Uncivil Liberties (36 page)

“Thank you, Mr. Chairman. General Wainscott, I read your endorsement of the Strategic Initiatives proposal for Domestic Tranquility over the past several days. Several points come to mind, but the one that concerns me the most is the lack of a sunset clause, or an end-result timetable. Can you please explain the anticipated duration of these extreme measures and how long our citizens can expect to have to live under these restrictions?”

From his seat several rows behind the table at which General Wainscott was sitting, Pug smiled to himself, knowing full well that Rachel was plucking at straws. Approval for the pilot program was a done deal. She had told him as much when he had dropped in to her office shortly before the meeting to invite her to lunch. To his surprise, she had readily accepted. She just wanted the general to go on record as having voiced his support for a program that had no end date. She had even acknowledged to Pug that it was unfair to ask the question, given the nature of the emergency and the intelligence community’s complete inability to estimate the duration of the attacks perpetrated by the mobile bands of shooters that the press had dubbed The Wild Bunch.

“Senator McKenzie, I can appreciate your hesitancy to vote for a program that has restrictive components which will affect our citizens without full awareness of the duration, but I also know that you understand the nature of our enemy. He is relentless and does not seem to work on a timetable. The fact that the enemy is comprised to some degree of native-born Americans who have attacked their fellow citizens only exacerbates the situation. For all we know, these shooters have been directed to kill Americans until they themselves are killed or captured. This program will help to bring that about. As to the end date for the pilot program, in all candor, I would hope for the opposite. I would hope, would predict, actually, that this pilot will succeed and the program will be expanded. A successful demonstration of intervention should allow this committee to recommend expansion throughout America until we have eradicated these vermin.”

Rachel McKenzie pushed her point. “Then, General, you are saying that the Army expects this program to become standard practice in our nation, with all citizens required to adhere to its tenants? To be subject to search and seizure, detention and interrogation, all without benefit of counsel?”

“As abhorrent as that seems at present, I’m afraid so, Senator. With proper precautions, of course. As I stated earlier, I cannot envision law enforcement officers using the right to detain citizens unless they have just cause. We are not seeking a totalitarian state or the overriding authoritarian nature of some of the repressive governments of history.”

“And the security guards who will be far less trained than our career law enforcement officers?” she asked. “Who will assure they exercise their authority judiciously? Who will control their actions?”

“An excellent question, Senator. You are correct that most of the Domestic Tranquility personnel will be new to the field and will require close supervision. We have anticipated that aspect and have prepared for it with trained personnel in leadership positions. As in the Army, the strong middle management, our experienced NCO’s, actually run the daily operations of our Corps. The same will be true with SI’s field operators, drawing from the vast array of experienced law enforcement officers and even retired military officers and NCO’s.”

“And these newer, lower-level officers. Will they be armed as well?”

“Without a viable means of defense, Senator, these men and women would be unable to perform their responsibilities, and should they encounter suspects, we would see our personnel impotent to stop the carnage. Historically, security forces in our public settings, such as a shopping mall, are visual deterrents to petty theft or vandalism, not physically capable of stopping an actual attack. To use the correct parlance, they ‘observe and report.’

“As a young lieutenant, I fought in one war where the Army was required to requisition ammunition and to operate in the field with very restrictive rules of engagement. It was not a pretty sight. Yes, Senator McKenzie, all field personnel will be armed, but they will receive the proper training before being placed on the street in that capacity.”

“I have no further questions, Mr. Chairman,” Rachel said, closing her folder. “With your concurrence, Mr. Chairman, I call the question.”

Culpepper banged his gavel again, looking both ways on the dais. “Are there any further questions before the committee votes this morning?” he asked. “Hearing none, I call the question. All in favor of granting General Wainscott approval to award a contract to Strategic Initiatives to initiate a pilot program in San Antonio, Texas, Colorado Springs, Colorado, and the District of Columbia, say aye.”

The proposal passed without opposition and Senator Culpepper closed the session with one comment. “Please be reminded that the location of the pilot cities is a highly classified piece of information which the press would love to have for publication, but premature release of this information would simply sentence the program to failure, since the terrorists could avoid these cities. Senators representing each of these states are present on this committee. I trust you understand the burden placed upon you for confidentiality.”

Before leaving the building, General Wainscott made a brief cell phone call. John Harford answered the private line himself.

“Unanimous approval, Mr. Harford. Domestic Tranquility is a go.”

“Well done, General. Alert your command structure in San Antonio and we’ll commence our operation within 48 hours.”

Simultaneous with Wainscott’s phone call, Pug sent a Blackberry email to General Austin in Brussels.
‘Wainscott successful. DT begins Friday. Vote unanimous.”

Within moments, Austin’s reply came. “The dance has started. Choose your partner.”

The May temperatures were still in the mid-70’s as Pug and Rachel walked across the Capitol grounds toward Union Station, the central train depot in Washington D.C. A fixture in the capital since before the Civil War, it had been expanded into a retail shopping mall with stores on several levels, all extending down. In the central foyer, a restaurant had been built on a small mezzanine overlooking the main entrance. Pug asked the young woman at the entrance for a setting for two. They were escorted to the small table near the railing in the rear. As soon as the waiter came, he smiled as he held the chair for Rachel.

“How very nice to see you again, Senator McKenzie. A pleasure that you joined us for lunch.”

Pug shook his head as the man filled their water glasses and then departed.

“I’m with a celebrity, it seems,” he said.

“Everyone in the surrounding area who makes their living in service, food, or otherwise, quickly learns the elected representatives. I sometimes think they have a picture board in the kitchen or the employee lounge.” She chuckled.

Pug took a sip of water and spread his napkin on his lap. He looked—stared, actually—at Rachel for several moments before speaking. She did not rise to the bait and open the conversation. She just smiled in return.

“I was surprised,” Pug said, “pleasantly surprised, I might add, when you agreed to have lunch today. Is lunch safer than dinner?”

“I knew I’d be hungry after a long meeting with General Wainscott,” she replied. “Besides, I was curious whether you really do pick your teeth at the table.”

“Ouch! I’ll have to be careful what I reveal around you, it seems.  But Wainscott was well prepared, wasn’t he?” Pug added.

“I expected nothing less. This is a big proposal, and an important departure from our personal liberty. I’m sure the general did not make the recommendation without long consideration. And it probably was hard for him and his colleagues to admit that the Army is not prepared for a domestic security role. They’ve been doing it for several years in Iraq, of course, but to have to patrol American cities, American streets, and to restrain American citizens—that would leave a bad taste in the military psyche, I would assume, and I can only imagine what it would do to the public image of our military. I have no reason to question his motives, nor his intent.”

Pug grew serious, his facial expression transparent. “Rachel, why
are
so many elected officials in support of these measures? What’s to be gained from clamping a lid on free movement of our citizens and subjecting them to search and seizure? The chances of actually preventing one of these random attacks is minimal at best.”

Rachel looked away for a long moment, watching the people transiting the lobby floor, about ten to twelve feet below their position. Just as she was about to speak, the waiter returned. “Will you have your usual, Senator?”

“Yes, Henri, a Caesar salad please, and water,” she replied.

“And you, sir?” the waiter asked.

“I’ll have the corn chowder soup, please. And iced tea.”

“Yes, sir, right away.”

Rachel returned to the question. “Pug, I don’t know if there is a simple answer. I agree with you that this program is questionable in its objectives. Perhaps not the objectives, but the projected results. Still, you’re not surprised to hear that across the nation, our constituents are writing, calling, e-mailing, and actually visiting our offices to ask what we intend to do about this internal threat. The government’s primary mission is to protect the American people. I’m not trying to teach civics to you, by any means, but most elected officials realize that we have to do
something
.  We have to show the people that we’re sensitive to the problem and are seeking remedies. We have to be
seen
to be doing something, is perhaps a better way to state it.”

“Then it’s all for show.”

“Much of politics is for show, Pug,” she said, a bit terse. “If you don’t know that, you haven’t been watching the polls.”

“I’m sorry if I offended you, Rachel. I don’t mean to, but the answers to this thing have me puzzled. I have to admit that Trojan is no closer to finding resolution. Probably less, but we don’t care about the polls. For what it’s worth, I don’t think SI has the answer. Wainscott made it seem like they were the answer to a prayer.”

“You sound like an Old Testament prophet,” Rachel said.

Realizing that he had been preaching, Pug remained silent for several moments, then laughed softly. “Marines don’t have beards.”

Just as the waiter was returning with their lunch, Pug’s cell phone vibrated. He checked the Caller ID and flipped the phone open. “General Connor,” he answered.

“Please hold for the president,” the clear feminine voice said. In several seconds, President Snow came on the line.

“Are you still in the Senate hearings, Pug?”

“No, Mr. President. We finished about thirty minutes ago. I’m at Union Station with Senator McKenzie, having lunch.”

“I’ll have a car outside in five minutes, Pug. If Senator McKenzie is not otherwise engaged, please ask her to join us.”

“Sir, do I need to advise Trojan to assemble?”

“Not yet. We’ll discuss it when you arrive. This is not pleasant news, Pug. There was a car bombing in Brussels just a few moments ago. The Dutch Deputy Director of Security and General Austin were both in the car. I’m sorry, Pug, but both men, along with the driver and the security agent, are all dead. The report will be on the news momentarily. I’d like you to meet with us immediately. Defense Secretary Collins and the vice president will also be here.”

Pug was silent, but his face was once again transparent and he could see that Rachel was anxious to know the content of the call.

“One moment, Mr. President.” Pug redirected his comments at Rachel. “Can you join me for a meeting with the president? Right now?”

Rachel nodded.

“Mr. President, we’ll be there as quickly as your transport arrives. We’ll be outside the main entrance to Union Station.”

“I’m very sorry, Pug. I know how much you admired General Austin.”

“Thank you, sir,” Pug replied and closed his phone. Rachel looked at Pug, waiting.

“There was a car bombing in Brussels. General Austin is dead.”

Rachel reached across the table and quickly squeezed his hand. Then she removed two twenty-dollar bills from her purse, placed them on the table, and stood.

“Let’s go, Pug. I’ll call my office from the car.”

“One man in a taxi crashed into the vehicle, which contained Per Van Brocklin, Deputy Director of Dutch Intelligence, and Secretary Austin, who were riding together in the rear. The taxi exploded. The driver and bodyguard, both of whom were U.S. Secret Service agents, were also killed in the explosion. No group has claimed responsibility as yet, but we expect World Jihad to step forward through the European news agencies soon.”

The briefer was Thomas Kincade, Director of the Central Intelligence Agency. To his left sat George Granata, Director of the FBI, who was also Pug’s neighbor, and across the table, on the divan in the Oval Office, sat both Senator Rachel McKenzie and General Pádraig Connor. The president sat in a chair at the head of the group, with Vice President Tiarks to his left. The room remained silent for several seconds after the briefing was completed. General Austin’s Assistant Secretary of Homeland Security, Lillian Stromberg, completed the group.