Teguina pushed back his chair and stood up, something he usually did in Cabinet meetings to stress a point. He leaned over the table, looking at the others seated. “I will be honored to help our fellow Filipinos in Palawan, but there’s one point we’ve dismissed too easily: who really launched that missile?”
Rumbling went around the table, and Mikaso pointed his finger at Teguina: “Daniel, I don’t know what you’re up to, but it’s not going to work. I resent the dissension you’re trying to create in the middle of a crisis. It—”
“Yes, sit down!” Second Vice President Samar said.
Teguina ignored them. “You say that the Chinese are at fault, but what you really meant to say is that it’s not known who’s to blame for the attack. That nuclear explosion could have just as easily been caused by an American nuclear device, either delivered by covert American forces or by Filipino airmen under orders by the American military or Central Intelligence Agency—”
“What are you talking about, Teguina?” Mikaso snapped angrily, his hands and lips trembling as much from confusion and exhaustion as from fury. “Are you that paranoid? There aren’t
“Do you deny that there are still American Intelligence agents here in the Philippines?” Teguina asked, his eyes darting between Mikaso and Samar.
Mikaso hesitated — only for a moment, but the pause was the answer.
The Cabinet officers looked at each other, then at Mikaso with undisguised shock. “Then it is true?” one of the Cabinet officers gasped.
“The American consulate is still open,” Mikaso explained, trying hard to ignore the accusing glances, “and yes, I gave permission for several CIA officials to be stationed here.”
“No, Mr. President…”
“This is outrageous…” Samar said.
Teguina couldn’t believe it — he had stumbled onto something that at least for the moment overshadowed even the nuclear explosion in Palawan. The American CIA had long been blamed for the Philippines’ internal turmoil, and Mikaso’s admission could, even after all American military personnel had left the country, eventually bring down Mikaso’s government. A common fear among the newly “liberated” Philippine government was that America would leave “moles” in place who would report to Washington and who could easily take over the Filipino government and realign with Washington in a coup. The Americans had left easily when ordered out — too easily, many thought…
“You did this in direct violation of the law, without consulting your Cabinet or Congress?” the Minister of the Interior asked incredulously.
“Why weren’t we informed?” another Minister demanded angrily.
As the chorus of other voices rose up in angry protest, Daniel Teguina sat back down in his chair, listening and inwardly smiling. Even in the middle of a crisis there was more than one way to skin a cat…
Generals Calvin Jarrel and Brad Elliott had been waiting on the tarmac for the F-23 fighter pilots returning from their Powder Run sortie. Elliott especially was looking forward to giving the pilots some good-natured ribbing about the surprise they encountered with the EB-52 Megafortress that he’d gotten Jarrel to put in the air. Elliott was willing to bet that McLanahan had gotten a big kick out of seeing the F-23 pilots turn and run.
Just then a dark-blue staff car pulled up a few parking spaces from where Jarrel and Elliott were standing. Out of the car came Major Harold Briggs, General Elliott’s aide and chief of security. Plugging his ears with his index fingers, he strode toward Elliott clutching a sheet of paper. He handed it to him.
Elliott read the note, and Briggs saw the expression on his boss’s face change. “I’ll take you back in my car, General,” Briggs said loudly over the whine of the nearby jet engines.
“Problem?” Jarrel asked. Elliott showed Jarrel the note, keeping the sheet of paper tight in his fingertips — it was stamped Top Secret on both the top and bottom.
“Christ,” was all Jarrel could say.
“I’ll give you a ride back to your command post,” Elliott said. They hopped in the sedan the second Briggs braked to a stop beside them.
In the car, Briggs passed out two red-colored vinyl folders, one to each of them. “Full text of the classified FLASH message for you, sir,” he indicated to Jarrel. “Message from Colonel McLanahan from the Black Knight bomber sortie.” Elliott frowned at the folder he was given and was about to set it unopened on his lap, but Briggs added, “I think you should read it, sir. I think it might have a connection with the DEFCON Three message.”
There was silence in the sedan for several moments. Then, as though they were thinking the exact same thing, they handed their folders over to each other.
