“I place myself in your capable hands,” Hammond said. He began looking around and saw the airspeed dial. It was already at Mach 2.
The smell of frying bacon and hot coffee woke Rod Jeffers from his sound sleep. Coming home had been wonderful. For the last three days he had met up with several of his old friends and had become reacquainted with his family. Today being Thanksgiving, he anticipated a long feast with his extended family, stuffing himself with his Mom’s roasted turkey, rice and gravy, some squash casserole, sweet potato casserole, green beans, dressing and cranberry salad. The faint smell of fresh yeast rolls was in the air along with the bacon. He lay in his bed and savored the smells.
The telephone rang, interrupting his thoughts. In a moment, his father called up for him to pick up the line. Jeffers got up and threw on a robe. He padded, barefoot, down the hall into the kitchen and grabbed the handset.
“Lieutenant Jeffers, I hate to do this, but your leave has been cancelled. You need to get back in here right away,” said Captain Clarity on the other end of the line.
Jeffers looked puzzled. “What’s going on, Captain?” he asked.
“Rod, you need to turn on the news. That’ll explain it. Just get back here pronto,” he said.
“On my way, sir,” said Jeffers before hanging up the phone. He looked at his mother. “We need to turn on the TV,” he said.
Walking into the den, he switched on the wall mounted set and turned it on one of the network stations. Immediately he saw a burning aircraft carrier and one other ship. The announcer described many other such tragedies across the United States and around the world. More images came in showing a carrier sunk up to the hanger deck and listing, another with close ups of huge holes and jagged metal. Finally some images of men being pulled out of the wreckage on stretchers.
“Dear God,” cried his mother in anguish. “Who did this?”
Jeffers stood for a second unable to move from the screen. “The Russians. We knew they might do something, but not this bad,” he said. He then turned to his parents. “I gotta go,” he said.
Despite the protests from his mother, Jeffers quickly took a shower and packed his bags again. Donning his uniform, he kissed his mother and shook his father’s hand before throwing his bags into the back seat of the Rolls and backing out of the drive. It would take hours to get back to Washington, but this time he wouldn’t quite obey the speed limit.
The Oval Office had finally cleared out except for the National Security Advisor, the CIA Director and the Deputy Director for Intelligence. This meeting was not something that could be shared with others.
“Okay Bill, what kinds of assets do we have in Russia?” the President asked calmly.
Bill Harmon, his recently appointed CIA chief calmly addressed his President. “We have ground assets in a number of cities, but if you are asking if we saw this coming, the answer is no,” he said, obviously covering his backsides. The President saw a strange look on the DDI’s face, but let it go for now. Harmon had been a pain ever since he had appointed him as an appeasement for several Congressmen and Senators to pass some legislation. Harmon was from the opposing party, but having a bi-partisan cabinet had not been a bad idea.
“I ask, because I may need to use some of those assets in the coming days. We have some ideas to upset their population and we need to see if this is feasible,” the President said.
“I’m sorry, but I must protect our assets at any costs. Using them for your ideas is not something I would want to do,” said Harmon.
The President’s brow furrowed. “Mr. Harmon, in case you haven’t heard, we are in a shooting war. It is going to be our job to use whatever assets we have to get this war over with. Now I am not talking about throwing away people, but I am interested in what we have and how we can use them to our benefit.”
Harmon remained calm. “Possibly. There are a few assets we can use for special projects. A larger number are simply people who are somehow disenfranchised with their government. Using them for the wrong reasons may backfire,” he said.
The President nodded. “I understand about that. But I need you to get some things ready to gather additional information on how the population feels about things going on — any unrest or dissention. Bad things happening, that sort of thing. Then I need to know how effectively we can plant additional ideas or seeds of unrest. A part of this effort will be a propaganda war of sorts. I need you to see what you can come up with and how we can make these kinds of things happen,” he directed.
Harmon nodded. “I’ll see what we can do,” he said.
“Good. Now tell me what the status of Eyeball is,” the President said.
“Eyeball is up and now running,” said Harmon. “We are starting to look at where the battlefields are and other places. Of course, we are keeping this way under cover,” he said.
“Can the system tie into the military data systems? The way we initially planned it, local commanders could tie in and use it for battle planning and tactics,” said the president.
“No sir, we can’t use the system for anything like that. It’s too secret,” said Harmon.
“Look, right now I need to win a war. If this thing can help us do that, then we need to use it. We can make sure that security is upheld.”
Harmon shook his head. “I can’t let that happen. This is the biggest achievement in intelligence gathering that has ever been produced. I’m not going to let some army private get his hands on this. It would be in the public within minutes. I’ll even give you an example. If we had given a warning to our people, the Russians would have seen how they reacted and would know, or at least guess what our capabilities are. I can’t let that happen,” he almost shouted.
The Deputy Director looked at the man in anger. “Do you mean you didn’t give the warning?” he demanded.
A look of surprise came over the President’s face. “Wait a minute,” said the President. “You knew?”
The DDI didn’t take his eyes off Harmon. “Mister President, I was there with the Director. We saw those missiles as soon as they launched. That was at least ten minutes before they struck!” He pointed angrily at Harmon. “This man left the room to supposedly call in the warning.” He glared at Harmon. “You murdering bastard.”
“You knew and didn’t let me or anyone else know? If you didn’t call me, who did you call?”
“Sir, it’s exactly as I said before. We can’t let anyone know we have this. You don’t have the authority to tell me how to use this tool,” shouted Harmon. “That belongs with the Congress!”
“I don’t have the authority?” The President turned to the Secret Service agent in the room. “Frank, did you hear all this?”
The agent nodded. “Yes, Mister President.”
“Then I order you to place this man under arrest. The charge is aiding and abetting an enemy of the United States. It may increase to treason. If nothing else, I hold him responsible for at least some of the lives lost today,” the President said.
The agent turned to Harmon. “Come with me, sir.”
“You stupid idiot. You can’t do this to me!” shouted Harmon as he lunged toward the President.
The agent quickly grabbed Harmon and threw him to the floor, twisting his hands behind his back while calling for backup. Within moments, the room was filled with agents. “Mister Harmon, you are under arrest for willfully aiding and abetting an enemy of the United States. You are also charged with assault on the President of the United States. You have the right to remain silent…” the agent began. When he finished, the Secret Service stood Harmon up.