To Kipper's right, they passed a complex of buildings and a BP gas station surrounded by an earthen berm topped with sandbags. A couple of army Humvees rolled out and headed south toward the Kansas City Southern rail yard.
"Local troops, militia," Culver said, taking note of the small fort.
"None of us are local anymore," Kipper said. "What are they doing here?"
"Securing the railroad, I suspect," Culver replied. "They patrol as far as Fort Leavenworth. From there an army detachment takes over."
Kipper watched the storm clouds building on the horizon, pleased with the progress.
"We're getting there, Jed," he said.
"Are we?" Culver asked. The chief of staff had his old briefcase open and was poring over piles of documents. "If we pay Cesky's men at Hawthorne, then other workers elsewhere will demand the same. Budget's a zero-sum game at the moment, Mister President. We can't borrow money; there is no one who will lend us anything near the amount we need. We can't just print it. Economy's like fucking ground zero, if you'll excuse my French."
"I promised them they'd get paid," Kipper said. "We have to make it happen. Not just here. Everywhere. That bastard down in Fort Hood doesn't seem to have any trouble raising money and spending it. He's even using our currency, the sorry son of a bitch. And he's getting loans! Goddamn Saudis advanced him that big one just last week."
Jed looked up from his paperwork.
"He's selling off assets to fund consumption, Mister President. Remember how we talked about him overreaching? This is just an example of it."
"They're our assets, Jed."
"Possession is nine-tenths of the game, sir. And we do not have the means to enforce our rightful possession yet. Now, as to Tench's problem, you know there is significant opposition to the appropriations for restoring coal-fired power plants," Culver said. "The Greens are united with the Northwest Democrats on this one. They'll keep the money for Hawthorne tied up for months if they have to."
"Can't we find a way around that?" Kipper asked.
Culver nodded. "Sure. Sandra Harvey wants one of her Borg drones appointed secretary of energy. Greens also want more of their people over at EPA. And they want EPA fully empowered. Give 'em that and you'll get your money. But then either your new crazier EPA or your new crazier energy sec will shut down that shiny new power plant we christened this morning and insist on installing thousands of solar cells in its place. Should only take about eighteen years to replace the lost wattage. And a coupla billion new dollars. But they'll want to sell off another aircraft carrier soon, anyway, so maybe the folding stuff won't be a problem."
Jed's smirk was almost purely evil.
Kipper felt a Godzilla headache coming on, sharpening itself within the dark recesses of his mind. He had a war to fight against men who'd carve up and eat the old bones of his country, which he was trying to rebuild and rehabilitate. Sandra Harvey's Greens and their allies on the far left of the Dems, of which he'd once been a member, should be on his side. Some of Harvey's people in particular had been instrumental in the revolution that had swept Blackstone out of Seattle without firing a shot. Yet they stood in the way of every effort to repopulate the Wave-affected United States. More than a few of them even argued that those areas should be allowed to go fallow and wild.
Forever wild, their motto went. Forever free.
The fucking wing nut faction of the Republicans, in contrast, wanted everyone above the age of sixteen years drafted, school prayer made mandatory, Roe v. Wade overturned, every migrant expelled, the borders closed, wars launched on half a dozen problematic foreign powers, and a settlement with Blackstone that would probably see the crazy fucker in the Western White House before Kip and Barb had finished packing their suitcases.
And Jed wondered why he was reluctant to commit to a second term in 2009.
The convoy passed under the Highway 210 overpass and climbed the ramp back toward North Kansas City. As they moved west toward the town, it was possible to see the mass of humanity disembarking from the salvaged Amtrak passenger cars. Faces looked up at the convoy of black Suburbans, most of them dark, some covered in bandages and scars. Kipper expected Jed to speak up and harass him once again about the numbers of refugees they were taking from the atomic ruins of India, but for a mercy his chief of staff remained silent, allowing Kipper to retreat back into his own thoughts.
Watching the new arrivals spill from the passenger cars, blinking in the unexpectedly fierce light, looking nervous but hopeful too, Kip was assailed by a raft of questions. How do you deal fairly with immigrants from a culture so significantly different from your own? How do you provide jobs for them while ensuring that your own population is also employed? How do you pay the bills? What solutions are fair and equitable as opposed to being merely effective or, worse, in the case of Blackstone, genuinely harmful?
We need these people, Kipper told himself. We need them to buy into America, our America, or we're finished.
36
Berlin "You had better put this on," Mirsaad suggested, holding out a blue and gold head scarf as they walked through the car park underneath his apartment building. "No sane woman would go uncovered in Neukolln these days."
"What, not even Angela Merkel?" Caitlin teased.
"It is very unlikely she would set foot there," he said. "Such an action would be considered inflammatory."
Caitlin dutifully tied the scarf around her head, thinking that at the very least, with a pair of dark sunglasses, it would provide a basic measure of camouflage should Baumer have anybody on the lookout for her. Plus, of course, Mirsaad was correct. Going into a shariatown uncovered was just asking for trouble. Begging for it, in fact.
"We should take my car," he insisted, regarding her black BMW with open envy.
"I won't argue with that," Caitlin said. "We don't need to attract attention."
She had what she needed from the vehicle already, having kitted up in the airport hotel back at Tempelhof an hour earlier. She wore a long black leather coat that was loosely belted to conceal the twin Russian machine guns nestled at her flanks in Gerty's bespoke combat harness. Her pistol she wore at the hip, with extra clips for all three guns secreted throughout her coat, adding noticeably to the weight. For good measure she wore a spring-loaded blade on her right wrist, and the packet of cigarettes in her left breast pocket was half of a powerful binary explosive. The other half was sealed inside a plastic disposable lighter in her right breast pocket.
They climbed into Mirsaad's vehicle, a rusted, beaten-down old Lada with the logo of his community radio station stenciled amateurishly on both front doors. The car was full of children's toys and smelled of boiled cabbage. He smiled apologetically.
"I am afraid it is not a luxury vehicle, Caitlin," he said. "But the station pays for it and allows me to take it home for family use."
She waved away his apology.
"From what I've seen since getting in last night, you're lucky to have it, Sadie. Main thing is, it's not going to attract attention." She paused. "So you're cool with this?" she asked as they drove out onto the street. "Taking me out as your assistant?"