Code Word: Paternity, A Presidential Thriller (14 page)

Chapter 25

 
“Mr. Speaker, the President of the United States.”
As the ceremonial announcement ended, Martin began moving down the center
aisle.

He felt the
applause as much as he heard it. From the countless times he had proceeded to a
podium amidst applause, Rick judged its promise. Some welcoming applause was
ebullient, warm, and eager, sweeping under him like a surfer’s dream wave and
lifting him for a long, exhilarating swoop down its face. Not tonight, he
realized. This applause was fearfully expectant. It was brittle, capable of
being shattered into splinters of silence or jagged shards of rage by what he
was about to say.

Rick knew this was the speech of his
life. There could be others of even greater moment as he brought the nation and
the world to a safer place, but those speeches wouldn’t happen unless he got
this one right.

Working down the aisle, through the
ritual handshakes, Rick and Wilson shouldered through tension as thick as the
crowd of legislators. Keeping his expression solemn and confident, Rick chanted
“Hi, Hello, Thanks” and heard the bland greetings of uncertain politicians
fearful of uttering anything that might power an attack ad come next election:
“We’re with you, Mr. President; God be with you; lead us through this; the
nation needs wisdom and prudence, Mr. President.”

Congressman Ray Morales observed the
scrum, thinking that many of those elbowing to get into the TV coverage with
Martin would never support him; they just wanted a free ride on his video
coattails.

Reaching the well, the president shook
hands with congressional leaders and his cabinet, the joint chiefs, and supreme
court justices. He caught Ella’s eye, easily spotting her standing dead center
in the balcony, and then climbed to the rostrum. The brittle applause
continued; Rick accepted it for only a moment before motioning for silence.
Above and behind him he heard the Speaker’s gavel and his call to order.

Solemnly and proudly, Martin recounted
destruction and heroics at Las Vegas,
the resilience of the American spirit, and the support of other nations. He acknowledged
and praised the efforts of America’s
defenders, who were screening cargo, scouring the globe for information, and
had so far prevented follow-up attacks.

Rick paused, scanning the packed chamber.
OK, that was the easy part. They’re a
jaded bunch, but right now they’re scared enough to be hanging on my words. Now
for what I want them to do.

He took up the theme of balance between
civil liberties and measures to uncover and block the next attack. He told them
actions like Operation Su
d
den Touch were
bearing fruit and thanked Americans for their cooperation.

Before leaving the topic, Martin threw
down the gauntlet. “I will say to you and to the American people that the
measures in N-SEPA are vital to the protection of the country. But no president
rules by fiat; no president is above the laws of this land. So even though I
believe we place ourselves at greater risk if I order an end to measures like
Sudden Touch, I will do so unless Congress approves the N-SEPA legislation
within the thirty days to which I have voluntarily limited my authority to act
alone. The pres
ident is the commander-in-chief
but does not have sole authority or sole responsibility. In their wisdom, the
framers of our Constitution also gave authority and responsibility to the legislative
and judicial branches. I ask both branches to consider that and act to help
your president protect the American people.”

Morales joined the applause, but it was
scattered and most of Martin’s own party were silent. Not one of the justices
applauded. Ray thought Martin was doing the presidency no favors by saying the
president’s authority and responsibility as commander-in-chief were shared.

Well,
most of them didn’t like that at all,
Rick thought.
I wouldn’t have liked it
either, as a senator. I just told them that they would be required to share
responsibility and couldn’t avoid it by legislative deadlock. Whether they act,
or whether they do not, they share this responsibility for balancing civil
liberties and public safety.

The president turned next to the link
between terrorists and nuclear weapons. After walking through the collective
failure of vision that had allowed the link to be forged, he announced his
intention to initiate, through the U
N
, a
program to break it. That got solid applause.

Of
course,
he thought,
who would be against
that
and, besides, I’m not asking them to take
responsibility.

Martin let the applause die, then gazed
around the crowded chamber. For a moment his eyes became opaque as he looked
inward, gathering himself. He felt the wetness in his armpits as his body
anticipated what he was about to reveal. Hands grasping either side of the
lectern, gripping hard, shoulders back, he saw his listeners reacting, feeling
the imminence of a moment of climax.

Ella kept her face impassive but felt
doubts surround her again.
He’s still not
strong enough on this; he’s going to look weak, out of touch.

“I close with serious, but fundamentally
hopeful, news. Through a technical program whose evidence we will make
available to all, a program begun over forty years ago by a far-sighted
American president and several times validated by events . . . I can tell you
tonight who is responsible for the attack that destroyed Las Vegas.”

His words seemed to absorb every other
sound in the chamber. Martin swept his gaze across the crowd, eyes hard. He
gathered them all, held them all, then spoke.

“Las
Vegas was destroyed by a North Korean nuclear weapon
and we hold the North Korean government responsible. The bomb derived its
nuclear explosive power from plutonium reprocessed in the facility at Yongbyon.
I have seen the evidence and I believe it.”

Morales wasn’t surprised and didn’t join
the uproar that filled the chamber.

Rick paused, letting the moment drain
like a lanced boil.

He spoke into
the hubbub: “I promise you . . .” He stopped, waiting for silence.

“I promise you that accountability for
this attack will be stern and certain and appropriate.”

Rick heard a few shouts of “nuke them.”
Concealing his satisfaction, he spread his arms wide and raised them above his
head. “No,” he said, “at least not now.

“To hear this for the first time is to
experience rage and the urge to strike back. I know, for I felt that too. I am
conscious of the fact that, as commander-in-chief, I could give the order and North Korea
would be entirely destroyed within a few hours. But I am aware, as you will
become aware when thought replaces rage, as it will, that North Korea is
ruled by an absolute dictator.”

Bruce Griffith fought to keep a poker
face.
And what will
you
do, Mr. President, when what you call
thought
—I call it temporizing—fails to prevent
another attack?

Martin continued: “Responsibility rests
with that dictator, Kim Jong-il, not the people of North Korea. He and those who help
him enslave the North Korean people are the ones we will hold accountable. That
accountability, and ensuring Kim is unable ever again to attack any nation with
nuclear weapons, is my first goal. I believe it will become a goal shared by
most Americans and indeed by most nations.”

The president paused and sipped water,
creating a moment for his listeners to reflect.

“We have, therefore, within the last few
days begun the process of consultation with North
Korea’s neighbors, countries that would be deeply
affected by a worst-case resolution of Kim’s threat to the United States.
I am pleased to report that their initial responses have been positive. At this
moment Secretary of State Battista is in Beijing,
where the Chinese government has agreed to host a meeting of the United States, China,
Japan, Russia, and South Korea. I expect that this
will prepare the ground for a summit meeting of this same group in the near
future.”

Morales, as a junior congressman jammed
in far to the rear, watched live video on his smart phone. Seeing a close-up of
Ella, he knew they had the same thought: negotiation won’t make Americans safer
from nuclear-armed terrorists any time soon.

“I have also asked the nations of NATO to
meet at heads-of-state level immediately and urged UN Security Council action
to condemn North Korea
for this attack and to develop a work program to address the threat that
nuclear terrorism poses to all countries.

“I recognize that, despite our hopes and
efforts, my plan for the peaceful resolution of this deadly threat might not
succeed. In that case, let there be no mistake: the United States
will
. . . act
forcefully
. . . to protect itself.” Martin emphasized each pause with a slash of his
hand. Applause thundered.

Has
he no shame?
thought Griffith.
He touts what he is least likely to do in
order to get at least one sound bite of solid applause.
Griffith tasted bile.

“This appalling situation and the threat
it highlights for
all
nations saddens
me but also gives me hope. The community of nations has far too long ignored
the growing and inescapable danger of nuclear terrorism, a danger as universal
as climate change. It is my expectation—and my prayer—that out of the pain of Las Vegas will come broad
and effective international action to break forever the connection that now
exists between terrorists and nuclear weapons.”

New, sustained applause told Rick he was
over the hump.
They’ve gotten over their
first shock. Now for a tip of the hat to Bruce, a nod to the sensibility of the
Congress, and out. This is working!

“These diplomatic initiatives at the
highest level will, obviously, require a large share of my attention. The
country is fortunate to have a vice president of such ability that he can be my
strong right arm in the crucial work of recovery and homeland security.”

Martin turned to look at the man seated
behind him and to his right. “Vice President Griffith, I salute your energy,
skill, and patriotism!”

The vice president preened, disdain swept
away by vanity.

When the applause for Griffith, who had
been a popular senator, had died, Martin spoke again.

“Being sons of the Congress, the vice
president and I understand, respect, and value the crucial role that each of
you plays in the life of our country. And while we cannot claim personal
experience with the role of the judicial branch”—he gestured to the black-robed
justices—“we are equally aware of its importance, particularly in keeping America true to
herself. I pray that God will give all of us the wisdom and strength to do our
duties in this time of unparalleled crisis and unparalleled opportunity.

“May God bless
the United States of America!

“Good night.”

Sweaty and elated, President Martin
plunged into the departure ritual, working his way up the aisle toward the
massive doors.

On the dais, Griffith leaned close to Speaker Ron Nielsen.
“What do you really think, Ron?

 
“I
think he just handed you the hardest, riskiest part of his job, while refusing
your recommendation to attack North
Korea.
You got
screwed without getting kissed, Bruce!”

Chapter 26

Fahim was always alert, but especially
while driving. Heading north on Interstate 5 from San Diego to Los Angeles,
intently scanning the shoulders, Fahim noticed a pair of police cruisers parked
perhaps a quarter mile ahead on his right and, across the median, another pair
on the shoulder of the southbound lanes. Reacting immediately, he slowed and
pulled out of the traffic stream, halting on the shoulder before reaching the
cruisers.

While miming the actions of a
conscientious driver pulled over to respond to the bleat of his smart phone,
Fahim scanned the highway behind, then ahead, watching the torrent of cars
flooding the concrete riverbed.

Suddenly cops left the cruisers on each
side of the median and ignited highway flares. About fifteen seconds later, the
cruisers nosed into the traffic streams, matching speeds, and then braking
rapidly. Behind them, beside the flares, other police made emphatic “slow down
now
” gestures. Within a minute Fahim’s
car was no longer being buffeted by the slipstreams of vehicles passing at seventy
miles per hour. The freeway had become a parking lot.

Fahim heard
the distinctive sound of Blackhawk
helicopters. He knew it well from his days in Iraq, and that history was why he
was so cautious. Fahim imagined other drivers cursing and muttering about “the
idiots” who thought these precautions were necessary, but he was relieved. He
had, as the Americans say, dodged a bullet. As he steeled himself for a long
delay, he thought things over.

A Palestinian born and educated in England, Fahim
had felt compelled, as if drawn by a magnetic force, to go to the land of his
fathers and help his people fight for their land and rights. An electrical
engineer with a minor in computer science, Fahim had been, once he convinced
the hard men of Hamas of his loyalty, a welcome addition to their relatively
small corps of bomb-makers. Eventually he was drawn to al-Qaeda in Iraq.

Fahim considered President Martin’s
speech.
The movement’s strategy of not
claiming the attack was shrewd. It deprived the Americans of an indisputable
enemy. Martin had pointed to some scientific program for evidence that North
Korea was that enemy, but science could and would be challenged.
Shaking
his head, Fahim was amazed at Martin’s
willingness to
spare
the country he had identified as the deadliest enemy in American
history while he negotiated. His lips twisted, as if he had bitten something
foul. It was ludicrous that Martin would not strike back for fear of harming
“the people of North Korea.”

He felt contempt for Martin and America wash over
him, carrying away his own fear and loneliness. And he recalled his orders:
“Detonate each bomb in a major city. Try for one in the east and one in the
west. Do it this year.”
 

I
destroyed Las Vegas
because it was the easiest western target. The fact that it had symbolism as
the very epicenter of unrighteous behavior, and that neighboring Creech Air
Force Base was the site from which Predator attacks were controlled, was
fortuitous, but no more than that. And no one, not even I, knows yet where or when
the second bomb will be detonated. This too will be determined by circumstances
after it arrives in about three weeks.

Fahim squirmed
into a new position and drank from his water bottle. His reverie broken, he
noticed a highway patrolman speaking to the driver of a car ahead of him.

What’s going on? Why’s he talking with
that driver? We’re both outside the inspection area!

What’s that in his hand?

Fahim feared several electronic devices
the Americans used. One took digital fingerprints and quickly compared them to
several databases. Another did a facial scan and compared the biometric indices
with its own internal file of the ten thousand “most wanted,” a file updated
daily. He knew he had been identified and physically catalogued in Iraq and would
be in those files.

His stomach twisted as the cop walked
toward him.

***

The Dear Leader paced and smoked.
Martin’s speech continued the American way of ignoring Korea’s
kibun,
feelings. Martin was as arrogant
as all the others, speaking without regard for
anshim,
the obligation to act in a way that is harmonious. Kim felt
his anger rising.

He and his brave people had been brazenly
accused of attacking America
and then threatened with retaliation—no, annihilation—before the entire world,
as if they had no choice but to accept this disrespect.
Well,
thought Kim,
Martin
would soon learn that the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea is not
helpless!

Unlike the Rogers administration that had ignored him,
the Martin administration would be forced into engaging him, and engaging him
as an equal. And, in the way of Bush and Clinton, Martin would find out that Korea, like the
spiny sea urchin, drew the blood of those who tried to grasp it.

While one aspect of Martin’s speech had
been surprising, it was a mere tactical detail. The surprise was Martin acting
as if the Arabs played no part. This was an interesting gambit, but no more
than that. Kim paused at the window in the east corner of this office and gazed
out at Pyongyang,
but what he saw in his imagination was President Martin.

Martin’s feeble trick did not change th
e situation because
he knew the weak American
president was afraid of using the
only
weapon
that could hurt him. UN sanctions? Kim would flood t
he
Internet with video of
starving Korean children. He would declare
sanctions equivalent to war and mobilize the brave people who loved him so. He
would order the relief agencies to leave; then they would exert pressure on the
UN to desist from sanctions so that they could return. Attack by American bombs
and missiles? He would unleash another flood of video, this time of mutilated
children. Kim knew his skill as a dramatist would triumph over sanctions and
bombs. He smiled.

An attack by the American army? His
soldiers would outnumber the Americans and would be defending their beloved
homeland’s rugged terrain. That alone would be enough to defeat them, but he
had even more. He would attack Japan
with missiles, and Tokyo would demand that Washington withdraw. His
agents would spark rioting in every South Korean city. And
undergirding all that was China, which could not, would not
allow American soldiers to win, even if they somehow bled their way northward.

Kim felt a
confident glow; his father would have been proud of him now. Like the Great
Leader, he would defeat the Americans and shame them. He knew, though, that his
father would expect him to take revenge for Martin’s arrogance. And that was
the most satisfying of all the opportunities Martin had presented. By his
gambit, Martin had ensured that when the second bomb was detonated, it would be
seen not as the Arabs’, but as Kim’s, his defiant, crushing retaliation.

***

Flee or brazen it out? Fahim’s mind
stuttered, then froze, marooning him behind the wheel.

As the cop strolled toward him, Fahim
strained to identify the object he held. He gripped the wheel with both hands,
tightened his arm muscles, and leaned forward, as if he could literally pull it
into clear view. All he could determine was that it was book-sized.

Suddenly the officer was there, a couple
of yards ahead and off to the left of the car. Holding the object in both
hands, he made some keystrokes with his thumbs.

Sweat beaded along
Fahim’s hairline and
spread over his forehead. His
eyes darted left and right.

Now the officer was at his door, looking
down at him. Fahim observed the man register his Arabic appearance. Fahim
stiffened in reaction but forced himself to calm. The officer bent over
slightly and spoke. “Good afternoon, sir. Sorry that you’re being delayed, but
you know how it is these days.”

Fahim looked up at the cop and put on his
most patient, resigned smile.

“That’s quite alright, officer. It can’t
be helped.” Fahim observed his British accent blunt the cop’s suspicion.

“I see you’re on the shoulder. Do you
have car problems?”

Should
I say yes? Can’t tell where that will lead. Better use the phone explanation.

“No, officer. Just before you shut down
the highway my mobile sounded and I pulled over to see the message.” Fahim had
deliberately said “mobile” instead of “cell phone,” careful to use his native
British pronunciation of the word.

The officer smiled. “Wish more people
would do that. I’ve cleaned up after more texting wrecks than you can imagine!

“Look, we’re going to reverse the flow
back to the exit; it’s about a mile.”
 
He
pointed. “So just sit tight until the car behind you U-turns, then you do the
same and you can get out of this parking lot.”

With a wave, the cop headed for the next
car.

For a moment Fahim sat motionless, hardly
believing he was out of danger. Then, in a torrent of softly spoken Arabic, he
praised Allah for deliverance. Although wary of attracting attention, Fahim
opened his door and stood on the pavement, stretching, restoring flexibility to
muscles knotted by fear.

The
Las Vegas bomb
was easy; the second bomb will be harder. Before Las Vegas there was virtually no chance of
the bomb being discovered as I drove it into position. Now, with radiation
detectors many more places, there’s a chance, still low, but it’s there. And
the danger is more than the discovery of the bomb. There’s also the chance,
maybe the biggest chance,
I
will be discovered before I can complete my
mission.

I
will reconsider my plans to drive to the East Coast. Although an airport is
very dangerous, my exposure will be short if I fly. But if I drive . . . these
cursed round-ups are everywhere. I must think on it.