Murphy walked up to the president’s desk and extended an arm across the wide expanse almost before Ortega could get to his feet. The two men shook hands — briefly.
“Welcome, Governor, we were just starting.”
“Thanks for inviting me, Rene.”
Only Ortega’s dark complexion kept the rest of the room from noticing the heat that rushed to his face as Murphy used Ortega’s first name rather than his title. He hesitated a moment before speaking to let his nerves calm down. “With the seriousness and scope of this crisis, I thought it appropriate that the president-elect should be involved from the beginning.”
Their eyes locked for a moment, which was confirmation that Murphy knew exactly what Ortega was up to. Whether he would let himself get trapped in a situation from which he couldn’t escape was another question. It would take some deft politicking on the president’s part to make sure he did.
Admiral Hagar gave up his seat in front of the desk to Murphy, who sat down without acknowledgement to the CJCS.
“My people have been analyzing the current situation and have concluded we could be in for a period of increased terrorist activity. What steps are you taking to prepare for this?”
There was a large, ancient clock on the wall opposite where the president sat, and Ortega noticed that only thirty seconds had gone by since Murphy entered the office — and already he wanted to toss the man out on his ear. It was not the president’s role to answer questions pointedly directed at him, at least when the cameras weren’t on. It was his job to ask the questions and demand answers. So he took a full five seconds before responding, sending a subliminal message that he would answer only questions he wanted to answer, and only when he damn well pleased.
“I’ve directed Admiral Hagar to set up a joint services response center to consolidate all our military defense assets and prepare for triage once the sun comes up. I’m sure we won’t have to wait long to see the aftereffects of the RDC attack.”
“That’s our belief, too,” Murphy condescended to say. “Have you opened a dialog with the various terrorist organizations to see if there is any way to reach an accommodation?”
“That I haven’t done,” Ortega said forcefully, emphasizing the “I” in the sentence. “We’re not about to be blackmailed by radicals when we don’t know the full extent of the crisis, or even who’s behind it.”
An aide handed Murphy a sheet of paper. “We believe the Arm of Allah is behind the RDC attack. Their leader, Abdul-Shahid Almasi, has the expertise with distant drone operations, and he’s very well connected with the other groups operating in the Middle East.”
“I know who Almasi is, Owen,” Ortega said. “And that’s what the CIA and others have also concluded. Yet so far we have no confirmation of his involvement. This attack was on a larger scale than anything before it, so even if Almasi’s group is behind it, they’ve brought in allies. It’s also apparent that the information needed to carry out the attack had to be acquired from inside the RDC.”
Murphy pursed his lips. “That’s our conclusion as well. A major security breach at the most significant national defense organization in the country. How could this have happened… Mr. President?”
Ortega pushed away from the desk and leaned back in his chair. He gave Murphy a thin smile. “They’ll be plenty of time to assign blame, Owen, but right now we have to gather our resources and prepare for what’s coming. The RDC was effective in shutting down ongoing events — as they call them. We — all of us — have to come up with an effective alternative to the RDC.” He looked to his chief of staff, Jack Monroe. “Jack, you’ve been looking into the economic impact of the situation. What can you tell us?”
Jack Monroe had given his notice a month ago and was scheduled to leave the administration the following week, a few days before Christmas, beginning an extended vacation. He was the longest serving member of Ortega’s team, having been with him his entire two terms. Earlier in the day he’d withdrawn his resignation letter. He would be with Ortega now until the bitter end.
“Prior to this, three malls had been hit by drone attacks in the last week, and already year-over-year sales were off fifteen percent in the brick-and-mortar stores. Online sales have been booming, however, so overall it was shaping up to be a pretty decent holiday season. The people I’ve spoken with this afternoon are taking a wait-and-see attitude, depending on what happens over the next few days. There’s only thirteen shopping days left before Christmas, which is the time when most transactions take place. Pressing the experts for a worst-case scenario if attacks on the malls pick up, they can see a fifty percent drop in sales as compared to last year.”
“Holy crap,” Ortega said. “What will that do to the rest of the economy?”
“Just as you suspect, Mr. President,” Monroe said. “All sectors will be impacted — retail, financial… all of it. Then the ripple effect it would have around the world would be catastrophic.”
“We can’t let that happen, Monroe,” Owen Murphy said, as if the Chief of Staff had some control over what the terrorists might or might not do. “This makes it imperative that we make contact with Almasi and his backers. It’s not a matter of whether this is blackmail or not, it’s a matter of economic survival. He wants something, and anything he wants is better than the alternative.”
Ortega glared at the president-elect. “You’re advocating premature capitulation, even before we have a chance to react?”
“We may not get a chance to react,” Murphy countered. “Even if the attacks are not as prevalent, or we can counter some of them, it’s the psychological effect this will have on the population that matters. If they’re scared, they won’t shop, and then everything goes to hell in a handbasket.”
All eyes were on Ortega, as he remained quiet for several moments after Murphy’s comment. Then he calmly leaned forward again and placed his elbows on the desk. “Admiral, please go and begin the coordination of all military resources for a response to the anticipated attacks coming our way. Morgan,” he said, addressing the head of Homeland Security, “begin making preparations for FEMA’s response to catastrophic events, and get with the CIA and FBI to determine if we can locate the head of the serpent behind all this. Jack and I will see if there is a political solution, following the very sage advice offered by Governor Murphy. We will look at all options — nothing will be off the table. Jack, see to it that the governor and his staff are given accommodations within the White House for the duration of—”
“That won’t be necessary, Mr. President.”
“I insist, Owen. I want you by my side throughout all of this, and free to offer any suggestions you deem appropriate. Now, it’s getting late. Let’s break for now and meet back up at ten in the morning, unless circumstances dictate otherwise. That will be all.”
Both the president and president-elect remained in their chairs, smiling thinly at each other, until all the others had left the room.
“Well played, Rene,” Murphy stated once they were alone.
“I wish we could put party aside and just work together for a solution,” Ortega replied.
“Party has nothing to do with this,” said Murphy. “The quickest way to head off the coming disaster is to give Almasi what he wants. It doesn’t have to go public.”
“Then we’d set a precedent.”
“What precedent? That was done long ago, with hostage swaps and nuclear treaties. The old Reagan Doctrine of not negotiating with terrorists is a thing of the past. Now all that matters is saving American lives.”