Takedown (10 page)

T
ell me what’s going on in New York,” said the DHS secretary, Alan Driehaus, as he walked in to Gary Lawlor’s office unannounced and pulled the door shut behind him.

Lawlor had never cared much for the man in either his U.S. Attorney role or the position he now occupied at DHS. As diplomatic as he was, it was becoming harder and harder for Gary to hide his dislike. “Apparently there’s been some sort of terrorist attack in New York. It’s all over the news.”

“Don’t give me your condescending bullshit. What’s your involvement in this?”

“Me? I swore off terrorism years ago. It was a prerequisite for getting this job.”

The continual lack of respect he was shown throughout the department galled Driehaus to no end. “Shortly before all of this happened, one of your people grabbed a Muslim immigrant whom the Canadians had granted political asylum to and dragged him back across our border. True or false?”

“Who the hell told you that?” replied Lawlor, stunned that somebody was leaking classified information, and to of all people the pinhead secretary of the DHS.

“I’ve got my sources.”

“Well they’re wrong.”

“Like hell they are,” replied Driehaus. “None of you people get it, do you? We can’t hold ourselves out as a country that cherishes the rule of law only when it suits our purposes. We play right into our enemies’ hands when we do that. It’s hypocritical.”

“What would you have us do, Alan? Wait for the bad guys to make their move and then throw them in jail?”

“No. I have no qualms with preemption, but there have to be limits. We have to obey the rules.”

“Really? Tell that to the families of the people who died today and see if they give a rat’s ass about limits or the rule of law. PC or not, we’re smack-dab in the middle of a crusade, and the only way Western civilization is going to survive is if we meet radical Islam’s force with overwhelming force of our own.”

“But Western civilization isn’t
about
brute force. It’s about the power of ideas—one of the greatest of which is the rule of law and that as all men are created equal, they are equally bound under those laws.”

“Wake up, Alan. The sword is the midwife of civilization and everything that has happened since civilization’s birth has happened at the tip of that sword. I don’t care how many Starbucks are in my neighborhood, how many digital pictures my secretary can cram onto a single memory card, or how realistic the imagery is on my nephew’s new PlayStation, we still live in a world where might makes right. The moment we lose sight of that
rule
and start shrinking from our duties as a nation, is when we’ll all need to begin trading in our minivans and baseball mitts for prayer rugs and Arabic lessons.”

Even as a product of the 1960s, Driehaus had never seen the nation so ideologically divided.
Why did so many have such a hard time seeing the damage that the current policies were doing to America?
“So we just toss the rule of law out the window?”

“No,” replied Lawlor. “What I’m suggesting is that we stop believing that Western principles apply to our enemies. We can’t win the war on terror playing by a set of rules our opponents refuse to recognize.”

“And that’s where you come in? You and your collection of former soldiers and ex-intelligence agents hidden away in the bowels of DHS operating from budgets I’ve never even heard about?”

“Careful, Alan. You’re wiping your feet on the threshold of a very dangerous house. One, I should point out, into which you haven’t been invited.”

“I don’t care. I want to know right now what people you have in New York. These are people who are operating under the umbrella of this agency, of which
I
am in charge.”

Lawlor’s patience was quickly coming to an end. “Don’t let your philosophical judgments cloud your ability to execute your job. You know how this works. My division may be
in
DHS, but it’s not
of
DHS.”

“So all animals are created equal, but some are more equal than others, is that it?”

“I prefer to see it as we all make our own unique contributions to the welfare of our nation.”

“That’s an interesting way to characterize blackmail, kidnapping, and assassination.”

Lawlor sat with his best poker face waiting for the secretary to actually make a point or get the hell out of his office.

“What happened today is a real wake-up call for our country, Gary. The war on terror is not working. The pace at which attacks are being plotted against the United States is beyond exhausting. We can’t win with this strategy. Don’t you see? Just because we perceive ourselves as having the right to do something doesn’t mean we
should
do it. We can either lead by our example or be reviled for it.”

Lawlor turned to a stack of paperwork on his desk and barely masking the disgust in his voice said, “I suggest you get back to the war room. I guarantee you’ll be much more appreciated there.”

Driehaus was pretty sure he’d gotten the information he wanted from the OIIA chief and opened the door.

As he was about to step into the hallway, Lawlor said, “By the way, Mr. Secretary?”

“Yes,” said Driehaus as he turned around.

“Just for the record, it wasn’t Western civilization that made all men equal. It was Samuel Colt.”

P
resident Rutledge traded drafts for his television appearance with his press secretary all the way back to Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland. The only break he took was when Carolyn Leonard brought him an update on his daughter. Knowing that Amanda’s friends had been killed—as well as presumably all but two of her protective detail—and that they were trying to get her to a hospital for treatment of her unspecified injuries, made it very difficult for Jack Rutledge to concentrate on the task at hand. Carolyn promised to brief him every twenty minutes, whether she had any new information or not.

With confirmation that Amanda’s friends had not survived the attack on the Williamsburg Bridge, Rutledge contacted their parents from
Air Force One
and delivered the heartbreaking news personally.

When the president arrived at the White House, he read through the final draft of his speech and nodded his head. No one had heard him utter a word since entering the building. The man’s face was resolute, and it was clearly evident that he was both enraged and distraught beyond communication.

Waving off the makeup artist, Rutledge stared into the camera and waited to be given the signal that he was on the air. When it came, he began speaking.

“Good afternoon. Today, our great nation has come under attack. With the despicable terrorist acts of September eleventh, 2001, still fresh in our minds, the forces of evil lashed out at our very way of life by once again targeting New York City.

“Americans in the thousands have died as a result of these deliberate and cowardly acts. The victims come from all walks of life. They were businessmen and women, doctors, teachers, students, children, moms, dads, sisters, and brothers—all of whom were preparing to celebrate the nation’s birthday. Many more were injured, including my own daughter, Amanda, who along with two of her friends, now deceased, were making their way into New York when the attacks occurred. As a father, as president of this great nation, and as an American I feel the pain of the people of New York.

“The images of burning bridges and smoldering tunnels have filled us all with shock, sadness, and a determined, unrelenting anger.

“The goal of these attacks was to extinguish the greatest beacon of hope and freedom in the world, but America’s light will not be dimmed. We shall emerge from this trial and we shall do so with our beacon of hope shining brighter than ever before.

“While the terrorists may be able to shake the foundations of bridges and tunnels, they cannot shake the foundations of our great country.

“We have once again been forced to stare into the face of evil, but I know that as Americans we will not let that evil divide us. I urge everyone to remain calm. The full resources of the American government are being brought to bear to identify and locate those responsible for committing these despicable acts. As we have said continually, those who harbor terrorists are just as guilty as the terrorists themselves and we shall make no distinction between the two.

“I want to thank the members of Congress who stand with me in so strongly condemning these attacks. And on behalf of the American people, I also want to thank the many world leaders who have already contacted me to express their condolences and to offer assistance. Most of all, I want to thank the rescue workers, police, fire, and EMS, as well as the millions of Americans across the country who are lining up to give blood and are already putting in place the charitable mechanisms that will be so needed in the days, weeks, and months ahead to help heal one of the greatest cities on this earth.

“To the people of New York I say you have suffered an unfathomable loss, but you are not alone. Each and every American stands shoulder-to-shoulder with you right now and you are in both our thoughts as well as our prayers. Our hearts are heavy with sadness at your loss, a loss borne by all freedom- and peace-loving people across America and around the world.”

Geoff Mitchell watched from just off camera as the president prepared to wrap it up. The remarks were pitch-perfect, and Rutledge had delivered them flawlessly. After showing a quick excerpt from the Declaration of Independence about America pledging its sacred honor to help the victims and their families, the cameras would fade to the presidential seal and that would be it.

Though the circumstances were horrible, the press secretary had always hoped he’d be given a chance to write a speech that would be remembered for eternity. He felt pretty confident this was going to be one of those speeches. What he didn’t know was that why it would be so well remembered was still yet to come.

As the president came to the end of his remarks, he abandoned his script.

“And to the terrorists responsible for this revolting act of cowardice, I say this. America will never stop until we have hunted every last one of you down. We will go to the far corners of the earth, draining every swamp and turning over every rock along the way. And when we find you—and we
will
find you—we shall use every means at our disposal to visit upon you a death one thousand times more hideous than that which you have delivered to our doorstep today.

“America has defeated the greatest evils of the modern world and it
will
defeat the scourge of radical Islamic fanaticism as well.

“Thank you and God bless America.”

The red light atop the main camera switched off, but no one spoke. Not even the floor director, whose job it was to inform the president that they were safely off the air.

“Am I clear?” asked Rutledge.

The irony was not lost upon the director, who replied, “I’d say you were crystal clear, sir.”

Knowing it would take several minutes for the technical people to pack up their equipment from the Oval Office, Chuck Anderson asked, “Mr. President, may I have a word, please, in my office?” Pointing at the press secretary, he added, “You too, Geoff.”

Once they had gone through the adjoining door and it had closed firmly behind them, the chief of staff said, “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”

“We’re not going to hide behind politically correct labels anymore, Chuck.”

“I’d say you made that abundantly clear. Along with the fact that the Christian West is now officially at war with Islam.”

“I didn’t say we were at war with
Islam.
I said radical Islamic fanaticism,” replied the president.

The chief of staff looked at the press secretary. “Am I wrong, Geoff, or are we now officially at war with the Islamic religion?”

“I think you’re taking the president’s remarks slightly out of context,” said Mitchell.

“And you don’t think that’s what’s being done right now by every two-bit imam and petty despot in every Muslim nation around the world?”

“I don’t think it’s beyond repair. He was angry and with very good reason. We can smooth it over.”

“Just hold it,” ordered the president. “We’re not retracting, repairing, or smoothing anything over. I’m tired of dancing around. This country is going to stand by those remarks.”

“All the same, sir, I wish you would have run them by me first,” said the press secretary. “Going off-the-cuff like that can be very damaging, no matter how well intentioned.”

The chief of staff, a longtime friend of the president’s, shrugged and said, “The president doesn’t do anything off-the-cuff, Geoff. He knew very well what he was saying.”

“I don’t understand,” responded Mitchell.

Rutledge took a deep breath. “Am I angry? You’re damn right I am. Our country has been attacked, and I have no idea if because of those attacks my daughter is going to live or die. I said what every single American and every single Western world leader wanted to say and needed to say—radical Islam must be stamped out. Everyone tiptoes around the elephant in the middle of the room while the elephant continues to eat and grows bigger and bigger right before our eyes.”

“What about our Muslim allies?”

“What about them?” scoffed the president. “Radical Islam is an even bigger threat to them, and yet they sit idly by and do nothing at all about it.”

“What about the regular Muslims who might see this as a slight against them and their religion?”

“To hell with them. Mainstream Islam has done absolutely nothing to stop this cancer metastasizing within their midst. They haven’t even wholeheartedly condemned it. As far as I’m concerned, they don’t get a pass anymore. No more sitting on the fence, waiting to see which way this all goes. Either they’re part of the solution or they’re part of the problem. Period.”

The chief of staff as well as the usually verbose press secretary were both at a loss for words.

Finally, Geoff Mitchell said, “Then I guess we really are at war.”