The Journalist (28 page)

The general laughed.

Novak smiled

The President stopped to poke at an anthill.
“Look at them little buggers run.” After a minute of poking around,
crushing some ants, he resumed the walk. “Anyway, what were you
saying, Leo?


“Our progress

”

“Oh, yes, this current thing,
progress

of course, this is more than we
could have hoped for. But, I

I hate all
the

the

you know,
doll-gone carnage.”

Mac puffed. “You gotta break some eggs to
make an omelette.”

Novak fluttered his eyelids at the hackneyed
expression.

Armstrong: “I know, Mac, but

the women and children

” A
small tear formed on the side of Armstrong’s bulbous red nose.

Novak knew when to come to the aid of the
President’s discomfort. “Mr. President, all great changes in
history have come at the expense of some human sacrifice. Since the
beginning of time it has been so. I would dare say early man shed a
little blood when they tried to decide who would pass the flame on
and to whom.”

“Yes, I know, I was

but I’m always distressed with the loss of human
life.”

Mac had a thought on the subject. “God knows,
many of your heroes spilled some blood–Saul, David, Sherman,
Patton, Bush–many people were sacrificed in the name of
righteousness.”

“Many were screwed, too,” Armstrong said.

Novak changed the subject. “Mr. President,
you were wonderful on TV yesterday. The stage is set in the
public’s mind. Tomorrow you will speak to the citizens of the
world.”

“You know those boys from the Hill are going
to be damn roasted about being out of town

their fall recess and all, you guys shutting down
everything, me not making this speech on the Hill.”

“That’s the plan,” Novak said.

“I know, but, doggone it, I was going to get
in a little hunting myself, down at the farm. But this
is

this has to be done. It’s just the
doll-gone timing. Why couldn’t we have done it on Columbus Day or
Martin Luther King Day? I just know some of those boys are going to
be upset about not being able to get back to DC.”

“They’re all giving sound bites to the media,
though, blabbing up a storm,” Mac said.

“Let ’em, might be their last chance,” Novak
said.

Armstrong chuckled. “Them boys over on the
Hill sure like that TV coverage. Some of ’em even have makeup
artists, full time, on their staffs. You believe that, Mac?” He
winked. “Some of ’em need it.” He poked an elbow toward Mac and
smiled. “Right, Mac.”

“Yes, sir.”

Novak kept the President on track. “When you
make the announcement tomorrow, Mr. President, confirming our
evidence that the Seattle incident was a terrorist
attack

it will be of little consequence,
anyway.”

“What was that?”

“Terrorist, foreign government
involvement

you remember

”

“Are you kidding? Of course, I remember. I
just

I’ll go over the script, I mean
speech, tonight.”

Novak: “When they see the foreign conspiracy
evidence, the people will rally around you.”

“Like dogs with a racoon up a tree,” Mac
said.

The President smiled. “General, did I ever
tell you the time I was coon hunting. Had two coons up the same
tree? Funniest damn thing you ever saw. I had the best coon dogs a
man could have, Amos and Andy

got them from
a farmer over in Cobb County.”

Novak returned the conversation to the issue
at hand. “It will surely steel the people’s resolve. When you show
them our evidence then announce the invasion of the terrorist
countries is underway, you will be hailed a national hero.”

The President furrowed his brow. “Leo, tell
me how this domestic thing is going to come down again—the media,
you know.”

“The plan is on track. You already have the
power, but by tomorrow the American people, public opinion, will
welcome your actions. You will explain the declaration of martial
law has to be extended indefinitely to assure law and order. We’ll
round up Beno and her nut supporters.”

“We’re ready for that, right, Mac?” The
President teed off on a rhododendron.

“Ready.”

“The general is preparing a place for all the
opposition, right, General?” Novak said.

“Right. We’re equipping a comfortable place
for the opposition at Guantanamo II, construction of deluxe
barracks, two to a bunk.” He chuckled. “All of them—much like the
government successfully handled the aliens after Pearl Harbor, the
Native Americans, reservations, all very humane,” Mac winked at
Novak.

“Yeah, anyway, General, tell me again how
we’re going to get this international thing cooking,” the President
said.

Mac looked at his watch. “Lande is going to
do guest shots on this morning’s TV news talk shows. She’ll confirm
evidence of terrorist complicity in the Seattle and Boston Yards
incidents, their supplying arms to insurgent groups within the
States. That will be enough for you to invoke your Armstrong
Doctrine

announce the invasion of terrorist
and supporting countries.”

Armstrong smiled. “Our boys will blow the
Beelzebub out of those pricks.”

Mac continued. “Yes, sir, and our NATO
friends will be sucked in, not to mention our Israeli allies. We
will be compelled to come to their defense, drop a couple of
strategic nukes on the bad boys.”

Armstrong stopped. “No population
centers.”

“No, no, in the middle of their sand pile so
to speak, get their attention, then troops will go in and mop up in
short order, two weeks, max.”

“What about those slant-eyes?” Armstrong
drove a large pebble down the path.

Mac said, “If they refuse to play ball, a
couple of cruise missiles over the bow, so to speak—Gobi Desert,
Straits of Taiwan—strategically placed, will get their attention.
We can cyber shut down the whole goddamn Great Wall if we want to,
and our satellite lasers can fry any missel launch a hundred feet
off the ground

hey know it too.”

Novak nodded, “And our embassies in key
countries are, as we speak, preparing to deliver a notice of such
intention tomorrow morning at nine Eastern Standard Time, an hour
before you’re scheduled to address the world.”

Mac continued. “They’ll be advised to stand
down or be cinderized.”

“No population centers.” Armstrong cast a
stern glance from the corner of his eyes. “I still can’t sleep over
that Seattle thing. Paris, eh, never trusted them French sex
maniacs anyway.”

Novak said, “It had to be done, Mr.
President, for the greater good.”

MacCallister assured “Just warning shots,
over the bow, so to

”

“I don’t want to have any more bloodshed than
is necessary. I hate that.”

Mac said, “Yes, sir, but as I said
earlier

”

“What earlier? Who said that?”

“You have to break a few

”

“Oh, yes, right, eggs, omelet, anybody
hungry? What about the Huns in Moscow?”

“We’ll throw them a couple bones.”

Armstrong said, “What about the Jew
boys?”

“They get Jerusalem.”

“Sounds good to me. How about you, Mac?”

“Heck, yes, part of the deal.”

Novak said, “Six months. Six months and we’ll
have this planet cleaned up.”

“Spic and span as my mother’s kitchen, God
bless that gentle woman,” Armstrong said.

Mac rubbed his hands, “This is what we should
have done thirty years ago.”

“Yes, thirty years ago. I was a young
whippersnapper then, playing around on Daddy’s farm. Did I ever
tell you about the time I darn near ran over a cow? Almost ruined
my ol’ man’s Farmall tractor, too.” Armstrong smiled. “God
a-mighty, what a time. Then I went to acting school.”

Novak steered the President back on track.
“You, Mr. President, are about to see your new world order come
into being, when all will be free and equal, where God intended His
world to be. It is almost achieved. Pax Americana.” Novak clapped
his hands in silent applause.

“What about ol’ Pax Beno? She’s got a piss
pot full of supporters.” The President frowned. “What’s the latest
spade poll?”

“That is moot, Mr. President. The election
will be postponed indefinitely. Besides, Guantanamo II, remember,
the crackpot will be getting a nice suntan.”

“Guantanamo?” Armstrong looked puzzled.

“The dissidents

”

“Oh, yes, that, yes.”

Novak sighed, “Just think, tomorrow shall be
the beginning of a new era in the evolution of humankind’s movement
over the face of this planet. Oh, Mr. President, people will
remember you, they will tell their grandchildren. We are on the eve
of the re-ordering of Planet Earth. Think of it. Can you fathom the
import of these times we are in—nay, the time we have begun? We are
an elite few, the few who will give peace on earth to all races
under the sun, obedient to the banner of democratic capitalism even
more splendid than the Pax Romana.”

“Don’t get the horse before the cart, Pax
Novak.” The President smacked a stone with his stick. “What’s this
glitch with that prick Miami newspaper editor? I overheard
something yesterday, Babs said something about a fax

” The President paused and glanced at Novak. “Speaking
of our Boston Bean big-mouth media whiz, when will that be taken
care of?”

“The general has exit plans for Dr. Lande
this very evening, right, Mac?”

“Roger.”

“Good. Ah, what was I saying?”

“A fax

”

“Oh, yes, overheard Babs yesterday, somebody
sent a fax to that prick Miami newspaper editor

former priest.”

“Zackary Stearn,” Novak said.

“I’d like to nail that self-righteous
mackerel snapper once and for all,” Armstrong said.

Novak cleared his throat. “Not to worry,
under control. Your harshest critic, editor of
The Boca
,
he’s been asking a few questions. We traced a fax from Bimini to
his office, nothing to worry about.”

“Bimini?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What’d it say?”

“Some Bohemia code, we’re working on it.”

“Better watch that prick.” Armstrong smashed
another stone. “That sorry, excommunicated poke of manure, Notre
Dame guy, Irish prick, Catholic to boot, porking some young
editor.”

“An employee, young enough to be his
daughter.” Novak raised an eyebrow. “Mary O’Brien.”

“We have an eye on it.” Mac grinned.

Armstrong said, “What? You mean you got
pictures?”

“Well, not exactly, but

”

“What in deuces does that mean, not
exactly?”

Novak intervened. “Mac’s satellite people are
keeping track of Stearn, right, General?”

“Roger that,” Mac said.

“Where is he now?” Armstrong asked.

Mac said, “As we speak, last report, on a
restored piece of floating junk, called
Veracity
, that he
lives on.”

Armstrong furrowed his eyebrows.
“Veracity?”

“A boat.”

“Figures

all the
vices. Once them priests bolt, there’s the Devil himself to pay,
sowing all them pent-up wild oats.” Armstrong pursed his lips and
clobbered another rock with his walking stick. He asked, “What was
the Dow yesterday, Novak?”

“Just broke thirty thousand.”

“The bottom falls out Tuesday, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“A little fear that will make this thing
easier to sell to the American people.”

“A hundred billion shares, all Dow, will be
dumped opening bell Tuesday.”

“Good, good. That ought to do it. I have any
of that stuff?”

“No, sir, sold yours last week.”

“Gold. I mean, good, good.” The President
wiped his left sleeve across a runny nostril.

Novak said, “And the general will disrupt
commercial communication satellites right after your speech
tomorrow morning.”

“Not my White House hook-up?”

“No, no, that will be preserved,” Mac
said.

Armstrong said, “That’ll drive those TV jerks
up Murphy’s creek without a paddle.” He frowned. “I can’t wait for
that prick anchor at you-know-what network to squirm like a night
crawler on a fish hook.”

“They’ll be writhing,” Novak said.

“Twelve hundred hours, Monday, Eastern
Standard time.” Mac beamed.

“We’ll see what that does to their happy-talk
news hour crap.” The President bashed a low tree limb with extra
force.

“Yes, sir, exactly.”

“Perfect,” Mac said.

Novak said, “Everything is in motion as
planned. It is amazing how smooth this whole thing is
progressing.”

“It better go smooth.” Armstrong paused, took
aim at a stone and crushed it straight as an arrow. Admiring the
trajectory of his drive, he smiled. “’Cause if the press gets wind
of what you boys are up to it’ll be time to call in the dogs, piss
on the fire and go home

for both you
guys.”

Novak and Mac exchanged concerned
glances.

Chapter Forty Five

10:00 a.m.
EST

Toting the New York Times and Miami Herald
under his left arm, Zack entered, ten minutes south of Miami, a
suite of the La Quinta Inn. He surveyed the cookie-cutter
accommodations–beige living room walls, double window, green sofa,
matching chair, kitchenette with two-chair table. In the living
room, next to the sofa, a combination computer-video phone-TV sat
on the top of a small writing desk. His eyes stopped at the
kitchenette counter, where a tiny green basket with two red apples
sat.