by Jack Ford
‘Chuck, I respect your knowledge on these matters. But this administration won’t be part of what I see as being complicit in this chess game. We do things properly around here.’
‘There’s no such thing as properly when it comes to this country being attacked. Whether it’s from lone suicide bombers, or from more sophisticated assaults… If it were me, Mr President, I’d tear up and throw out all those legislations that go back and forth between you and Congress. There is no rule book anymore. No laws are going to protect you from what’s out there. And believe me, if you don’t, you’re going to regret this.’
‘If I didn’t know better, Chuck, that sounds like a threat.’
‘A threat? You kidding me? I’m not the one you need to be worrying about. The threats are when everyday folk ride on the subway. When they take their kids to school. When they step onto a plane or train, go to work, or even wait in line to buy groceries. It’s waiting for them. And mainly because it’s getting harder for us to stop it. The explosion of the internet. Encrypted communication, which as a nation we are so behind with; even the terrorists are more advanced than us. And when you add to that the reluctance of a number of Middle Eastern governments to assist, we’ve got a major problem. What it cuts down to is we’re trying to follow leads, prevent and foil attacks, and all without help from your administration. You’re costing lives.’
‘You’re talking bull, Chuck.’
‘Am I? Am I really? I don’t think so. You know what my idea of bull is? It’s when you won’t release prisoners the CIA are asking you to, because they’re terrorists, yet your administration will sell advanced weaponry to the same countries that these terrorists come from – and not just come from, some of them are even transparently affiliated to the governments of their kingdoms.’
Woods clenched his teeth, regretted it immediately as his back molar sent out a warning shot.
He said, ‘That is a different issue.’
Chuck shook his head. ‘Try telling that to the solider who’s being shot at by terrorists with an advanced weapon. The same advanced weapon sold by the United States government.’
‘For God’s sake, Chuck, we don’t sell to terrorists.’
‘Agreed. But we do sell to governments who we know sympathize, donate money and weapons to the groups that want to see the West destroyed. And if we’re talking about Qatar, weren’t they the ones who gave Khalid Sheikh Mohammed sanctuary? A hiding place? Mr President, the scars from 9/11 are still healing, still unresolved, yet we deal, negotiate and do business with countries who are known terrorist sympathizers, as if we’re inviting them to the Minnesota state fair… Everything is connected, Mr President. Everything! And one day, it’ll come back and bite America on its ass… Let me tell you something. You put me in the post because you knew I was the best at what I did. There is nobody better for the job, yet you continually block me and question my judgment. We have to jump through Goddamn hoops so the country can sleep well in their beds and people can get up and go to work without fear.’
For the first time in the meeting, Lyndon Clarke added to the discussion. ‘Chuck, I think now would be an appropriate point for you to calm down.’
Chuck glared at Lyndon. Stood up. Walked round towards him. ‘Not too long ago in this country you could never speak to me like that. You understand what I’m saying, Lyndon?’
‘Are you kidding me, Chuck? Are you really saying what I think you’re saying?’
The coldness hit Chuck’s eyes. Words. Whole demeanor. ‘I don’t know Lyndon, you tell me. What am I saying?’
‘Chuck, I’d say that’s enough. Don’t go there,’ Woods said.
Chuck, pouring himself a glass of water, shrugged. ‘Understood, Mr President, I know when to stop. Isn’t that right, Lyndon?’
Calm, quiet and tense, Woods said, ‘We’ve got to close now, but there is just one other point, Chuck… What do you know about a kid who had this theory that there were two impact tremors on the day of the bomb?’
Calm, quiet and tense, Chuck replied, ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mr President. Should I?’
‘Some information came to me via one of my staff that this kid was making a lot of noise about a seismograph reading he’d taken on the evening of the bomb. He was desperate to get someone to listen. Called up every agency there was, apparently.’
‘There’s always someone with some kind of conspiracy theory.’
‘That’s true, but according to this source, he got in contact not only with the CTC, but you actually spoke to him.’
Chuck shook his head. Locked eyes with the President. ‘Not wanting to sound disrespectful, but it hardly sounds likely does it? I mean, if I met up with or spoke to every crazy oddball who called up the CTC, I wouldn’t have time to do my job… So, no, Mr President, I certainly didn’t meet up with some mixed up kid from Chatham with some mixed up theory. But I’m curious, how did this source of yours know I’d supposedly spoken to him? Did the kid tell them that we’d met up…? Seriously, Mr President, I’m surprised you even asked me.’
‘Why did you say Chatham?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘You said, the kid was from Chatham. I never told you that.’
With as much ice as Chuck could muster, he said, ‘I know you didn’t, but I don’t think I’d be much use as a counter terrorism expert if I couldn’t figure out the simplest of things. You told me he’d taken a seismograph reading on the evening of the bomb, so it’s pretty basic to guess he comes from the area, seeing as all the other bombs went off in the afternoon. I don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate, but whatever it is, I don’t like it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mr President, I have a country to try to protect.’
FIVE MILES OUTSIDE GOROM-GOROM,
BURKINA FASO, WEST AFRICA
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The heat of the day made the air feel heavier, denser than it really was, and the miles of clearing where villages had once stood stretched out into the distance, where the distance met the edge of the earth and the edge of the earth met with the unforgiving sun.
Shots fired out from guns, and the sound drifted and disappeared far into the beyond.
‘Hold the gun firmly… that’s it. Against your shoulder. Hold it steady. Have you got your aim?’
‘Yes.’
The cudgel was carved from the locust bean tree, and the strike to the side of the head ruptured and split the skin of the soldier’s temple as they fell, toppling down into the burnt-out grasslands which no longer gave shelter to the lizards and snakes that darted and weaved, seeking refuge from the African sun.
‘Comment t’appelles-tu? What’s your name?’
‘Amira.’
‘Bonjour, Amira. Welcome… But I think you’re forgetting your manners… How should you address me?’
Through pain filled tears, Amira cried. ‘Commandant. Commandant.’
‘Yes, Amira: Commandant. Do not forget it.’
‘No, Commandant.’
‘We cannot always oblige; but we can always speak obligingly…Voltaire. He was a French poet, but he was a man who spoke out against Islam. And what does that make him, Amira?’
The blood ran into Amira’s mouth as she shook and began to talk. ‘A Kafir, Commandant.’
‘Good, Amira. You’re learning.’
‘And what is a Kafir?’
‘An infidel. A non-believer, Commandant.’
‘Excellent. And what does it say to do with non-believers, Amira?’
‘It says, when you encounter the Kafirs on the battlefield, cut off their heads until you have defeated them. Seize them and kill them wherever they are… Commandant.’
‘That’s right. A Kafir will always be our enemy and we shall always treat them as such. Now get up.’
Pushing herself back up onto her feet, Amira picked up her gun, listening to the graveled voice of the Commandant. ‘When I tell you, fire your weapon.’
‘Yes, Commandant.’
The Commandant signaled, shouting to a nearby solider who stood attentively a short distance away.
‘Our newest soldier, Amira is ready…’
Turning back to Amira, whose-dirt covered face was streaked with blood, the Commandant said, ‘Hold your aim… Fire.’
The gun discharged a round of bullets which hit the sand, spraying and plunging into the hot dry earth.
‘Try again, Amira.’
‘Yes, Commandant.’
She aimed once more.
‘Now wait…Wait… Fire…’
A smile spread across the Commandant’s face. ‘Amira, look, a hit. You did well. God is great.’
In the distance a woman staggered. Trying to run. Trying to push through the pain as the bullet embedded deep into her calf. Tearing it open to expose the tissue. She stumbled over the dead bodies of those who had gone before. Her screams merging as one with the cries of the others. The men and women. The children. Who stood, lined up and ready, waiting for their turn to become the target.
‘Again, Amira, you need to get it right. Finish it off. But this time, aim for her head.’
A shot.
A thud.
As the woman fell to the ground in the distance, where the distance met the edge of the earth and the edge of the earth met with the unforgiving sun.
WASHINGTON, D.C.
USA
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It wouldn’t have been a house he would ever have chosen to live in. Not under any circumstances. But as Cooper dried his face in the cream and gold secocnd floor bathroom, he couldn’t deny that 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue felt real homely. Which was strange, considering.
Cooper didn’t bother to look in the mirror. What was there to look at? He knew his hair was on the top of his head. He knew his face held his nose. He knew he ought to get a shave. Anything else, he didn’t need to know. Not the bloodshot eyes. Not the fading red and yellow bruises which made his skin look like the setting of the sun.
He let out a long sigh. He slipped his hand deep into the pocket of the well-worn jeans he’d gotten out from the back of his closet, and then like a high voltage shockwave, it hit him. Jolted. Sending him spinning. He’d forgotten it was there. The pills… The pills… The OxyContin he was trying to part ways with, but which never seemed to want to part ways with him.
Caressing the roundness. The smooth hard shape. Cooper twirled it over, over and through, between the gaps of his fingers. Welcoming it like an old friend. And then he stopped. Stared at himself in the mirror. Seeing but not feeling.
He watched this stranger in the mirror, the way their mouth blew out their breath. The way they quickly sucked back the air.
Chest out.
Chest in.
Then he watched their hand slowly pull the pills out of their pocket and heard them say, ‘So what do you say, Cooper? What’s it going to be? Which way you going to choose this time?’
He turned away before he heard the reply, popping the pill into his mouth as he exited the bathroom to walk along the hallway, forcing his mind to think of nothing but the idea of having nothing to think of.
‘Dude! Seriously! How long does it take a guy to use the bathroom? Black Ops waits for no man.’ Jackson Woods grinned, gesturing Cooper to hurry back to the private sitting room and the abandoned game.
He winked at Jackson, saying nothing as he tried to ignore – as he always did – the thick, raised scar running down Jackson’s forehead. The result, as well a constant reminder, of what had happened that day on the yacht all those years ago.
‘Coop! Hey!’
Hearing the voice behind him, Cooper span round on the heel of his boot, feeling it sink into the cream, deep-pile carpet.
‘Hey, John, how’s it going?’
President Woods tilted his head. ‘Maybe it’s going better than it is with you.’
Half smile. Almost. Cooper said, ‘You think?’
‘Can we talk, Coop?’
‘I thought that’s what we were doing.’
Woods stepped in. Head still tilted. ‘Jackson, can you give us a minute?’
Hating the tension but desperate to break it, Jackson tried to make light. ‘Oh come on, Dad, not now! I’m about to totally annihilate Coop. I’m on a kill-streak and I’m feeling lucky.’
Woods, not taking his eyes off Cooper, spoke to his son with an inflexibility. ‘Jackson, I said I need a minute.’
Without another word, Jackson slipped back into the sitting room, gently closing the door behind him, leaving the two men facing off in the hallway.
‘Why do you make it so difficult all the time, Coop?’
Wanting to feel the buzz of the pill begin – desperate to – Cooper pulled back. Away from the smell of expensive cologne. Away from the perfectly smooth-shaven face only inches away. ‘Listen, John, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘That’s why we need to talk.’
‘No. That’s why you need to talk. I’m fine.’
‘Really? You don’t look it.’
‘I know, I look like shit. Now tell me something I don’t know.’
Woods wiped his hand down his chin. Keeping his temper. Keeping his mouth from saying anything he’d later regret. Didn’t work. ‘Cut the crap, Coop. I heard about everything that went down. You could’ve been looking at a long time in a jailhouse.’
‘And how’s that?’
Woods’ voice had raised. Pulled himself together. Spoke in a pissed hush. ‘How’s that? Am I missing something here? You need me to jog your memory?’
‘No.’
‘Grand theft auto, aggravated motor vehicle theft in the first degree…’
‘Be my guest, why don’t you? I mean, who am I to say no?’
‘…Reckless driving, exhibition of speed, vagrancy…’
‘Leave vagrancy out of it… Have you finished now, John? Because I hear an Xbox calling my name.’
‘Where the hell do you get off being so casual about it?’
‘I don’t mean to be rude here, but I’m trying to figure out quite what it has to do with you, John.’
Woods felt the pulse in his molar begin to throb. ‘You wouldn’t be standing here if it wasn’t for me. I called in some favors.’
‘You?’
‘Well, not me exactly, but I got someone I know to call in some favors.’
‘Wouldn’t want to leave a trail.’
‘Goddam it, Coop, why do you have to make everything a fight? Even when someone’s trying to help you.’
‘I didn’t ask you to help me.’
Infuriated, Woods gripped hold of his temper. ‘No, you didn’t, but stupid me, thinking you’d prefer your freedom to sitting on your stubborn ass in a cell. No need to thank me, hey Coop. Anytime.’
‘Have you finished? Can I go now? Because I’m here to see your son.’
Woods stared and shook his head and closed his eyes and said, ‘Why, Coop? Why does it have to be like this?’
‘It doesn’t. Here’s the thing, John, I could just say hey, and you could just do the same. But the problem is, you want to talk when there’s nothing to say.’
Quietly. ‘What were you doing?’
‘I’m not following.’
Woods touched his slightly dry lips. Felt the speck of peeled skin. Didn’t pull.
‘What were you doing? Why did you drive towards the motorcade?’
As excuses went, Cooper knew it sounded like a bad one. ‘I just needed to get my head clear after the court.’
‘So you hijacked some guy’s car? Went like a bat out of hell down the highway? Off-roaded, then crashed, before running away from the FBI? All that just so you could clear your head?’
Cooper shrugged. Finally felt the buzz of the pill beginning to work. ‘Yeah, well if you put it like that… anyway, as nice as this chat is, John, I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Jackson beat me.’
Woods grabbed Cooper’s arm. Hard. Tight. Wasn’t letting go. ‘No, I want to
know.’
‘Let go of my arm, John.’
‘Just tell me.’
It was Cooper’s turn to step forward. ‘What do you want me to say? That it was crazy? Or do you want me to say something else? Is that it? You want me to say I was worried? There. There you go, I said it. I was worried something had happened to you.’
Woods was taken aback. The unexpected words anaesthetized his anger like a tranquilizer dart. ‘For real?’
‘Listen, John, don’t read anything into it. I was full up and brimming over with every pill there was. I was wired. Crazy ass. Things got on top of me. Now if you want to go and find something which isn’t there. Go ahead. But you’ll be wasting your time. I was high. Period.’
‘I don’t want to hear that, Coop. I thought you were off them.’
‘I am. I was. I wasn’t then. I am now. These things happen.’
‘Coop… I know what happens when you take those pills, and I know you say the doc prescribed them to you, but…’
‘The doc you recommended, don’t forget.’
‘You wanna blame me? You wanna blame me? Is that it? Because I’ll take it, Coop. You can send anything my way as long as it helps keep you away from all that crap… I’m concerned about you.’
Cooper’s mind began to haze. Mouth dry. Cold sweat ran down his back. He was wired, and thought it was best to make an effort not to slur his words. Carefully, he answered. ‘I told you, I’m off them. So no need to be concerned… Now drop it, okay?’
After a few seconds of silence, Woods, pulling himself back on track, took a deep breath, changing the subject to something more palatable. ‘How’s Cora?’
Cooper shrugged. Tried to look nonchalant, didn’t really know how the hell she was himself. And for that, along with a list of other things, he felt ashamed. ‘She’s good. Real good.’
‘It would’ve been nice for you to have brought her.’
‘It’s complicated.’