On the plus side, foreign relations were relatively quiet. We made nice with the Saudis after they had a bombing in Riyadh by their version of Al Qaeda; we exchanged ambassadors and the price of oil dropped $2 a barrel. Otherwise, the assholes generally decided to stay home and kill their own people, rather than kill ours.
The economy rebounded, as I knew it would. People were hiring again and the market was up, the deficit dropped from $150 billion down to $8 billion, and was looking to become a surplus by the end of the year. It was looking like we would be able to announce I was officially running on schedule, with a July 20 appearance in Springboro, Oklahoma, the place I made famous three years before.
Yes, things were looking good. That meant everything was going to turn to shit.
Chapter 153: From the Halls of Montezuma
Wednesday, July 9, 2003
On Saturday, July 5, I was doing my normal Saturday morning routine in the Oval Office, which was basically catching up on some paperwork and reading some briefing papers. It was a Saturday, so I didn't have anything official planned and was, in fact, working in khakis and a rugby shirt. I was contemplating lunch with Marilyn when I got a call from the Situation Room. I picked up the phone and said, "Hello?"
"Mister President, this is Colonel Withers. I am the duty officer in the Situation Room. We are monitoring a situation in Liberia that you should be aware of."
So much for lunch. "Can you brief me here, or should I come down there?"
"It will be easier to discuss it here, sir."
I nodded to myself. "Down in five." I stood and slipped on my loafers, and then used my bathroom. When I left the Oval Office, I stopped at my secretary's desk and told the Saturday fill-in. "I'm heading down to the Situation Room. Let the First Lady know I might not be around for lunch, please. Thank you." She acknowledged the request, and I moved out, followed by an agent. I don't think they are so worried about any danger inside the building, but they always want somebody who knows exactly where I am every second of the day.
I went down to the Situation Room and looked around it approvingly. Through most of 2002 and into 2003 the room had undergone a massive overhaul, and now actually looked like something from the 21st century. Josh Bolten, on the other hand, had not been happy at all, since the room is directly under his, and the vibrations had been so bad that coffee cups would move around on his desk. I let him cut the ribbon when they reopened it, and made sure he got a picture, which only slightly mollified him.
I stepped inside and saw the usual staffers peering into computer monitors. One came towards me and straightened up. He had eagles on his Air Force uniform. "Colonel Withers?"
"Thank you for coming, Mister President."
I reached out to shake his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Colonel. I don't think I've had the chance until now."
"Just in passing, sir."
"You said something about Liberia?"
He led me over to a chair at the head of a conference table facing a wall screen with a map of West Africa on it. "Yes, sir. Uh, Mister President, I am not sure just how much you know about Liberia, but they've had a civil war going on for a few years, and it has been heating up lately. Over the last few days things have been getting ugly."
"You'll have to give me a bit of a briefing, Colonel. I've never been there, but I know the grade school version. Small country, west coast of Africa, we set it up by sending back some freed slaves, the idea never really panned out, and now the place is pretty much a basket case like the rest of the continent.", I told him.
"That's pretty much accurate. Ever since the Eighties the place has been in a constant state of war, as one rebel group after the other tries to overthrow the government and get their hands on the goodies. There is not much on the way of goodies, but if you control the government you can rifle the piggy bank of any foreign aid money that comes in as well as control exports of illegal commodities like blood diamonds and timber.", he explained.
"Sounds about right. Don't get me wrong, Colonel, but you just described about three quarters of the shitholes south of the Sahara. What makes Liberia important to me today?", I asked.
He nodded. "Sir, like I said, there has been a constant string of rebellions aimed at overthrowing the government. As a general rule, that means taking control of Monrovia, the capital, which is where our embassy is, and everybody else's embassy. Right now the rebels are about to take over Monrovia and it is getting ugly. Furthermore, Liberia is considered as being part of the American sphere of influence."
"Which means we need to send in the Marines.", I finished for him.
"It has happened in the past, sir. We've been monitoring the situation there for some time now, but the most recent cables from the embassy are indicating a higher than usual sense of alarm. You need to be briefed on the latest developments. We can do this here and now, or provide a more formal response later.", replied Colonel Withers.
I glanced at the wall clock. Lunch was shot, and probably my afternoon as well. "You're doing fine so far, Colonel. Who do you have here? State? CIA? Can you give me a briefing?"
"Yes, sir." He turned to somebody else. "Jerry, let's go with the map of Liberia and move to the map of Monrovia and the surrounding area." The map on the screen changed and I put my glasses on to see it better. A few other analysts came over to participate and I was introduced to them.
The long and the short of it was that the current government was under the control of President-For-Life Charles Taylor, a homicidal maniac if ever there was one. There were two separate rebel movements, one in the north and one in the south, both of which wanted to replace Taylor and take all the marbles for themselves. From what I was hearing, they were as equally murderous as he was. America had avoided taking any sides because, aside from the human rights aspects of letting murderous cutthroats run loose, we simply didn't care. The general rule was to let them kill each other off just so long as they left the embassy people alone. When they started getting rambunctious towards the foreigners, we would send in the Marines and rescue the foreigners, and let the locals simply kill each other. Eventually things would settle down, and we would let the foreigners go back or go home.
I listened to this, and when it started getting too detailed I closed it out. "What have we been hearing out of State on this? Are they in the loop? They must be."
"Yes, sir. We simply get their feed as far as it involves possible military action."
I nodded at that. Just then, somebody else in the room said, "Hold for a moment, he's right here." He looked over at the colonel and me and said, "Secretary Powell is on the line and looking for you, Mister President."
I nodded at Colonel Withers. "Speak of the devil." I motioned to the other officer and he hit a button on the phone and it rang to the one in front of me. "Colin?"
"Carl, I am hearing some very disturbing things out of Monrovia.", stated the Secretary of State.
"You caught me in a briefing on that. If you hadn't called me, I was going to call you."
"I think we need to discuss some possible emergency measures.", he told me.
I nodded to myself. "I was just getting to that. Let's get the NSC to meet first thing Monday morning. I will pass the word. In the meantime, you stay on top of it, and I'll do the same."