Working his way closer around the big table, he caught a “…very high confidence, sir.” over the humming voices. The president whispered something about wanting to see a “target package” and then spun around suddenly.
“Yes, I heard you, Steve, but our course of action has been set by the rebels’ other provocations.” The FBI director raised an eyebrow at the R-word. While it was bantered about by some news organizations, this was the first time he heard that dangerous label from any official source.
“Sir, I understand your frustration, but please be careful with such catchphrases. They can influence your staff’s thinking and have a habit of becoming policy.”
“It’s a simple statement of fact. I’m afraid I don’t have the time now to give you a rundown. Watch the speech tonight. That will clarify everything.”
The nation’s senior cop used up every last ounce of his patience to keep from screaming. “Sir! With all due respect, when is the chief law enforcement officer in America left out of the loop on a matter of so-called terrorism?”
One of the new generals answered while the president tried to form a diplomatic response.
“When it’s a military matter. We’ll let you know if we need anything.”
While the president avoided eye contact with anyone, some Secret Service agent rested a firm hand on the FBI chief’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry sir, but you’ll have to leave now. We’re about to start a classified briefing. Essential personnel only.”
Tampa, Florida
Ever since the genius politicians closed the border, the state of Florida was on a war footing. There was an armed man behind every Palm tree. That paranoia grew as much from internal threats as from fear of Washington’s response. According to the opinion polls, ¾ of the population supported the acting governor and Senator Dimone. So many people so fired up, it was a classic case of the tail wagging the dog.
Of course, in a state of 19 million people, that left millions of potential agitators. Within their own borders existed an enemy far more numerous than the combined Federal Armed Forces.
You also had to reckon with the Floridians’ love of lawlessness just for the fun of it. For every IRS office burnt or ransacked during the first few days of heady “freedom,” a local county tax collector’s office went the same way.
Still, like most things in Florida, it was only for show. The “closed border” was one of the most active in the world. By conservative estimates, a quarter million people crossed every day. Mostly headed north to get out of the way of the oncoming storm, but a surprisingly large number coming south looking for trouble.
Another crumbling aspect of the facade were the local politicians that weren’t on board with the program. Especially from communities that benefited heavily from federal spending. For the most part, Tallahassee followed the time-honored political strategy of just ignoring them. This whole stunt was supposed to be for the cameras anyway. Any attempt to punish the local holdouts would give the enemies of Florida, naturally defined as Senator Dimone’s political opponents, proof that they weren’t such a united front.
In this game of high-stakes chicken, a war of explosive bluffs and rapid-fire sound bites, the slightest perception of weakness was a battle lost. In retrospect, this same facade of steely resolve scared so much of the country and guaranteed a heavy-handed response. Like so many accidents, it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Just act invincible a little while longer. Keep consolidating your base support while the other guy’s split. An old strategy, but effective. Dimone and his team saw the president’s extreme blustering as desperation. The more they provoked him, the more rope he had to hang himself. Of course, the harder they pushed, the more his actions appeared justified. Welcome to the surreal world of American politics.
Acting Governor Pickens fanned himself while he waited outside the convention center for the conference to start. This Council of Governors meeting here in Tampa should have been the centerpiece of the grand theater. They weren’t off to a great start. The name itself was a misnomer. Only a handful of governors came themselves and not even every state bothered to send a representative. No matter. None of the organizers were getting bogged down in such technicalities.
Dimone’s handlers kept their eyes on the big picture. On all that mattered: how the show looked on television. The décor, the pageantry, a few celebrities, the marching band and the laser light show were all so over the top as to make Kim Jong-un look humble.
This desperate gamble was the biggest sign for Governor Pickens, head honcho after his old boss finally passed away and the lieutenant governor resigned overseas, that maybe he wasn’t backing the winning horse after all. The president’s donors definitely had deeper pockets and weren’t shy about reaching in.
The other side’s advertising blitz numbed the mind. Those Washington elites didn’t bother spending marketing money in Florida; why compete with Dimone’s money in a state that was already lost? Instead, they showered the swing states in their cash. It was working, too. While Florida grew more radical, the polls everywhere that mattered swung slowly but steadily in the president’s favor.
Pickens shot the excited reporters another million-dollar smile. No, it wasn’t that bad. If they could flip just a few sympathetic governors, the president’s hold on power would collapse. Only a mass movement, or something perceived as popular, could rattle the Administration’s power tree. One rough shake and the president and all his cohorts would come tumbling out of their clubhouse.
Conversely, Dimone stood on the ground with no real tree of his own. This get together was the best and maybe last chance to show the legitimacy the senator’s campaign so badly needed. It also couldn’t hurt Pickens own standing. The acting governor didn’t try to suppress his self-satisfied smile as he counted all the network cameras crowded around the convention center’s entrance. The senator and company liked to treat the governor as a useful fool. Well, who outmaneuvered whom tonight?
Senator Dimone was going to be the last to arrive at his own party. What a smooth move from Pickens to convince Dimone’s PR team, at the last second, to slip the governors of California and Washington into the senator’s motorcade instead of the boss. Those two were by far the most famous and prestigious guests. Their presence ensured instant and major media obsession. Riding in Dimone’s limousine, they would draw the network attention first, helping to bolster the senator’s national leader credentials. They were truly the opening act for his grand entrance.
The key detail Pickens left out was who, of all people, would be the smiling face welcoming them to the Freedom Convention? While the senator rode along behind them in an unmarked SUV, just a little too late for the big show. Pickens beamed harder and fiddled with his American flag lapel as the motorcade drew within sight.
A quick whoosh drowned out the humming crowd. Pickens did briefly see the missile’s flaming tail, though his mind wouldn’t register the fact until he dreamed about that night in agonizing detail. After the black cloud cleared, the strike’s precision was impressive. The laser-guided death ripped Dimone’s limousine into two twisted pieces and left a small crater in the road…but caused zero collateral damage. No physical collateral damage, at least. The fallout from the cameras streaming raw footage of the assassination of two popular state governors worldwide was a different story.