Kamigami’s words were barely audible. “Does that mean kill them?”
The first shooter stood up, still struggling to control his emotions. “Yes, sir. Two bullets in each head.”
“And are there?” Sun shot back.
Kamigami examined the three mannequins. “There are,” he said. “Very good.” It was a rare compliment, and the men knew it. Kamigami paused for a moment. “Outside.” He led the way out of the building, to where Tel was waiting. “Please show Colonel Sun the message,” he said. Tel extracted the message from a shirt pocket and handed it over.
A slight flexing of Sun’s fingers betrayed what he was thinking as he read the message. Then he read it a second time. “Eight ‘terrorists’ in custody. Most interesting.”
“What do you think we should do about it?” Kamigami asked.
“Interview them,” Sun said.
“My thoughts exactly.” Kamigami suppressed a smile. Without doubt, Sun was the commander he needed.
Shaw stood in the doorway of the Green Room as the reporters took their seats for the Monday-morning press conference in the East Room. Normally they reminded him of a flock of magpies, talking and jabbering among themselves. But this time they sat quietly and studied their notes. “They’re loaded for bear,” he told Pontowski. “You just tag along behind the others and stand against the wall. I imagine them id-jits will figure you’re here for a reason, and that may distract them. The president wants you to say a few words when she announces your appointment. Keep it brief. The fewer words the better.” A voice spoke in his earphone telling him the president was ready. “Okay, you’re on,” he told the small group standing behind him.
Vice President Kennett led Serick and Merritt, along with General Wilding, out the door. Pontowski fell in behind and, as Shaw had directed, stood against the wall. In unison, the three TV cameras panned around to him but immediately swung back to focus on Madeline Turner as she walked down the main hall toward the East Room. As always, she entered alone, holding a slim leather folder in the crook of her left arm. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the press secretary intoned, “the President of the United States.” Everyone stood, and an eerie silence descended over the room.
Turner stepped up to the podium and opened the folder as the reporters shuffled back into their seats. “I want to thank you all for being so patient. I hope we can meet more frequently after this. Before I answer your questions, I do have an announcement. Central Command reports they have halted the enemy’s advance on a line approximately one hundred miles north of the Saudi capital of Riyadh. For now the fighting has all but stopped, and we have suffered only three wounded in the last twenty-four hours. How long this will last, I can’t say. But if I may quote a former president, ‘This aggression will not stand.’”
She lifted her head and looked directly into the cameras. “We have paid a horrendous price, and eighteen hundred and two of our valiant soldiers have given their lives in the cause of peace. We will not forget their sacrifice.” She nodded in the direction of the dean of the press corps.
“Madam President,” he asked, “it appears we are stalemated. Is this turning into a ‘phony war,’ and what happened to our European allies?”
“There is nothing ‘phony’ about this war, and we will go on the offensive. But it’s not going to happen in the next few days. When it does, the issue will not be in doubt. As to our allies, you are all aware that the debate in the United Nations has stagnated. But England is sending three squadrons of fighters and two regiments. They should be in place within a few days.”
Shaw retreated into the Green Room and stood in front of a bank of TVs watching the coverage. He listened carefully as Turner answered question after question, never once losing her way. When one reporter asked if it wasn’t all about oil, she fixed him with a steely look and cut him dead. “Only from their perspective.”
“Well done, Madam President,” Shaw said. He licked his lips in anticipation of what was coming. He didn’t have to wait long.
“Madam President,” the reporter from Japan News asked, “how serious are the riots and killings sweeping through Kuala Lumpur?”
“We view it as a very serious problem, but from all reports the authorities are gaining control. SEATO has asked for our help, and we are responding accordingly. To that end I am strengthening the presence of our Military Assistance Advisory Group in the area. Brigadier General Matthew Pontowski has agreed to head the mission.” She turned to Pontowski and gestured for him to come forward. The TV cameras zoomed in as he stepped to the podium. “General Pontowski,” Turner said, “has commanded advisory groups in the past in Asia and South Africa.” She stepped aside for him to speak.
“Thank you, Madam President. I do appreciate your trust in me and hope we can achieve what has been done in the past, namely, to help our allies so they can help themselves.” He stepped back.
In the Green Room, Shaw shook his head in admiration. “And I thought I knew how to spin it.”
“Madam President,” Liz Gordon from CNC-TV called. “Earlier today Senator Leland said our allies are not supporting the war in Saudi Arabia because of your leadership.”
Turner never missed a beat. “I hadn’t heard that. I have talked to Senator Leland, and we have disagreed on the conduct of the war. I can tell you this: I have set the broad objectives and trust our men and women in uniform to achieve them. Our military goal is simple — we will stop this aggression and drive the invaders back. We will hold them accountable in a way that is fair to those they have hurt and, yes, even to their own people. Of course, the good senator is entitled to his opinion, but I do hope he will work with us in a constructive way.”
In the Green Room, Shaw’s eyes narrowed into tight slits. “Leland, you make a damn good case for retroactive abortion.” He exhaled deeply. “Learn from the past or get bit in the ass.”
“This way, please,” the colonel said as he escorted Kamigami and Gus across the immaculate grounds of the Armed Forces Training Institute. Colonel Sun and Tel followed at a respectful distance. “We conduct most of our advanced professional military education here,” the colonel explained. He led the way into what looked like an armory. “We’re holding them in isolation.”
“Have they been interrogated?” Gus asked.
“Yes,” came the answer, “but we learned very little.”
“Do you know which one is the leader?” This from Kamigami. The colonel shook his head. “I need to see them together,” Kamigami said. “But bring them in one at a time. The order makes no difference. Keep them bagged.”
The colonel issued the necessary orders. “At this point,” he explained, “we’re not sure if they had anything to do with the riots in Kuala Lumpur.”
“We’ll soon know,” Kamigami said. His voice was so soft and low that it was barely audible. Guards brought in the eight suspected terrorists one at a time. Each one was handcuffed, with a canvas bag over his head. The moment one cleared the door, Kamigami grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him into a chair. “Don’t move,” he ordered in Cantonese. When all eight had been brought in and seated, he walked up to one and grabbed the canvas bag. He gave it a good shake and ripped it off. The man blinked in the bright light as Kamigami loomed over him. “Who is your leader?”
The man stared at Kamigami in defiance and said nothing. Kamigami hooked his rigid fingers under the man’s jaw and lifted him out of his seat. He banged the man’s head against the low ceiling before dropping him to the floor. He placed his right foot over the supine man’s Adam’s apple and started to bear down.