Minute Zero

by Todd Moss

  “Oh, right.”

  “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

  “Remind me. What’s OCSWP?”

  “Off-grid concentrated solar water purification. See, you don’t remember. Or maybe you weren’t listening.”

  “No, no, I remember. Just too many acronyms, Jess. I’m really interested. I promise. OCSWP sounds pretty cool.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Jessica warily. “Let’s change the subject. I came here to talk about you. Where are you flying to?”

  “Zimbabwe. The midnight flight to Johannesburg, then I’m catching an early connection into Harare.”

  “I see.”

  “You aren’t surprised?”

  “Nope. I saw on the news about the dead tourist. An American jumped from the bridge at Victoria Falls. How terrible. I figured that would have the State Department in a tizzy. I guess Rogerson came to his senses. The old goat finally realized he needed you.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?”

  “The Secretary’s office air-dropped me on Rogerson’s team for this one. I’m going to Zimbabwe over his objection.”

  Jessica laughed. “That’ll teach him.”

  “I doubt he sees it that way.”

  “Look on the bright side: The Secretary of State must be genuinely worried about Zimbabwe blowing up and she knows you can be helpful. That’s great news, Judd. Powerful people are seeing the value of S/CRU. They see the value in you.” She raised her wineglass. “Let’s celebrate.”

  “Or someone thinks Zimbabwe is going down in flames and they want to lay this disaster on me,” Judd said. Jessica dropped her arm. “There’s a good chance this is a cover-your-ass disaster dump,” Judd explained.

  “So own the disaster.” Jessica shrugged. “Show them. I don’t see you have much choice. Seize it.”

  “I know. I need a big win. The budget is being cut and the Crisis Reaction Unit is vulnerable. Zimbabwe could be do-or-die for S/CRU.”

  “So it’s sink or swim,” Jessica said.

  “Yep.”

  “Fish or cut bait.”

  “Yes, that’s it.”

  “Shit or get off the pot.”

  “All right already! I get it, Jess.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’ve been working on some new cutting-edge data analysis. I’ve got radical ideas for transforming U.S. strategies in places like Cuba and North Korea where the politics are stuck. And I think I can apply the same principles to help the U.S. government shape volatile transitions, like in Egypt and Iran. I know I could make a real contribution to increasing the leverage of U.S. policy in those places. Yet the survival of S/CRU now hangs on . . . Zimbabwe.”

  “Judd, you are looking at this all wrong. This is an opportunity. It’s a good thing the Secretary is forcing you into a corner.”

  “It is?”

  “Absolutely. Fuck Rogerson.”

  “Fuck Rogerson?”

  “You do your thing, Judd.”

  “I know. You’ve told me.”

  “You’re getting frustrated, but this is your chance. And if something really terrible starts to happen again in Zimbabwe, then you have to stop it.”

  Judd wrinkled his brow. “Again?”

  “Yes, Judd. The last time something horrible happened there, no one did anything. No one gave a shit. You can’t let those poor people get slaughtered again.”

  “Who’s getting slaughtered, Jess?”

  She stopped and took a deep breath. “Judd, you have a chance to make your mark and to do the right thing. How can you not seize this?”

  “What horrible things? What are you talking about?”

  “You have to do the right thing, Judd. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “Since when are you emotional about Zimbabwe? I’ve never heard you talk about it before and suddenly you’re an expert?”

  “I’ve been reading.”

  “Even if I want to help, I don’t have much time. Or leverage. You know that. I’m flying in there the same day the election starts, and it’s just me.”

  “Didn’t you just say you have new ideas for leverage?”

  “Yes. But what am I supposed to do?”

  “Win.”

  “No one cares about Zimbabwe. Landon Parker wouldn’t have given it to me if anyone did. I have no political top cover, no time, no tools.”

  “Then turn those all to your advantage. Fly under the radar, be quick, use what you have. And fight to the death, Judd. That’s what you did in Mali and it worked. You really have no other choice.”

  “No choice . . .” Judd mumbled, and rubbed his temples.

  “You just have to win.”

  “I do have to win this one, Jess.”

  “So stop feeling sorry for yourself. It’s unprofessional.”

  Judd dropped his hands and relaxed his shoulders. Then he looked right into Jessica’s eyes. God, she is beautiful. And smart. I am lucky, he thought. “You’re right, Jess.”

  “Good. About time. So, what’s your plan?” She sipped her wine.

  “I’m working on it,” he said.

  “You’re leaving tonight, sweetheart.”

  “I know.”

  “Well, let’s start with item one. What’s your objective?”

  Judd didn’t reply immediately.

  “Come on, Judd! What are your goals? Who’re your allies? Who’s gonna block you? These are the basics.”

  “You are quite the romantic, Jessica. You surprise your husband for a dinner date and you want to talk about strategy for regime change.”

  “Regime change?” she asked with a smirk. She sat up straighter and pushed out her chest. “Okaaay, good. Regime change. At least you know what you are trying to achieve.”

  “That’s not official policy,” he said quickly.

  “If you say so. Where’s Rogerson on this? What’s he going to do?”

  “He won’t do anything. Just the opposite. He’s just trying to keep things quiet. Stability, first and forever.”

  “Okay, item two: your team. Who else matters?”

  “Rogerson’s brought the whole building in. Every State bureau plus another half dozen federal agencies. I think his interagency task force has twenty-five or thirty people now.”

  “That can’t possibly work.”

  “He calls it ‘whole-of-government.’”

  “Sounds like a circus,” she said, scrunching her face in the way she often did when she smelled something foul. “Listen, Judd, this isn’t my area of expertise. But from years of running agriculture projects in some pretty crazy places, I’ve learned one thing: You get things done with a small team. No bigger than it needs to be. If you need a team, the smaller the better.”

  “Okay . . .”

  “And everyone has to be clear on what skills they bring to the mission. You know about the great literature on this, right?”

  “More Emily Dickinson?”

  Jessica shook her head.

  “Shakespeare?” he asked.

  “DC Comics,” she said.

  “What?”

  “The Justice League, Judd. You know: Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, the Flash. The team of superheroes. Didn’t you read comic books as a kid?”

  “Yeah, sure. I loved Iron Man.”

  “No,” she scoffed. “Iron Man was the Avengers. That’s Marvel Comics.” Jessica took another sip of wine.

  “I obviously don’t know my superhero teams like you do,” Judd said.

  “No, you don’t.”

  “What’s your point, Jess?”

  “Did Batman try to fly the invisible airplane?”

  “What?”

  “No, he didn’t. That was Wonder Woman’s plane. You get it?
”

  “I think so.”

  “They each brought something special to the team. They knew their role. They did their jobs.”

  “They stayed in their lane,” he added.

  “Exactly, Judd,” she said.

  “You sound like Rogerson.”

  “Forget him. You need to find your team. Each member brings a special skill and does their job. You need your own powerful team.”

  “I need my own Justice League?”

  “Precisely. You have to know your allies and what they can do.”

  “Right. Okay, I get it.”

  “And, item three, don’t forget you are fighting supervillains. You need to know who they are. You need to be very clear about who is really working against you. Who in the U.S. government is on your side and who is making trouble? You need to figure that out right away. Same goes for Zimbabwe once you get on the ground. Who’s on your team and who’s not?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Judd rubbed his temples again. “Everyone is lying. The national security guys, the State Department’s old boys’ network. I’m sure when I get to Harare the Zimbabweans will do the same.”

  “What about the ambassador?”

  “Tallyberger? He’s an old friend of Rogerson’s. I don’t expect any help from him.”

  “Do you have any leverage on this guy Tallyberger?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Anything you can find out that might be useful later. You’re going to need him at some point. Doesn’t hurt to do some homework.”

  “You’re cold-blooded, Jessica Ryker.”

  “Don’t say that. You know I hate that,” she snapped.

  “You’re right. I take it back. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m trying to help you,” she said.

  “You’re right, Jess.”

  “Judd, dear. Look at me.” Jessica placed both hands on the table and stared directly into his eyes. It was her I’m serious glare. “Suck it up.”

  “Suck it up? That’s your advice?”

  “Yes. You are being thrown into the deep end on this. If you think about all the problems, and what you don’t know, and who’s lying to you, then you will lose. Don’t focus on what you don’t know or can’t control. Determine your goals, figure out who you can trust, build your team. Then use what you have and scrap it out.”

  Judd nodded. “That’s all?”

  Jessica lifted her wineglass, and her face relaxed. “That’s all. Cheers. To your Justice League.”

  “To my Justice League,” Judd said.

  “And to regime change.”

  Clink.

  13.

  U.S. Ambassador’s Residence, Harare, Zimbabwe

  Friday, 1:35 a.m. Central Africa Time

  No, Bill. You haven’t woken me,” Arnold Tallyberger lied. “I’m always happy to hear from you.”

  “I know it’s late, Arnold. I’m sorry to call at this hour. How is Bernice?”

  “She’s fine. She misses Helsinki.”

  “Those were the days, Arnie. You still owe me for that one. You might still be sitting in a Finnish jail if it weren’t for me.”

  “I know, I remember, Bill. Pass Bernice’s regards to Valerie.”

  “I will, Arnie, thank you. I’m calling you so late to give you a heads-up.”

  “Okay, I’m listening.”

  “I just found out you’ll be getting a visitor from State.”

  “You’re coming for another visit? How wonderful! I can call the hunting lodge. They’ll be thrilled to have you back again. They love VIP visitors.”

  “No, Arnie. It’s not me. His name is Judd Ryker. And I want to be very clear that I did not send him.”

  “Who?”

  “Ryker. He’s not coming to hunt lion. This Ryker is running some newfangled crisis response unit. It’s an experimental plaything of Landon Parker’s. They got it in their heads that we might need some help on Zimbabwe. I tried to talk Landon out of it, but you can’t argue with that guy.”

  “We don’t have a crisis in Zimbabwe, Bill.”

  “Exactly my point, Arnie. I knew you’d get it. But there’s nothing I can do now. Someone’s convinced Parker this unit can be a problem solver and help the Secretary, but this Ryker kid is a menace.”

  “I see.”

  “Good. Go ahead and be nice to him. We don’t want anyone crying up to the seventh floor. But keep Ryker’s nose out of our business. You got that?”

  “Yes, Bill. What exactly is he coming here to do?”

  “Beats me. But I’ve been told he’s flying out tonight and will be landing in Harare early Saturday morning. The first flight from Joburg. You should be getting the country clearance request soon.”

  “I could deny him clearance. That would stop him.”

  “No, don’t do that. Too obvious. It’ll just raise eyebrows and you’ll be forced to explain. Better you just let him come and poke around. Maybe give him something to distract his attention. Just don’t let him get in your way. And for God’s sake, Arnie, don’t let him stir up any trouble.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “You’ve got everything under control over there, right?”

  “Yes. I don’t think the election will bring any surprises. Our expectation is continuity.”

  “Good. The last thing we want is Zimbabwe on A1 of the Washington Post. Nothing more than a short paragraph in the back about low turnout or too much traffic or something like that. Nothing on the goddamn front page, Arnie. Let’s keep a lid on it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Is there anything I need to know, Arnie? Are you picking up any signs of trouble?”

  “The CIA chief of station doesn’t think so.”

  “Who’s your COS?”

  “New guy on his first COS post. Only been down here a few months, but seems on the ball. Maybe a bit over-caffeinated. Came down from Morocco.”

  “Morocco? Don’t tell me they sent you Brock Branson.”

  “Yes, that’s him.”

  “Brock’s a hothead. A real yahoo. Don’t you know what happened in Marrakesh? Jesus, how the hell did Langley promote Brock Branson to be a station chief already?”

  “I don’t know, Bill.”

  “Can you trust him?”

  “I think so. I’ll ask him to keep an eye on this Ryker.”

  “Good. You let Brock keep an eye on Ryker. But you better keep an eye on Brock.”

  14.

  U.S. Department of State, Washington, D.C.

  Thursday, 10:22 p.m. Eastern Standard Time

  Dr. Ryker, your car will be ready in ten minutes. They’ll have you at Dulles Airport by eleven and you’ll have plenty of time to make your flight. Don’t worry.”

  “What about my connection, Serena?”

  “You arrive at Joburg/O. R. Tambo International Airport just after midnight tomorrow. You can sleep at the airport for a few hours in the diplomatic lounge and then get the first morning flight to Harare. You’ll be wheels-up at seven and on the ground in Harare at eight.”

  “Saturday morning at eight a.m.?” That gives me just twenty-eight hours before results are announced.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s the same time polls open. There’s no quicker way?”

  “Not unless you have your own plane.”

  Judd, annoyed he was cutting it so close, flipped through his papers, deciding which to take with him on the flight. “Where’s that Zimbabwean history book the CIA sent over?”

  “It’s right here, Dr. Ryker,” she said handing it to him. “Your travel go bag is by the door. It has enough clothes for a few days. The embassy will give you toiletries. Is there anything else you need?”

  “Actually, yes,” he said, giving Serena a serious look. “Can you do me a
big favor?”

  “Of course, Dr. Ryker.”

  “Can you find out who is going to be our next ambassador to Egypt?”

  “Could be tough. I do know a staffer on the Deputies Committee. Or maybe I could ask—”

  “Don’t tell me how,” Judd interrupted. “I’d rather not know. Deliberate ignorance is sometimes for the best. Just find out. I’d be extremely grateful.”

  “Consider it done. You have anything more difficult for me to do? I’m up for a challenge.”

  “There is something else.”

  “Yes?”

  “I’d need you to be very discreet.”

  “Aren’t I always?”

  “Yes, of course you are, Serena.”

  “I have top secret clearance, just like you. For all you know, Dr. Ryker, I may have higher clearances than you.”

  “You do?”

  “If I did, I couldn’t say,” she said, deadpan.

  “Of course, Serena. But this request is different. Please close the door.”

  “No one else is here. It’s after ten o’clock.”

  “I know. Close the door anyway.”

  Serena did as she was asked and turned to face Judd.

  “If you are uncomfortable doing what I’m about to ask, Serena, you can say no. I’ll respect your decision.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I need you to look into Arnold Tallyberger’s personnel record.”

  “You need dirt on Ambassador Tallyberger?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But that’s what you mean, right?”

  “I just need to know if there’s anything in there that’s . . . relevant.”

  “I understand.”

  “Don’t you want to know why, Serena?”

  “No. Actually, I don’t. Deliberate ignorance is sometimes for the best.”

  They were both startled by a knock on the door. They looked at each other, then back to the door.

  Knock, knock, knock. “Hello? Dr. Ryker?”

  Serena opened the door and standing there was a woman, late twenties, with short brown hair and olive skin. She was wearing a tailored business suit, and a leather portfolio was tucked under one arm. Despite her diminutive size and lawyer-like attire, her tight facial features and aggressive posture suggested she could handle herself in a street fight.