Barry Eisler - The Detachment

“Cuban Montecristo,” he said, settling back in the car seat. “Forgive me, I only have the one.”

Treven kept the Glock on him. “Enjoy it.”

The implication was clear and there was no need to say it. It’s probably your last.

Hort blew out a cloud of the sweet-smelling smoke. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I’m behind these false flag attacks. That I’m part of it.”

“You’re going to tell me you’re not?”

“Not in the way you think.”

Treven’s eyes were adjusting to the dark. A gibbous moon was rising, its pale light glowing down on the road surface and reflecting on the reservoir below them. “Explain, then.”

“Did Rain brief you on what I told him this coup is supposed to be all about?”

“Yes.”

“What did he tell you?”

“The system is broken. The plotters wanted a pretext for seizing power so they could fix everything and then give it back. You thought the whole thing was insane, and wanted us to take out key personnel to stop it.”

“I’d call that an accurate summary.”

“But then we found out the personnel you had us take out weren’t part of the coup. They were opposed to it.”

“That is also accurate.”

“Then what the hell are you doing, Hort? Whose side are you on?”

Hort sighed. “The plotters are correct in believing the system is broken. They are also correct in believing that without immediate and radical surgery, the patient will surely die. But they are incorrect in believing a coup is what’s required. A coup would kill the patient in the name of saving her. What is required is something slightly different.”

“What?”

Hort looked at him. “An attempted coup.”

Treven didn’t respond. He tried to take what he already understood and sort it through the new framework Hort had just suggested. “You’re saying…you wanted the coup to start?”

Hort nodded. “And then to stop. And to be exposed for what it really was.”

“Why? What does that accomplish?”

“Maybe nothing. In which case, the republic shrivels and dies more or less on schedule, just as it was going to anyway. But maybe, maybe…people wake up.”

“To what?”

“To how close they were to losing everything they ought to cherish but have in fact come to take for granted. Did you watch my little speech at the White House?”

“Yeah.”

“When I talked about how we would never surrender our liberties if terrorists were explicitly demanding we do so? That’s the truth. You know that, right?”

“I guess so.”

“Well, I was giving the country a little preview there. Shaping the battlefield.”

“I don’t follow.”

Hort drew on the cigar, held the smoke in his mouth, then slowly blew it out through the window. “The republic is being bled dry by a national security complex so grotesque and metastasized even Dwight Eisenhower wouldn’t have recognized it in his worst nightmares and most dire predictions. People are okay with this state of affairs because they don’t sense something is being taken from them. But if this country’s oligarchy is exposed for what it really is, and for what it’s really doing, there’s a chance people would fight back. A chance. You understand?”

Treven thought. “You’re saying even if someone would willingly give something up, he’ll fight to preserve it if he thinks someone is trying to steal it.”

“Precisely.”

“Then why did you resign?”

“Because, when this thing is snuffed out, the disgusted and disillusioned masses will need a hero. Someone of unimpeachable character and battle-hardened judgment. Someone who has demonstrated by his actions and his sacrifices that he is a selfless servant of the nation who cannot be seduced by power or anything else.”

Not for the first time, Treven realized Hort was accustomed to operating at levels of manipulation, deceit, and strategy that Treven found alien. He didn’t know whether to feel envious, or relieved.

“That speech,” he said. “Dox said it sounded like you were running for office.”

“In a sense, I was.”

“What office?”

“If things go well, a blue ribbon commission will be formed to investigate the causes of the attempted coup, identify the plotters, and recommend changes to ensure such a thing can never happen again. I will be the head of that commission. And I will ensure that its work is in the best interests of the nation.”

Treven squeezed the grip of the Glock as though reminding himself it was still there. “But…you said you wanted the coup to be exposed for what it really was.”

Hort chuckled grimly. “Well…for what it almost really was.”

“What does that mean?”

“Following the recent string of attacks, it’s important the citizenry believes an insatiably greedy oligarchy was to blame. Even though the truth is, most of the oligarchy is pleased with the status quo and wouldn’t want to change it. The main thing is that people understand how close they came to losing everything. And that they never know I was involved in steering the course of events.”

“Because then you wouldn’t be able to steer anymore.”

“That’s right. And if I couldn’t, then this whole thing might go haywire. The coup could become permanent. At a minimum, the innocent could be punished along with the guilty.”

“But you are guilty.”

“Yes, I am. I have the blood of countless Americans on my hands now. I slaughtered them, men, women, and children, no matter that it was for a larger purpose, and if there is a hell, I will rightly burn there forever.”

He drew on the cigar and held the smoke for a moment as though trying to calm himself. Then he blew it forcefully out through the window.

“But while I am alive, I am determined to ensure their sacrifice was not in vain. And for that, I need your help. Because you have put me in an untenable position.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I wasn’t planning on resigning my position and making my speech quite so soon. I needed that position in order to continue to steer things in their proper direction. But then you people went and kidnapped my daughter and forced my hand.”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What I’m talking about is, Dan Gillmor, the new head of the National Counterterrorism Center, who has been running the jihadist groups behind the attacks, is not yet satisfied that the country has been driven sufficiently insane for it to accept a suspension of the Constitution and the imposition of martial law. He has one more attack in mind. Which he believes will provide him with the blank check he craves.”

Treven felt the blood drain from his face. “A school.”

Hort looked at him. “Yes, that’s right. A mass casualty attack on an elementary school. With that, the president will be able to do anything he wants, and the rest of the government and the people will encourage him to do so. The coup will become a fait accompli. I will no longer be able to stop it.”

Treven was so angry he could have shot him. “Goddamn it, Hort, what the fuck were you thinking?”

“It doesn’t matter what I was thinking. What matters is where we are.”

“Bullshit. Why did you have to resign now?”

“Because I could not have disappeared to Los Angeles on the very day the president made me his counterterrorism advisor if I hadn’t. Because I believe there is only a slim chance I will be leaving this meeting alive, and coming out here to die without first having set the example I needed to set would not have been productive.”

“So you’re risking the lives of, what, dozens of school children? Scores? On top of all the people you’ve already killed? To save your own daughter?”