The Leviathan Effect (9 page)

“Understood. Let’s go through the latest, then.”

DeVries summarized the efforts that had been made to track the source or sources of both the email threats and the geo-physical events. His report lasted just over nine minutes, mostly repeating what she’d been told earlier. Easton then explained how the United States had responded quickly and diligently to each of the natural disasters, extending aid to the devastated countries. Two former US presidents had established a relief fund to assist the ravaged Bay of Bengal region.

Blaine nodded periodically, trying to be diplomatic, although Easton’s presentation rubbed her wrong. Finally, he straightened his notes and sat back, elbows on the arms of the chair.

“Questions?”

“A few, actually,” she said, “although this is probably territory you’ve already covered. So, please, if you’ll just indulge me.” The President blinked his assent, waiting. “The first, I suppose, is an obvious one: how could things have gotten to this point without our intelligence services picking up what was happening?”

President Hall exchanged a look with DeVries, then with Easton. “Harold?”

“Priorities,” DeVries said. “As you noted earlier, Cate, Russia and China have increasingly devoted time and financial resources to this branch of research. We simply haven’t considered it a national priority.”

The President lifted his right hand, a motion that reminded her of a conductor readying the orchestra to come in. “Cate, do you know how many countries have landed a man on the moon?”

Blaine studied the President’s face, his warm brown eyes, wondering what he was getting at. “We’re the only one, aren’t we?”

“That’s right. Twelve times. Twelve men have walked on the moon, all between the years 1969 and 1973. Why? Because we decided to make it a national priority. After Kennedy’s speech in 1961, we pulled together in a concerted effort to prove we could do it. And we did. But priorities change. Attention spans shrink. We elect new leaders more often than most countries. And every time
we do, continuity is lost, priorities shift. It’s one of the weaknesses in our system.”

“Although, of course, there’s a difference between going to the moon and controlling the weather, isn’t there?” Blaine said.

“Yes and no. The point is, our objectives don’t always have time to germinate properly. In recent years, our priorities have been more immediate. The wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, for example. But what if somebody focused on this one objective over a period of a decade, say, or two decades, while we weren’t particularly paying attention? The fact is, as you’ve said yourself, it’s probably doable.”

“Yes. But the costs would be unfathomable.”

He nodded very slightly. “Yes, the same as with our space program. But we had an imaginative rationale to get that done and we did. The same with the military’s role in creating the Internet. For years, private industry didn’t consider developing the Internet to be feasible. So the government took charge and helped create it. And the same goes for computers. For ten years, before the costs came down, NASA was the only buyer of large computers. The point is, the government has traditionally supported emerging technologies and in many cases has been responsible for their existence. We could do that with weather technology but there just isn’t the same enthusiasm, or imaginative rationale, that we’ve seen with these other projects.”

“Okay,” she said. “Point taken. But I still wonder why our intelligence wouldn’t have been able to pick up what was happening.”

Easton, she noticed, was watching her. His gaze felt like a dark blue wall.

“We all asked that after 9/11, didn’t we, Secretary Blaine?” he said. “This is, obviously, something that has occurred under our radar. We’re not here to point fingers.”

“Of course not,” she said. “I’m certainly not doing that.”

The President gave her a reassuring nod. “Other questions,” he said.

“Just one, and I’m sure you’ve discussed this at length, as well.” She felt nervous asking it, sensing Easton’s disapproval. “If you’ve determined that this is credible and that thousands of innocent people may have already lost their lives, why aren’t we reaching out more to the international community?”

“We are,” Easton said. He leaned forward in his chair, glancing at her.

The President’s eyes closed for a moment. She could sense that it was a question they’d already discussed.

“I just mean, isn’t there a moral obligation—I mean, couldn’t a warning mitigate what’s going to happen by drawing attention to the threat?” She looked to DeVries for support, but didn’t find it. “Mobilizing the world community against it?”

“Or perhaps have the opposite effect,” said Easton. “The fact is, we don’t know enough yet to make that sort of judgment, Secretary Blaine. Or to take that sort of risk.”

“Cate, I understand your question,” the President said. “The main reason we aren’t doing this more transparently is that, until we learn exactly who we’re dealing with, we can’t afford to. We’ve been asked very pointedly not to let this information out of our small circle. The implication is that there will be catastrophic consequences if we do. That leaves me with a very difficult choice. After much deliberation, I’ve decided to heed that warning until we know more. Remember, this is day ten for us, Cate, and day one for you.”

DeVries added, “And if you look at the case of the most recent threat, there was no specific location given. Just ‘Western Europe.’ The first one was ‘Eastern Asia.’ I think information of that sort is essentially useless, anyway.”

Blaine nodded. “And we don’t have the ability—I mean, our satellites aren’t able to detect how this is being done?”

It was Easton who answered. “If we knew where they were, Secretary Blaine, we’d have ordered bombing runs ten days ago.”

“Sorry,” she said. “I guess I’m just playing devil’s advocate.”

“Understandable,” the President said.

“Although, in this case, the devil doesn’t need an advocate, Secretary Blaine,” Easton said, showing what might have been a smile.

“Cate, let me just reiterate,” the President said. “We’ve all asked these same questions. We’re looking at everything very closely. Changes in the atmosphere, ionospheric irregularities. Any anomaly that might offer some pertinent information about where these events originate. We do have a game plan.”

“Of course.”

“If we play by their rules, at some point—very soon—they’re going
to make a demand. At that point, we’ll learn who they are, and we’ll learn what their motive is. Then we will respond accordingly.”

Blaine was silent, absorbing what they were saying:
So the rest of the Cabinet has no idea this crisis is happening. Nor does anyone in Congress
. It was not how Blaine would have handled it. But she understood the stakes, and the unstated concerns that the President was balancing. This was the sort of crisis that could define Aaron Lincoln Hall’s presidency—or sink it.

“What about the media? How concerned are we about something leaking?”

“Another reason for keeping the circle tight,” Easton said.

“They’ve already gotten hold of the wrong story, as you know,” DeVries said.

“I do.”

“Here’s what I’d like to think, Cate,” President Hall said. He leaned back and lifted his chin, giving her a stern, unfamiliar look. “And what I’d like all of us to think: that whatever this is, there’s still a possibility it can be resolved behind closed doors. Without any public crisis. Without any catastrophic event visiting our shores.”

Blaine watched the President’s measured smile, suspecting that this was actually Clark Easton’s idea. It wasn’t quite the way the President talked, or thought. Easton had come up through military intelligence, and he held old-school ideas about secrecy and protection of information.

“It’s just hard to fathom,” Blaine said. “What would China—or anyone—gain by such an attack? I mean, it doesn’t seem to make sense.”

After a long silence, the President said, “We suspect they would prefer a negotiation to any sort of attack. But, again, we’ll learn all that soon enough.”

“All right,” Blaine said. She took a deep breath, not wanting to be at odds with these men.
We’re all parts of a team
, she reminded herself, thinking of her father. “And so what’s the next step?”

“The next step is for
them
to take, not us,” the President said.

Right, she thought. Tomorrow was Monday.

The President held up a forefinger and raised his eyebrows as Blaine stood, a familiar directive, indicating he wanted her to remain in the room. She sat back in the rosewood chair and waited for DeVries and Easton to exit.

“I
JUST WANT YOU
to know that what you refer to as the ‘moral obligation’ is something I take very seriously, Cate.” The President was leaning forward on the desk, watching her. “And will continue to do so.”

“I’m sorry, sir, if I spoke out of place.”

“No. I just want us to be clear with each other. I also don’t want us to be second-guessing ourselves.” He closed his eyes, as if he were disappearing inside some private thought, then opened them again. He could do that: go somewhere else, like he was playing an entirely different chess game in his head. “If you have a concern, or a question, feel free to bring it to me. All right? Even outside of the group, if you’d like.
Especially
outside of the group.”

“All right.”

Blaine considered what he was really saying.

“Also,” he said, his face brightening, “I just want to say that I’m glad you’re on board.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He scooted his chair back. Then, one at a time, he lifted his long legs and settled his feet on a corner of the desk. She could see that he was trying to forge a bond of informality between them. “Heading into October, Cate, I thought I’d be dealing with a couple of routine budget issues and getting away with Mrs. Hall for a few weekends to watch the leaves turn up at Camp David.”

“I know.”

“But it doesn’t look like that’ll be happening.”

“No, sir.”

“Anyway.” He fixed her with a look, and winked. “I’m hearing some good reports about DHS. The handling of the floods, in particular. We’re getting some very good marks for that. So, thank you. And I understand you’re bringing a lot of fresh ideas into play over there. Just what I was hoping.”

“Thank you, Mr. President. It’s an ongoing process.”

He looked away, his brow furrowing. “Although I’m told that you sometimes play a little hide and seek with the Secret Service.”

“Me?”

This time the President didn’t smile. He knew her father slightly and sometimes took a paternal tone that made Blaine uneasy.

“Not often,” she said. “I sometimes just want to be alone with my son. It makes him very uncomfortable having security people around all the time.”

“I’m only concerned about your safety, Cate. And your son’s safety, for that matter.”

“I appreciate it, sir.”

“Anyway. I want you to know that I value your perspective on this. No one else in our circle is as well versed on these subjects as you are. If you see something I’m missing, at any time, I want you to come to me. Okay?”

Blaine nodded.

He watched her, letting his look linger. “What’s your gut feeling at this point?”

“About the threats?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“To be honest?” she said. “I guess I’m still not fully convinced that it’s real.”

“Oh, it’s real, Cate,” he said, his eyes showing a sudden steel. “You said it yourself earlier. This
is
possible.”

“Well, yes. Hypothetically.”

“It’s a paradox, though, isn’t it? The public hasn’t shown the support for exploring this type of technology, nor has Congress. But on the other hand, if someone beats us to it, the public would be outraged that we let it happen. They’d hammer us.”

Blaine knew that he was right; she had been thinking the same.

“And that concerns me.”

“Of course,” she said. “It concerns me, as well.”

The President re-crossed his ankles on the desk, placing his right foot on top. “Did you know, Cate, that China is about to surpass us in the amount of scientific research they publish each year?”

“Yes,” she said, “I do.”

“That’s an area we led for the entire twentieth century.”

“I know.”

“Do you know where the tallest building in the world is today, Cate?”

“Dubai, isn’t it?”

“That’s right. Dubai. During the twentieth century, up until 1996, I believe it was, or ’97, the tallest building in the world was always in the United States. Did you know that? Seven or eight separate buildings, beginning with the Park Row building in 1900. On through the Empire State Building and the Twin Trade Towers.”

“Yes,” Blaine said. “I read that article the other day, too.”

“It’s only a symbol, granted,” he said. “But symbols matter. Coupled with other declines, in education and patent applications, for instance, there is a very real perception that this country is falling behind. Now I’m an optimist by nature,” he added, turning his eyes to hers again, “but I want to be realistic, too. I can see that this technology has the potential to bury us. I want to keep focused on the larger picture here until we can see what we’re really up against.” He looked off, showing her his famous profile. “I’m sorry. I’m probably being more dramatic than I ought to be. Anyway, Cate.” He turned to her. “Live and breathe this thing for me, if you can, okay?”

“I will.”

“And we’ll see what happens tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

Several minutes later, Blaine walked across West Executive Drive to a waiting limousine that would take her home. Before scooting in, she glanced at the blinking red light atop the Washington Monument and felt the unfamiliar undertow of things she wasn’t being told.

T
HE
R
EPUBLIC OF
C
APE
Verde is an archipelago of ten islands and five islets about three hundred and fifty miles off the coast of Senegal, West Africa. Settled by the Portuguese in the mid-fifteenth century, Cape Verde later became a way station for African slaves bound for North America. Many of the people living there today are these slaves’ descendents.