“Who they were,” the President mumbled.
“Mr. President, your predecessors felt the same. Each soldier’s death is a tragedy, but we persevere, because if we don’t….”
The President sat up straighter. “You are correct. You’ve done the nation a great service over the years and I trust you to resolve this. What are the next steps?”
It was good to see the young man stepping up, learning to lead. The public may not see it, but the President cared deeply for his country, just as his predecessors before him. “We need to know who we are dealing with,” Smith said. “This is beyond a terrorist group.”
“The Russians?” the President asked.
“I don’t believe so.”
“North Korea?”
“Sir, all avenues are being explored. I promise you, we will find out who did this. We must.”
“Of course,” the President said. “Tell me what I can do.”
This was the part Smith dreaded. He looked into the President’s brown eyes, worried about his reaction. “I need you to play dumb.”
“You must be joking.”
Smith shook his head. “When you give your briefing, say little. Deflect. Other world leaders will be releasing statements. Make yours as vague as possible.”
“People already think I’m incompetent,” the President said, placing his hands on the table. “This will only confirm their worst fears.” He stood quickly, almost knocking over his chair, and began pacing the small room. “I don’t want to play dumb. I want to act.”
“You will be acting, just behind the scenes. Let us do our jobs so you can do yours.”
The President stood, glaring, then finally said, “Of course. It doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
Smith watched a range of emotions play across the President’s face. Sadness, anger, then determined resignation. “Mr. President? Many men have felt what you’re feeling. Each of them wanted to take direct action but were forced to play their part.”
And, like that, the President deflated. “You know the surprising thing about this job? How little I actually seem to accomplish.”
“Believe me, Mr. President, I understand. Now, I had best be on my way.” He stood, metal briefcase in hand, and walked toward the door. He removed his badge, waved it over the card reader, and waited for the heavy steel door to slowly rumble open. Before he left, he turned back to the President. “Sir? Go upstairs. Spend time with your wife and daughters. Remain mum during your briefing. We will find who did this.”
The President nodded slowly. “Thank you, Mr. Smith.
Smith exited through the concrete tunnel system and made his way to his car. He got in, placing the briefcase on the seat next to him, then gave Robert his destination and sank back into the leather seat. Robert navigated south through the busy Washington traffic until pulling over on Constitution Avenue and parking close to the curb. “I’ll be back in an hour, Robert.”
“You want me to stay?”
“No. Get something to eat. A cup of coffee. Take your time.”
Robert drove off while he strolled southwest, past the Vietnam Veterans memorial. The September air was almost too warm for comfort, and he worked up a sweat that threatened to soak through his suit.
His mind wandered back to time spent working with William Wise. Bill had been a boon to the OTM. With Bill and Hobert’s help, they managed to clear the CIA’s involvement in several misguided operations.
He chuckled bitterly. The operations were often more sordid than misguided.
The OTM had the President’s ear during the sixties, but so did other agencies and no matter how many risk assessments he presented, the President continued to allow the CIA to operate in the Asian theater. It proved unwise. The CIA did as much damage as the enemy.
He rounded the turnabout and headed east. The enemy he fought so many years before waited at the edge of the reflecting pool, glaring at the tourists near the Lincoln Memorial.
When he was close, Vasilii greeted him with a small shrug. “I like this man, Lincoln. I read books about him. He fought hard to preserve your country, only to be shot by his own countryman. He had Russian spirit, I think, but if he had been more Russian, perhaps he would have crushed rebellion sooner and lived.”
Smith smiled, and waited for Vasilii to fall in next to him. They walked leisurely next to the reflecting pool, passing families taking in the awe of the National Mall.
He couldn’t help but notice the dried grass and dirt. There were too many visitors. The grounds-crew were unable to keep the Mall clean and maintained. It was symptomatic of the government itself, grown massive and slovenly, unable to repair the infrastructure.
He thanked his lucky stars that the budget didn’t currently fall within his purview, but if conditions didn’t improve, it would soon become a source of national security.
Perhaps Eric will take up that challenge.
Vasilii broke his reverie. “This thing that happened. It gives me headache.”
He turned to the old Russian. “Probably a sign of advancing age.”
Vasilii grunted. “I may be old….”
“We’re both old,” Smith admitted. “Doesn’t it worry you? Our work might be undone.”
“Has nothing to do with us,” Vasilii said. “I would never condone that.”
“You speak for everyone?”
Vasilii turned and stared across the dirty brown water in the reflecting pool. “I poked angry bear and angry bear knows nothing. Was not us.”
For all their rivalry over the years, their effort to eliminate the nuclear threat brokered the most common ground. They had risked everything, including their lives, to ensure a nuclear war never occurred. “I’m at a loss, my friend.”
“Chatter is running high. Lots of theories. Very few facts. We will deny. Your President will talk tough. People will be afraid. Every action has reaction. This is setback. I cannot stop what will happen, but I will try,” the old man waggled his fingers, “to restrain them.”
Smith understood. The Russians had their own terrorist threats. They would use the bomb as an excuse to go after them. They would also dust off their war plans, perhaps reset the dial on non-proliferation.
The American politicians would see this and wonder how much of it was due to Russian influence. The President couldn’t control Congress. Hard-liners would talk of missile shields, pushing for an expansion of NATO.
The Russians would balk, rejecting any calls for a missile shield, especially if it approached their borders. Already nervous at Western encroachment, they would feel claustrophobic, caught between the United States and NATO on one border and China on the other.
They walked quietly along the Mall, stopping when a harried mother brushed past them, calling after her child, a boy of three or four running down the Mall. They watched in silence as the mother caught the boy’s shirt, dragging him back to safety, yelling at him to stay close. The boy’s father caught up and sternly told the boy to never do that again. The boy cried, sniffling and wheezing, and the father picked the boy up and gave him a reassuring hug. The family walked off, soon lost among the crowd.