. Joe realized they were probably salivating at the prospect of putting these people behind bars.
“How many foreign agents did we apprehend in total?” asked Malcolm.
Ashley Bonhauf, Joe’s Deputy Assistant Director, replied, “We arrested nine Chinese nationals the NSA, CIA, and FBI had confirmed were deep cover officers for the Ministry of State Security. We also arrested two German nationals here in the US and indicted five others who are currently in Germany. Those are individuals the NSA identified as having provided the terrorists with the fake travel documents that enabled them to gain entry into our country.”
“What about the Russians? What do we have on them?” asked one of the prosecutors.
Smiling, Ashley responded, “With regard to the Russians, we arrested five individuals in Chicago. These guys were running some sort of server farm, which we have identified as one of the primary sources that were propagating the distribution of the terrorist videos and other fake news and articles that have been bombarding social media. It was actually a rather complex operation they were running.”
Malcolm shook his head. “So, we have the Chinese, who provided the financial means for these terrorists to attack our country, along with other material support. The Germans, or at least a rogue element in their government, provided them with the travel documents to get through our security and into the country, and then the Russians took the videos of the attacks and weaponized them on social media in what I can only call an attempt to hack people’s minds and turn every one of us against each other. Does that about sum it up, Joe?”
Joe smiled. “That’s about the most concise analysis I think I’ve heard, Mr. Attorney General.”
Malcolm grunted, more to himself than anyone else. “Then here’s what I want from the FBI, Joe. I want you to essentially write up what I just said, lay out the case as best you can, and present that in a briefing tonight at five p.m. We have to get the rest of this information out to the public and keep them informed. Things are starting to spiral out of control, and we need to keep the public on our side.”
A moment later, everyone’s phones began to buzz. Looking at his own phone, Joe saw a short message that said he needed to turn on the news immediately.
He quickly grabbed the TV remote and flipped it on. Everyone in the room then watched as Governor Gary Lawson unloaded on the administration and then announced that come January 20th, his state would no longer recognize the Sachs administration’s authority or power.
What the hell? thought Joe.
Turning to one of his aides, Malcolm asked, “Why weren’t we told the other circuits had issued a ruling countering the D.C. Circuit? When did this happen?”
At that moment, another aide walked in hurriedly with a stack of papers. “Mr. Attorney General, I just received these rulings from the Second, Third, Sixth, Seventh, and Ninth Circuit Courts, invalidating the D.C. Circuit’s ruling,” she said, out of breath and apparently oblivious to the fact that they had just heard the same information in an ongoing news conference the governor of California was still holding.
He reached for the papers. “I want to read the full text of the rulings for myself,” he said. He began flying through the paperwork; Malcolm had achieved a reputation for speed reading and somehow catching all the nuances of legalese at the same time. When he had finished reading, he placed the papers on the table for the others to read as well.
Looking at the AG, Joe asked, “What do we do now?”
*******
Washington, D.C.
White House
It was nearly 9 p.m. by the time the President was finally able to convene his key cabinet members. They were still trying to digest what the en banc rulings of the five of the thirteen circuit courts meant, and if what they ruled was technically legal.
“What we need is a Supreme Court to make a final, nonpartisan ruling, but that is clearly not going to happen. So, what do we do instead?” asked Sachs.
“You declare martial law, and we move forward with your original intent of holding the presidential election on Monday, January fourth,” announced the Attorney General. “If people still want to vote against you, then they can, and it’ll be fair and free from foreign interference.”
His statement caught many by surprise.
“Do you realize the firestorm such a proclamation is going to rain down on this administration?” said the Treasury Secretary, shaking his head. “Do you have any idea how it’ll affect the markets once the President says this?”
“What alternative do we have?” asked Patty Hogan, running her fingers through her hair. “If we don’t stand up to this now and restore order in the country, then we’ll never recover. As it is, we have mass protests and rioting taking place in nearly every major city in the country. We have to regain control of the situation now, before it spirals any further beyond our ability to control it.”
Clearing his throat to be heard, the Secretary of Defense added, “Let’s not forget that a foreign power not only interfered in our election, they also facilitated multiple terrorist attacks inside our country. Under the previous Bush doctrine, we would be bombing these countries for their part in this attack against our country.” Secretary McElroy paused for a moment as he surveyed the room, looking each of them in the eye for the briefest of moments before continuing. “This—what’s happening right now—is exactly what the enemy wants. They want us to doubt ourselves; they want us to capitulate to public pressure and accept that they have won.”
McElroy then slammed his hand down on the table, jarring everyone. “We cannot allow this to stand! If we have to declare martial law to gain control of the major cities and ensure we have a free and fair election, then by God, we need to do it.”
The others in the room sat there for a moment, letting his words soak in. Several of them nodded in agreement. A few of them had looks of concern written on their face.
The President took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. The country was at a crossroads. They could either accept a foreign power had influenced and changed the outcome of their election, or they could do something about it.
Sachs turned to the AG. “If we’re going to move forward with declaring martial law, then I need solid legal cover from your office on this. I’m going to need the full support of the DOJ in defending this to the hilt. I’m also going to need you to make sure the FBI is staying on top of any additional election meddling and going after it as soon as they see something amiss happening.”
The President then turned to look at his Homeland Director. “Patty, I’m going to need your organization’s help in managing this process. Things are going to get dicey. These are uncharted waters we’re headed down. It’s going to be imperative that all of us work together on this. We’re going to take a lot of heat in the media, so we need to stay strong and unified. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Patty responded.
The next few hours went by in a blur as the AG began the process of getting a legal brief ready to support the President’s ord
er authorizing the declaration of martial law.
*******
Kosovo
Camp Bondsteel
“Make sure the prisoners are properly secured,” yelled one of the military police guards. He watched as one of his comrades attached the four-point harnesses to the terrorist leaders.
The rotor on the Osprey slowly began to spin. It would be a short helicopter ride to Pristina International Airport, where a C-17 Globemaster was fueled and waiting for them. The prisoners, along with most of the soldiers of this impromptu task force, were heading back to the US. They were going to make one refueling stop in England, and would then continue on to Pope Field, formerly Pope Air Force Base, before being absorbed and managed by the Army.
With all of the hoopla going on about detaining the prisoners in Kosovo, and the fact that they held no additional tactical-level intelligence, it was determined by the Department of Defense that they would be moved back to the US. They’d then be handed over to the Department of Justice to be formally charged and prosecuted for their part in the three different terrorist attacks leading up to the presidential election.
Lieutenant Colonel Seth Mitchell was exhausted. He’d been gone from his family now for almost a month. In that timeframe, his vehicle had been blown up, an ambassador had been killed right in front of him, two of his friends had been injured, and he’d killed three people. They were terrorists, but still, those were three additional lives he’d taken. Leading the interrogation of several high-profile prisoners for the Army had also opened an old wound. After the debacle in Yemen four years ago, he’d hoped he would never have to set foot in an interrogation booth again.
Sitting on the opposite wall as the prisoners and their guards, Seth was busy getting himself strapped in when Smith plopped himself down next to him, strapping himself in for the ride as well.
Seth looked at him with a quizzical look.
“Yeah, I figured I’d catch a ride back to Indian country with you guys,” said Smith.
Seth’s left eyebrow raised. “Indian country?” he asked, just loud enough to be heard over the increasing pitch of the engines.
Smith smiled wide. “Yeah, Indian country. That’s what us spooks call America. We’re not allowed to play inside the States, so we call it Indian country to remind ourselves that we’re operating on enemy territory when we’re home.”
“And you wonder why I didn’t want to join you guys?” Seth asked jokingly. “I like my Sunday afternoon football games, getting pizza with the family, and trips to Disney World.”
Smith laughed. “Ah, it’s not that bad, Seth. We still get to come back to the land of milk and honey. We just have to remind ourselves that we’re not allowed to operate there.”
The Osprey then lifted off, giving them a bird’s-eye view of the small military base as the aircraft turned to head toward the airport.
Leaning in to be heard, Seth asked, “So what happens when we get back home?”
Smith shrugged his shoulders. “I have no idea, my friend. Things appear to be going to hell in a handbasket back home. What I don’t understand is how did all of this happen? Someone, or some group, appears to be coordinating a grand scheme to tear our country apart.”
Seth nodded. “They certainly have. I just hope the powers that be can find a way to put Humpty Dumpty back together again.”
The two of them rode in silence for a few minutes until they approached the airport. For a small airport, it was a beehive of activity. The Air Force had flown in four C-17s to pick up as much of their equipment and people as possible. The NATO KFOR commander, a German brigadier general by the name of Dirk Klauss, wanted them out of the country as quickly as possible.
When their Osprey had landed, they escorted their prisoners to the back of one of the C-17s and began to load them into the cavernous bay of the giant cargo plane. The rest of the soldiers of their little task force filed in as they sought to fit as many people as possible in the plane for the ride home.
The other C-17s were being loaded up with their up-armored SUVs, communications equipment, weapons and other equipment they had brought with them. The three remaining Apache helicopters, along with the three other Ospreys, would be outfitted with drop tanks and additional fuel for their long flight back to Romania. The goal was to have the vast majority of their equipment and personnel completely out of Kosovo before the end of the day.
*******
Six hours into their flight home, Brigadier General Lancaster motioned for Seth to come stand by him and Chief Moore, who were both standing around near the front of the C-17. When Seth approached them, he saw by their expressions that they were clearly concerned about something.
“Why the long faces?” Seth asked innocently enough. He lifted his arms above his head as he tried to stretch his aching back.
Leaning in, Lancaster said, “I just spoke with General Royal on the secured sat phone. Tomorrow morning—” He stopped and look at his watch. “Scratch that. In nine hours, the President is going to hold a press conference along with his directors for Homeland Security, DOJ, FBI, and SecDef. They’re going to announce Executive Order 2021. It’s a declaration of martial law. They’re going to enforce the D.C. Circuit Court ruling that voided the November election and will hold a new one in January.”
“Martial law?” Seth asked skeptically.
The general nodded but didn’t say anything further.
“Have things really gotten that bad back home that they have to do this?” asked Moore.
“I don’t have all the details, and frankly, I’ve been too busy with what we’ve been doing to really be keeping up with what’s going on,” Lancaster replied. “What I did glean from General Royal is that with the Supreme Court justices gone, there is no consensus among the courts with what to do about the election. It’s clear a foreign power interfered, but the side that won doesn’t want a redo. Right now, they won—even if it was with help from an outside group. It’s hard to admit that you won that way, and what if the redo of the election overturns that result and you end up losing? You’d forever feel like you were robbed of your victory.”
“Look, I have no idea how any of this is going to play out for us when we get back. What I do know is we did our job in finding these terrorist bastards and getting the decision makers the best possible information to make a decision. What they do with it beyond that is none of our concern. When we get back to Bragg, I’m going to make sure everyone is put in for a valor medal, especially you, Mitchell. We wouldn’t know half of this conspiracy if it wasn’t for your interrogation of these monsters. Plus, you have another Purple Heart coming to you from that IED that nearly killed you.”
Seth shook his head. “You don’t have to do that, sir. Like everyone else, I was just doing what I get paid to do. If it’s all right with you guys, I just want to go sit down and try to digest everything you all just said. I’m not sure how I feel about this. Martial law…it just seems wrong to me.”
With that, Seth headed back to his seat to mull over what he’d just been told. They had another six hours until they landed. Six more hours and he was back home in America. If things worked out, he might even be able to see his family before the end of the day.
Chapter 23
Martial Law
November 11, 2020
Cleveland, Ohio
Senator Marshall Tate’s Residence
It had been a long and grueling couple of days, so Marshall had taken the rare moment to sleep in past 7 a.m. and leisurely read a book for a few moments. Today was, after all, Veterans Day. The only thing he had on his docket to do was a wreath-laying ceremony at the local Veterans of Foreign Wars memorial in town. Aside from that, his transition team had a number of folks they wanted his input on before they submitted them to the Senate minority leader to begin the process of coordinating their nomination package with the majority leader, a prospect none of them looked forward to after a brutal election where an en banc group of justices had to determine who won the
presidency.
The most important thing they’d have to address once he took office was selecting nine Supreme Court justices. Obviously, he’d love nothing better than to place nine liberal-leaning judges on the bench, but with a Republican-controlled Senate, that would be impossible—not to mention incredibly unpopular. He’d have to pick at least four conservative-leaning judges, but he’d make sure the makeup of the new court was decidedly liberal.
Elections do have consequences, he thought.
At 8:06 a.m., his smartphone began to blow up with text messages before vibrating, letting him know someone was trying to call. He snatched the phone, ticked off that someone was bugging him this early on his one morning off. The caller ID told him it was his Chief of Staff, Jerome Powell.
“This had better be good,” Marshall said in a tone that betrayed his frustration.
“We have a huge problem, Marshall,” said Jerome. “I’m on my way over to your house, but you need to get dressed. Turn on the news if you can. Sachs is making a major announcement.”
“Fine, OK,” Marshall conceded.
Fumbling his way out of bed, Marshall reached over to grab the TV remote, turning it to MSNBC. He got up to walk over to the bathroom and begin his morning routine. With the TV blaring, he made it over to the toilet before he heard the familiar voice of President Sachs utter the words martial law. He stopped dead in his tracks. Despite having to urinate, he immediately turned back around and turned the volume up on the TV.
“It is with great hesitation that I issue this proclamation, but after advice from the Departments of Justice and Homeland Security, and in light of the unprecedented court ruling led by the Ninth Circuit, there was no recourse left to us other than to declare martial law, thereby suspending the power and authority of the Ninth Circuit.