Gordon Ryan - Uncivil liberties

11 dead or wounded in multiple shooting incidents at sports arenas throughout the nation. Further information to follow.

Off and on throughout the day, highlights of the burning frigate in Brisbane and the shootings in Surfer’s Paradise had been reported on network television. Pug felt as if he were waiting for the other shoe to drop, but as yet, nothing had transpired in America, and he’d received no notice of action related to a response directed at Australian terrorists.

Pug clicked the remote and shifted channels to Fox News. Weekend anchors Jonathan Sharp and Leslie McWilliams sat behind the joint presentation desk, their normally well-groomed appearance and calm demeanor disrupted by what appeared to be slight tension. Leslie was speaking.

“… not only that, Jonathan, but literally moments before the top of the hour, the Fox News desk received an unidentified claim that the shootings were planned and directed by…” she paused, looking at a small slip of paper in her hand, “… by a group calling themselves World Jihad. For those of you who have just joined us following announcements on other networks, throughout the past ninety minutes we have been receiving reports of multiple gunshot injuries at various locations throughout America. At last report, thirty-seven people have been shot in nineteen separate locations, primarily at professional baseball stadiums after the close of the games when crowds were leaving the grounds. There are eleven confirmed dead at this time, with reports still coming in.”

Pug was up and grabbing his keys by the time the audio shifted to Jonathan Sharp.

“This is unprecedented…” he heard Jonathan say as he clicked off the TV.

“You got that right, buddy,” Pug said as he bounded down the stairs, two at a time, to his ground-level garage.

Pug’s cell phone rang just as he exited the Eisenhower Executive Office Building elevator and headed for his office. The name on the caller ID was not unexpected.

“Good evening, Mr. Secretary.”

“You’ve seen the news?”

“Yes, sir. I’m just entering my office.”

“Good. I assume you’ve alerted the team and have arranged to assemble Trojan. I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” General Austin said.

“They’re on the way, sir.” When Pug reached his desk, his mobile rang again, with no name visible.

“General Connor.”

“Pug, it’s Colin McIntyre.”

“Good afternoon, Brigadier. You’ve been watching the news, I presume.”

“Indeed, and receiving initial reports from Whitehall. We’ve had several incidents at home as well, it would seem. Add that to the bombing and shooting incidents in Brisbane yesterday, and it would appear the war has started.”

“Yes, sir, it would appear so. I’ve advised Secretary Austin that I am convening Trojan to discuss our next step.”

“And what is the next step, Pug? How will you seek to curtail these not-so-random attacks?”

“Brigadier, as we said at our last gathering, this is not a question of using Delta Force, SAS, or Seal teams. Even the Marines or British Para’s can’t storm this beach. There are no easy answers.”

“Correct, indeed. General, would you be willing to allow an outsider under the tent flap at your meeting?”

“Sir, there will be nothing discussed that would not benefit from your presence. We’re gathering at the EEOB conference room immediately.”

“Thank you, Pug. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”

By 1630, seven of the eight Trojan members were assembled, plus Brigadier Colin McIntyre, military attache to the British Embassy. In the short history of their tenure, they had used existing staff for a couple of covert missions, but increasingly it was certain they would need to call on outside military assets.

General Pug Connor and Carlos Castro made up the command structure. The remainder of the team included two Army Rangers, Captain Ted Prince and Lieutenant Carlyle Sanderson, Navy Lieutenant Roger Steppes, a SEAL team leader, and two experienced FBI Hostage Rescue Team members. One man each from the CIA and FBI were assigned as liaison, although not designated as part of Trojan. The JCS tried a politically correct attack and had criticized Connor for not appointing any women to the team, but he had stood fast in his decision, and their end run failed.

One of the attributes that all Trojan team members had in common was that each of the men seated around the table would rather have been at the pointed end of the stick-all had actually been there on more than one occasion-commanding the action team, rather than sitting around this table discussing options. As Director, Pug used the training he had received from General Austin, that most intelligence operations were won or lost in the planning stages. None of the team agreed, but they all followed their orders and had begun to coalesce as an operational team.

When General Austin and then Brigadier McIntyre arrived, Trojan assembled in the conference room. On a large monitor on the far wall, the Fox News live feed continued to update the casualty lists. Forty-seven people had been shot, most at close range in crowded conditions. Thirty-four were confirmed dead, including seven children. Most importantly, the group calling itself World Jihad had issued a statement to Fox News via a taped message. Pug had already called the television station to request a copy of the electronic version of the tape be relayed to the White House, which was then transmitted to his office. The Trojan team sat around the room listening to the surprisingly well-spoken male voice deliver his tirade in excellent, British-accented English.

“Allah be praised. This is the voice of World Jihad. We have struck at the heart of your country. This is only the beginning. Hundreds of Allah’s warriors have been placed throughout America, England, and Australia. No longer will your people be safe from Allah’s justice. No longer will you have free access to violate the homeland of those who follow the true faith. We can strike wherever and whenever we choose. You believe your government has created homeland security. You have no security. Your families are not safe, your children are not safe, your homes are not safe, your schools are not safe, your communities are not safe. Now you will know what the oppressed people of the world have suffered for many years at the hands of the Great Satan. You will feel our pain. You will suffer as we have suffered. Prepare to die. This is the voice of World Jihad. Allah be praised.”

Those around the conference table were silent, the boldness of the message disturbing to the core. Pug turned off the tape player and General Austin sat quietly for several seconds, his fingers steepled in front of his chin, his face impassive. Finally he spoke.

“There we have it. Open, declared war, with no enemy in sight. I’ll confess to you, gentlemen, I cannot recall a time when I’ve felt more helpless, more… more unable to respond. Across the river, our Pentagon counterparts are putting together every contingency plan you can imagine, including further invasions of those countries we think are behind this. Most of that will be to show the public that we are responding, doing something… anything. But I don’t believe that’s the answer, nor do I believe it will solve the problem. And I’ll tell you one more thing that’s very disturbing to me. When we get to the bottom of this, I think we’ll find that some, if not most, of these current attacks are home-grown.”

“ Americans? ” Brigadier McIntyre asked.

“I believe so, Brigadier. You’ve had similar British nationals attack your public transportation system. Increasingly, we’ve seen more and more Americans buy into this ‘America done us wrong’ philosophy. The common thread seems to be attendance at a local mosque and occasionally some out-of-country training. Religion is a strong persuader of what’s right and what’s wrong.”