The Threat полностью

The chief of staff sounded peremptory and harried these days, no doubt because of the coverage a knot of demonstrators was getting. They’d camped out in front of the White House, demanding action on jobs. Their numbers were growing. So was concern about the president’s polls. Holt kept emphasizing that the press secretary would call the shots on this tour. He kept mentioning “the Moment,” which Dan had at first taken as shorthand for the now-familiar De Bari photo op. But when the press secretary’s people used the phrase, it sounded mystical, an iconic encapsulation in one unforgettable image of what the trip was about. When he asked them what the trip actually was about, one guy said that was it: the Moment.

At which point he gave up. This was just another bubble from Robert De Bari’s content-free shipwreck of a presidency. He took that futility or reassurance out with him onto the dusty roads of drought-ridden East Africa, riding in rented Land Rovers with the press and protective detail through village after village. These people had real problems. He only wished he had even a little power, a little money. Even the smallest bit of what was being wasted …

And here he was, “Mustang,” arms lifted triumphantly heavenward as he posed atop the exit stair. De Bari descended to embrace President Afwerki. Then, ushered ahead, he preceded his host between ranks of troops at present arms. (Dan had personally inspected each rifle to make sure none was loaded.) The crowd-roar grew as they ducked into a limo with the Stars and Stripes and the green, red, and blue Eritrean banner.

Pushing through local officials, spitting windblown grit, Dan finally got to the command van. The door cracked to his hammering. Someone groaned; it was already over seating capacity with perspiring, crumpled USIA and USAID people, Nosler, and the press secretary. He wedged himself in with a sense of rejoining civilization.

He caught up to Gunning, who was carrying the football, in front of the Governor’s Palace. The Raj-era building was surrounded by palms and gardens. The colonel nodded as if he’d seen him yesterday, and asked for the plans for the next stop. Dan looked around for shade, and punched the schedule up on his new personal digital assistant.

“Four countries in eight days, then Jerusalem,” the senior aide said in disgust. “And what countries. Who signed him up for these shitholes?”

“I get marching orders from Wrinkles, but I don’t know who gives them to him. The press secretary? Holt?”

“Yeah, sounds like a Tony Pony. It’s a good time to get Bob out of the country, though. People are talking impeachment, and not just Freck’s gang. Since Louisville—”

“What about Louisville? Nobody got hurt.”

“I figure it’s not for Louisville, it’s for what hasn’t happened since Louisville. And what’s not happening on the stock market. And what’s not happening, period.”

“What do they want him to do?”

“The fuck should I know? I’m not the president. He should do something. Fire some missiles. Invade somebody. Shit, like they’re saying on the radio, even Edwards would be better than this guy.”

Dan had thought the FBI was doing something; rooting out the organization in California that had planned the radioactive dispersal and sheltered the terrorists, trying to find out who’d financed and armed them. But he didn’t argue. The people he worked with at Mobility Command were still eager to do a good job. But even they were outspoken about their growing hatred for Robert De Bari and everything he represented.

From Asmara the tour headed up into the hinterlands. Ringalls had suggested they visit Kerkerbit, where the battle had taken place, but Holt vetoed that when Dan pointed out it was still in an unsecured area. The compromise was Camp Keaney, the base in the highlands Task Force Cougar operated from.

Dan had flown there to look things over, and have a talk with General Wood. He was relieved to find the man didn’t recognize his voice as the staffer he’d spoken to at the Sit Room. Wood wasn’t happy about playing host, but after some cutting remarks he’d nodded acknowledgment of Dan’s point that even a president who’d decided not to support his offensive was still his commander in chief.

Marine One landed two minutes ahead of schedule, escorted by three Army Black Hawks, for what Dan had scheduled as a two-hour visit. The weather was clear but cold, due to the altitude, and the wind boiled up the dust into a sandpaper fog. The landscape was sand and rock, with eroded mountains barring the western horizon.

Dan jumped off the chopper after De Bari, clutching the satchel and worrying about the distance to the UHF uplink. Since this was a combat zone, he’d borrowed a pistol belt from the marines at the embassy and clipped the Beretta to it.