Intelligence work was about collecting mountains of information. There were three components to success. The first was spotting which minor detail was the important one. The second was deciding what to do about it. The third was having the stomach to carry out those actions ruthlessly.
Mitchum was very successful indeed.
In the footage, Shannon Azzi patted the guard on the cheek, then pushed his chair toward the bank of monitors and walked out. The view jumped to the area outside the guard hut, heavy trucks rolling into sight.
“People who disparage the status quo have never experienced the opposite,” Mitchum said. “Maintaining order, keeping the system running, flawed as it may be, is a sacred duty. It’s not about words on a piece of paper. It’s about our children. America may not be perfect, but it’s closer than anywhere else, and preserving it for my children is my highest calling.”
Leahy had never heard Mitchum wax so poetic. The senator was doing the sycophantic thing, nodding sagely, but Leahy knew better. Terence Mitchum didn’t need to be loved, didn’t rationalize his actions. That speech was a message.
He flashed back to that moment, more than two decades ago, when he had sat outside Mitchum’s office, holding the study announcing the arrival of the gifted. His hands sweaty and his thoughts scattered. It had been a bold, even reckless maneuver, and it had made him. If he hadn’t caught Mitchum’s eye, Leahy would probably be a midlevel manager at some private military contractor instead of the secretary of defense.
Perhaps it’s time for another bold maneuver.
“One of the things I’ve always found concerning,” Leahy said slowly, “is that the New Canaan Holdfast is quite peaceful. There’s no greater refutation of the argument that abnorms are a threat than that happy little enclave. Normal and gifted coexist there. It’s a problem.”
Richard looked at him. “Son, you have a strange worldview.”
“I’m not your son, Senator. I’m the secretary of defense of the United States of America.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“It’s a problem because it’s false. The NCH is about as self-sustaining as a two-week-old puppy. They are able to function as a city on a hill because of us. We shield them and support them. And meanwhile, abnorms work together there, with limitless funding and little regulation. They pile advantage on advantage, leapfrogging science and technology, and then doling it out at a pace that pleases them.”
On the projection floor, Shannon Azzi hoisted her gun into the air. Leahy said, “Freeze.”
He’d timed it perfectly, caught her just in the moment of exhorting her troops, weapon high, face wild, the stock pose of every third-world rebel commander. “That, Senator, is what the gifted represent. We are protecting an environment that harbors terrorists and drains our resources while creating advancements we cannot hope to match.” He turned to Mitchum. “Sir, if we don’t act, I believe that we are fostering our children’s future masters.”
Mitchum rubbed his chin. His eyes were unreadable.
Leahy thought of last night in the Oval Office. Thanksgiving, and the president sitting catatonic as he watched Cleveland burn. There had been a chance to save the country. To take the kind of strong action that could turn things around.
Nick Cooper’s misguided policy of appeasement had put an end to that. But Marla Keevers had raised a point that had been bouncing around Leahy’s brain ever since.
“Sir, I’m wondering if we haven’t been thinking too small.” He thought of adding more, then decided against it. Let them work it out themselves.
After a moment, Mitchum said, “Can it be done?”
“With Clay’s policies of compromise and discussion, there are certain to be more attacks. More destruction in American cities. More of”—he gestured—“her. Instead of trying for the MOI, what if we thought bigger?”
“My God, man,” Richard said. “Are you really talking about—”
“Senator,” Leahy said, “shut up.” He stared at the man, put the threat in his eyes.
Mitchum walked over to stand in front of Shannon Azzi. For a long moment he stared thoughtfully into her holographic eyes. Finally, he said, “Play for all the marbles?”
“This is our moment, sir.”
“Maybe.” Mitchum turned. “Of course, Clay is unlikely to launch an attack.”
“Yes, sir, he is.” Leahy slid his hands in his pockets. “That’s why he’ll just have to trust his advisors.”
CHAPTER 28
Cooper was having a hard time keeping his mind on his breakfast.
In an hour he would be sitting down with Erik Epstein to negotiate the terms of the New Canaan Holdfast’s secession from the United States. An enormous political maneuver with consequences so far-ranging they boggled the mind.
And it didn’t matter, because what they would actually be talking about was the biggest development in human history since . . . fire?
When the gifted had first appeared thirty or so years ago, scientists and philosophers alike had wondered what they meant. Why some people had amazing abilities and others did not. But after decades of research and thousands of theories, no answers had been found. As the ramifications of that dichotomy had grown, the whys and hows had started to seem less important as people focused on the question of what the world was going to do about it.
And now, suddenly, all that was wiped away. There would be no more “us” and “them”—no more divisions. There would be questions and fears and a million decisions to be made. But at least there would be options. The growing tension that was pitting the country—the world—against itself would ease. Instead of terrorism, there would be debate. Instead of genocide, there would be choice.
And humanity would never be the same. In a very real way, humanity as it had been would cease to exist, replaced by something better.
All of which made it hard to concentrate on breakfast.
For now, be here for your family. You’ve lost enough time with them already.
The restaurant was bright and airy, tastefully designed, and alive with chatter. One of the guys on their security team had recommended it; apparently the chef was famous in the NCH, a brilliant who ran a string of places. Cooper largely avoided abnorm chefs; maybe his palate wasn’t sophisticated enough, but he just didn’t need his breakfast “deconstructed”:
Steamed egg cut into a cube, the yolk removed and the hollow stuffed with spinach and goat cheese; kelp protein extruded and dyed to look like rib eye, served atop a smear of braised beet puree; rutabaga tater tots served with crystallized ketchup.
“How do they turn ketchup into crystals?” Todd poked at his plate suspiciously.
“I gotta say, Toddster, I think the more important question is why.” Cooper glanced around, taking in the room, old habit. It was busy, a crowd of people waiting, but a table had been made for them the moment they arrived. One of the benefits of being an ambassador. Thankfully, the security team was keeping things low profile; most of them were outside, and the two guards in the restaurant wore plainclothes.
Soon we won’t need guards, won’t fear terrorists.
“I like it,” Kate said. Her crepes were folded into origami animals and covered with freeze-dried berries. He’d stolen a strawberry off her plate; it tasted sweet but had the texture of a cheese puff. “I like it here.”