Dale Brown - Act of War

“What?” Lemke exclaimed. He snatched an envelope from Chamberlain’s hand, opened it, and quickly read. “You want a hundred personnel, an airbase, computers, satellite Earth stations, aircraft…all in fifteen days? Mr. Chamberlain, I can’t even guarantee I can staff this request within fifteen days, let alone deliver all this stuff…”

“Then you’ll personally explain to the President why you can’t comply,” Chamberlain said. “Director, I know you’ve done a lot more in a lot less time. I’m sorry you weren’t given more time to provide your input…”

“I wasn’t given any time!”

“…but Kingman City has changed everything. We want to do everything we can to prevent another incident like this, and the way we’re going to do it is form a task force that can deploy at a moment’s notice and hit the enemy hard.”

“We have that already, Robert—it’s called U.S. Special Operations,” Calhoun said. “It’s called the U.S. Marines. You don’t need to start all over again.”

“I agree,” Lemke said. “It sounds to me as if you need to bring the FBI in on this.”

“It’s been considered and rejected because of our legal limitations,” Chamberlain said. “I suggested, and the President concurred, that to carry out these operations with the current legal and political limitations would not be efficient or effective. When I was made aware of the CID weapon system and the other innovations being developed by the Army Research Lab, immediately after the Houston attack, I decided that making TALON a separate unit instead of part of the FBI was a better way to proceed. Again, the President concurred.”

“Mr. Chamberlain, it’s a little unusual for the President’s National Security Adviser to be setting up any kind of direct action military unit,” Donna Calhoun said, “let alone one that combines direct action military hardware like this with a federal law-enforcement agency like the FBI. We already have such paramilitary organizations in place, like the Coast Guard, Customs Service, and Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms, which frankly work very well with the FBI. It seems like you’re duplicating your efforts.”

FBI Director Jeffrey Lemke nodded in agreement. “After Kingman City, Robert, we’re stretched to the breaking point,” he added. “We can’t afford any manpower to hand over to this task force of yours, especially not my deputy for intelligence.” Lemke motioned to Kelsey DeLaine. “Kelsey is one of my best and most trusted analysts.”

Lemke nodded to Richter, then let his eyes roam over his unkempt hair and unshaven face with a disapproving expression. “The major here…well, he seems like a fine young man, but how well do you really know him? How long have you known him? Have you checked out his background? Is that his real name? Who are his parents, his relatives?” He glanced at Special Agent DeLaine and saw her looking at him suspiciously. “Did he really graduate from Georgia Tech? Is he really twenty-nine years old? Did you even know how old he was? Do you…?”

“Stop, stop—I get the picture,” Chamberlain said, holding up his hand. He stood silent for a few moments, collecting his thoughts; then: “No…no, I’m determined to see this through. I don’t care if this is not the way it’s usually done; I don’t care if the military doesn’t like the way I’m doing it. It’s got to be done. It’s been years since 9/11, and I don’t think enough has been accomplished—and the attack on Kingman City proves it. It’s time to get tough on terrorists before they attack and destroy Washington, not just an isolated oil terminal outside Houston or a couple skyscrapers in New York City.”

It was obvious from their expressions that Calhoun and Lemke did not agree or share any of Chamberlain’s excitement. But for Jason Richter, this seemed like an important moment. The war on terrorism, it seemed, was preparing to enter a newer, deadlier phase—right here in the United States. And he was going to be part of it!

“I’m asking for your full support,” Chamberlain said earnestly. “The President will back you up all the way. I appreciate your time and attention, and I’ll give you any information and constant reports on our progress. Thank you for being here.”

Jeffrey Lemke read over the letter, even running his fingers over the President’s signature to see if it was real. He then looked at Jason and the CID unit and nodded. “The bureau will give you all the help we can, Robert,” he said, “but this is definitely a difficult time to be standing up a unit like this. We’re still reeling from the attack on Kingman City—I need all my people to hunt down those responsible.”

“And now you have a new interdiction and direct-action unit to help you,” Chamberlain said. “But it’s got to be done, and I’m determined to do it—in fact, I’ll gladly sacrifice whatever political future I have to get it done.” He extended his hand to Lemke and affixed a sincere, direct gaze. “I’m counting on your support, Director.”

Lemke seemed skeptical as he shook Chamberlain’s hand. He looked at Kelsey. “Cooperate for now, Agent DeLaine,” he said. “Keep in contact with me. I want a daily report.”

“That won’t be possible, Director,” Chamberlain said. “TALON needs to operate on a strictly classified basis. No outside communication unless through me.”

“Then I order Special Agent DeLaine to refuse to cooperate at all with this operation,” Lemke said. “The National Security Council will not be allowed to use Bureau assets or data without full disclosure and reporting. No argument.”

Chamberlain looked at Lemke as if he was going to try to pull rank on him, but instead he nodded. “Done. Full disclosure. I’d like it directly between Agent DeLaine and your office.”

“My staff will arrange the proper report format and…”

“Your office only, Director,” Chamberlain said. “This is not for your staff. This is disclosure, Jeffrey, not approval or consultation. You can go up to the Justice Department with any concerns, but not to your staff.”

“Mr. Chamberlain, I guarantee I will be going to the Justice Department with this,” Lemke said sternly. But he nodded. “Fine. Kelsey, my direct line only, okay? I’ll give you the number.”

“Yes, sir.”

Donna Calhoun shook Chamberlain’s hand warmly, then gave him a hug. “I’m proud of you, Robert,” she said as they embraced. “God knows the shades of Kingman City are counting on you. This is a difficult thing you’re attempting. Thank you for your courage.”

“I won’t let you down, Madam Secretary, I promise,” Chamberlain told her softly. “I will avenge your loss.” He escorted her and Lemke to their waiting limousines and watched as they drove off.

After the second limo departed, Chamberlain turned toward Richter, Jefferson, and DeLaine; he hung his head, and actually seemed to look emotionally weary. He looked up, straightened his shoulders, took a deep breath…and then clapped his hands enthusiastically. “Well,” he said in a loud, energetic voice, “now that the bullshit is over, let’s get to work.”

Richter’s mouth dropped open in surprise; Chamberlain noticed it. “You don’t think I really give a shit about Calhoun’s dead sister and brother-in-law in Kingman City, do you, Major?” he asked incredulously. “You deal with these bureaucrats and politicians in whatever terms they understand and respond to. Calhoun is this sweet, sensitive liberal ex-U.S. federal prosecutor from Houston who couldn’t hurt a flea. Her wealthy real estate developer husband gave ten million dollars to the party and bought his wife a Cabinet position so he could continue screwing his friends’ wives in peace.

“The wild card in the deck is Jeffrey Lemke,” Chamberlain went on, turning back to the others. “He knew an awful lot about you, Major, and that is troubling.”