On Deception Watch

by David H Spielberg

  “ . . . we were just informed, to evacuate the president to medical facilities at nearby Fort Belvoir.”

  “ . . . no explanation of why the military has taken jurisdiction over the protection of the president. We are told that the vice president is on his way to Fort Belvoir. This just in—Samantha Tripp, spokeswoman for General Morgan Slaider, chairman of the joint chiefs of staff, has informed us that the possibility of a conspiracy is being presumed and that the Army has taken over security responsibilities for the president because of the huge number of demonstrators in the District. We now switch live to Les Franklin at the Pentagon.”

  Latimer switched off the telescreen. He picked up the phone and dialed Frank Morrison. “Frank, it’s Paulnot now. We’ll go into that laterno, I don’t know why they think I’m going to Fort BelvoirI’ll be in the Situation Room in five minutes. Have you assembled the Alpha crisis team?okay.” He paused for a moment to reflect.

  “I don’t think anyone should be making any statements to the press. Can you pass the word for me?no. Have Fitz tell the press I will have a statement—I don’t know—tell them at about 9:00 a.m.I’m not happy either about the military in this. Emerson authorized military use only for crowd and riot control, not for his personal protection. That’s still Secret Service responsibility as far as I’m concerned. Still, there may be something more going on than we know so far. Frank, please make sure General Slaider understands that he must attend personally at the Situation Room. Oh, yes. Get White House Communications linked in to all Commands and all cabinet officers not in the Alpha Group. Also, Frank—I hope to god we don’t need him—but have the Chief Justice standing by, just in case.”

  He turned to the two agents, who were still standing. “Okay, let’s go. I want to go to the White House. And I mean now. What have you got?”

  “The backup limo, sir. We’ll have two cars in front and back. Every intersection will be blocked by motorcycle units until you pass. We’ll exit from the east door and enter the White House from the south entrance. Buildings within a five-block radius of the White House are being searched and cleared. All intersections leading into the secure zone will be blocked by Metro police. Helicopter surveillance of the White House and access routes are in place. If you’re ready, sir, we can go.”

  Latimer grabbed his portable transistor radio from his desk drawer and quickly left with the two agents. They walked briskly down the hall as two Marine guards silently joined the group. Then down the stairs—no elevators would be taken today—to the waiting car. Agent Williams verified the identity of the drivers and dismissed the Marines. Williams got into the middle car with Latimer, the other agent got into the lead car. As they drove the short distance to the White House, Latimer heard the whump—whump—whump of the helicopter overhead.

  Agent Williams turned from the front seat and addressed the vice president as the car picked up speed. “Mr. Vice President, I just got word—Samuel Berman, chief financial officer of AJC Fusion, was reported missing this morning by his wife. There’s no information on his whereabouts. I’d say we’ve got something organized here, sir. I’ve been informed that we’re now at DEFCON 4.”

  Latimer just nodded to Williams. Unexpectedly, Latimer felt his body collapse and he sank back into the heavily padded seat. In a few more moments he was at the protected south entrance to the White House. A Marine guard picked them up as they moved quickly and silently to the Situation Room. Arriving at the room, Latimer entered alone.

  The absence of the Nuclear Retaliation Officer offered some assurance to him that Drummond must still be alive. He went to his customary chair next to the president’s, and as he sat, he asked Frank Morrison to call the roll.

  The CIA director, the FBI director, the director of homeland security, the chairman of the joint chiefs, the secretary of state, the secretary of defense, the speaker of the house, the president pro tempore of the senate, the secretary of the treasury, and the attorney general were all present. The communications officer provided Latimer with a list of government and military connections that had been opened and connections still in the process of being established.

  Latimer took a breath, let it out slowly and began the meeting. He turned first to General Slaider.

  “General Slaider, what is the president’s condition?”

  “Mr. Vice President, I’m happy to say that the president is not in mortal danger. But he has suffered a gunshot would to the chest with a consequent collapse of his right lung and a substantial loss of blood from the wound. Also, I’m told there has been some bone fragmenting causing peripheral damage. However, these conditions are being stabilized. He is conscious and aware of his condition.”

  Spontaneous applause broke from the assembled group. After a few moments, Latimer continued.

  “That’s wonderful news, Morgan. Physically, where exactly is the president now and when can we expect to be in communication with him?”

  “The president is at the Fort Belvoir medical facility. I expect he’ll be communicating with us here any moment. Defense Intelligence Agency personnel on the president’s end are installing the scrambler-decoder now.”

  Secretary of State Alexander Llewellyn interrupted General Slaider. “General, you realize that the nation is unbelievably at risk at this moment. Until we hear from the president, there is no effective government of the United States. We must really press that this communication be accomplished immediately. Can we not communicate with the president’s physician in the meantime to verify your prognosis and assure ourselves as to who is in charge of our government?”

  “Mr. Secretary, I understand your anxiety, but for security reasons I must insist that we wait for the scrambler. It will only be a few moments more, I assure you.”

  Latimer unconsciously banged his knuckles against the table. Slaider’s “I must insist” was echoing in his brain. He once more addressed General Slaider. “General, speaking of security, could you explain for us under what circumstances and on whose authority you arrogated to the military the responsibility for the protection of the president?”

  Slaider paused before answering. He scanned the room and then returned his gaze to the vice president.

  “Gentlemen, it was done on the president’s authority. The Secret Service was cut out because the job was too big for them to do. It’s that simple. When the president was shot, I was at his side. I told him we needed to bump his security up to the military and he agreed. The events of last night and this morning, both here and in New Jersey, and I mean the disappearance of Samuel Berman, have convinced my intelligence people that we have an active and coordinated conspiracy of unknown scope but substantial range. And with the breakdown of authority in the Capitol District, the president agreed that the military would ensure his safety better than the Secret Service, no offense intended. In fact he still believes that to be the case. He has asked me to convey to you his determination that Alpha Group relocate to the underground White House. Both he and I feel it is safer to break usual patterns and reestablish a temporary command headquarters at a hardened location until the extent of this conspiracy can be accurately determined. He’ll tell you that himself in a few minutes.”

  “General, that seems to be a little extreme. Have you any evidence of unusual foreign troop movements? By the Chinese? Terrorist groups? Middle East? Anybody? Anywhere? Roger, do we have any evidence of any kind to support a possible attack on America requiring relocation of the government? What is the military situation?”

  “Mr. Vice President, since our forces have been bumped to DEFCON 4 all foreign forces have upgraded their alert status. However, it appears at this time to be simply a reaction to our own present military posture. We are also aware that the chief of naval operations has ordered all ships out of port. Full crew or not, they’re all out to sea. There are no unusual military operations by any foreign powers that we have detected. But of course conspiracies are perpetrated by nongovernmental terrorist groups supported by rog
ue states.”

  “I see.” Latimer thought for a moment. “General, do you have any specific justification, other than as a pattern-interrupting tactic, for the relocation of the entire upper echelon of the government?”

  “Mr. Vice President, these events might perhaps be only the beginning, the opening shots, so to speak, of a much-larger plan. We have no way of knowing. Significant hostile acts have occurred here and in New Jersey. And now I’m told that Professor Cranshaw is missing as well. Both the president and I agree that it is best to err on the side of caution. At this point we don’t know who can be trusted and who cannot be trusted. I did not want to bring this up now, but the president was not shot from long range with a high powered rifle as you all may be thinking. He was shot from relatively close range, from within the Memorial itself. It is a sobering thought and one that the president and I think warrants his decision to isolate the high command and the principal officers of our government.”

  The attorney general spoke next. ”General, surely anyone attempting to kill the president from within the Memorial would know that he or she would be caught. Have you any suspects? Is the bureau involved with this? I insist that the bureau retain jurisdiction in any and all investigations of what you are alleging here, General.”

  “Well, things are happening pretty fast. We’re not shutting out the bureau, but we’re not taking a lot of time seeking them out, either, at this point.”

  Paul Latimer interrupted. “What exactly are your men busy doing, General Slaider?”

  “I have ordered a complete transportation shutdown of the District. No one in and no one out. It should be in place by eleven o’clock this morning. We have cordoned off the quad area and no one is going in or out. Every person there will be identified and briefly questioned. Major Stanley of the Washington Command is setting up a transition team to turn over the investigative work to the Bureau. In the meantime, military police are handling the forensic investigations. Everyone at or in the Memorial at the time of the attempted assassination will be known. Also, gentlemen . . . I don’t know exactly how to put this . . . a Secret Service agent was shot in the Memorial and subsequently died. First indications are that his wounds may have been self-inflicted.”

  “Jesus Christ, General, are you implying that a Secret Service agent shot the president?” The treasury secretary rose from his seat, leaning forward toward Slaider, his face red with emotion as he thumped his challenge to General Slaider.

  “Mr. Secretary, I’m implying nothing. My first job is the security of this country and its president. Right now the president is in jeopardy and he doesn’t know who he can trust. He wants you all to relocate and I believe he will present this as an order.”

  “Just when will that order come, General? I’m still waiting to hear from President Drummond. Can you expedite the opening of our secure line to him?” Paul Latimer asked.

  “I’ll do that, sir, immediately.” General Slaider rose and walked to the Communications Center in the corner of the room, where the communications officer was sitting.

  Using the electronic console, the communications officer has the capability to tie into virtually every communications network—civilian, military, and intelligence—in the world. He was waiting for the series of access codes that identified the scrambler used on the president’s end of the line to establish the two-way communications protocol.

  After a few moments of consultation with the officer, General Slaider returned to the conference table.

  “What is it, General?” Latimer asked.

  “President Drummond has ordered Colonel Anderson’s military police to transfer him to the hardened White House. He is en route now in a military ambulance helicopter. The president asks that you all meet him there—that I should arrange the transition in accordance with procedures established for a general attack on the United States.”

  There was a stunned silence in the room. Finally, Roger Talbot, CIA director, rose from his chair and looked intently at the general.

  “General, there’s an awful lot we’re trying to digest right now and we’re getting most of it only from you. I realize you’re doing the best you can under the circumstances, but you realize that your telling us the president said this or that doesn’t make it precisely so. It may just be what you think the president wants or said. We’ve got to do what we must do just like you. And frankly, I will need more than you telling me what the president said before I will move anything anywhere. You know, I’m aware as well as you are that helicopters can tie into that console over there just as well as hospital telephones. I believe it’s time to cut the crap and get the president on the phone, scrambler or no fucking scrambler.”

  “Roger, I can’t do that. Once the president has invoked the General Orders for an Unprovoked Attack all communications outside the hardened White House is cut off except by his discretion. There is only one way to communicate with him now and that’s to accede to the procedures established for the relocation of government in the event of nuclear attack. You will be able to have him validate what I have been saying to you when you see him yourselves.

  The speaker of the house objected. “But general, even the president doesn’t have the authority to do what you are asking. There has been no general attack on the United States. No nuclear attack. Someone took a shot at Emerson. This is not the equivalent of an attack on the United States. Even if the president authorized you to take all these actions and present these commands to us, he himself has no authority to do so.”

  “Mr. Speaker, I’m afraid the president doesn’t see it that way. We have the deliberate killings last night that suckered the president into making his attempt to quell the pro-joint-venture demonstrators. We have the assassination attempt itself. We have a suicide by a Secret Service agent who had no reason to commit suicide other than to prevent his own interrogation. And we have the virtually simultaneous disappearance of Samuel Berman and now Arthur Cranshaw. We may not be dealing with international conspiracy, gentlemen. If the president is right, he will be protecting himself from a conspiracy from within to overthrow the lawful government of the United States. If he’s wrong, he’ll apologize, or you can impeach him.”

  Talbot’s fist banged the table. “Bullshit, Slaider. How is it you know so much about what the president thinks? Why is the president leaving messages only for you and not for his vice president or cabinet officials?”

  Slaider did not hesitate in his response. Returning Talbot’s stare, he responded simply, “I don’t know, Roger.”

  “Well, that’s not good enough. That’s not fucking good enough by far, General. If you have assumed responsibility for the protection of the president in violation of the duly authorized agency of government charged with that responsibility, you fucking well better produce him and stop this bullshit.” Talbot was by now out of his seat, his neck throbbing and his face red with emotion.

  “General Slaider.” All eyes turned to Norton Whittaker, the secretary of defense. He waited for focused attention. Then he began. “General, you know that we all hold you, all America holds you in the highest regard. We all see that you are simply following both your rules and commands and under these unusual circumstances, your passion and your instincts . . . strong instincts to protect your country and your commander in chief. However, Morgan, you are a soldier in a country governed by laws and not passion or intuition. And you are overstepping your bounds. Indeed, if what you say is true, President Drummond is overstepping the bounds, the envelope of legal activity. You and he, it seems, are pushing that envelope past the limits of acceptable actions. And General, let me remind you that you work for me and I am giving you a direct order to return control of the president’s security to the Secret Service and to confine your forces currently deployed in Washington to securing the city from civil unrest.”

  This statement by Secretary Whittaker was met with unanimous comments of approval.

  The secretary of state, Mr. Alexander Llewellyn , rose to support
Secretary Whittaker’s orders. “General, I applaud your diligence in protecting the president. However, even if the president is correct in his fear that an internal conspiracy is afoot, we cannot proceed in the governance of our country based on unverified messages passed on through you. Secretary Whittaker is quite right. We are a nation of laws, laws which we must follow even in times of great peril. Perhaps especially during such times. Either the president is well enough to continue governing or he isn’t. If he is, he must communicate directly with us. If he isn’t we must invoke the temporary succession clause provided by our constitution and allow the uninterrupted governance of our nation to continue. And we must know which circumstance prevails, I believe, before we leave this room.” As the secretary finished, nods and exclamations of concurrence were again unanimous around the table.

  “Gentlemen, I have my orders.”

  “How do you know, General? You’ve been here with us. How do you know these orders came from the president and not conspirators within your own military organization?” Amanda Brock asked.

  “Because, Ms. Brock, the president and I agreed on a sequence of three code words when I left him in the event that he might need to send me messages for which there should be no doubt as to their authenticity. And Colonel Anderson used the first code word when he gave me the president’s orders.”

  “Very convenient, General,” Amanda Brock responded. “So that brings us back to you. You are the only source of authentication of these messages from the president. That’s not good enough, General.” Turning to the director of the Central Intelligence Agency, Amanda Brock repeated slowly, “That’s not good enough. Roger?”