The man shrugged. ‘But this is how we are going to beat them,’ he replied. ‘We are going to keep our vehicles rolling. Our ammunition loads full. Our mobile troops will fight three, four, five engagements in one day. The Chinese may fight only once or twice per week. We open their lines, and we will pour through it at sixty kilometers per hour.’
‘Can you show me when and where on the map?’
‘If you want maps and pins, Ms Dunn, you should be down with the divisions. Better yet the brigades. We provide heavy weapons and air support. But our job is mainly to build up and move stores.’ He shrugged.
Woody flashed a goofy smile. They headed back to their cavernous quarters. Kate looked at her notes. Their coverage was dry as dust. A lot of headquarters shots. The same thing over and over. They rarely got air time. Woody lit another joint in the bathroom. He sat on the toilet with the door open. ‘They don’t air interviews about building log roads. They get pictures of it! And what do we have tomorrow?’ She tapped her pad. ‘Tagging boxes with bar codes!’
From the bathroom came a loud sucking sound. ‘We could use that stuff from the officers’ club.’
‘What?’
‘Yeah. It kinda reminded me of that scene in Star Wars. You know. From that bar with all the aliens. Everybody speaking different languages.’
‘That’s a great idea, Woody! Just great! I think blazing battlefields and rows of attackers are a bit derivative by this point! We could do a two-hour documentary on how people relaxed from all the stresses. Maybe viewers are ready for the entertainment side of the largest offensive since World War Two!’
Woody didn’t respond. After a moment, the hissing sound again filled the room.
Kate threw her pen to the pad. The most dramatic footage they’d shot was of the quiet perimeter thirty miles out. The defenses were so well-manned that the Chinese hadn’t challenged them since the early days of the war. There were combat flights lifting off at the airbase. But how many night afterburner shots can you use?
Woody emerged from the bathroom. He sat at the desk beside Kate. ‘Go see Clark. Tell him you need to get up to the front. Work your magic on the guy. He’s already gotten out of this what he wanted.’
‘And what was that?’
‘How many stories have we done about outnumbered defenders?’ Kate didn’t answer. ‘And how many have we done about the counter-attack we know is coming?’
‘Yeah, but…’ she began. Woody shrugged. Kate grew incensed. Humiliated. She tried to force out a laugh, without much success. ‘And I suppose you’ve thought this all along? He shrugged again. ‘All right!’ She rose and nodded. ‘Okay!’ She headed for the door.
‘Come in!’ Clark said from his desk.
‘It’s a Ms Dunn,’ the NCO announced from the doorway to his office. ‘She’s with NBC News.’
‘I know who she is.’ Clark covered some of the paper on his desk. ‘Bring her in.’ He rose.
‘General Clark,’ Kate said the moment she entered. ‘I have a proposition to put to you.’
‘Won’t you have a seat?’
She hesitated, then said, ‘No, thank you. I’d like to stand.’ Clark sank into his chair. She began to pace. ‘Here’s my problem. I’ve gotten some great background stories. I can truly say that I now appreciate just how dedicated all the people you’ve got working for you are. And the perspective I’ve gotten from Khabarovsk…! Well! It gives me an excellent understanding of all the behind-the-scenes work that goes into running an army.’
‘I’m glad you came by,’ Clark interrupted. ‘I’ve seen all your reports. You’ve done an admirable job. You’ve kept your part of the bargain. But I was going to ask if you’d be interested in getting some shots of the action? Being there when the balloon goes up. Maybe follow some of the lead elements in the counter-attack. Meeting the men and women at the sharp end of the stick. What do you think?’
‘Well… That’s a great idea! Thanks! Yes! I think I’ll take you up on it’
Clark nodded. ‘Okay.’ She grinned. ‘Get your things packed. It’s time.’ The grin faded.
PART IV
‘The micro-social laws control the individual They define human interaction on the small scale. They tend to restrain, to inhibit, to control The macro-social laws control the masses. They define human interaction on the large scale. They tend to liberate, to unchain, to unleash. The same person who would cry at the pathetic sight of a wounded animal might chant loudly for war, for death, for the indiscriminate destruction of men, women and children by bomb and by bullet. Civilization has tamed the individual But in the collective heart of the mob there courses the blood of primitive man. Both the micro- and macro-social laws must be understood for the effective manipulation-of human beings.’
Chapter Twenty
The steps of the portico were filled with people as Gordon’s wheelchair was lowered to the drive. They all applauded politely, which did little to drown out the jeers and bullhorns of protesters in Lafayette Park. Cameras rolled as the orderly wheeled Gordon up the green ramp. Elaine followed and smiled, followed and smiled.
Still more staffers lined the halls of the White House. Although his family was now comfortably ensconced in the ornate mansion, it was Gordon’s first visit to his new home.
‘Welcome back, sir,’ aides called out — aides whom Gordon had never met.
‘Give ’em hell!’ someone shouted — a line that drew nervous laughter from all around.
Slowly, the crowds thinned until the only people lining the corridor were mute, pinch-lipped Secret Service agents. Daryl waited beside Gordon’s desk in the Oval Office.
Gordon had grown somewhat accustomed to making the executive decisions called for by the presidency. But he was totally unprepared to enter the Oval Office. His now familiar national security staff mouthed words of welcome as he was rolled up to the beautiful desk. Gordon grew flushed — overwhelmed by emotion.
For the first time, he truly felt the awesome power which he had assumed. He laid his hands on the surface of the desk. All was neat and carefully arrayed. Pens, writing paper, a single file folder. He opened the drawer and was surprised to find paper clips, clamps and other office supplies. Gordon looked upon the desk as a museum piece, but it was obviously intended for real work.
For my work, he thought — awestruck.
‘Let’s reconvene this meeting later on,’ Daryl said after an extended survey of Gordon’s face. ‘Say half an hour.’ He herded the group out of the office. When the door was closed, Gordon was alone with Daryl and Elaine.
They exchanged inquisitive looks and then all broke out laughing.
‘Where’s my chair?’ Gordon asked with a grin.
‘I had them take it out,’ Elaine answered. ‘I figured until you get out of that wheelchair it’d be…’
‘No,’ Gordon replied, shaking his head. ‘Uh-uh. I want the chair.’
Daryl went to the phone. Within seconds a secretary rolled the padded desk chair up to the knee space. Daryl and Elaine helped ease Gordon onto the smooth leather.
Despite the discomfort he felt from the jostling, he sighed on contact with the soft upholstery. ‘Now, that’s more like it,’ he said. His eyes roamed the room in amazement. After the prolonged tour, they landed on the lone folder lying atop the desk. ‘Not exactly a crushing workload,’ Gordon said as he reached for the thin press-board file. Elaine and Daryl waited in silence.