Balance of Power: A Novel (33 page)

He looked around. “Most of which is probably
not
the case, but if you assume the enemy is stronger than he is, you will take additional precautions and live longer. Don’t get me wrong. This does not mean that we are not going ashore hard. This means that we are going to go ashore twice as hard and twice as fast with twice as many forces.
Frankly, gentlemen, we are going to beat the shit out of them. This is going to be their worst nightmare. They picked on the wrong people. And for those of you who don’t yet feel the need to do this, just remember those twenty-five merchant sailors, who were simply trying to carry goods to the people of Indonesia, and the SEAL off
this ship
who was murdered in cold blood.” He paused for effect. “The people we are going against can call themselves Islamic fundamentalists or a convention of Bozo the Clowns. Doesn’t matter to me. If they abduct, shoot, and blow up my countrymen, they better dial 911, ’cause they’re gonna need all the help they can get. Any questions?”

There weren’t any. They had gone over the plan a dozen times and were simply waiting for the updated information.

Tucker looked back at Armstrong. “Your men are ready, right? When are you off?”

Armstrong looked at his watch. “Eighteen hundred.”

“When are you ashore?”

“Twenty-three hundred,” Armstrong said.

Tucker looked at him hard. “Do you have everything you need?”

“Yes, sir. I could use some more imagery, but I guess we’re not getting that.”

“Not happening. We’re not risking another TARPS bird to get another set of pictures. The satellites are out of our control and we’re on our own. You’re gonna have to get the information for
us
.”

Armstrong nodded. “Roger that. We’ll get it.”

Tucker’s enormous arms bulged against the rolled-up sleeves of his camouflage uniform. “Let’s go kick some ass.”

D
ILLON WATCHED
CNN,
THE ADMIRAL
,
HIS AIDE
, and the ocean all at once. His stomach felt queasy. He had heard that aircraft carriers were so big that you couldn’t even tell they were moving. He could definitely tell this one was moving. Most of the movement was because of the ship’s speed—about twenty-five knots. But he could also feel it rolling just slightly from one side to the other. He looked at others around him and could detect no sense of movement or queasiness from them. He wondered how much of his current unease was due to the forces that had been set in motion by the Letter.
His
Letter. His idea, his research, his enthusiasm for an obscure constitutional concept. He couldn’t think about it without a rush of battery acid into his stomach.

He watched his boss, the Speaker of the House, on TV, answering questions posed to him in a press conference in the hall outside his office. A reporter said, “So, Mr. Speaker, there is a rumor on the Hill that you are going to request the House approve articles of impeachment against the President for being a pacifist. Is there any truth to that?”

“On the night the President gave the speech declaring that we would not go after these terrorists, I went over to the White House—I think most of you reported on that. I asked the President directly whether he was a pacifist, and he refused to deny it.”

Stanbridge watched the reaction of the reporter.

“So are you going to pursue the articles of impeachment?” Another reporter repeated the question.

“As you have reported, this issue has been under consideration by some members of the House. I have considered it myself, so I think frankly that the President should put this issue to rest by answering the question. However, he does not seem willing to do so. That gives me pause. It also makes me think that maybe there is some truth to it. However, after meeting with my colleagues, it is our considered opinion that now is not the time to go into this. The President has already shown that he has no intention of protecting American citizens against vicious attack, and he can answer for that later. Right now, the ones who need to answer for this are the terrorists in the Southern Pacific.”

Stanbridge raised his hand and shook his head indicating that he wasn’t answering any further questions. He walked to his office and turned around. “That’s all I have for now. I may have more for you on this later, but right now, I have other things that are pressing. Thank you.” He closed the door behind him as the reporters turned to the cameras to close.

Dillon smiled. Nicely done.

Lieutenant Reynolds stood beside him. “This is unbelievable. You ever see anything like this?” indicating the television hanging from the overhead.

“Never,” Dillon said.

“You think the Speaker means this? Do you think he’s really gonna lay off trying to get the President canned?”

“Sure looks like it. The press is frothing at the mouth. They haven’t had this much to write about in decades. This is better than war, because it’s all right in front of them. The reporters can sit in their little offices and write all kinds of things; then when they want to stir it up a little more, they go and get a bunch of quotes from some politician, roll those words into a sharp stick, and poke some other politician in the eye with them. Works great.”

Reynolds spoke softly so he wouldn’t distract Admiral Billings, who was glued to the television. “You like working in Washington?”

Dillon looked out over the ocean, at the sun glistening on the water. He breathed in deeply, trying to suppress his nausea. “I used to. Sometimes it gets tedious with all the infighting, the backstabbing, and the self interest—that’s probably the worst of it. Everybody looking out for himself and not enough people caring about what’s really going to happen. Still, if you want to actually change anything in this country, politics is about the only way to do it. But I don’t really see myself as a politician.”

“So, do you like it?”

“I like it sometimes, sometimes no.” Dillon shrugged. “How about you, do you like being out on the ocean, do you like being in the Navy?”

The aide smiled. “Sometimes yes.”

“This is unbelievable.” The admiral shook his head. “Washington has gone mad. Funny thing is, the country may think that I’m the only one who is out of control and I’m probably the only one that’s
under
control.”

The aide and Dillon watched the fiasco on the House floor as the admiral looked around. Billings saw his ops O standing across the bridge. “Hey. Are the Marines ready to go ashore?”

“Yes, sir, they’re ready—L hour is 0540.”

“Perfect. Everything else all set?”

“Yes, sir. Everybody’s briefed and ready to go.”

The admiral stood and leaned back, stretching. “Pass the word. Mission is a go.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” the ops O said, as he turned on his heels and headed off the bridge.

The speaker walked enthusiastically back into his office and removed his suit coat. He had closed the outer door behind him to exclude the teeming press. Only his staff members were allowed in at this point.

Robin looked at him. “Need I tell you, Mr. Speaker, that the phone is ringing off the hook, and about two million people want to see you?”

“Nope. I assumed that would be the case. Anything that can’t wait for forty-eight hours?”

“I don’t know, sir.” Robin stopped him. “But before you go in there, sir, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

The Speaker turned and gave her a confused look. “What?”

“While you were on the floor, the President’s Chief of Staff came to see you. He’s waiting for you in your office.”

The Speaker looked mystified. “Does the press know he’s here?”

“No, sir, came in when the press was covering the floor.”

“What does he want?”

“I don’t know. He just asked if he could wait in your office and it seemed the only appropriate place, so…”

“Of course. Well, this is something, isn’t it?” He stood a little taller. “This should be interesting.”

He entered his office, closing the door carefully behind him. Van den Bosch was sitting on the sofa by the coffee table, sipping from a china cup. He looked calm, relaxed, and confident.

“Well, Arlan,” the Speaker said, extending his hand, “good evening.”

Arlan stood up. “Good evening, Mr. Speaker. I’m sorry for intruding without being announced, but I just wanted to have a chat with you.”

“Not a problem at all,” said the Speaker, trying to read his enemy’s face. He didn’t dislike Van den Bosch; in fact, he had always respected him. He perceived him as the only adviser to the President who had his head screwed on straight. He seemed to understand the concept that strength was respected in foreign affairs, and weakness was preyed upon. That was the foreign policy the
Speaker believed the United States should always have, but rarely did. Too often the United States would degenerate into misty-eyed wishful thinking, which resulted in disastrous decisions and a lot of dead people.

Van den Bosch seemed to grasp that. In some ways Van den Bosch was an ally on the President’s staff. That’s probably why he’s here, the Speaker thought to himself. Because he’s the only one I’d listen to for five seconds.

“Please sit down, Arlan,” he said, using the Chief of Staff’s first name again in a forced attempt at familiarity. The Speaker reached behind him for the silver coffeepot and poured himself a fresh cup. “So, what brings you to this side of the world?”

Van den Bosch leaned toward the Speaker with forearms on his knees. “Mr. Speaker, these are trying times.”

“Agreed.” The Speaker sipped his coffee.

“I don’t know that in my entire thirty years in politics I have seen anything that remotely resembles the past couple of days. I have never seen so many forces at work in so many directions, with people unable to foresee the outcome and plan accordingly. I
know
we are plowing new ground when
The Washington Post
sounds confused.” Van den Bosch stopped for a moment to see if the Speaker was going to respond. Then he pressed on. “As you know, we have a substantial disagreement on the issue of the Letter of Reprisal. It’s remarkable to me that Congress believes it has the right to order a U.S. Navy battle group around when the President is the designated Commander in Chief of the armed forces. That to me is a remarkable usurpation of—”

The Speaker inclined toward Van den Bosch and narrowed his eyes as he interrupted, “Did you come here to lecture me? I don’t need a lecture. I know what your position is and it’s wrong. We have historical precedent on our side, we have the lack of action on the…”

Van den Bosch raised his hand. “No,” he said, “I’m not here to lecture you. I didn’t even mean to raise that
issue on the merits as such. I simply wanted to frame where we are to date.”

“I know where we are. Go on.”

“The Letter of Reprisal is with the Navy, as I understand it?”

“That is correct; the admiral has accepted it.”

“Do you know what the admiral is going to do?” Van den Bosch asked directly.

The Speaker sat back. “Well, if the President is the Commander in Chief, he should be asking the admiral that himself, shouldn’t he? With all of our technology, the President could ask that question in about two seconds. Has he done so?”

“I am not at liberty to discuss the communications between the battle group and the President. Let it be said that the admiral’s intentions are currently unclear.”

“Well then, what makes you think I would know?”

“We are not sure, Mr. Speaker. You seem to have ways of getting information.”

“Well, you certainly didn’t come over here to ask me the admiral’s intentions. Let me ask
you
a question. What are
your
intentions? Are you in fact sending another battle group down toward Admiral Billings’s battle group to stop them? Is it your plan to start a friggin’ civil war?”

Van den Bosch’s eyes showed surprise momentarily but he recovered. “Where did you hear that?”

“Is it true?”

“Well, if it were, that would certainly weigh against the President’s being a pacifist, wouldn’t it?” Van den Bosch said, smiling slightly.

“Maybe. Why don’t you have the President go on national television and announce that he is sending a battle group down to attack another U.S. Navy battle group, and that he in fact intends to attack them, and therefore he is not a pacifist. Let him make that statement before the American public that the proof of his manhood is his willingness to kill other Americans.”

“I didn’t say he had sent a battle group down there,” Van den Bosch replied quickly.

“Do you deny it?” Stanbridge pressed.

“I am not at liberty to discuss the President’s intentions concerning Admiral Billings,” Van den Bosch said with a tone of finality.

The Speaker was annoyed with the direction of the conversation. He lowered his voice. “Then why are you here? I’ve got a lot to do.”

“Because I want to see if we can lower the stakes a little.” Van den Bosch placed the cup on the table and looked intently at the Speaker. “This whole thing is now to the point where instead of one constitutional crisis, we are dealing with two or three simultaneously. I don’t know if the country can stand it. I don’t know if the government can stand it. What you have done, Mr. Speaker, could cause severe and lasting damage to the United States, not only by way of reputation with other countries but to the confidence people have that their government will be in existence a year from now. You’re attacking the Constitution itself.”

Stanbridge mimed his disgust. “If the President simply had the
sand
to do what he was obligated to do, none of this would have happened. Don’t try to blame this on me.”

Van den Bosch sat back. “I am not saying this very well. I am not here, Mr. Speaker, to accuse you of anything. I am not here to make our case on any of the major issues that have been raised. I think we have a case, I think our case is the right case, and I think we will prevail in every respect.” He saw the Speaker’s expression and raised his hand again in defense. “But I am not here to make that case before you; I am just here to see, as I said, if we can lower the stakes a little.”

“What do you mean?” the Speaker asked quickly, looking at his watch.

“Your threat to bring articles of impeachment before the House of Representatives was an insult to the President,
Mr. Speaker. Accusing him of pacifism is unfounded. It was clearly a political move which you have now wisely abandoned.”

“Really?” the Speaker said angrily. He stood up. “Let him go before the people and tell them he’s willing and ready to employ U.S. troops as necessary, that he’s willing and ready to use our nuclear defense umbrella if called upon to do so. Have him make that statement, Arlan. You think I made that accusation lightly? You think I didn’t do my homework? You think I didn’t realize the implications? I had my staff review every speech he made in the presidential campaign. I looked at every debate, every written question he responded to, every publication he has made. He has
never
said that he will use nuclear weapons if called upon to do so, and he has
never
said he would employ U.S. troops to defend our interests. Oh, sure, he talked a lot about defense budgets, and increasing percentages of defense budget as a percentage of gross domestic product, blah, blah, blah. He said all the political things.”