Chapter 70 -- BUVKWNMPNUE
General Anthony scanned the screens in front of his desk, occasionally checking the time. In
a few minutes Margaret would appear in the door, and it would be time to go. The
news was nonstop disasters now. The massacre of federal agents at a militia
compound, more downed transmission towers, clusters of cell towers going down
leaving critical areas without service. More bridges, both highways and
railroads, were going down. He watched a scene of water flowing over a small
embankment dam somewhere, he didn't yet know where and probably wouldn't.
Events were moving too fast, and the peak of the crisis was about to come.
The gap in the dam was widening even as he watched. Evidently the final,
complete failure was not far off. He could see a large lake behind it, and
wondered if the people in danger downstream had been warned in time. On
another screen more 'Breaking News' was being announced. He checked the time
again, closed his briefcase just as Margaret appeared in the door.
MSgt Bowie drove him to the White House where, even though he was early he was
the last to arrive. The meeting was in the usual room, and the faces were grim.
He suspected that for the first time in their lives they were genuinely
frightened. Political infighting, even the prospect of being caught in some
of their misdeeds and penalized, rarely seemed to worry them much. Jordan came
straight to the point.
"General, as I've just told Harry, we have no choice," he said. "We must
impose martial law. We're all in agreement."
He waited for a response.
"No choice at all?" Anthony asked. He knew in their minds that there was not.
"Dammit, General," Jordan said, "if we don't do something now it may be too late
to do anything. The country is in a panic now, and if we don't give them some
reassurance, we don't know what may happen. And it's not just the general
population. JFK and LAX are jammed with people leaving the country. I'm talking
about the ones with the money to just pack up and leave. The ones that make the
country work. Dozens of the biggest ones, with private planes that can fly non-
stop to Europe, have already left. The others are trying to get commercial flights
out, tickets are being scalped for hundreds of thousands of dollars, just for a
flight out of the country. People think it's the end."
"I see," Anthony said. And he did. It might be the end, but the end would be sooner
and more decisive if their madness was allowed to prevail.
"What are the plans for government operations?" Anthony asked. He would need
to get the president and the inner circle out of DC, somewhere he could get
control of them.
"What do you mean?" Jordan asked.
"With the country under martial law, you understand - particularly in light of
the cause - unrest will increase, at least for a time.
People who aren't acting up now will begin to. Washington, and the White
House in particular, will be the center of attention. It's not a good idea
for us to be here, or for that matter for our location to be known."
"What are you thinking?" Jordan asked, looking around the table.
"Good point," Springfield said. "At the least there will be demonstrations and
probably riots here. Where is the best place?"
"Camp David is too well known," said Jordan. "Secrecy is important."
Please say it, Anthony thought. Make it your idea.
"How about Carver's Point?" Whittaker asked. "It's easy to seal off, and if the
president's actual location isn't known his summer home won't attract any
attention at a time like this."
"Until the whole entourage shows up, Secret Service and all," Boling said.
"We'll have to keep it low key," said Jordan. "It's almost separated from the mainland,
it's fairly easy go fly most of us in using regular chartered helicopters.
The president can't get in unnoticed, but the fact that no one sees him
leaving won't prove he isn't there. Send Marine One down to Miramar to wait
for him to leave. Hopefully we won't be there long."
"That seems like a good idea," Springfield said.
"It's better than Camp David or Raven Rock," said Jordan. "Raven Rock would be
taken as a sign of panic."
"Mr. President, are you comfortable with that?" Whittaker asked.
"I believe it would be a good idea," he said.
At times Anthony's contempt for the man threatened to appear on his face. The
way the others seemed unaffected by it surprised him, but perhaps, he thought,
it shouldn't. They saw him as a tool, to be used for its purpose as a
mouthpiece, as impersonal as a telephone or a computer.
"All right," Jordan said, "we'd better get started."
As soon as he got back to his office General Anthony called General Talley and
set up a meeting, and they took another ride in Anthony's car.
"We're going to be going out to Carver's Point," Anthony told him. "It's the
one place where we can secure the president and the inner circle with relative ease. If we can
get control of them, we just might be able to fix this without too many more
people getting killed."
"What do I need to do?"
"For the moment, whatever they tell you. The Secretary of Defense will issue
some sort of order. This is something that's never been done before and even
a smart person would have trouble figuring out what to do. And these people
aren't smart. You'll most likely get a vague order to do something and it's
up to you to figure out how. You'll be able to spend some time getting ready,
before any action is actually required. Play it by ear - I'm going to try to
buy us some time."
After he dropped Talley off Anthony went back to his office. In a strange way
the pressure was off for a while. They wouldn't expect any action until the
martial law order was issued, and results for a while after that. He took out
an encrypted phone he seldom had to use, but now was a time it was definitely
needed. He looked for a name, looked at it for a moment, then dialed. Hoping
the number was still good.
"Hello Mark," the man answering the call said. "It's been a long time."
"It has, Leo. How've you been?"
"Well, Mark, you know. I'm not getting any younger."
"You've got a ways to go," Anthony said. "Are you expecting to enjoy it, or
are you as pessimistic as I am?"
"You know more about the future than I do, I'm sure," Leo said. "But it isn't
looking good from where I'm sitting."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. If you could change it, would you?"
"You know I would," Leo said. "Listen, Mark. I got two kids, you know them.
Anthony's passed the bar, he's in with a good firm in Connecticut. No thanks to
his father - I could pay for the best education but I can't erase my reputation.
But fortunately, well anyway Lisa's interning at St. Mary's. They've got bright
futures."
"Except for one thing," said Anthony. "That's what I called about. I need
something. Not for me or you but for four hundred million other people,
including Anthony and Lisa."
"How can I help?"
"I need, desperately, to make contact with someone in the next few days. You've
been keeping up with this was that's going on, I suppose."
"Hard to miss. I guess the government wants you to stop it."
"Pretty much. Leo, if I could the country wouldn't be better off. Your kids
would grow up in something that looks like China, only worse. What I need, is
to contact the other side. The thing called the People's Liberation Army, or
just PLA, as they're already calling it. I need to contact them, let them
know they can deal with me. If they know the chairman of the joint chiefs
wants to talk it can mean only one thing."
"And you can't contact them?"
"Not in my position. Even if I could find them. They're like ghosts. You
can find someone high up in the organization, with your connections. There may
even be some of your people involved. They'd much rather live in the old USA
than a communist version of it."
"Let me see what I can do," Leo said. "This a good number for you?"
"Yes, it's secure, but I'll have to call you back. I'll be using a voice changer,
so you won't recognize me. It will be a female voice. But it will be this number,
do you have it?"
"Hang on a sec.." A minute or so passed, then "OK, got it. I know this is serious,
but give me forty-eight hours to be safe."
"Got it. Thanks, Leo. Give my best to the kids and let's hope we can give them
something to look forward to."
Anthony put the phone away and looked at the screens. Smoke from the fires, the
flashing lights of police and other emergency vehicles, incessantly talking heads
in inset pictures and split screens. He hoped Leo would come through, but even if
he did actually solving the problem was another matter.