State of Emergency: Jack Emery 2 (3 page)

Something hit her in the head and she jumped with a start. She looked down at the eraser which had settled on her desk, then looked up to see Murray beaming a smile in her direction from his desk. She frowned, until he jerked his head toward the break area, where a bunch of men in suits were waiting and the rest of the staff had started to gather.

She checked the time and was shocked that a full hour had passed. She stood and stretched again, unsure about what could be so important that it required a full gathering of the staff. It was late, everyone was tired and the work was mostly done. People deserved the chance to finish up and go home for a while before it all started again tomorrow.

As she approached the break area, she sized up the two men from management: one of them was very slick but also very young, while the other had a few more laps on his tires. Yet the aura of power radiated off them both in a way that surprised her. These were very important people. She crossed her arms and waited for them to begin.

“Thanks, everyone.” The older of the two, a completely bald man, smiled and held his hands together. “I’m Frank McCaskey, here on behalf of Administrator Hall.”

That got everyone’s attention. Richard Hall was a god to the men and women who worked for FEMA. He’d taken over the organization after Hurricane Katrina, when it had been smashed by criticism about the effectiveness of its response. Since then he’d quietly gone about fixing the problems, building morale among the staff and making FEMA more influential than ever.

McCaskey smiled. “The executive team wants to express our thanks for the incredible effort over the past month or so. If this were the private sector, we could give you bonuses, but it’s not, so we can’t. All I’ve got to offer is our thanks and the assurance that you’re making a difference. You’re saving lives and helping people.

“Unfortunately, we’re going to need to ask more from you all. From tomorrow, FEMA is going to full mobilization. Code Red.” McCaskey paused. “I know this sounds unusual, but it’s in response to the unprecedented challenges that the country is currently facing. We have a huge role to play.
”

Mariposa looked around at her colleagues. They appeared as concerned as she felt. The last time the organization had gone to Code Red had been for Katrina, and that hadn’t gone well. A full response to one geographic location was one thing, but to achieve it across the entire United States felt like an impossible dream. It would mean longer hours, more stress and more work.

“I’d like to introduce my colleague.” McCaskey pointed to the young man. “This is Alan Benning, he’s going to take charge of Area V for the duration of the emergency.”

Benning offered a grin and a wave as half-hearted applause greeted the news. “As far as you’ll all notice, not much will change.”

Mariposa looked at Murray, who’d raised an eyebrow. She knew that look.

Everything was about to change.

Richard had never set foot inside the White House Briefing Room before, despite four decades of public service. It was testament to the type of work he did that, on the odd occasion he spoke to the media, it was from the site of some disaster or another. Yet here he was, seated alone and off to the side as he waited for President Morris to arrive. Circumstances had changed – for the very first time he had a place in the center of major conversations taking place in America.

Camera flashes and the low hum of conversation interrupted his daydreaming as President Morris arrived with her press secretary and a Secret Service agent. Morris was wearing a blood-red jacket that strongly contrasted her graying hair and pale skin. It had probably been chosen by her political handlers to project strength. The press secretary whispered into her ear and left her alone at the lectern, while the agent stood off to the side. Richard watched her intently.

“Good morning, everyone.” The President looked straight ahead with as much conviction as Richard had ever seen from her. “Today I’m here to speak to the American people about the most severe threat we’ve faced this century.”

Richard smiled as some of the journalists looked up. The White House press corps gathered here nearly every day to hear the routine affairs of state, but it was rare that a briefing would begin with such a blunt statement. Given the events during that time period – 9/11, wars with Afghanistan, Iraq and China and attempts by the Foundation for a New America to control the country – it was a bold claim. Yet Morris wasn’t wrong.

“The terrorist attacks that have swept our nation are unprecedented. We’ve been attacked before on home soil, but we’ve never before seen a chain of coordinated assaults like the one that we’re currently facing. The damage has been immense, from Cowboys Stadium to MIT to Walt Disney World. The attackers are well trained, well equipped and deadly. No group has claimed responsibility and we do not know their motive.

“It pains me to admit that while the authorities are doing their best, they’ve made little progress. While investigations continue, I’ve had to escalate our response, to provide more security for our critical installations and on our streets. In doing so, I’ve tried to balance security against the impact on the daily lives of Americans. But it’s clear to me that traditional approaches aren’t working to protect us.”

Richard felt a surge of satisfaction. For Morris to publicly admit that her administration was powerless in the face of such assaults was huge, and he knew better than anyone how far away they were from results. Since she’d authorized the deployment of the State Guard at the NSC meeting, he’d been working overtime to get things moving. Since the meeting, the attack on the Hoover Dam had only escalated things further.

The previous evening he’d been working late into the night to get the State Guard deployed when Morris had called. She’d skirted around the issue at first, until she’d finally swallowed her pride and asked him what more could be done. It was the moment Richard had been waiting for. They’d talked for an hour about the possible contingencies and he imagined that her speech notes for this morning had been changed significantly after their conversation.

Morris gripped the lectern. “The atrocity at the Hoover Dam was the final straw for me. That attack looks to have killed thousands and is the latest sign that nothing we’re trying is working. Given that, I’ve consulted with my advisors and searched deep into my soul to look for new ways, new ideas, to keep our people safe. We think we’ve come up with something, but it was a hard decision to make.”

Richard snorted. Morris had been speaking to her advisors for weeks, since the commencement of the attacks. They’d come up blank and their inexperience and lack of imagination had cost the country dearly. In truth, he knew that he was the only one she’d consulted the previous evening, and was glad that his experience was finally being taken into serious consideration. He’d been available to her from the very start, but she’d neglected to seek out his advice. He’d served America for decades and only wanted it to be great.

He sighed. It was a shame so few Presidents were up to the challenge. Most floated through their time in office like so much driftwood on the high seas, achieving nothing except in occasional, deferential nods to the Constitution, the Bill of Rights and the founding fathers. They told Americans what they
deserved
, but not what was necessary for them to have it, or to keep the country safe and prosperous. They ignored the fact that, sometimes, foul-tasting medicine was needed to fix the body. Occasionally, a President was forced to face this fact.

Morris shifted her gaze and stared straight down the cameras. “Prior to entering this room, I signed orders declaring a state of emergency across America and executed a number of executive orders pertaining to our government, legal system, economy, media and critical infrastructure. The current situation necessitates this action and I don’t take this step lightly. Actually, please come up here and join me, Richard.”

Richard was surprised at the invitation, but composed himself quickly. He stood and walked to the front of the Briefing Room, going over their conversation from the previous night in his head. They’d discussed the mobilization of the State Guard and the extra options Richard had hinted at in the NSC meeting. He’d told her about a number of long standing executive orders that were on the books, ready to be activated in an emergency but an afterthought to nearly everyone in America. Nearly.

In the time it took him to reach the President, she had given the assembled media the highlights of his career. He was surprised with how gushing she was in her praise, but perhaps shouldn’t have been, given he offered her a life raft to save her administration. The advisors she’d hand picked to be part of her inner circle had failed so she’d turned to him, a career bureaucrat with decades of service to a half-dozen presidents. He smiled. If he was her chance at absolution, she was the key to his legacy. If she could be persuaded.

“Thank you, Madam President.” He stood beside Morris, adjusting his eyes to the lights and mentally preparing – for the first time – for the spotlight. “Good morning.”

Morris smiled. “Richard is a colleague and friend with immense experience in disaster management. Commencing immediately, he’s in charge of a coordinated response to these attacks. He’s in charge of the basics – transportation, power supply, food distribution – as well as security and the investigation.”

The assembled members of the press corps looked up from their notepads and tablets and just stared. Every set of eyes bored into him like a drill, as the realization of what they were witnessing sank in. He’d never actively sought the limelight, but to achieve his goals it was a necessary next step. Others had proven incapable of such responsibility, but he was up to the job.

Hands shot into the air and questions started to fly. Richard looked to the President, who smiled slightly and waited. She’d done this before. It was a process that Richard didn’t quite understand, but it seemed to work. Morris waited patiently for the initial boilover to calm down to a low simmer before one journalist drowned out the others. Morris pointed to the man.

“Tim Gossinge,
Washington Post
. Madam President, you’re handing over the reins to FEMA? How will it work and why are you taking action of such severity?”

The President smiled. “Thanks, Tim. The orders that allow me to place much of the administration of our country under the control of FEMA have been on the books for years. After much thought, I’ve decided that we need a new approach. We need everyone singing from the same sheet, and Richard is the finest conductor in the country. All arms of federal and state government will report to him.”

Richard swallowed, shifted forward slightly and waited for the President’s nod to speak. “If I could just add, coordinating all parts of our campaign against these terrorists will take a huge effort – from security to first response to disaster relief to investigation to arrest to prosecution. FEMA’s involvement will get everyone pointed in the same direction and, when that happens, we can’t be stopped.”

Gossinge persisted. “That doesn’t explain the need to take over things completely unrelated to the attacks though, does it?”

Morris frowned. “Come on, Tim, you’re not that stupid. These attacks target our way of life and we must protect that way of life. Americans expect the lights to turn on, food on their supermarket shelves and gas in the pump. This reality is under threat. It’s Richard’s job to protect it. I don’t back away from my decision.”

”Madam President. Elena Winston,
Chicago Tribune
.” Another reporter cut in, as she tapped a pencil against her leg. “What resources will FEMA have to do this job?”

“Whatever they need.” Morris’s reply was blunt. “Pretty much the entirety of the federal government will be at Richard’s disposal, except the military.”

Winston scribbled furiously as she spoke. “Without the military, how do you expect to protect anything? Beat cops and private security too fat to chase anybody?”

Richard stayed silent. It was best for the President to fend away the shots at his authority, including questions that dealt with the extent of the new powers that FEMA had been granted. Given the enormity of the job, bringing the entire country under the administration of FEMA and the protection of the State Guard, he’d have enough threats and challenges in the coming days. He didn’t need to step into the line of fire unnecessarily.

“The state defense forces will also be providing security at our most critical infrastructure and rapid response to any attacks that occur.” Morris glanced at Richard and then continued. “These forces were recently beefed up following the war with China. It gives us the force we need at the right time.”

“The right time?” Winston leaned forward in her chair. “And how long will these controls be in place? Isn’t this a breach of our democracy?”

“No. I was elected to solve problems, and that’s what I’m doing. As for how long? These orders are effective immediately. It’s possible we may quickly reach a point where things can return to normal, but after a year of operation, the executive orders will be reviewed. You’ll be briefed accordingly throughout this period.”

The room erupted.

Morris held up her hands. “The orders also cover control of the news media. We’re keen to ensure terrorists don’t gain exposure for the attacks, so we must take this step.”

The President’s press secretary, clearly unhappy with the uproar, stepped forward. “That’s all for today, ladies and gentleman. Thanks.”

Morris started to step away from the lectern and put a hand on Richard’s back. He went with her, the Secret Service agent in tow. As they approached the exit, Richard heard the press secretary deliver the final zinger – that the press briefing packs would detail the changes and how they would work, but that all reports from now on needed to be cleared by the Press Office before printing or publication on the internet.

The roar that filled the room was only silenced once the door closed behind them. Richard took a deep breath. He didn’t like the chaos of the mass media and it would be one of the first things he’d get under control. It still amazed him that America could shift to virtual totalitarianism with a signed document and a press conference. The changes gave him the opportunity to bring order and stability back to America. It would be his lasting legacy.  

He turned to the President. “Well, I think that went alright?”

***

Jack cursed as the amber light switched to red just as he drove through it, causing a camera to flash. Though he was in no hurry, he’d been sucked into what he was listening to on the radio and hadn’t been paying attention. He didn’t look forward to a traffic fine from the good state of Illinois, though he did wonder how the executive orders applied to such things. He’d just have to wait and see if FEMA were as efficient at stamping out traffic offences as they were at taking control of society.

The more detail he heard about exactly what FEMA would be in charge of, the more worried he became. Worse, he suspected the stale reports were being read straight from approved media releases. He’d flown out of Las Vegas early after publishing his story on the Hoover Dam, so he had been in the air when the bombshell from the White House had dropped. By the time he’d landed, the screws were already starting to tighten.

Now, as he drove down West Adams Street toward his hotel, it was clear that FEMA had been prepared for kick-off. He tooted his horn as a black Illinois State Guard Humvee cut him off. The vehicle held four uniformed troopers with their weapons clearly visible, but Jack had seen enough men with guns in recent months to not be intimidated. It was for naught anyway – they didn’t acknowledge his presence as they continued down the street. So much for courtesy among motorists.

He sighed and pulled the vehicle to the side of the road, right out the front of the Club Quarters Hotel. It had been his home away from home in Chicago since his return from Syria. It wasn’t palatial, but it was cheap and comfortable until he found a place of his own. He’d thought about returning to New York to live, but there were too many memories there. Too much pain. He killed the engine, reached into the back seat for his duffel bag and climbed out of the car.

A valet rushed over to him. “Welcome back, Mr Emery. Good to see you, sir. Can I take your bag?”

“No need, Mo.” Jack smiled at the familiar routine and handed over his keys. “Take care of the car though?”

“You got it.” Mo took the keys and started toward the car. “Unlucky for you that you’re so late. We’ve had issues with check-ins since noon.”