"Good options. Positive ones."
"I thought you meant military ones," the JCS chair said.
"Every time I send troops somewhere, my polls drop."
"We have to retaliate in kind," the secretary of defense said firmly. "American prestige is at stake."
"Damn."
"Look, the French have bombed Euro Beasley. Now they have it surrounded. We have one of two responses in kind available to us."
"I'm listening."
"One, we liberate Euro Beasley by inserting the Eighty-second Airborne. They'll hold it against further French incursions, wire it up good, slip out under cover of darkness and blow it to smithereens."
"Blow up Euro Beasley?"
"Mr. President, we can't let the French just march up and grab a symbol of American culture and prestige. And we can't exactly dismantle it and ship it back to the good ole U S.A. in crates."
"What's option two?" the President asked.
"Option two is to retaliate in kind. They hit an American theme park. We hit a French theme park." The chair-laid a map of greater Paris on the long conference table. "Here we have Paris. And this red spot thirty-two kilometers east is Euro Beasley."
"Right...."
"This is Parc Asterix. It's twenty-five kilometers north of Paris and both logistically and symbolically, it's a natural."
"How so?"
"It's based on some sissy French comic-strip character, so it has parity with Euro Beasley as a military target. You know, they hit Mongo, we clobber Asterix."
"What is the other red spot?"
"France Miniature. It's a theme park where the entire country is laid out in miniature. You can ride through it in a matter of an hour. Sort of a Lilliput kind of deal, I guess."
"Wouldn't that be a more logical target? It's more French."
"True. But it's an awfully small target. Hard to hit. The goddamn city of Paris they got there is no bigger than this room. Our satellites had a heck of a time getting a fix on the tiny Eiffel Tower, which we'd naturally designate ground zero."
The President rubbed his bulbous nose in indecision. "I don't like the idea of hitting a comic-strip-character park. It seems antibusiness and might turn the next generation of French children against us."
"It's tit for tat, sir."
"If it's tit for tat, shouldn't we strike a French theme park on American soil?"
The Joint Chiefs of Staff sat stunned for several ticks of the clock. They exchanged uncertain glances.
"Er, Mr. President," the defense secretary said, "the Pentagon has no intelligence on any French theme parks on US. soil."
"I don't think there are any," added the nationalsecurity adviser, reaching for his briefcase. Everyone reached for their briefcases and began digging through briefing papers and intelligence abstracts.
The President turned to the director of the Central Intelligence Agency, who had thus far sat through the meeting with his mouth shut and his hands folded.
"What do our ground assets in Paris tell us?" he asked.
"Nothing," the CIA director said morosely. "I regret to inform the President that they were rounded up the first day by the DGSE."
"Their covers were blown the first day of the crisis!"
"We have reason to believe their covers were blown the day they hit Paris."
The President looked his disbelief.
"I know how this looks, sir," the CIA director said helplessly. "But you have to understand, it's an exceedingly difficult language to learn. We drill and drill our people, but when they get into the field, they stumble over the words something fierce. Even the simple words. Like yes. It's pronounced 'we,' but there's no w. It's all goddamn vowels, not one of them an e. "
The President said bitterly, "Obviously we've got another no-win Somalia-style situation on our hands."
"The Somalis speak French, too," the CIA, director volunteered hopefully.
"Do you have any helpful suggestions?" asked the President.
"I have a scenario for introducing Valium into the French drinking-water supply."
"What good will that do?"
"Our people think if we can get the French calmed down, they might get off their high horses-or at least enunciate more slowly, thus putting our agents on a level playing field with their agents, linguistically speaking-"
Everyone stared at the CIA director until the defense secretary said, "Got any Valium on you?"
"In my briefcase."
"Now would be an opportune time to indulge yourself."
While the CIA chief began rooting around, all eyes fell upon the President of the United Stated expectantly.
"I have the Vice President trying to reach the Beasley people on the net. Maybe they can shed some light on this."
"Shouldn't we explore all options?" the JCS chair pleaded.
"We are exploring all options. I have to be able to justify any military action I take to both the American people and the citizens of France. I can't justify tit for tat."
"Did I hear the word 'tit'?" a stern female voice called from the open door.
"Oh, hi dear," said the President sheepishly.
"Mrs. President," said the JCS chair.
"Don't call her that," the President whispered urgently.
"What have I told you uniforms about using sexist language in my house?" the First Lady snapped.
"Sorry, ma'am," mumbled the defense secretary.
"It was just an expression," added the national security adviser.
"Yes, tit for tat."
The First Lady gave them all the benefit of her laser blue eyes. "How would you like it if the expression was 'dick for dock'?"
The JCS chairman looked away and played with his fingers. The President turned red. The CIA director popped his Valium.
"From now on, say 'an eye for an eye' or 'a tooth for a tooth.' Is that clear?"
"Yes, ma'am," the Joint Chiefs chairman and the President of the United States said in little-boy voices.
"At ease, boys," said the First Lady, coming over to her husband's end of the conference table and laying before him a single sheet of fanfold computer paper.
"This just came off the net," she whispered, glaring at the director of the CIA, who was trying to sneak a peak at the paper.
TAKE NO ACTION ON BEASLEY MATTER. AGENT'S EN ROUTE. WILL REPORT AS DEVELOPMENTS WARRANT.
smith@cure.com
"We're adjourned," said the President of the United States, crumpling up the paper.
"What about our retaliatory response?" asked the secretary of defense.
"Our retaliatory response," said the President, "is about to hit the French the way that comet struck Jupiter."
The Joint Chiefs of Staff looked at one another with blank, vaguely fearful expression.
"But, Mr. President, we are your retaliatory response."
"Not for real situations," said the President, exiting the Situation Room with his wife.
Before the door slammed, the First Lady turned and showed the Joint Chiefs of Staff how pink her tongue was.
Chapter 20
The first Euro Beasley sign they came to had a black X spray-painted over it. The second was desecrated by the slash-in-a-circle international symbol for no. The third had a non! scrawled over it.
"I think this is the way," Remo remarked dryly.
Remo recognized the exit off Route A301 that led to Euro Beasley because the sign, which was shaped like Mongo Mouse's head, was completely blacked out with paint.
He slid off the road, and the blue-and-cream Norman battlements of the Enchanted Village came into view.
Sleek helicopters buzzed its ramparts. A ring of desert camouflage AMX 30bis main battle tanks and APCs ringed the theme park.
"These guys look serious," said Remo.
They came upon a roadblock. Remo eased the car to a slow stop and stuck his head out the place where the window would have been had he not kicked the door off.
"Hey! Mind rolling aside for a couple of tourists?"