Balance of Power: A Novel (29 page)

Stanbridge looked at him in surprise. “Yes?”

“This is…I don’t know how to say it. This is…
crazy
. We could bring down the presidency; the whole reputation of the government is at stake. First the Letter of Reprisal, now this. I’m just…” He ran out of words.

“It is
not
crazy!” Stanbridge said too loudly. “Why is it everyone wants to give the President the benefit of the doubt? That’s the last thing we need to be doing. We need to smoke him out. I sure as hell don’t want to find out if I’m right when we get attacked.”

“We might look ridiculous, or vindictive….”

“I don’t care how we look. And if it spells the end of the President,” he said enthusiastically, “then so
be
it. Maybe we could get someone in there who knows what the hell he’s doing.”

D
ILLON STOOD ON THE FLYING BRIDGE IN HIS DRESS
shirt and suit pants. He had long since abandoned the tie and his sleeves were rolled up. He had undone the second button of the shirt to give him some additional cooling. Sweat pooled at the bottom of his back where it had rolled down from his shoulders. He looked at his watch again as he had every half minute for the last fifty minutes. 5:29
A.M.
He waited a little longer, then turned on his phone and dialed the Speaker’s private number. As before, the phone quickly rang and Robin answered. “Morning, Robin,” he said, trying to sound more cheerful than he felt. “Speaker available?”

“Yes, he is. He was watching the clock, and waiting for your call. I’ll put you through.”

Two seconds later the Speaker picked up the phone. “Dillon. Great to hear from you. Everything all right?”

“Fine, Mr. Speaker. How are things in Washington?”

“Oh, we’re doing great. I’ll tell you what though, it’s starting to pop around here.”

“Why’s that?”

“I told you they lost their appeal with the Circuit Court. Well, they’re taking it to the Supreme Court. We’re going to hear very shortly whether the Supreme Court will hear this fiasco tonight, or at some other time, or not at all.”

Dillon swallowed hard. “You know, Mr. Speaker, this thing has taken on a life of its own….” Dillon glanced
up to the array of lines, antennae, and masts above his head. He looked at the flag flying over the ship, snapping briskly in the wind high above him. He noticed it wasn’t the American flag at all. It was an old American Revolutionary War flag: red and white stripes with a rattlesnake on it, and the words ‘Don’t Tread on Me’ in black underneath. It gave Dillon chills. He looked for the American flag that he thought always flew over American ships—maybe this is a special battle group flag, or a ship flag. There was no American flag anywhere above him. He interrupted the Speaker’s thought. “You’re not going to believe this, Mr. Speaker.”

“What?”

“Somebody has replaced the American flag on the ship with the American Revolution flag. You know, the one with red and white stripes, a rattlesnake, and ‘Don’t Tread on Me.’ ”

The Speaker paused, then said, “I like that. Don’t Tread on Me. That’s
exactly
how I feel. Does the admiral know that flag is up there?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, there’s more news here. I’ve told the House we’ll be in session again tonight.”

“What for?” Dillon asked, confused, staring at the flag above him.

“To pass articles of impeachment against the President.”

Dillon’s head came down instantly and his mouth flew open. “What? For what? What’d he do?”

“He’s not fit to be President, Dillon. I am absolutely convinced he won’t use the military under any circumstances. At least not in a way that would require them to hurt anybody. He’s a pacifist. He might use the military to distribute rice cakes somewhere….”

“How do you know that?”

“Trust me.”

“Do you have anything that shows that, or is this just political?”

The Speaker lowered his voice. “You think I’d do this for political gain?”

“I sure hope not. Do you have anything or not?”

“I’ll spare you the details, but I’m not going to make a fool of myself. I don’t make this charge lightly. Believe me.”

“When’s that going to happen?”

“Tonight.”

“Washington must be about to explode.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it, Dillon, not in my entire political career. People are on edge, they’ll bite your head off, and everybody has an opinion on everything.” He sighed. “Let me talk to the admiral.”

“Hold on. He’s over here.” Dillon walked to the hatch to the bridge and stuck his head in. “Admiral, the Speaker would like to talk to you.” The admiral climbed down from his bridge chair and walked out onto the flying bridge.

“This is Admiral Billings.”

“Good morning, Admiral Billings. This is John Stanbridge, the Speaker of the House.”

“Yes, sir. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you as well, Admiral. How are things going with the battle group?”

“Doing fine. Everything’s in order, except, as I’m sure Mr. Dillon told you, we had an airplane shot down.”

“What?” the Speaker said excitedly. “When?”

“Yesterday, late afternoon. Doing a final reconnaissance run by an F-14. Photos. We were trying to get some imagery on Bunaya to see what we’re going to be up against. We encountered South African SAMs. They lit them up from the front with radar and shot them from behind with an infrared missile. At least that’s what we think happened.”

“South African? Why are the South Africans there?”

“No, not owned by South Africa, manufactured by South Africa. It’s a South African system. We don’t know who these guys are.”

“Is the pilot okay?”

“Yes, the pilot and RIO were plucked out of the water. But that was pretty hairy too. Those three fiberglass cigarette boats that they used when they took the
Pacific Flyer
came out and tried to pluck them out of the ocean.”

“What happened?”

“Our F-18 strafed all three of them and sank them.”

“Unbelievable,” the Speaker exclaimed. “These guys started firing on us? This needs to get out.”

“Yes, but”—the admiral hesitated—“that F-14 may have been flying over Bunaya, which he probably wasn’t supposed to be doing. We were trying to stay in international waters and not overfly. I was hopeful that the TARPS would be able to get some imagery from a side look, but I think he might have decided to fly directly overhead.”

“Yeah,” the Speaker said, “but that would give Indonesia a right to go after us, not a bunch of terrorists.”

“That’s true,” said the admiral.

“Why haven’t we heard anything about this in Washington?”

“Well, we notified Washington by message, Mr. Speaker. We have been doing our usual reporting; the problem is we’ve been cut off, as Mr. Dillon told you. We are incommunicado, if you will.”

The Speaker thought for a moment. “So nobody else knows this? Nobody else knows that they shot down one of our airplanes?”

“Well, somebody knows, but I don’t know what they’ve done with the information. It hasn’t changed the way they’ve been dealing with us.”

“Just for your information, Admiral, I have already told Mr. Dillon that the President has brought a lawsuit against Congress trying to get this Letter of Reprisal declared unconstitutional. They took it to the District Court, who denied their request for an order, went to the Circuit Court this afternoon, who also denied it; they are trying to get it before the Supreme Court right now. I’ll make sure that
we get word to you through Dillon if there is some change.”

“Yes, I would appreciate that.”

The Speaker paused for a moment, trying to decide whether to ask the next question. Finally he plunged ahead. “What exactly is your plan, Admiral?”

“In what regard, Mr. Speaker?” Billings asked, playing with him ever so slightly.

“In terms of these…terrorists…what do you plan to do?”

“H hour and L hour are tomorrow morning at first light, Mr. Speaker. We’ll be conducting preliminary reconnaissance and intelligence work today, and then tomorrow morning we will begin with air strikes. Marines will go ashore in the first half hour of daylight.”

“How many Marines?”

“Fifteen hundred.”

“Isn’t that a bit of overkill?”

Billings responded sharply, “Well, Mr. Speaker, can you tell me how many men there are on that island? Can you tell me how they’re armed? If they have South African surface-to-air missiles sophisticated enough to shoot down an F-14 that is flying at five hundred-plus knots, can you tell me what else their capabilities are? We have
no
intelligence, no imagery, no beach studies, no idea who these guys are or where they got their armament, and nobody is telling us. So, yes, it might be overkill, but I’ve never seen a combat operation where a military commander regretted having too much force.”

“Do you expect to take casualties?” the Speaker asked.

“Yes,” the admiral replied immediately. “And I’m sure that you do, too. I am sure Congress wouldn’t have sent us this Letter of Reprisal
instructing us
to go after these guys unless you had already considered the risk of casualties and expected to take some. Am I right? And we’re supposed to go in even though they’re holding the captain of the
Flyer
. Right?”

The Speaker replied, “Well, I think that we expected
some minor casualties, but I certainly don’t want there to be many. And just be careful. I don’t know where the captain is, or even whether he’s still alive.”

“Mr. Speaker, I believe Mr. Dillon mentioned that I think there is a remote possibility that the President is sending another battle group down here. Have you been able to find out anything?”

“I’m doing my absolute best to find that out. I will let you know. Now give me back to Dillon. By the way, Admiral—good luck.”

“Good-bye, Mr. Speaker. I’ll talk to you again.” He handed the phone back to Dillon and turned into the bridge. He stopped suddenly and squinted at the flag snapping above him.

Molly’s fingers hesitated over the buttons on her telephone. She looked at the name on her Rolodex, then back at the phone, then back at her Rolodex. She stared at the phone, picked up the receiver slowly, then dialed the number. She glanced at her clock. End of the business day for most Washington bureaucrats. When Bobby answered the phone on the first ring she said, “Hi. This is Molly.”

A pause. “Molly? Hey.”

“Just wanted to call and say hello.”

“Oh,” he said, not quite sure how to respond. “What’s up?”

“Oh, I just thought that maybe we could get together and do something this weekend. There aren’t any Virginia games on, but maybe we could…uh…do something else.”

“Come on, Molly, get serious. You called because the Chief Justice—my boss—is considering whether to accept this application for emergency stay on this Letter of Reprisal thing. Right?”

“Well, now that you mention it, I was curious about the timing, when we might hear…” She tried to sound nonchalant.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t call about that. I wouldn’t believe you, and then I’d think less of you,” he said angrily. “Don’t screw with me. Did your office have anything to do with that case being filed?”

“The Attorney General’s office is representing the President, not my office.”

“Right,” Bobby said with disgust. “You’re as bad as Dillon.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Never mind. Look, I have to go. If I get any time this weekend, I’ll call you. Bye.”

“So that’s it?”

“Yeah, that is it. This is serious, Molly, and you know it. Don’t be a fool.” He waited for some response, some explanation that would restore her to the lofty position she had held in his mind, but he heard nothing. “Good-bye,” he said finally and hung up.

She kept the receiver up to her ear without really knowing why. She was
ashamed
. She knew she shouldn’t have called him but simply couldn’t resist. This was the most important constitutional issue in her lifetime. The Supreme Court
had
to come out the right way on it. It would be catastrophic for the existence of the government if it didn’t. It had to act
tonight
. She tightened her lips and put the receiver down.

The phone rang immediately. Her heart jumped. Bobby had changed his mind. She picked it up quickly. “Hello?” she said enthusiastically.

“Hey, Molly!” Dillon asked.

“Jim! What are you doing?” she asked. “Where are you?”

“I’m standing outside the admiral’s bridge on the USS
Constitution
. I’m about”—he looked down at the ocean—“a hundred feet above the water.”

“Is the Navy letting you use their sophisticated telephone or something?”

“I’m using my new Motorola satellite phone,” Dillon said with a serious tone. “Your boss cut off the ship’s
communications. He won’t talk to them or let them talk to anyone else.”

“What do you mean?”

“Messages can go out but nothing comes in.”

“You’re it, then? Your phone is the only way they have to communicate with anyone off the ship?”

“Well, I guess so.”

Molly changed the subject. “I’m a little surprised to hear from you. I didn’t expect to until this whole thing was over.”

Dillon suddenly began to regret having called. “Yeah, I just wanted to…I don’t know. I’m not sure why I called. I guess I just wanted to…hear your voice. I’m not quite sure why, since last time I heard your voice it was telling me that you wanted to serve me with a lawsuit. Even in the middle of all this, just don’t let it completely die. Maybe when it’s over…”

“We just don’t know how this is going to affect us in the long run. We need to wait and see what happens.”

“I know. We’ll see. That’s all I really wanted—”

Molly asked recklessly, “Is the admiral really going to do this, Jim?”

Dillon hesitated. “Yeah, Molly, he is, and you know it. He sent a message to the President telling him he was going forward with the Letter. That’s why the President cut off our communications. Don’t act like you didn’t know that.”