Gordon Ryan - Uncivil liberties

Rachel’s cell phone rang just as she entered her private office in downtown Kansas City. Her staff was absent, other than a couple of key members who were present during the ICMA speech.

“Senator McKenzie,” she answered.

“Rachel, it’s Pug.”

“Pug, I didn’t recognize the number.”

“I’m calling from the anteroom outside the Oval Office. I’m about to speak with the president.” He paused. “Rachel, I’m so thankful to hear your voice. I knew you were speaking at the Marriott this morning.”

“I left about an hour before the explosion.”

“Are you staying to see what you can do?”

“I am. Don’t know when I’ll return.”

“May I call you again?” Pug asked.

“I’d be grateful, Pug. And thank you.”

“I’d better go. The president will be available in a moment. Stay safe, Rachel, and give your mother my regards.”

“Pug,” Rachel said.

“Yes?”

“I’ll probably be back mid-week, perhaps a few days later. Will you do something for me?”

“Anything I can, Rachel, you know that.”

“Will you meet me at the airport? I… I just…”

“Let me know when. I’ll be there, Rachel, and thank you,” Pug replied.

As he ended the call, the door to the Oval Office opened and FBI Director Granata exited, nodding to Pug as he left. The president’s secretary stepped toward Pug.

“General, the president can see you now. He has three minutes before his next meeting.”

“Hopefully I’ll need less than two. Thank you.” Pug stepped into the office and stood before the president’s desk. President Snow said a few quick words into the phone and hung up. “Pug, this has not been a good day.”

“No, sir. Mr. President, I just spoke with Senator McKenzie. She delivered an address at the Kansas City Marriott this morning, but was out of the hotel about an hour before the explosion. She is safe and in her local office.”

The president just nodded. “I’m a bit rushed, Pug. I presume you’re looking for a Troy designation for this event today?”

“Yes, sir. At the moment, the Kansas Highway Patrol and Kansas City police are still pursuing the terrorists west on I-70. The police are not equipped or trained to deal with this type of emergency or this type of enemy, Mr. President. They will continue to pursue until they can contain the situation. The terrorists will seek additional hostages somewhere and more people will die.”

“What do you recommend?”

“Mr. President, I want to get an Army Blackhawk up from Fort Leavenworth, block the interstate in both directions, and take this vehicle out as if it were an enemy troop transport. This is a military enemy, Mr. President. We have ample means to stop them, but we need your approval, or a Troy designation, following which I will issue the authority to fire on the vehicle.”

The president observed Pug for several seconds and then voiced his approval. “Jennie will have your written Troy designation in hand in five minutes. Just wait for it by her desk. And Pug, General Austin trained you well. Such situations permit no equivocation. You’re the right man in the right place.”

“I’ll see to the Army, Mr. President. Thank you, sir.”

Strategic Initiatives

Washington, D.C.

June

John Harford’s office at Strategic Initiatives was busier than usual, with multiple people, including many in uniform, coming and going. It had been like that since Saturday afternoon, after the first episode in Kansas City. By Monday, the bee hive of activity had not settled down.

“Senator Winchester, thank you for coming to see me this afternoon. I know that your Mondays are very busy, but this is highly important. It’s been a terrible weekend for America,” John Harford said, taking a seat next to the senator from Connecticut.

For the past forty-eight hours, every major news station had run the endless, repetitive loop of the Kansas City bombing, and with live coverage, the Fox News helicopter had been on scene about seventy-five miles west of Kansas City on I-70 when the Army Blackhawk helicopter had fired a missile at the black van as it raced along the interstate. Only one occupant had survived and he did not last through the trip to the hospital.

Coverage of the San Antonio intervention was, of course, less dramatic, since only six terrorists and one Strategic Initiatives trooper had been killed. Still, high praise was voiced from all quarters on the successful event, and when SI released the film clip from the Predator drone that had initially spotted the six men outside of San Antonio, preparing their weapons for the attack, the coverage quickly gained acclaim and calls were already forthcoming for extension of the pilot program. Two newscasters and the city council in Kansas City had stated that if only such a program had been in place nationwide, the tragedy at Overland Park Mall could have been prevented. Even traditional liberal groups were clamoring for more protection, while conservative groups screamed that had liberals not stood in the way historically, such events could have been prevented long ago. Some hard-core conservatives even went so far as to indicate that although the death toll was horrendous and unacceptable, liberally supported abortion clinics had killed more people in the past few months than the entire attack had killed. There was no meeting of the minds on philosophy.

In the well-appointed confines of Strategic Initiatives, Chairman of the Board and CEO John Harford continued to address his congressional visitor.

“Our small success in San Antonio was completely overshadowed by the brazenness of the terrible events in Kansas City and the senseless deaths. I’m sure you agree. Still, the pilot program for Domestic Tranquility has begun to show its merit and you are certainly aware that the press is lauding our success. And they’re right. Imagine if we’d only had a few Predators flying over Kansas City. How many people might be alive this morning?”

Sensing the fervor behind Harford’s monologue, Winchester readily agreed. “John, you’re absolutely correct. How can I help?”

“How long have you been in Congress, Augustus?”

“Four years in the House and nine in the Senate. Halfway through my second senate term.”

Harford clasped his hands together, steepling his fingers in front of his face, thankful he did not have to raise the specter of past financial contributions in a veiled threat. “Augustus, it’s time for you to leave your mark on Congress. You’ve done some excellent work for our nation, but this bill will be your crowning achievement. Something to be a lasting tribute.”

“And what would that be, John?” Winchester asked.

Harford rose from his seat, walked behind his desk, and picked up a slim, spiral bound document, about thirty pages in all. “This, Senator Winchester, is the Domestic Tranquility Act. It has been prepared by the finest legal minds in the country. Once passed and signed by the president, it will supplant The Patriot Act and will become the guiding force for American domestic security for the next decade. The provisions of this bill will assure that law enforcement officers, military national guard, and even privately contracted security forces, such as those on duty in San Antonio this past weekend, will have the necessary authority and resources to combat these terrorists who dare to invade our country. Think of it, Augustus. With the barest minimum of personal intrusion, certainly nothing to bother the law-abiding citizens of our country, we can enact and oversee the measures to protect our people on a daily basis. Why should Americans be in fear of going to Sears and ending up dead? Why should we be afraid to attend a convention in a five-star hotel and worry about being blown to bits? No, sir! Through the effective representation of Senator Augustus Winchester of Connecticut, once again New England will be at the forefront of defending America. With this bill to your credit-and I can line up two opposition party senators to co-sponsor with you-you will likely represent the people of Connecticut, perhaps even the American people nationally, for years to come. Certainly until you’re ready to hoist a jib and spend the remaining days of your life on your beautiful yacht off the coast of Newport. Are you ready for that challenge, Augustus? Are you ready for immortality?”