The red phone on the desk buzzed with an unusual noise. It sounded as if the phone were struggling to announce a call. The Secretary swiveled back around again with a soft squeak of his chair and picked up the receiver.
“Suthby...Yes, hello, Sheriqua,” he said when the operator came on the line. With the power out, the normal communication systems were down. An emergency network was in place to keep the various agencies operating through the crisis. In reality, using their backup generators, the government agencies could still function. To completely stop the critical components of a bureaucracy as large and multi-layered as the Federal Government, nothing short of a nuclear attack would work.
“Yeah, I need to speak with him—this is perfect timing…Yes, I have some information that he…Okay.” He glanced at his expensive watch. "That's cutting it close, but I'll be there. Fine." He hung up the receiver and stared at the phone for a moment.
“I’m the Secretary of the Department of Homeland Security, not some damned clerk at the DMV!” he roared at the phone. He didn't see the shocked look on his lieutenant's face. Suthby stood up, suddenly collected again and grabbed his suit jacket before he beckoned to his deputy. “Let’s go.”
Daniel blinked. “Who was that? Where we going?” He staggered to his feet.
“It was the President’s scheduling secretary. And we’re going to the White House. Grab my case, will you?” Suthby strolled over to the window and paused a moment to stare into the growing light of morning over the darkened city of Washington, D.C.
The sky was lit by the orange glow of the fires, but in the east, the faint pink tinge to the smoke suggested dawn was trying to make an appearance. They were in one of the newer Department of Homeland Security offices, just down the street from the White House. In the distance, beyond the horizon, thick black smoke smeared the landscape to the north, the west and the south.
“Dammit, there’s not enough time,” he growled. Suthby spun away from the window in disgust and marched towards the door. He paused in the bustling outer office to look at the massive three foot by five foot framed photograph from New Orleans during the aftermath of Katrina.
A line of National Guardsmen with automatic rifles stood holding back the tide of thousands of refugees as a few other soldiers tried to unload a Blackhawk helicopter carrying food and water. In the background, the wounded Superdome rose up out of the filth and flooding of the Big Easy. A banner under the picture proclaimed a motto the agency had taken to heart ever since:
FAILURE IS NOT AN OPTION
What a fiasco for the Federal Emergency Management Agency that had been. Heads had rolled, Suthby recalled. His head was on the chopping block this time. He wondered how much time he had to get his plan in motion. Resolved, he stormed from the office, Daniel in tow.
“Hank, we’ll get it under control. So far the riots—”
The Secretary shook his head in disbelief as they passed through the outer doors of their building and past the first barricade. Foot traffic in the street was non-existent. Most folks were cowering at home, praying for the power to come back. A National Guard Humvee roared by, soldiers peering out the windows. The radio on a nearby soldier broke squelch and reported that there was trouble just north of the White House. Multiple units were asked to respond.
Secretary Suthby was silent as they walked. He kept a wary eye on the smoke drifting in the distance. “Do you believe this? Riots.”
“Freakin’ creepy out here…there’s not even any cars --“
"Yeah, the National Guard got in here pretty quick to quarantine the White House and surrounding blocks. We're pretty safe..."
"For now," mumbled Daniel.
After a moment, Suthby began talking again. In the distance they saw the White House appear out of the smoke like a ship in the fog. “Somehow the terrorists have gotten inside information—deep inside. They knew how to bring down our power grid on a national level. Besides the fact that this is a crisis the likes of which we’ve never encountered before, how the hell did they know?”
“Shit that's hot!” gasped Daniel, almost dropping his coffee cup. He licked his scalded lips and winced. “It’s too early in the morning for this, Hank. Leave that to CIA or the Bureau.”
They rounded a building and were in sight of the first security checkpoint at a barricade far in front of the White House. Fully armed Secret Service Agents stood there in what looked like battle gear watching them approach.
“Men and women have obviously been set in place all around the country. Sleeper cells. For who knows how long? They might have a lot more…just waiting to be contacted and activated for a coordinated strike against what’s left. They might know about Congressional leaders, like where their home offices are…they seem to be very well informed."
A dull roar permeated the air around them. "What's that noise? I didn't hear it a second ago."
"It's the mob," said Daniel in a hushed voice. "My God, listen to it...it's like, millions of voices, screaming at the time."
"The noise is unreal. It fills the air. Jesus, it's hard to hear yourself think..."
"Hank, your theory sounds plausible. But—"
"The info leak has to be all the way at the top," concluded Suthby with a nod.
“So you think someone important is on their side,” Daniel said. “But, how the Hell do you prove this? Really, Hank, this isn't our problem. Shouldn’t NSA or CIA be handling this? Or even the Bureau? What’s this got to do with DHS?”
“ID, please,” said the Agent, his partner eyeing them closely. Both had weapons loaded and ready.
The two handed over their DHS badges and waited. Suthby tried to act normal but was afraid the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead, caused by the brisk walk from DHS HQ would lead the Agents to believe he was nervous.
I am nervous, though, a small voice whispered inside his mind. Everything was going according to plan, until all this happened. So what? I adapt, I overcome. Things change. I can handle this. It'll work. It has to work. We're too deep in it now to turn back. My God that noise is deafening. How do these guys stand it? It's nerve wracking. Resolved, he wrapped his false courage around himself like a suit of armor and tried to stand straighter.
"Is there a problem, son?" asked Suthby in his 'I am a Cabinet Level Appointee' voice. Respectful, with just a touch of irritation to let the Agent know who was really in charge.
The Agent looked up from his approved list and carefully watched Hank's face for a moment. His face was impassive, his eyes looked right through the bureaucrat like he wasn't even there. Just another civilian. Then he looked back down without saying a word.
Jesus, his eyes! He's like a machine. Doesn't give a damn about anyone or anything but the mission, Suthby cringed on the inside.
The Agent suddenly turned and put a hand to his ear. Suthby tried to frown and look impatient to the other guard who merely stared right at the two bureaucrats. The first Agent began to mumble something barely audible into a microphone. Overhead, a Blackhawk rumbled in from the east and soared over the White House, search lights piercing the smoke like lances.
Suthby took a moment to gather his thoughts and look around. Between the roar of the mob a few blocks away and the prop-wash from the helicopter, he could feel his ribcage vibrating. The White House had been turned into a fortress overnight. Where he knew there had been bushes and shrubs, delicately pruned for shape all year long, now there were sandbags and defensive positions bristling with machine guns.
And the Agents! They were everywhere. The Secretary of the Department of Homeland Security had no idea the President had so many Secret Service Agents. Wherever his eyes rested, there was a black-clad Agent, carrying a load-out that looked like something from a special operations unit. Tactical vests filled to the brim with dangerous looking equipment. High powered rifles, of a range of different types. He swore he could see a grenade on more than one Agent's vest. It was unreal.
The first Agent suddenly nodded to himself and turned bac
k to face the two visitors. He smiled, the smile of a cat watching a mouse, and opened the gate. “Here you go, gentleman. Thank you for your patience, and good luck. Hear he’s in a bad mood today.”
“Can you blame him?” asked Suthby as Daniel nodded curtly and the two stalked off. He rapidly composed himself as they walked away from the Agents. Military types gave him the shakes. How a man could be so cold-blooded was beyond his mental capacity. Wonder how many people that guy has killed. He had the look of someone who wouldn't mind pulling the trigger on somebody. Hank suppressed an inner shiver and pushed on. He had a job to do.
I am the Secretary of the Department of—he began telling himself again.
“This place is like Fort Knox all of a sudden--“ muttered Daniel as soon as they were out of earshot of the guard post.
Suthby rolled his eyes in irritation at the interruption. He had to speak louder now to be heard over all the background noise. “Daniel, of course! That’s how it works. The President obviously decided he wasn't skipping town. So they'll hunker down and prepare for the worst."
“Okay, but we've got to worry about cleaning up this mess and stopping the rioting. Not figuring out who started it! I still think we need to hand this over to the FBI and get back to our job. The CIA wouldn’t know all the domestic stuff. Or would they? Look, Hank, the point is, let's let the spooks figure it out," Daniel almost shouted back.
“Maybe,” pondered Secretary Suthby as he stepped through the door to the White House and passed the ceremonial Marine Guard. The Marine had company this day, what looked like an entire Platoon of battle hardened men stood at the ready. They appeared even more menacing than the Secret Service Agents, who at least tried to put on an air of discrete strength. The Marines had the look that they were itching to kill someone or destroy something.
“This is out of our jurisdiction,” Daniel whispered nervously.
“The President needs to know about this, Daniel…” Suthby said as they both signed in at the security desk and were issued badges to access further into the locked down White House. A more normal dressed Agent led them to where they would meet the President.
“We’ve suspected something like this may have been in the pipes for a while, but never thought they’d get this far. They must have been collecting intelligence for years, Danny, years. Just biding their time. Hell, we don’t even know if the jokers who took out the power grid are even affiliated with Al Qaeda. All these damn terrorist organizations have two or three of their own splinter groups anymore.” Suthby marveled at how quiet it was inside the White House. The sound proofing was incredible. Their shoes echoed off the polished marble floors like gunshots.
Daniel followed his boss into a special elevator operated by yet another a Agent, heading deep underground to the War Room level. He whispered, “Hank, if they press the attack…now…”
Both men waited until the elevator opened before they continued talking. Suthby figured his silence would give Daniel the answer he was looking for—besides, being confined in the elevator with that silent Agent was just too creepy to continue a conversation. The deeper they penetrated the White House, the more anxious he became.
“Then why don’t we just get the word out right now? Why wait? Just call the boys over at the Bureau and let them—“ persisted Daniel.
Suthby spun around on his lieutenant in the hallway. More than one Agent noticed the sudden movement and had hands on weapons as a result. No one pulled their firearms free of holsters but there were several sets of dangerous eyes on the two lone bureaucrats.
“Because we can’t trust anyone right now, Danny. If we tip our hand too fast, who knows what could happen. They might strike anyway, they might just disappear. If they're even there. Either way it’s bad. We’ll be unprepared and they’re still going to be waiting and we’ll have solved nothing. No…we’ve got to get the word out quietly and set a trap.”
“Hank, playing cat and mouse...I seriously disagree with you on this, but..." He sighed, then looked over his shoulder at the Agent in the elevator. The man touched his hear and mumbled into his cufflink. "Why do Secret Service agents always make me feel like the bad guy?" Suthby ignored his deputy and continued down the wide, marbled corridor.
Daniel squared his shoulders and said, "You know, something has been eating away at me since we discovered the extent of the power outages." The two men came to the massive door to the War Room and another two Secret Service Agents.
“Hank…with the whole power grid down…we’re wide open.”
The Secretary grimaced, but agreed. He suddenly looked tired. Before answering he handed over his badge to yet another Agent who checked a list in his hand. Turning to Daniel, he whispered, “I know. The Joint Chiefs are probably inside this room shitting bricks right about now, trying to figure out which of our enemies is going to be the first to take advantage of the situation.”
"It'll be just a moment, sir. If you like, there's a sofa right there for you to wait," the Agent said with a tone that let Suthby know it wasn't a suggestion. He turned to face the plush sofa and took a step.
Daniel suddenly pulled his boss to the side. “Maybe no one will hit us…I mean, think about it," he whispered with intensity. "With the power out, it means all those people, bottled up in the cities, with nowhere to go, no water, no food, no power, no air conditioning and no TV….each city is a powder keg." His words started running together, as if he was worried if he didn't speak them as fast as possible, he'd lose the thought forever.
"That’s not even considering the race riots. But no matter what, after a while, you’re going to have total breakdown, though. Anarchy. The cops won’t be able to handle it. Hell, we could throw our whole military at the problem, but what good are a few million soldiers and reservists going to do against 290 million panicked civilians? It’ll be Katrina and Joyce on a massive scale, on crack, man.”
“Jesus…take a breath, will you?” muttered Suthby, straightening his jacket. Everyone at DHS knew how the aftermath and subsequent bungling of Katrina, and years later, Hurricane Joyce had cleaned out offices at Headquarters. No one had been safe, from the top down.
Daniel looked at him like he was shocked the Secretary of the Department of Homeland Security wasn't more agitated over his sudden outburst. Suthby's mind raced. He's had way too much coffee this morning and not enough sleep. Gotta calm him down.
Suthby willed his face to take on a dark look. He was in reality, furious. Unlike his strung out and exhausted lieutenant, however, the Secretary was fully in control of his faculties. Hank Suthby was not a man ruled by impulsive decisions. He was calm, cold, and calculating at all times, and prided himself on that fact. Today was no different. But to avoid suspicion from his junior officer, he had to play the part that came naturally to everyone else. He set his mouth in a firm, angry line and muttered, “Those cocksuckers did this to us. And what can we do now against them?”
Daniel nodded and glanced at the massive oak door, where the two Agents were still watching. "Where did the other Agent go? I swear there were two a second ago?" he asked.
"These guys are like ghosts, Daniel. This is their turf and they know every secret passage in here. They're good guys, remember?" Hank started to worry he'd have to find a new Deputy Undersecretary. Daniel was losing it.
"Well...We’ll have to recall all the overseas troops…everyone, Iraq, Afghanistan, even the peacekeepers we got all over the place. They’re all gonna have to come back to protect the borders or control the cities soon,” Daniel said quietly. “Something’ll have to change, of course. We're talking major policy shift. Posse Commitatus for one thing. The military cannot aide law enforcement on U.S. soil. That’s the law. But without the military, I don't see how the National Guard will have the manpower to handle this—even with our full support and all local LEOs. Now if the law is suspended somehow…”
The Director grunted and nodded his head stiffly, staring at the large oak door, waiting for the return of Agent 1. He was
honestly curious how the man had slipped inside so quietly and was determined to watch him emerge from the enclave. Almost absently, he commented, “And what do you think every piss-ant third world shithole of a country will think when word gets out about the conditions here in the States? The Great Satan is on her knees, waiting to be raped. Hell, China’s going to love this.”
He's falling for it, thought Suthby with an inner smile. This is perfect.
“Everyone from Libya to Syria is gonna want to take a bite of our ass…they won’t get a better shot. Even the North Koreans have nukes now...” Daniel muttered in a tone that suggested hope was all but lost, just 24 hours after the emergency.
Let's hope that's the President's attitude as well, Suthby told himself. The more worried he is, the easier it will be to put my plan in motion and the quicker we get things put back together. If he's still all high and mighty about rights and liberties then this will be an uphill battle.
Daniel looked up as the two doors to the War Room opened with a barely audible click and Agent 1 stepped back out into the corridor again.
“Sorry about the delay, Secretary Suthby. The President was occupied."
Suthby smirked. No reason given. The arrogance of the Secret Service. That will have to change.
The Agent was still talking, "He’s squared away now though. A little tired this morning, but ready to go. If you’ll just follow me,” said the agent, holding the door open and gesturing for the two men to move forward.
"Showtime," said Suthby out of the side of his mouth. Daniel grunted and the two men got up and walked towards the door.
WASHINGTON
COG
MR. PRESIDENT, SECRETARY Suthby to see you, sir,” said a dark suited Secret Service agent. Another agent stepped into the bustling War Room with the DHS Secretary and his lackey.
Alea Jacta Est: A Novel of the Fall of America (Future History of America Book 1) Page 9