Red Dot: Contact. Will the gravest threat come from closer to home than we expect? (18 page)

Sarge and Vander stuck their rifles over the ridge and took aim. But before they fired, Vander lifted his head and pulled his rifle back behind the ridge.

“I know, it’s hard,” said Sarge. He pulled his rifle back as well, and Vander took a deep breath. “But you know what we’re fighting for. After we start this revolution, we and our brothers and sisters can live free.”

The two men put their rifles over the ridge again and took aim. As planned, Vander took the first shot, and Sarge fired a second or two later. Both men would normally hit a center-mass body shot easily at four hundred yards, but surging adrenaline and gusting winds had disrupted their aim enough to send the bullets snapping a foot or two over the rangers.

The two men scrambled behind the other side of their vehicle for cover. “I can’t believe they’re actually doing it,” said Ralph, an experienced, middle-aged ranger, as more shots went by.

“I told you,” said the younger ranger, Fred, as he pulled his handgun out of his holster and returned fire. Ralph reached into the front seat to get the microphone and call for backup.

The gunfight went on for less than ten seconds before a .30 caliber bullet tore through bone and sinew in Ralph’s right shoulder. He cried out in overwhelming pain.

Even from almost a quarter mile away, the blood-curdling scream caused Sarge and Vander to stop firing for a few seconds. Sarge had heard that scream a dozen times in Afghanistan, but hearing it in America shocked him.

The fight resumed for five or ten more seconds before Sarge said, “We’ve gotta get out of here. Their backup will be here quick.”

The two men turned and crept a few yards from the ridge and then sprinted to their jeep. As they sped back to their base, the exhilarated Vander let out a loud whoop, and shouted, “It’s on now!”

In Washington, D.C., the President was discussing the Chicago bombing with FBI Director Fidelia Ramos when word came in about the ambush of BLM rangers in New Mexico. To Ramos’s surprise, Douthart showed little reaction to the news, maintaining the same grim expression.

“Well, Director Ramos, we’ve been pretty much expecting this for a while,” said the President. “I know you have extensive plans for both contingencies. Keep me informed on major developments, and let me know about any changes in Ranger Swopes’ condition.”

After he walked the Director out of the Oval Office, Douthart sagged into the nearest chair. Everyone knew the extremists in the FreeUS movement and the anti-government Plains Free resistance in New Mexico would probably erupt in violence sooner or later. Douthart already had a speech prepared that needed just a few details added. He wondered briefly if he could put it out as a news release. But the attacks were too important, and a federal employee had been seriously wounded; a news release wouldn’t do.

An hour later, sitting at his desk in the Oval Office, the President gave the speech, laying out the details of the attacks. He deplored the senseless nature of the acts, “which come at a time when all of us need to work together to meet historic challenges.”

And he asked: “Why would leftist radicals think a struggle that would go to those willing to commit the most violence would end in a victory for democracy and justice? And the freedom the Plains extremists say they pursue would open wide swaths of the land they love to unlimited mining and drilling and hazardous waste storage operations, not to mention possible struggles between competing ranchers, each with his own group of armed followers.”

Commentators immediately remarked on Douthart’s flat tone of voice and subdued body language. Doubt about the President’s ability to meet the nation’s mounting challenges became even stronger.

A
CT OF
D
ESPERATION

“I
f this doesn’t
work, the President is going to be pissed,” said Vice President Duggard.

She was sitting at her desk in the office at her official residence on the grounds of the United States Naval Observatory, with her hand on the phone. Secretary of State Whiteton stood beside her.

“There’s a lot that can go wrong, very wrong,” he said with a sigh. “He could easily be outraged, and that could damage our working relationship at this critical time.”

“Even if he’s
not
angry, it may just not work like we hope,” said Duggard. “And the heck of it is, even if it does, it might not help Al the way we hope.”

They were silent for a few moments, the Vice President with her hand still on the phone and the Secretary of State standing beside her. “It’s an act of desperation,” Whiteton said. “But at this point, we have to do something—after what was obviously a disastrous meeting with Fitzgerald last Friday.”

The President hadn’t recounted the bungled confrontation in detail, but his inner circle saw clearly from his retelling and from the words and actions of Fitzgerald that the President’s attempt to fire his opponent had been turned away by a thinly veiled threat.

“And there’s the hallway behavior,” Whiteton added, as the Vice President grimaced. Aides reported that the President was slowly walking the hallways of the White House early in the mornings of the weekend, including about 2:00 that morning, the Tuesday after the Columbus Day holiday on Monday,
October 10. Reminiscent of President Richard Nixon in the most stressful period of the Watergate Scandal, Douthart stopped to look at portraits of past presidents on the wall. Unlike Nixon, Douthart didn’t talk to the portraits, and apparently hadn’t been drinking, but his forlorn helplessness was obvious.

“Well, here goes,” said Duggard as she picked up the phone.

At Denver One, Claire entered a secure communications room after being told she had a call. “It’s Vice President Duggard,” a secretary said as he handed Claire the phone. Claire’s eyes widened and her eyebrows arched in surprise, the fatigue she felt after a long day of work vanishing. She had answered the Vice President’s questions and spoken briefly to her at meetings, but Duggard had never contacted her otherwise.

“Hello, Ms. Vice President, this is Claire Montague.”

“Yes, hello Dr. Montague, it’s nice to speak to you. Listen, I’m sorry to contact you on such short notice, but the President asked a few of us to get together for a brief meeting this evening, and he wanted us to ask you to attend. Is that OK?”

“Yes, of course. No problem.”

“Great,” said Duggard, glancing up at the Secretary of State. “It’s in a little over an hour in the Oval Office, and a driver should arrive at Denver One soon to take you there.”

“I’ll be ready. Can you give me an idea of what the agenda will be?”

Duggard’s mouth dropped open slightly and she hesitated a second. “Yes, with the orbit just five days away, Al—President Douthart—wants to know the extent of the ETs’ technological capabilities as far as we know, and what the most promising tone and type of language is, to use to communicate clearly with them.”

“Yes, thank you, Vice President Duggard,” Claire said. Duggard could hear her typing notes into her cell phone. “I look forward to the meeting.”

The Vice President thanked Claire and hung up.

“So, we forgot to make up an agenda for the meeting?” Whiteton said, smiling at Duggard.

“Yeah, I couldn’t exactly tell her she and the President are supposed to get up close and personal to give the President the emotional support he needs.”

“How long do you think it will take Al to figure out we set him up?” Whiteton asked.

“Not long, and then sparks will fly.”

With a grim smile, Whiteton said, “Let’s hope they’re sparks of a romantic nature.”

Escorted by an aide, Claire entered the Oval Office to find the President sitting in front of his desk in a visitor’s chair, awaiting the other participants of the meeting. “Hello, Dr. Montague, please come in,” he said, smiling and gesturing to a chair near him.

“Thank you Mr. President, I’m glad to help.”

Claire had been totally focused on preparing material for the meeting and had given no thought to how she might react to seeing and speaking with the President again, in light of her undeniable “crush” on him. This time, to her relief, she didn’t feel embarrassed or ill at ease. In fact, she felt comfortable, as if they were old friends.

As he had sat alone, waiting for Claire and the others, the President had had a few fleeting thoughts about his growing affection for his NASA advisor. But they were soon crowded out by thoughts of other people and issues, in the typical swirl of ideas that had swamped him for the last few weeks. Now, as he sat a few feet away from her, he felt the same sense of familiarity as Claire.

They soon slipped back into the type of relaxed conversation they’d enjoyed in their regular phone calls. After briefly discussing the most recent developments concerning D9, they began to talk about everyday matters as they waited for the others to arrive to start the meeting. Although time passed quickly and pleasantly, the fact that the Vice President and Secretary of State still hadn’t made it soon became impossible to ignore.

“I’m going to call the Vice President and see what’s holding her up,” Douthart said. He walked around the desk, picked up the phone, and punched in a number. As he held the phone to his ear for a few seconds, his expression became serious and, slowly, a bit angry. “No answer,” he said as he hung up.

“Maybe she’s on the way,” said Claire, confused.

“She’d still answer. Let me try Douglas.” After listening to the Secretary of State’s phone ring for a minute, the President hung up and slowly walked back around the desk.

Claire watched him with mounting alarm. In the silence of the Oval Office she listened to each step Douthart made on the carpeted floor. “Is something wrong?” she asked as he sat down.

Douthart shifted his weight, and, with his head lowered, raised his eyes and looked up at Claire as a slight smile began to play on his face. “No, I don’t think so.” He paused for a moment. “I know them better than you do.”

He lifted his head and looked directly at Claire. He still felt a bit angry, but he spoke slowly and softly, with increasing determination. “They noticed when you and I first met, that … I … was attracted to you. And I think they thought … that you might feel somewhat the same. And since then, they’ve seen that we seem to get along very well.” Here, for the first time, Douthart became embarrassed. “And they seem to think that … I need some emotional … stability. In other words, Claire, I think we’ve been set up.”