Read The Land of the Free Online
Authors: TJ Tucker
The Land of the Free (12 page)
Treasury Secretary Tom Gallant had
asked to see Torres, and Levine made room for him on the schedule ahead of
Morgensen that day. Torres didn’t know what to expect, but Gallant got right
to the point as he walked in purposefully and sat straight down in the
visitor’s chair.
“Sir, I wanted to stress to you
that it’s a serious mistake to press the case against Leonard Clarkson.”
Clarkson was the former chief executive of the major investment house Tillman
Macy. “He was acting well within the limits set by years of precedent.”
“Tom, it was the Justice Department
that decided there was a case. It really wasn’t my decision, other than that I
didn’t object.”
“You need to object, Sir. Clarkson
is extremely well connected. He manages money for some very wealthy people.”
“He personally approved the sale of
securities he knew were worthless. A lot of wealthy people lost money on those
securities. Maybe even some of the same ones you’re concerned about.”
“We could bail them out” offered
Gallant. “But criminal charges in the elite circles of the financial industry
are unprecedented. You could be opening a Pandora’s box here.”
“Then take it up with the Attorney
General, Tom,” said Torres with a dismissive wave and a frown. “But know
this. I am not going to tell him to back off if he has a firm criminal case.”
“I’ve already spoken with him.
Without your call to the contrary, he’s going ahead with the case. I have to
warn you that there will be difficulties ahead for you and for the
administration.”
“You mean worse than what we’ve
seen to this point?” asked Torres. “I’m possibly the most unpopular man in
rural America. And you can’t manage to complete your bond auctions without Havenstein’s
intervention at the Fed. You can’t inspire confidence with the Chinese. I
hear they’re selling bonds now. How much worse are you saying it’s going to
be, Tom? I don’t see where you’re doing much of anything right.”
“Since I seem to have lost your
confidence, Mr. President, I will submit my resignation, following a period you
deem necessary to pick my replacement,” said Gallant. “But please don’t say I
didn’t tell you there would be difficulties ahead.”
“Very well, Tom. Make your
announcement at the start of December, and step down at the end of the year.
That should be a smooth enough transition. We’ll use the usual line about
spending more time with your family. Now tell me, what sort of difficulties did
you have in mind?”
“I can’t really specify because I
don’t know what they’ll do. The leading financial interests know how to
protect their own, and their methods are not transparent. But when you cross
them they will respond. That much is certain.”
As they concluded, Torres couldn’t
get Gallant’s bizarre warning out of his head. Things were already so screwed
up, how could they get any worse?
Lyle lived outside Kingston at his
parents’ family home, a large colonial manor with white pillars outside and
dark wood floors and wall detailing. They had magnificent views of the
Catskill Mountains across an expanse of pastureland where they kept horses.
Jess was enchanted by the charm of the place and quickly settled in to one of
the guest rooms. All of them were put up in comfort in the beautiful old
house.
The remainder of the afternoon was
spent sitting outside and enjoying the views and the comfortable fall weather.
Later, Lyle’s housekeeper summoned them for dinner and a chance to meet Lionel
Ferguson Sr. He was a gregarious old man, tall like Lyle and frail with age,
but seemingly unburdened by daily responsibilities. He took to Jess
immediately, and delighted in telling her slightly off-color stories, which she
found amusing and somehow charming.
After a delightful meal where they
were able to forget the worries of their situation, they moved to a sitting
room with a bottle of brandy Lionel had brought out. As they settled in, he
said, “Lyle indicated you were in some trouble.”
John looked at his glass before
replying. “You have a wonderful place here, Mr. Ferguson. You live in peace
with your surroundings, and you appear to have no worries. I apologize deeply
for bringing a violent issue to your home.”
“Thank you, sir, it’s appreciated.
We’re being pursued by the people who killed him. They think we have something
that we don’t,” said John.
“We think it would have been mailed
to Jess’ P.O. Box in Albany, but there’s nothing there, at least not yet.” said
Lyle. “It’s probably still in the mail, hidden from whoever did this.”
“Robert Linssman was a very
principled man,” said Lionel. “That he gave his life for something he believed
in doesn’t surprise me. You know you’ll have to pursue this thing he found.
It would dishonor his memory to do otherwise.”
“I wanted him to leave it alone,”
said John. “I know from my past that tragedy can follow where principle first
leads. Now we’ve all lost Robbie.”
“Don’t you think you should ask
young Jess how she feels about it?” asked Lionel.
All eyes turned to Jess, with John
a little embarrassed at having to be reminded of this obvious courtesy. “I’m
with my dad,” said Jess. “I’m willing to follow in his footsteps if he thought
this was worthwhile.”
“I knew you’d say that,” said
Lionel. “I certainly hope young Lyle snatches you up before anyone else does.
It’s not often I see a girl so beautiful and so full of life.”
Jess shrugged off Lionel’s comment
with a smile, leaving him the wide berth of discretion due to overly
enthusiastic old men. She did however sneak a glance at Lyle to gauge his
reaction.
“John, while you may be right about
the danger, a life lived in fear of doing the right thing is rather
unsatisfying.” Lionel wasn’t going to let the topic go so quickly. “I’m not
just pulling this out of my ass either. Young Lyle and I had a similar
discussion only a few years ago. There’s not time to go over it right now, but
he did the right thing, at some cost to himself financially. He’s far happier
now. Aren’t you Lyle?”
“Yes dad,” said Lyle. “And now
that you’ve embarrassed everyone, maybe we should all say good night. We’ll
want to check that P.O. Box every day until something turns up.”
Lyle went to the office the
following morning, while Jess, John and Frank drove to Albany to check the P.O.
Box. They returned empty handed by 11 am, and were welcomed by Lionel, who
promptly called Lyle to tell him they had returned. Lyle finished his work
early and returned home for lunch. In the afternoon, they walked to the Shokan
Reservoir and enjoyed the colors of the leaves on the hills as fall started to
set in. Frank and John walked with Lionel, while Lyle and Jess walked ahead.
“I’d like to go for a run,” said Jess.
“I run too,” said Lyle. “Mind if I
come with you?”
“Sure. If you think you can keep up.”
They ran casually back to the
house, changed into shorts and ran for over an hour. Lyle came back slightly
ahead of Jess, both of them in obviously high spirits. Not ready to call it a
day, they went to the reservoir for a swim, but after a while went to a beached
canoe and paddled out a ways. Smiling directly at Lyle, Jess deliberately
tipped the canoe over. They laughed and played in the water for a while
longer, before returning to the house.
Watching the whole thing, John said
to Lionel, “She’s been through a tough time. She may not show it, but I know
her better than anyone, and she’s been hurting. It’s nice to see her blowing
off some steam.”
“And I’m glad to see the young lad
finally making time for the ladies. Between his career adventures and my
wife’s death, he’s never taken the time to see girls in any serious way. And
she’s a beauty.”
…
Jess hadn’t felt so carefree in a
long time, and while there were also moments of grief, she found her stay to be
a chance to forget everything, at least for a while.
Three full days passed and still
there was no envelope in the P.O. Box. Over dinner, they discussed the
situation. “It’s now Friday and if the envelope doesn’t show up by tomorrow, I
fear we may have guessed the wrong address,” said John. “Does anyone have any
alternative ideas?”
Nobody could come up with any other
obvious places Robbie might have had the memo sent. Jess and Frank drove to
Albany on Saturday morning, with Lyle attending to some work at the office and
John enjoying the quiet at the Ferguson estate. Lyle got back before Jess, who
ran out of the car and into the house, waving a piece of paper for all to see.
“Mr. Matheson, would you please
explain to the President what you’ve learned about China’s missile defense
system?”
Morgensen had called the meeting,
insisting Defense Secretary Tyler Matheson personally present to Torres the
revelations about China.
“Sir, the Chinese have made key
technical breakthroughs in fundamental computing technology that will enable
them to complete their missile defense system. We know they’ve had an intense
interest in developing such a system. They have production-ready missile
prototypes. The last obstacle for them was a lack of the right computer chips,
which they now have.
“How soon will it be operational?”
asked Torres.
“As early as six months from now,”
said Matheson. “We made that guess based on how long it takes us to implement
new inventions in our systems.”
The Cobra looked at Torres
expectantly, but he just shrugged. “So what? Do you want me to launch a
nuclear strike within six months because after that I might not be able to?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said the
Cobra. “I thought it would simply interest you to know that in six months’
time our ability to project power in the East will vanish, the victim of
obsolete technology.”
“Then we have to develop a new
defense strategy with respect to China. Tyler, unless I’m mistaken, Defense is
silent on the topic of motivations when developing scenario plans with respect
to our rivals. All that matters is capability.”
Matheson nodded in the
affirmative. Torres continued. “Then you obviously need to organize a task
force to develop a response. You have a month to develop the strategy and get
my approval, followed by five months to implement it.”
“You don’t seem alarmed by this,”
said Morgensen.
“I don’t know why I should be.
It’s perfectly rational for a power like China to want the capability to defend
itself, especially against the most powerful nuclear arsenal in the world.
They see us as a threat, Hanna. And it’s because we’ve threatened them in the
past. We’ve tried to assassinate their Premier and we’ve bombed their embassy
in Belgrade. Under the circumstances, I don’t see how I could pick up the phone
and call them to express outrage that they would develop a defensive system
analogous to what we already have.”
Morgensen looked at Matheson and
said, “Tyler, I’d like to speak with the President alone now.” Matheson
quickly left the office and Morgensen resumed. “You seem to consider yourself
simply as the chief executive of the United States, Mr. President. You fail to
account for your role as the custodian of American military supremacy. It took
a long time to establish it and you don’t seem worried about losing it. When
we’re unable to secure Iran’s oil reserves, or the Chinese beat us to them,
then you’ll see the consequences of your stupidity.”
“In the first place my objective is
peace, not securing Iran’s oil. Military supremacy is just a tool that can
serve either purpose. Secondly, what’s the alternative? If China is
determined to build a system, they’ll build it. I’m not going to launch an
attack simply to avoid this possibility.”
“There are plenty of alternatives.
All you need to do is call CIA Director Bill Connolly. He’ll develop a
strategy that will put a stop to their system. You’ll see that suddenly key
components don’t work. The Chip plant will develop quality problems. Their
software will be riddled with viruses. Designs for systems they’ve spent years
developing will disappear. Certain engineers will disappear. The point is we
don’t sit on our hands while they threaten our power.”
“What you describe are acts of
war,” objected Torres.
“War is the continuation of policy
by other means,” answered Morgensen.
“That’s a quote from Clausewitz,
Hanna. That mentality gave us two world wars. The Chinese follow Sun Tzu, who
taught that the best war is the one that’s never fought. I subscribe to that
view myself.”
“You’ve said your piece Mr.
President. I expect the outcome of our discussion to be a green light for
covert action against the Chinese missile defense program.”
Morgensen then stood up and left
the meeting before Torres could challenge her concluding statement. Torres was
left fuming at being overruled once again by his Secretary of State on a matter
deeply important to himself.
John took the memo from Jess’ hand,
and with everyone in the room, read it aloud for the group.
.
From:
Smithfield Warwick, Operations Center
To: Unit Heads
RE: Update on Project Logistics
.
Dear
All
.
We
have received final clearance to go forward. Derek Ellis has been appointed to
lead the whole operation. All elements have to come together as planned or
everything will be in jeopardy. Security is essential so above all, no leaks.
Here follows an update on the
logistical plans. Any issues meeting timelines must be communicated
immediately.
1
. Newly revised containers
have been produced. Trust this will resolve any remaining questions on
capacity
2
. Delivery of outer
containers to San Marcos in progress, Tilbury to complete interior refit and
plumbing for our specific needs
3
. Target number is 2,500
containers
4
. Target date of
deployment: Oct 9 at ports. All containers must be unloaded by Oct 8 to
ensure coordinated action. Timeline subject to change, so keep checking
5
. Nightwatch to be
extended all cooperation
6
. Morningstar to
coordinate launch plans and maintain secrecy by any means necessary
7
. All other elements remain
as originally discussed
.
Please remember, we only get one chance to get this
right. Failure will see us prosecuted. All details have to merge perfectly.
.
Regards,
.
Scott.
…
“That could be Scott Peters,” said
Frank. “He was the sidekick to the CFO until he was killed in the plane
crash. Peters was about the only high ranking manager not on that plane. It
sort of puts me over the top with regards to the cause of that crash.”
“It looks like Tilbury was acquired
to pull off this operation,” said John. “Management who knew what was going on
became a hindrance.”
“Scott Peters is now the interim
CEO,” said Frank. “And we have a smoking gun that puts him in the middle of
the plot.”
“I’m not sure what to make of it,”
said John. “Containers being doctored in San Marcos then sent to ports,
probably here in the US.”
“San Marcos in the Pearl Islands?”
asked Lyle.
“Yes, Robbie previously discovered
that Smithfield bought San Marcos and set up a port,” said John.
“Do you guys recall a news story
not too long ago about missiles the Russians had built that would fit inside
shipping containers?” asked Frank.
“They’re going to import missiles
and attack us from within our ports?” asked Lyle.
“Who?” demanded Jess.
“Whoever owns Smithfield,” answered
Lyle.
“Or attack the Russians from our
ports?” asked Jess. “Start World War III?”
“I doubt it” said Frank. “Any
missile you could fit in a shipping container would have to be short range.”
“Right now it doesn’t make sense
strategically,” said John. “Why would you go to so much trouble to bomb us if
our subs are parked right off your coast at this moment?”
“What about a false-flag
operation?” asked Lyle. “The CIA does all this to cause all sorts of outrage,
produces some link to Iran, and the military turns their desert into a sea of
glass.”
“One at a time,” said John. “Does
it make sense for it to be missiles?”
“It depends who’s behind it,” said
Frank. “I agree the Russians aren’t stupid enough to blow up our port cities
and take the full force of our retaliation. Besides, they still have an
arsenal that can probably penetrate our defenses and do it the old fashioned
way. They just aren’t a good match, but their missiles in the hands of
terrorists might be.”
“You’re outside the logistical
capabilities of some bunch of terrorists here,” said John. “If we were just
talking about a few missiles in shipping containers, then a small group could
possibly pull it off. But they’ve bought large corporations, a whole island,
and paid off Morningstar to get this done. Only a sovereign entity could muster
resources like this. Lyle, if this was a false flag attack, why would they
have 250 containers? The PR value would be achieved by a single nuclear
device.”
“I concede your point, John” he
replied. “It’s just that I’ve seen the CIA involved in all sorts of things
that fit this profile. If it’s a foreign government, what are they trying to
achieve?”
“I know about operation
Gladio,
if that’s what you were referring to,” said John. “I don’t doubt that the CIA
could be involved, but again the scale of the operation is the key. They’re
normally limited to activities on the terrorist scale by virtue of needing a
hard core of people to pull them off without too many leaks. This just feels a
little too big for them to be behind it.”
“Then it’s a rogue government,
maybe North Korea together with Iran,” offered Frank. “If we rule out big
governments and small nongovernmental groups, what are we left with?”
“What about the plumbing?” asked
Jess.
“I wondered that myself,” said
Lyle. “It could refer to missile launch plumbing.”
“We need more information,” said
John. “Otherwise we’re speculating blindly. Someone needs to take a look at
San Marcos up close. We need to know what’s up with Morningstar. These guys
were kicked out of Afghanistan for excessive brutality, if I remember
correctly. And now I remember why the double dagger logo I saw on those
assassins’ arms was familiar. It’s the Morningstar logo. They’re in charge of
security for this operation. Jess, these are the people who killed your
father. I’m sure of it now.”
“We need to find out where their
money is coming from,” said Lyle.
“And then we need to find a way to
reach the President to make our case” said Frank. “It won’t do us any good to
learn of a conspiracy without having something we can do with the information.
We can’t go to the FBI, since that got Robbie killed. Anybody we approach will
pose a risk, and that’s something we’ll have to sort out.”
“John, I want to go to San Marcos,”
said Lyle. “I’m in good shape, I can run long distances, and I’m a certified
diver. The tourist industry is pretty thin down there, and what little there
is surrounds diving. So I have a plausible cover.”
“The same goes for me,” said Jess.
“I also dive. It will be natural for us to go together. We can pass for a
couple.” Jess had an enthusiastic smile as she said that, and Lyle took a
quick glance then allowed himself to also smile mildly.
“That works for me,” said John,
with less reluctance than he had previously shown. “But I don’t want you
traveling under your real names. That would be too easy to track with all the
airline security databases.”
Lyle smiled and said, “I’ve already
thought of that. I have a friend in Montreal, well not quite a friend, but
he’s a topnotch forger and he owes me some serious favors. We’ll drive up and
fly out of there.”
“That will work,” replied John.
“While you two go on your tropical vacation, Frank and I will see what we can
dig up on Morningstar financially. We’ll also sniff around and try to learn
what’s going on at the ports. Meanwhile, everyone start thinking about how we
can use the information we obtain.”
“Just a tootin’ minute,” said
Lionel. “You’ve been here all week. The least you can do is stay Saturday
night. Some of the neighbors come over and we have a great time. After that,
sure go ahead and do the right thing. But tonight, the right thing is right
here.”
They knew better than to argue with
Lionel, so they enjoyed another night at the Ferguson Manor before starting on
their trips. In the morning, the old man insisted they come with him to
church. They were of varying degrees of religious practice, but nobody
protested too loudly, so they accompanied him. After the Mass, Lionel walked
over to the priest and said something to him. The priest came over to the four
of them and gave them a blessing with Holy water. “Last rites, Father?” asked
Frank.
“Not at all,” said the amused
cleric. “But a proper Benediction sure beats a ‘good luck.’”
…
Lyle packed a few things then he
and Jess drove to Albany, where she also packed before continuing to Montreal,
slightly less than four hours to the north. On the way, they passed through
the Adirondacks, where Jess relived childhood memories, feeling wistful about
not being able to forget everything and turn off the highway to Silver Lake.
She indulged her thoughts for only a few moments before crushing the feelings
of passivity and defeat, reminding herself of the matter of her father’s murder
that she was pursuing.
They crossed the border into Quebec
and before long saw the skyline of Mount Royal with the domed roof of St.
Joseph’s Oratory. Crossing the Mercier Bridge onto the island of Montreal,
they made their way to the West Island. At the north end of the island, they
reached a set of housing developments that had seen better days. The residents
were mostly immigrants, relatively poor, but crime was not a major issue.
They parked the car and made their
way to a beige brick building with a 1950s-style entry foyer. They found the
name “M. Ahmoudi” on the resident list and Lyle pressed the button, waited for
the reply and announced himself. There was no reply but the buzzer rang and
the door was unlocked. They stepped into a lobby that had nice stonework, but
50-some years of wear had dulled it. The elevator smelled of cigarette smoke
so old that the last smoker in the elevator may have been innocent of any code
violation. They stepped out of the elevator into a dimly lit hallway, the
floors worn, dirty, or both. One could not really tell in the gloom. Finally,
Lyle knocked on a door. It was opened by a well groomed Arabic man.
“Why are you here?” he asked
without a hint of a smile.
“So nice to see you too, Ahmed,”
said Lyle. “Let me introduce you to my friend Jess. Why don’t you ask her to
be seated while you make us some coffee? We’ve been driving all day and we
need your help.”
Lyle walked into the tastefully
appointed, clean apartment that was a nice contrast to the environment
outside. He motioned for Jess to follow, and gestured towards a chair.
“Welcome, Jess. Please make
yourself comfortable while I make us some coffee,” said Ahmed. He then turned
to Lyle. “Saving me from the Mossad that time was in your interest too, Lyle.
I won’t be eternally indebted to you for that one.”
“I helped smuggle you out of Israel
because I knew you were innocent of anything worse than forgery, and at that
point guilt or innocence mattered not a whit to them. It was simply the right
thing to do. But now I’m in a similar situation and I’m asking your help
because it’s the right thing for you to do. And I think you might find it in
your interests also.”
Ahmed looked him in the eye briefly
and evidently decided he was telling the truth. “Tell me the story,” he said
as he started the coffee.