Legacy - 6. National Security - Trevor Austin

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~

Sunday, March 22, 2043 - Two Days after the Assassination

I woke up gasping for breath and sat bolt upright in bed. I felt Kurt’s arms reach around and hold me as he sat up next to me.

“I take it you had ‘the dream’ again?” Kurt asked and I nodded yes in return. We both always referred to it as ‘the dream’ and nothing else needed to be said. “With everything that’s happened, I can certainly understand why,” Kurt added.

Rather than answer my husband, I simply reached my arms around him and we both drew each other into a tight hug as we cried on each other’s shoulder. Gradually, our sobbing ceased and Kurt asked, “Do your feel up to going back to sleep?”

Nodding my head, we both lay back down and Kurt spooned up against me, wrapping his arm around me and stroking my chest. More often than not, it was I who liked to hold Kurt as we slept but this just felt right. Kurt was my life - my soul mate.

It was just as I was starting to drift back to sleep that an incessant beeping sound roused me back to consciousness. At first I couldn’t place it and felt disoriented but then my brain kicked in and I realized it was the telephone, which was on Kurt’s side of the bed. As the President’s chief of staff, it was far more likely that he would get a call in the middle of the night than I would, however not this night.

I sat up in bed as Kurt did likewise and reached for the phone. After answering, he said, “What?” followed by “When?” and then “How?” After a minute of listening, he then replied, “We’ll be right there.” After hanging up, Kurt turned to me and said, “Solomon and Richards are dead.”

“Avi Solomon and Karen Richards?” I asked in disbelief. Avi Solomon was the prime minister of Israel and Karen Richards was our Secretary of State, who was in Israel when David was assassinated and was supposed to return to the U.S. via a military transport that day.

“They were gunned down in front of Solomon’s home a short while ago,” Kurt answered.

Looking at the clock, it was not quite two AM, which meant it would be close to nine AM in Israel. As the President’s National Security Advisor, it was my responsibility to assimilate all of the information to be had on the situation and to advise Schroeder on the security implications. As the President’s Chief of Staff, Kurt needed to keep the White House running at a time of crisis - not that we weren’t already in a time of crisis - but the degree of crisis had just been magnified by what appeared to be another incident of terrorism involving the assassination of a head of state and a high-ranking U.S. cabinet member.

The assassination of a cabinet official was a potential act of war and it would fall on Casey Smith, the Secretary of Defense, along with the Joint Chiefs to advise the President of our military options. Ordinarily the Secretary of State would advise the President on our diplomatic options but, with her own assassination, it would fall to the Deputy Secretary of State, Leif Peterson, to do so until the President could appoint a successor.

Knowing it could be quite some time before there was another opportunity, we quickly showered, shaved and brushed our teeth before getting dressed. Even so, we were in the Situation Room scarcely fifteen minutes after Kurt took the call. A number of people were already present including the President, who quite obviously hadn’t taken the time to shave. Over the next several minutes the remaining cabinet members, presidential advisors and military personnel arrived.

Being the addict that he is, Kurt headed straight for the coffee while I grabbed a plate and loaded it with a bagel and some slices of melon from the ample spread of food that was set out. I wasn’t all that hungry, particularly so early in the morning, but there was no telling when we might have another opportunity to eat. Grabbing a cup of coffee for myself, I sat down in my designated spot at the enormous conference table that dominated the room.

The conference table in the Situation Room was U-shaped, with a keyboard and holographic display at each station, as well as a conventional pad of paper. Seated around the table were the members of the cabinet, the Deputy Secretary of State, the Attorney General, The Joint Chiefs of Staff, and the President’s closest advisors. We were the President’s inner circle. Located at the open end of the conference table was a smaller table where the President himself sat with his personal secretary and my husband.

Leaning over and talking to Kurt, President Schroeder clearly seemed to be out of his element. He looked haggard, with dark circles under his eyes. A few days ago a crisis for him meant gathering a few more votes to support or kill a bill. Now his presidency was already being tested and it was anyone’s guess as to whether he was up to the task.

David too had been tested early in his presidency but the differences between the two men couldn’t have been more stark. Whereas David exuded confidence and leadership, and his demeanor was reassuring, Schroeder looked troubled and frightened. He was anything but comforting, even though he had yet to open his mouth. If I didn’t expect better of the man, I’d have almost thought he was stalling.

Finally, the President sat up and began to speak. “Ladies and Gentlemen, by now I’m sure that most of you have heard that Avi Solomon, the prime minister of Israel, and Secretary of State Karen Richards were assassinated early this morning in front of Solomon’s home.” God, even the President’s voice sounded unsure and haggard. “Also gunned down were two of the prime minister’s bodyguards and one of our own agents. The Israeli Minister of Foreign Affairs, Karen’s counterpart and himself a Deputy Prime Minister, was gravely injured and is in surgery right now. The Israeli Ministers of Defense, Internal Affairs and Internal Security were with the Prime Minister’s party but, thankfully, were unharmed.”

“How was a terrorist able to get so close to the Prime Minister?” Casey Smith, the Secretary of Defense, asked.

“It was one of the Prime Minister’s own bodyguards who opened fire on the group with his automatic weapon,” the President answered, drawing gasps from around the room.

“Fucking unbelievable,” came from Gary Clark, the Director of the CIA. “Members of the Israeli Security Force are vetted even more carefully than our own agents,” he added.

I noticed that Gary was pulling up data on his holodisplay even as he spoke. I was too and, as the National Security Advisor, I had a direct feed to the National Security Agency. As the former NSA director, I had a better feel for the data than most of the past holders of my position. I knew exactly what to look for and how to interpret it.

Looking up from my display, I chimed in, “We just got word from one of our agents in Mossad that the assassin belonged to a right-wing Orthodox denomination. There was no evidence he’d ever had contact with any terrorist or extremist organizations, and his religion in and of itself didn’t preclude him from government service any more than it would have here.”

“Is he in custody?” Schroeder asked.

“He was killed in the exchange,” Clark answered.

“Damn,” was all the President said, and his silence soon became deafening. Thankfully, Kurt broke the silence by asking, “Debbie, is there any more news on the investigation into David’s assassination?”

“Damn little,” she answered. “We’ve pinpointed exactly where the RPG was fired from, but whoever did this escaped undetected and left no physical evidence behind.”

“How is that possible?” the President asked.

“Mr. President,” she replied, “We simply don’t know. Either the perpetrator or perpetrators planned the attack exceptionally well, or they had inside help.”

“This hardly sounds like the work of a terrorist cell,” Clark chimed in. “Even as well-coordinated as the attacks of 9/11 were, they succeeded only because of our own ineptitude. The 9/11 hijackers were amateurs by comparison.”

“The assassination of our president, a series of suicide bombings in the Middle East and then the assassination of the Israeli Prime Minister and the U.S. Secretary of State . . . all within the space of less than 48 hours?” I questioned aloud. “It seems a bit too coincidental to me.”

“If this was state-sponsored terrorism,” the president began, “then these assassinations were an act of war. We need to ATTACK, and NOW.” The outburst hardly lent a feeling of confidence to the atmosphere.

“But Mr. President,” Casey Smith, the Secretary of Defense replied, “We can’t attack without having a target. Of course if we had viable information that a given state or group of states were behind this, the Joint Chiefs would already have the outlines of a series of appropriate responses for you. We just don’t have anything to go on.”

“But we can’t appear to the world to be impotent in this,” Schroeder challenged. “The only way we’ll earn respect is if we let the whole WORLD know that we mean business. NO ONE can be allowed to get away with assassinating the President or an American cabinet official! NO ONE!”

“And who would you have us attack?” Smith replied.

“Iran, Syria, Yemen . . . they all sponsor terrorism,” answered the President. “A concerted attack on all of them would send a powerful message to those who sponsor terrorism throughout the world.”

“With all due respect, Mr. President,” Smith countered, “An attack like that would lead to world war. The entire Middle East would fight us. Hell, with sizable Muslim populations of their own, most of our European allies would fight us. An indiscriminate attack in the Middle East would be our ruin. We could, probably would, very well lose such a war.”

“NONSENSE,” the President replied. “No one else in the world has our military might. No one else has our weapons!”

“Are you suggesting the use of nuclear weapons?” the Secretary of Defense replied in disbelief. “That would be madness! All of our major cities would be leveled if we even tried. As horrible as these assassinations were, it’s not worth all-out world war, and certainly not worth a nuclear war. That kind of thinking is what led to the First World War, which set the stage for the Second World War. We must never let that sort of thing happen again.”

The President seemed taken aback and then he replied, “But we must be ready for all contingencies including nuclear war. I’m not suggesting we start one, but we need to be ready for one.”

“Mr. President,” the Secretary replied, “We’ve been preparing for a nuclear war for nearly a century. Trust me, we’re as ready as we can be, but even a limited nuclear war would leave an America vastly different from the one we know now. There are no winners in a nuclear war . . . the best we can hope for is a draw. That’s why we’ve always expended so much energy in trying to prevent one. Our vast arsenal is meant to be a deterrent and nothing more.”

“But what good are those weapons if we never use them?” came the President’s retort and many of us gasped in response. This was madness!

“Mr. President,” my husband calmly addressed Schroeder, “are you aware of the twenty-fifth amendment?”

“The one designating presidential succession?” the President asked.

“Yes, but it also provides a mechanism for removal from office outside the impeachment process. As you undoubtedly know, you have the authority to temporarily remove yourself from office due to illness or injury and appoint the Vice-President to take over temporarily. The twenty-fifth amendment,” my husband explained, “also provides that the Vice-President has the authority to declare you unfit for duty and a simple majority vote by the members of your cabinet can then vote to remove you from office. As you have not yet appointed a new vice-president, nor has one been ratified by Congress, it’s not clear how the current situation would be handled. However, since the President Pro-Tempore of the Senate is effectively the acting Vice-President, and he is certainly the next in line for succession to the Presidency, presumably he has the authority to bring a declaration of your unfitness for office to this body for a vote.

“Whether or not he actually has the authority to do so is something that would likely need to be resolved by the Supreme Court, but I think it highly likely that you would be impeached in the interim if you attempted to drag us into a nuclear war. I would almost certainly be out of order in doing so, but if you continue with this folly, I will not hesitate to bring the question of your competence to a vote right now and leave it to the Supreme Court to sort out the specific mechanism for your removal from office at a later date.”

“You’re fired, faggot!” Schroeder practically screamed at Kurt. “You’re completely out of line!”

Turning to the rest of us, Kurt addressed us in a steady voice of reason. “Is there anyone here who would object to my calling a vote of no confidence in the President and to seek his removal from office?” After nearly a minute of stunned silence, Kurt continued, “Very well, we will now conduct a roll-call vote on my motion to declare the President unfit for duty and remove him from office.”

“WAIT!” the President called out, quite obviously shaken by the turn of events. Turning to my husband, he said, “Kurt, I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to call you that. Sometimes I open my mouth before I engage my brain. It’s a longstanding problem of mine.” Indeed, Schroeder was known for having a bad case of ‘Foot in Mouth Disease’.

Turning to the rest of us, the President said, “In no way am I saying we should instigate a nuclear war, period. I’m merely saying that if we go to war, we must be prepared to use nuclear weapons as a last resort and as part of an appropriate retaliatory response.

“I doubt that anyone here would disagree that the assassination of the President and the Secretary of State by another state would be an act of war that would demand a measured response. If we can prove culpability, a military response would be appropriate. Diplomacy, other than to negotiate the terms of surrender, is not a viable option.

“I realize we cannot act unilaterally until we know who’s responsible, but we need to have contingency plans drawn up for possible military responses in the event that we are able to identify those responsible.”

“Mr. President,” General Lichter, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs replied, “we’ve been drawing up contingency plans for war since the moment we learned of President Reynolds’ assassination. Believe me, the U.S. Armed Forces are ready for anything that might be necessary. The Navy is already moving ships into the eastern Mediterranean and Arabian Sea. We are ready to fight a war today if need be, and we will be more than ready if and when a target is identified.”

Sensing a need for Schroeder to recover face, I started to speak. “Mr. President, first of all, although it’s too early to know for sure, there is every indication that Secretary of State Richards was not the intended target. She was standing directly behind and to the side of the Prime Minister and several of the bullets that hit her did so after passing through the Prime Minister. The evidence would suggest that the Prime Minister was the intended target and not the Secretary of State.”

“Still, she was killed and that demands an appropriate response,” the President countered.

“Beyond a doubt,” I agreed, but not until we know whom to target. The President was attacked by unknown terrorists, Palestinian terrorists committed a string of suicide bombings yesterday and the Israeli Prime Minister was gunned down by one of his own. So far the only connection we have is to the Middle East and nothing more.

“If I could make a suggestion, Mr. President,” I continued, “the best way to show that we’re on top of the situation would be to appoint someone who’s highly respected to replace Karen Richards, right away . . . someone who’s respected by all parties in the Middle East. If I could make a suggestion, you might want to consider Sammy Austin as her replacement. Not only is he a respected Congressman, but he’s fluent in more than a dozen languages, including Arabic and Hebrew, and he’s traveled extensively throughout the world. He’s also studied the cultures of the Middle East in depth and is better prepared to deal with tensions there than almost anyone.

“The problem,” the President challenged, “is that Austin represents a predominantly Democratic district in a state with a Democratic governor. The RNC would have my head if my appointments resulted in a change in the leadership of the House. No, as qualified as Sammy Austin may be, we need him right where he is, in the House of Representatives.”

Hell, I was a Republican myself, but how shortsighted of Schroeder to pass up one of the most qualified people in history for office at such a critical juncture. However, I quickly had another flash of inspiration. “Mr. President,” I began again, “there is someone else I can think of who is eminently qualified for the role . . . someone in this very room . . . someone who is highly respected by all parties in the Middle East.

“I am of course speaking of Altaf El Tahari, the Secretary of Health. Dr. El Tahari is himself a Muslim who is married to a Jew. He attends weekly services with his husband at both a mosque and a synagogue. He has traveled extensively in the Middle East in his current role and is highly thought of by his peers. His training may be in the field of Medicine, but I can think of no one else who’s better qualified for the role of Secretary of State.”

“If I could object,” Altaf interrupted, “I’m a physician . . . not a diplomat.”

“I’ve seen you in action,” Schroeder countered. “You more than hold your own when negotiating with your colleagues. You can object all you want, but you’re a very competent diplomat. Certainly you would not refuse the request of your president.”

“No, I would not refuse,” Altaf replied, “but consider this. Since the age of fifteen I have been under a fatwa for my homosexuality. Many Muslims still consider me an abomination just because of whom I love. It would not be wise to force me down their throats.”

“I thought the fatwa was long ago lifted,” Schroeder exclaimed.

“The governments of Saudi Arabia, Jordan, Egypt and Pakistan officially lifted the fatwa so I could travel in their countries on official business, and most other leaders in the Middle East have quietly acknowledged that the fatwa is no longer in effect, even though they are afraid to go on record publicly in acknowledging it,” Altaf related. “Unfortunately, many hard core Muslims believe that a fatwa can only be lifted by the one who puts it in place or by the highest-ranking religious officials. The imam who sentenced me is long ago deceased and, to date, not one Muslim cleric has come forward on the issue. If appointed to State, it is likely that Islamic extremists may take it upon themselves to see to it that the fatwa is carried out.”

“Just leave the security concerns to us . . .” Schroeder started to say, but then Altaf interrupted.

“You mean the way Karen Richards did?” He asked.

“Altaf, that was quite uncalled for,” Gary Clark admonished his fellow cabinet secretary, “but understandable under the circumstances.”

“I can assure you, Mr. El Tahari,” the President countered, “we will never entrust your security to anyone but our own again. We won’t let anyone near you that we ourselves haven’t carefully vetted . . . not even the security forces of an ally such as Israel.

“Seriously,” the President continued, “I can think of no one more highly respected by both Muslims and Jews, and I think you would be the perfect replacement for Richards. So Mr. Secretary, will you accept the appointment to be Secretary of State?”

“My husband will kill me, but if you feel I am the best person for the job, I will accept,” Altaf answered.

“Excellent,” the President replied. “Of course it won’t be official until it can be ratified by the Senate, but I’d like you to make the move to Foggy Bottom right away . . . at least in the figurative sense until it’s actually safe to leave our underground fortress.”

Schroeder then turned to the Deputy Secretary of State and added, “Mr. Peterson, I want to assure you that this in no way reflects on your abilities . . .”

“None needed, Mr. President,” Leif answered. “You need a heavy hitter at the helm, which I’m not. I actually like being second in command and have no interest in being in the limelight.”

“A few days ago, I would have said exactly the same thing,” the President stated as he seemed to stare off into space, “but I didn’t exactly have a choice.”

Then turning back to Altaf, he added, “Speaking of your husband, I’m going to appoint him to be your replacement at Health, and I’ll appoint Dr. Williams to take his place as Surgeon General. I’ll find a replacement NIH director once our more immediate concerns have been addressed.”

The meeting with the President went on for another couple of hours - far longer than it should have - until my husband finally reminded Schroeder that it would be some time before we had any information and that we all had critical work to get to in the interim. Thank God for Kurt! Schroeder’s ability to govern was no better than the information he had at his disposal. As the President’s National Security Advisor, it was my job to cull through all of the information coming from the various Federal agencies, to compile it and to present it with a thorough analysis in such a way that the President could make informed decisions. Most of the information would come from my former employer, the NSA, as well as from our spies on the ground at the CIA. At a time like this, however, most of the data would be nothing but gibberish, making my job particularly difficult.

As we exited the Situation Room, Kurt deftly pulled me aside and planted a quick peck on my lips. Smiling, I kissed him back.

“That was an excellent suggestion you made, Trev,” Kurt said, “that Altaf should be Secretary of State.”

“I just wish he’d have gone with Sammy,” I replied, “not that Altaf isn’t capable, but it will take him a bit longer to get up to speed and time is of the essence. Sammy could have jumped right in to the thick of Middle East politics.”

“I know,” Kurt agreed, “but Schroeder’s own politics got in the way. Like it or not, he is the President.”

“He almost wasn’t,” I replied with a smirk.

“That sure as hell was scary,” Kurt exclaimed. “For a while there it looked like he might just pull us into a nuclear war and I couldn’t allow that. I’ve never been so scared in my life as I was when I threatened to call a vote to have Schroeder removed from office, and then proceeded to do so. Not even when I thought I was heading to my doom with Gary.”

For Kurt to admit that told me a lot about his character and just how nervous he really had been. I’d have been a nervous wreck myself if I’d had to challenge the President openly like that but Kurt had exuded nothing but confidence in the Situation Room. Comparing the situation to what he went through with Gary meant that Kurt had truly been terrified.

Gary was a counselor at a church-run camp for disadvantaged youth where Kurt and I were volunteers the summer when he was fourteen and I was sixteen. It was the summer we fell in love but Kurt very nearly lost his life. Gary turned out to be a pedophile who got the job using a stolen identity. Over a period of weeks he sexually abused a number of the twelve-year-old campers and even recorded them having sex with each other.

When one of the abused campers took out his frustrations by raping an eight-year-old kid, Gary got all the campers to point the finger at me instead of him, and so I was led a way in handcuffs. Kurt, however, summoning courage I still could hardly imagine, stayed up at night for several nights until he was able to prove that Gary was the real culprit. Unfortunately, Kurt’s plan to capture photos of Gary engaging in sex with a minor backfired and Gary ended up capturing Kurt and raping him. When Gary attempted to frame Kurt, too, it was Sammy, my future adopted brother, who blew the whistle on him.

In desperation, Gary took Sammy hostage and planed to escape with him, but Kurt made him an offer he couldn’t refuse - he went willingly with Gary so that Sammy could be spared. I still have difficulty comprehending what it was like for Kurt, riding away with that evil man to certain doom, performing sexual favors for him along the way. I’d have been a total basket case but Kurt kept a cool head and managed to get control of the SUV away from Gary, and to alert the police. He was only fourteen at the time.

Kurt’s bravery didn’t stop there, however. He participated in round-table discussions on rape and abuse, putting his own insecurities aside so he could help other kids. He lobbied for my parents and Jeremy Kimball’s to finance counseling sessions for the abused campers and, when four of them turned up HIV positive, he talked my parents into fostering Sammy, and Jeremy’s into fostering Cliff. It was no wonder Congress awarded him a Gold Medal.

I fell deeply in love with Kurt that summer. I fell hard. The amazing thing was that he fell just as hard for me. We’ve been together ever since.