A Time for Patriots (19 page)

“But there will always be whack-jobs and extremists who see the continued unemployment and the disparities between the haves and the have-nots and conclude that government isn't working and they need to take the law into their own hands,” Ann went on. “You can't reason with them or try to understand them, and you certainly can't look at their murderous actions and blame yourself. The only thing you can do is use every resource at your command to stop them.”

She went over to Phoenix and softly put a hand on his shoulder—an unexpectedly gentle gesture, Phoenix immediately thought suspiciously. As if verifying his doubts, she then said sharply, “So snap out of this funk, Ken. I know you well enough to know this is unlike you. I know as former attorney general that you're close to law enforcement in general and the FBI in particular, but you can't let those cops' deaths keep you from forgetting to
lead
. I don't want to see you wallowing in self-pity, Mr. President—I want to see you
act
.”

He looked directly into her eyes and recognized exactly how serious she was, then nodded and said, “Sometimes I regret giving you permission to always respond openly, honestly, and directly to me, Ann . . . but this is not one of those times.” She slapped him on the side of the shoulder, pleased with his response and with the return of his positive attitude. Phoenix returned to his desk. “We need to give the FBI all the resources they need,” he said. “If Fuller's got hundreds of extremist groups spread out over the West, he's going to need unmanned aircraft, surveillance equipment, sensor operators . . . all the stuff we were using in Iraq to monitor the borders.”

“I'm sure the Air Force and Army would love to assist the FBI,” Ann said. “I'll call a meeting and get it set up.”

“I remember that defense contractor Dr. Jon Masters had the equipment to be able to provide precise surveillance of several hundred thousand square miles of varying terrain in Iraq from one aircraft,” Phoenix said. “Find out if he can assist. I'm not sure if there's any money in the budget to pay him anything, but maybe he'd be willing to make a donation.” Ann smiled, nodded, and made notes to herself on her PDA. While she did this, the president's attention was drawn back to his computer monitors, one of which was still playing a replay of the Cybernetic Infantry Devices' incredible activities at the crash site in Reno.

“Ann, I need you to contact the Justice Department and the solicitor general and get a ruling on something,” Phoenix said.

“Regarding what, Mr. President?” When he didn't reply right away, Ann turned toward him, then followed his gaze to the computer monitors. “The robots? What about them?”

“I know they've been in action in the Middle East and Africa, but do you remember the last time they were used inside the United States?”

“Of course I do: San Diego, during the implementation of the guest-worker identification program. They were afraid of mass riots and violence on both sides of the border against the Nanotransponder Identification System, so the robots were deployed around the city.”

“And?”

“It was a
nightmare
, that's what,” Ann said. “People were more afraid of the robots than of the rioters.” She paused in thought, then said, “I'm not sure if the president issued an executive order banning their use within the United States, but I remember the hue and cry against them was pretty intense after that. Why?”

“The FBI needs help in taking on these extremist groups,” Phoenix said. “The FBI's budget has been cut by fifty percent, just like everyone else's budget, and that Knights group seems much more heavily armed and just as connected as the FBI. Maybe it's time for the FBI to get some additional firepower. Why stop at UAVs and sensors?”

“Give the
robots
to the FBI?” Ann asked incredulously. She thought about it, her expression seeming to indicate a firm rejection of the idea . . . and then after a few moments, she nodded. “Send them out west, into more isolated parts of Northern California and Nevada . . .”

“If they go into the cities, they can do humanitarian assistance stuff like they're doing on TV,” Phoenix said. “I think most folks like to watch those things searching that building—I know I can't stop watching that replay. I'm so amazed that one robot got up out of that wreckage and walked away as easily as if he had jumped into a haystack. But we keep them operating in the countryside, far from population centers, unless they're needed. They have excellent speed and maneuverability.”

“But no weapons,” Ann said. “I think the thing that freaked people out most in that San Diego deployment were those weapon packs they wore—once people realized they were carrying enough machine guns and missile launchers to take on a squadron of tanks, they were scared. The FBI has plenty of firepower—the robots can be their equalizers.”

Phoenix wore a pained expression. “I hate tying their hands, Ann,” he said after a moment's consideration. “I think it would best left as a judgment call by the task force commander. If he's faced with threats like advanced weapons or dirty bombs, the robots should be armed appropriately.”

“That might be a hard sell to Congress or the American people,” Ann observed. “But after the attack in Reno, maybe they'll be open to giving the FBI and Homeland Security more gadgets.”

“Agreed. I think the robots would have a much smaller footprint than the Army or Air Force.”

“I'll put together a proposal and send it up to the leadership in Congress,” Ann said. “Of course, they'll tweak it to make it sound like
their
idea.”

“Fine with me.”

“Speaking of Reno and reopening the airspace: Director Fuller passed on an interesting tidbit of information to me,” Ann said with a sly smile. “There was an airspace violation east of Reno the morning after the attack.”

“There
was
?” the president asked incredulously. “Does he think it was connected to the attack in Reno?”

“No, although they are still investigating,” Ann said. “But guess who was involved?” Phoenix shook his head—he knew Ann Page hated guessing games, and now that she was indulging in one with him, it got his attention. “Patrick McLanahan.”

“
Patrick?
You're
kidding
! What in hell happened?”

“Apparently our friend is a pilot in the Civil Air Patrol out of Battle Mountain, Nevada, and he was involved in a search for a missing plane when the attack in Reno occurred,” Ann explained. “Patrick's son is also a member, and he was actually part of the ground team that found the missing plane and rescued a passenger. It was all over the national news this morning.”

“Unbelievable! Good for little Bradley—although I'll bet he's not so little anymore. But how did Patrick violate the airspace?”

“The owner of the land where the rescue took place flew the survivor to the hospital, and afterward they were cruising around the local area close to the military air base out there.”

“That doesn't sound like something Patrick would do.”

“It wasn't. The pilot of the helicopter is a big-time mucky-muck rancher that I guess owns half of Nevada.”

“Doesn't matter. Homeland Security and maybe even the Justice Department should put the fear of God into that guy.”

“Fuller said they tried, but the rancher has more friends in high places than Billy Graham,” Ann said. “He said even Attorney General Caffery got a call. Fuller said that because they were involved in a Civil Air Patrol rescue, everyone decided to back off, but they're continuing their investigation deep in the background.”

Phoenix nodded, then shook his head in amusement. “I thought Patrick would just retire and take it easy out there,” he said. “I should have known he'd be doing
something
, keeping his hand in the flying game. He'll never change.”

“I could sure use him here in Washington, sir,” Ann said. “He's the only guy still advocating for the Space Defense Force, and there's that rumor of a bill before Congress to ramp up defense spending again.”

“Do that,” the president said. “If he's working for living expenses only out in Nevada, I'm sure he'd be willing to do the same in Washington. Besides, Battle Mountain is closing next year, if I'm not mistaken—they're moving everything to Fallon Naval Air Station.”

“Is that . . . situation of his still an issue?” Ann asked.

“Unfortunately, yes, and it'll probably stay like that until President Truznyev of Russia is out of office,” the president said. Patrick McLanahan was the head of a secret nongovernmental military operation that had attacked Russian commando and space operation forces in Africa and the Middle East, and since then the Central Intelligence Agency and Federal Bureau of Investigation counterespionage units had intercepted hit squads, supposedly sent by Truznyev, that were intent on assassinating him. “CIA and FBI still say they can spot a hit squad easier if he's isolated rather than in Washington.”

“Maybe so, but I'd like him back in Washington,” the president said. “We can protect him. I just wish we could pay him what he's worth, but there's just no money in the budget.”

“I'll find a place for him, sir,” Ann said. “He'll probably want to stay until Bradley graduates from high school, so next summer.”

“Put him to work in the meantime. I want a ten-year plan for space forces and long-range strike ready by the time this economy turns around, and he's the guy I want to work on them.”

“Will do.” She looked at the president, studying him carefully, then said, “I admire you for sticking to this severe austerity plan, Mr. President. But to be totally honest with you, sir, it looks like the pressure is grinding on you. Are you sleeping at all?”

“A few hours a night is all I've ever needed, ever since my years in the Corps,” Phoenix said.

“Try not to let the pressure get to you, sir,” Ann said. “The programs you put in place
are
working. Unemployment is still high, but it's going down. There's talk that Moody's will restore the U.S.'s triple-A credit rating soon, and the balance-of-trade numbers look very good.”

“That's because the dollar is as low as it's ever been in history, commodities are dirt cheap, and no one is buying anything from China and Russia as long as they're continuing their military buildup,” the president said. He waved a hand at his vice president. “I know our plan will work, Ann, and I know the folks expect results unreasonably fast. But I see all the suffering out there, and I think if I just loosen the purse strings a little more, I can alleviate some of it. Reduce the cuts we made in Medicare and Social Security by a few percentage points; raise the income level of Medicaid applicants by a little bit; give the states a few more dollars to hire a few more cops and teachers—”

“And we both know what will happen then, sir: they'll scream for more, we'll be forced to borrow and print more money, and the downward spiral will happen all over again,” Ann said. “We're moving in the right direction, sir. There's hardship now, but your plans will help everyone in the long run. We need to stay the course.”

“Even if we create more of these Knights of the True Republic extremist groups?”

“I would say that the recession helped to create the conditions for these extremists to grow, yes, sir,” Ann said, “but they already existed and will always exist, whether we're in prosperity or recession. We need to show the American people that we're not going to tolerate extremism in any form, for whatever reason. I'll get busy right now, draft the legislative proposal for the Army, Air Force, and Sky Masters law enforcement assistance package in the next day or two, we'll go over it, and I'll take it to the congressional leadership right away. So soon after the attack in Reno, I don't think we'll get very much opposition, even from Gardner and his sycophants.”

“Joseph Gardner,” Phoenix said with an exasperated sigh. “Whatever happened to the rule that former presidents aren't allowed to criticize the current president?”

“That went out with compact discs and free television, Mr. President,” Ann said with a wry smile. She turned serious; the smile disappeared, and she then said, “What we're going to propose is a major counterterrorist offensive against fellow American citizens, sir. We're talking about sending American-manned robots and unmanned aircraft against our own.”

“I know that, Ann—”

“I just want to be clear, sir,” Ann Page interjected. “We have to stay tough and united on this. It's not going to be popular, not in the
least
. We're laying ourselves open to a lot of criticism—some of it legitimate—that we're creating a state in which the military is used to control and monitor the public. That's not going to sit well with a lot of folks. But in order to guard against more Renos happening, I believe it has to be done.” She paused, looking carefully into Phoenix's eyes, then added, “If you don't believe that is true, Mr. President, you should say so now, and tell me to knock it off. We'll quash this, and think of something else to do.”

“Frankly, Ann,” Phoenix said, after several long moments of thought, “I'm not comfortable with this.”

Ann Page's shoulders slumped disappointedly, but moments later she straightened them and said, “Fine, sir. So let's—”

“No, I'm not saying we
shouldn't
do this,” Phoenix said. “I don't like it, but I want to shut down the violent extremist groups, and do it
now
. I'm going to hunt those bastards down with all the tools at my disposal—even the military. Draft that legislative proposal and let's get on it right away . . . before those other stolen radioactive casks end up inside another federal building.”