Casing the Colors © Week 15

Casing the Colors © Week 15 • • • CHAPTER 27 • • Driving back to the White House, Kate Gordon had time to plan around Pete Lowell. He would be good for the team, using his natural political skills, sharpened by years of experience in Washington's political trenches, to help American Agenda make the transition from an elected President to Stuart Wellford, without the country free falling into a political impasse. She knew he would be caught up in the political challenge it presented. That's what would keep him working for them, even if things got rough. He was, after all, a lot like her, she thought, always as much intrigued by the political process as by the result. Kate had lunch with Stu and Bill while they discussed her morning visit with Pete Lowell. They were skeptical that Lowell could bring along enough of the GOP power players. As they talked, they were continually interrupted by the TV playing near their table in the Oval Office, with its images of Matamoros and Nuevo Laredo spewing smoke from munitions caches detonated by US aircraft missiles. Chaotic mobs of residents were evacuating both towns, as well as other border towns reaching from the Gulf of Mexico halfway across Texas along the Rio Grande. What surprised the media, and the US military, was the direction the displaced, frightened Mexicans took in their flight to safety. Instead of turning south, deeper into their own country, they headed north, crossing the border as close to their homes as possible, pushing into America in long irregular lines. Most of them carried a few possessions, many had infants in slings on their backs, others led goats or cows held with ropes. Some of the refugees had bloody superficial wounds caused by flying bits of concrete and glass. They simply walked through the US troop lines as if they didn't exist. No one fired at the refugees or tried to stop them. All day, TV cameras silently told their stories as the long lines continued. Ten miles north of the Rio Grande, Army quartermaster units struggled to provide shelter, food and first aid as the line of northbound Mexican refugees continued unabated. During the long afternoon, the US bombing settled down to a slow steady pounding of rebel army storage depots in northern Mexico. • • General Bennett arrived in Miami in early afternoon. He and his Rangers rolled through the white communities to the north and west of the Hispanic part of the city. Walled and barricaded neighborhoods turned out their own Rangers to meet him. Children kept home from school by frightened parents waved American flags as his open jeep passed by. The General's parade also served another purpose. Small pleasure boats in Miami area marinas had been stolen by rebel recruits for use in hit and run mortar attacks along the southern Florida coast. While television viewers watched Scott Bennett take control of Miami, the Coast Guard eliminated a quarter of the small craft south of Ft. Lauderdale, hitting each boat with enough explosive to let its own fuel tanks do the rest. The derelicts settled like old tugs into the soft bottom near the shore or dropped completely out of sight in deeper waters. As news of the Coast Guard's GPS-directed rocket attack spread along the coast, larger ocean-going yachts turned north to get out of Florida waters, carrying their wealthy owners to the relative safety of Georgia and South Carolina harbors. Many Floridians did what they were used to doing when a hurricane warning was broadcast. They barricaded their houses, bundled their families into their cars and headed north and inland, hoping to ride out the military action. Meanwhile, acting on orders from the Joint Chiefs, bombing sorties from Florida, the Carolinas and Alabama formed in tiers over Bermuda and headed toward Cuba. Cuban air defenses picked up the activity and launched planes and missiles to intercept the American attackers, but US aircraft far outnumbered them and most got through to Cuban airspace, where ground-to-air defense systems destroyed some of the American planes. As expected, Cuba was unable to stop the inevitable inundation by technically superior American bombers. They saturated munitions dumps and airfields and strafed military installations, missile silo sites and fuel storage tanks along the Cuban coastline. Cuban planes retaliated, diverting planes to attack Guantanamo Bay's infrastructure, but as daylight failed, General Gordon's goal had been accomplished. Cuba had lost any meaningful capability to attack the United States by air. Late in the afternoon, while the continuing military reports to the White House from New Orleans indicated heavy casualties with many people dead in the chemical explosions, other reports confirmed that rioters were still roaming through Miami, looting, firebombing and shooting residents foolish enough to be on the streets. Just before dusk, General Bennett managed to even the score, ordering bazooka strikes directly into a mob of marauding Hispanic and black rioters waving grenades and rifles as they marched defiantly toward one of his troop lines south of the Miami Freeway airport exit. Rebels who weren't killed in the bazooka attack dispersed in small bands, hitting stores and cars with firebombs and grenades before disappearing into the fading twilight. Ranger units pursued them, providing hours of live TV coverage. Miami was not going to be controlled easily. Several Ranger patrols were ambushed and killed by invisible adversaries while the world watched. • • • CHAPTER 28 • • At six o'clock, Stu Wellford and Kate Gordon began rehearsing the President for his TV speech. He was pale, but his voice was strong enough to be reasonably acceptable to the American public. Makeup gave his lifeless face a healthy glow. His doctor stood watch. At 7 p.m., Pete Lowell arrived. "We've got a deal, but we need to talk privately first," he said, hustling Kate out of the Oval Office to a quiet corner in the corridor. "The GOP wants to name the Vice President and the Secretary of the Treasury in the new cabinet," he said. "Okay," Kate answered, smiling inwardly at the small demand, so like the little minds of the men who controlled the party, she thought. "I'll take the chief of staff job," he quickly tossed out. "And, Kate, I want a firm commitment that Jack Wilson's terrorist dealings will never be mentioned." "I can promise for our group," she said, "but if the media digs deep enough, they may hit pay dirt. You know the possibilities as well as I do." "Understood. But no news releases or plants from White House sources. Agreed?" She put out her hand. "When do we start?" Pete asked. "If this weren't so damned serious, the whole thing would be a blast." "We're rehearsing the President for his TV address. You might as well begin to earn your keep," Kate answered. "Welcome to American Agenda." The words felt good on her lips, a justification of her ostracism from the party. Pete merely nodded. Chief of staff, he thought. There can't be much I won't know about. In the Oval Office, Kate introduced Pete to the President, reminding him of Pete's role in the GOP national committee. Pete shook the President's hand, straightened his tie and asked the TV crew to put more pink in the lighting they had set up for the televised speech. Then, as if he'd been there forever, Pete said, "Mr. President, I'm going to stand right here beside the camera. I haven't read your speech, but Kate Gordon wrote it, so it has got to be great. Just talk to me, let me hear every word, loud and clear. Make me believe. If I believe, so will America, and that's what you want. America needs to believe you." The President smiled for the first time in a long while. Pete had dived into his natural environment so smoothly that he actually calmed the President. Kate knew that Pete had only contempt for the man he was coaching, but that was Pete's value. Like all really professional political managers, after being bought and paid for, he would support the President and then help to eliminate him. That was his contract with Kate Gordon, and she knew he wouldn't break it. She turned toward Stu, who was standing beside her watching Pete work. "When he's working for you," she said, "it'll give us a big boost. Pete understands what sells and he knows better than anyone else how to sell it." "Stu...Kate," the President called, "come around the camera so I can see you, too. I feel better when I can see you." They positioned themselves on the side of the TV camera opposite Pete as the red light went on and they were on the air. The President delivered his lines well and then introduced Secretary of State Stevens, who, he explained, would give the details of the present situation. As the camera panned to Bill Stevens, standing at a podium set up beside the President's desk, Pete eased the President out of his chair and walked with him to the office door, bolstering him with a glowing report of his performance. The President listened, beginning to feel the effects of the energy it had taken to meet the demands of his advisors. Suddenly feeling ill, he asked his doctor to help him to his bedroom. • • • CHAPTER 29 • • While the White House was focused on preparations for the President's TV speech, a limousine carrying Raqqa and two aides sped from West 126th Street south toward mid-town Manhattan. The limo showed a diplomatic license plate and flew a diplomatic flag, provided by paid operatives in a Middle East embassy in New York. The limousine turned onto 50th Street and headed west toward the United Nations. It was 9 p.m. Their flag and license took them past security with only a cursory check and into the diplomatic parking area at the United Nations. The three men, all dressed in expensive business suits, entered the building without incident and circled the elevator bank to reach the door leading down to one of the lower levels. While one man stood guard in the lobby, blocking the selected elevator, the other two men descended to the lowest level. Raqqa removed a small packet of plastic explosive from his jacket pocket and manipulated the elevator doors, placing the explosive inside the shaft. The operation took only seconds. The three left the building quickly. Their limousine headed north toward a chic restaurant on East 51st Street, where two similarly dressed men had already ordered dinner for the late arrivals and were waiting for them. Raqqa slid gracefully into his seat at the table and gave a positive nod to the group. "It is going to be an especially noisy evening in the city," he smiled. "Let's not rush our dinner." It was after midnight when Raqqa got into his limousine and headed for Teeterboro airport, where the private jet that had brought him to New York was waiting to take him back to California. He picked up the telephone in the limo. "Hi, Darling," he said lightly. "I'm on my way back to LA. When will I see you?" "I'll be arriving in LA on Thursday to rehearse and tape my next two shows. I'll phone you when I get to my hotel. Can't wait to see you." He made one more phone call to arrange a dinner party for Saturday evening and then he settled comfortably in the limousine's leather seat and smiled with satisfaction. Everything was working better than he could have hoped. Minutes after the UN blast, while Secretary Stevens was still outlining for America the Mexican problem and explaining Carlos Miguel's connection to Raqqa and the islamic terrorists who were operating in America's inner cities, General Gordon opened the Oval Office door and motioned to Kate to follow him. "Miguel has sent a message through Chelenko," he whispered. "He's preparing a response to our Cuban action. Chelenko says it will be within the next half-hour. He doesn't know or won't say where it will occur, but I'm certain it will be a bomb. Get hold of Chelenko. Use the phone number he gave you." Kate was on her way to a private office to phone when a military aide found her father pacing in the corridor tapping his fingers impatiently on his folded arms as he waited for Bill Stevens to finish. "Sir," the aide said, "there has been an explosion at the United Nations in New York. We have no details yet." General Gordon swore and headed for the elevator. "Bring my daughter and Secretary Stevens to the communication center," he barked as the elevator door shut. The media waited for Bill Stevens to finish his speech before announcing the UN bombing. But instead of the usual post mortem America was used to after political speeches, it saw images of the United Nations Plaza, teeming with fire trucks while police cars sealed off the Plaza and made room for ambulances and military units sent to bring out survivors and begin the investigation. The front of the UN building was badly damaged. A TV reporter, shouting to be heard above the noise, reported that the bomb had severely damaged the UN lobby and elevator system but that there was no danger of structural collapse. Three persons were known dead. No one had as yet claimed credit for the attack. On another TV network, a reporter interviewed General Volti, the member of the Joint Chiefs of Staff who was sector commander for New York and New England. General Volti's headquarters was at Fort Hamilton in Brooklyn and he had helicoptered to the UN site immediately upon being told of the explosion. "The nation has just heard the President and Secretary of State Stevens explain our actions over the past sixteen hours," General Volti began, reading into the TV camera from a statement he had prepared in the helicopter and cleared with General Gordon. "It seems clear that Miguel and Raqqa have chosen to respond to the legitimate defensive actions of the United States by killing innocent civilians working in the world's most respected peace organization. Tonight's criminal act will not stop our campaign to remove them as a threat to America and the world. They will not, despite their cowardly terrorist acts, succeed in preventing us from eliminating them." While the White House press secretary was holding off the press corps, Stu Wellford, General Gordon, Kate Gordon and Bill Stevens were huddled in the communications center. Bill Stevens was seething. "They're a bunch of goddamned barbarians. How could they attack the one place on earth where everyone ought to be safe." "Miguel chose his response perfectly," General Gordon replied. "If President Allezar is willing to go on with his plan to convene the Security Council after tonight's warning, I'll be very surprised, and the Mexican government's unwillingness to proceed will deliver a clear message that the United States can't control or protect its allies. What I want to know is who told Miguel what the President's speech contained? It couldn't have been Vice President Wilson. Our mole obviously has other routes to Raqqa." • • While the White House group was deliberating, Miguel and Raqqa struck for the second time that evening, far from New York, to emphasize their demand for European territory. Planes from North Africa attacked Palermo in Sicily. It was a hit and run action, much like the attack earlier in the day on New Orleans, except that manned planes made the Italian hit. They bombed and strafed with small rockets, then vanished into the Mediterranean night. NATO surveillance picked them up as they fled toward Tripoli and ordered an air-to-air homing missile counter-attack, as well as pursuit by attack aircraft from Aviano Air Base in Italy. Fifteen rebel planes had come to Sicily. Two got back to Libya. The Palermo bombing caused extensive damage to buildings and power lines feeding the city. Sleeping citizens, startled by the noise of exploding shells, rushed wildly out into the streets where they were met by exploding bombs and collapsing walls. Many lay dead and wounded in the remnants of their neighborhoods while fires burned out of control, igniting gasoline in parked cars and shattering windows in the heat. It was the fourth time in twenty-four hours that Carlos Miguel had found targets inside the West's supposed secure defenses. General Gordon watched for several minutes, then he tapped his fist menacingly on the table in front of him. "That's it, friend. You're a dead man." His military aide found a secure telephone and located General Bennett, still in Miami. "Scott," the General said, "get to Andrews Air Field. I'll be waiting there for you. The White House source is still operating. That's the only explanation for tonight's UN bombing. The time for diplomatic niceties is over. We have to regain the initiative." Secretary of State Stevens was next on General Gordon's list. "Get on the line to Europe, Bill," he ordered. "Get allied support lined up for NATO action. And for God's sake, don't let the Italians do anything stupid in the way of retaliation until we have a unified response plan ready. Tell the Europeans I'm sending General Bennett as my personal representative to coordinate the NATO plan." Then, swinging around to his daughter and Stu Wellford, he demanded, "Where is the President?" "In his room," Stu responded. "His doctor gave him a sedative." "We need a Commander-in-Chief, not an invalid," the General bellowed. Kate took his arm and whispered, "Let's go to the Oval Office. You know we've got a deal with the Republicans," she said as they walked, with the others following at a safe distance, "but it's going to take a few days to get everything ready for the President's resignation." With the Oval Office door safely shut, Stu asked, "What do you want us to do, Jim? In a few days we'll be able to give you whatever you want." "Christ almighty," the General thundered, "don't any of you understand. We don't have a few days. The entire West has become a duck pond for Miguel and Raqqa. If we don't make a convincing response now, we will lose all credibility. When that happens, public morale will collapse and any unexpected trouble could push us over the edge." "What do we do?" Stu asked. "First, alert all Americans living in Africa and the Middle East that they must come home now or face the future without the assurance of an American presence to protect them. Second, order an immediate direct attack on US cities known to be operations areas for Raqqa. No negotiations. No warnings to civilians. Third, shift US troop strength to provide greater support for Europe and America. The Middle East can be written off for the time being, except for oil field protection. Asia doesn't seem to be in play with Raqqa or Miguel. And, get Stu into the presidency. We need a Commander-in-Chief. Now." While General Gordon gave his orders, Stu Wellford took off his jacket and loosened his tie. He sat in the President's chair, making notes. Bill Stevens paced behind the desk. Kate was trying to sort out the political implications of her father's demands. Pete Lowell, sitting in a chair in front of the desk, was scribbling on a small note pad. "How much time do we have to get Stu sworn in?" Pete asked. "Early tomorrow would be perfect," General Gordon answered sarcastically, "before the inevitable next round with Miguel. Miami is still out of control. The UN effort has been sidetracked. Our Mexican border is filling up with refugees because TV reporters keep telling them we're letting everyone in. It appears that Libya has joined Miguel and Raqqa or at least offered its military planes for their use in attacking Europe. That spells emergency." Pete looked at his little note pad. "What about this scenario," he offered. "The Speaker and the Chief Justice make the announcement about the President's illness. That way it's not a naked power play but a united response of the United States government to a crisis of unparalleled proportions. The Chief Justice talks to the nation. The Speaker adds legitimacy. It preserves the country's constitutional system." Pete Lowell continued. "Everyone agrees to swear Stu Wellford in as President directly -- we skip the VP charade --because he has been at the President's side, on top of all these unprecedented events. The President will be there, looking ill but brave, and will speak briefly to tell America that Stu Wellford has his full support as the only person for the job." "I like it," Stu said. "It feels better to be talking about a live administration instead worrying over the bones of a dead one." "If it's a go," Pete said, "I need to get busy. Kate, don't go anywhere without telling me." "I'll send a message to President Katerinov to postpone my trip," she said. "Dad, you need to tell the Joint Chiefs." "Right," he answered. "The military senior officer corps is already nervous. We'll inform the key leadership tonight. But, the military should stay out of the spotlight until after the swearing-in," he added. "Should I talk to George Morrison?" Stu asked. "No," General Gordon replied. "He'd only disagree, and the fewer people who know, the better. One leak and we're dead in the water." The new order for America was rapidly taking shape. "Pete," Kate said as they left the Oval Office, "tomorrow is George Washington's birthday." "Hey, that's right," he replied, missing the irony in her comment, "what a terrific opening for the Chief Justice's speech."