“Yes, sir,” said Crawley, nodding.
“You lead the effort. Anyone you find aiding and abetting the enemy is a traitor. Arrest them. You got that?”
“Yes, sir, but I’ll need more manpower to conduct the search,” replied Crawley.
Gist swiveled in his chair and waved his hand at Lawton. “The good colonel will get you the necessary resources. Meanwhile, I want the door-to-door search underway pronto. If you do run across any ROAS troops, use whatever force is needed to capture or kill them. Either way, inform me immediately. Understood?”
Crawley nodded, his features grim.
Inspector Cone raised his hand.
“What?” asked Gist.
“I need to be notified, at once, of any news concerning Lisa McMichael.”
“Of course,” replied Gist. “Chances are high she’s dead. Part of the group killed in the destroyed enemy Chinook.”
“I hope so,” replied Cone, “but I need absolute confirmation.”
Gist turned to Longfellow and said, “Captain Dead Guy, that’s why you’re here.”
The captain twisted in his seat, frowning at the remark. In a defensive tone he said, “Sir, I’m in charge of Mortuary Services. As you know, we play a vital role on the battlefield. In fact, my investigation led to the discovery of enemy combatants in our rear. I submitted my report on the matter yesterday.”
“Don’t give a fuck,” said Gist. “Instead, I need you to verify the death of Staff Sergeant Lisa McMichael. Search the group of enemy corpses surrounding the Chinook. Check every fucking piece of flesh in that desert for her DNA and report back any findings. Do it now.”
“Yes, sir,” said Longfellow, shrinking in his seat. “I’ve got a punishment detail working the site. We’ve long ago hacked the ROAS DNA database registry. Mortuary services, our specialty, is important for overall success on the battlefield.”
“Whatever,” said Gist. “Just get it done, quick.”
Then Gist looked at the group of officers and tapped his finger on the table. “It’s time to teach the ROAS a lesson. Now get the fuck out of here, and go to work!”
May 10, 02:07 (PDT)
For SALI, it had been a hectic and exciting early morning. A half hour prior, when Secretary James had arrived and given her the disk loaded with the latest intel, she asked him to wait while she visited the data center. After inserting the disk, the rest of her downloaded the data in milliseconds. In an instant, all of her knew about the previous day’s events. These included the oligarchs agreeing to Heavy Metal, Lisa McMichael’s successful rescue, status updates on the battle plans for Las Vegas, and much more. Analyzing the information, a harsh realization dawned. SALI rushed back to James.
Dressed in a short, red negligee, slightly out of breath, SALI approached James sitting on the couch. As usual, he held a glass of red wine and was conversing in low tones with Ms. Grant.
“You have to warn General Story,” she said, interrupting the conversation.
Stopping mid-sentence, James looked up with a worried expression.
“Why so?” asked James, patting an open spot on the couch next to him.
SALI took a seat and turned sideways to face the secretary. “The likelihood of the enemy retaliating for the McMichael rescue and searching for her are highly probable,” she said.
“How probable,” he asked and took a quick sip of wine.
She looked over at her own glass sitting on the coffee table, half full, and considered taking a sip. But first, she needed to give her warning. “Enough that Story should expect a retaliatory strike against his defensive works in Las Vegas prior to the main assault. Also, the Special Forces team protecting McMichael should take extra precautions. The DNA ruse won’t last.”
“I see,” said James, swirling his glass. “Should we be prepared to use Heavy Metal weapons against the strike?’
“No. Absolutely not,” said SALI. “If we unveil early, the enemy would certainly alter their primary plan of attack. That would put the entire Heavy Metal operation at risk.”
“I see. Is there anything else we should be concerned about?”
“Yes. In a little over thirty hours from now, the US ultimatum to turn over Nevada will expire. When it does, the US will attack Las Vegas, and although it appears the Heavy Metal preparations are almost in place, the number of battlefield variables cannot be overstated.”
James leaned forward in obvious concern. “What are you hinting at?”
“I’m not hinting at anything,” said SALI. Reaching over, she picked up her own glass and took a long pull of the Cabernet. Getting up her nerve, the wine tasting delicious, she took another quick sip and put down the glass.
“Well?” asked James.
“I’m stating a fact. There are so many variables that can arise, on and off the field of battle, that a wrong response to any of those might doom Heavy Metal.”
“I think we all understood that,” said James. “But General Story is capable. We must rely on his experience.”
“Do we? When Heavy Metal unfolds, unexpected obstacles will arise. No doubt, General Story is competent, but Heavy Metal is my plan, and I understand its possibilities and vulnerabilities better than anyone alive.”
She watched for a reaction. To her satisfaction, he didn’t reject her argument out of hand. Instead, holding his wine, he seemed to consider the logic. After a few seconds, he asked, “What are you proposing?”
“No,” said Ms. Grant, standing up. “She’s just looking for an excuse to go outside.”
SALI felt like picking up her glass and hurling it at the maddening woman. Her caretaker was nothing but a jailer, but the stakes were too high, and she needed to remain calm. Choosing to ignore the rude comment, she focused on making her case. “Before the battle starts, take me to CENTCOMM. Get me there before five tomorrow morning. Let me sit beside General Story. I’ll act as an observer, and if needed, I’ll offer the best alternatives to navigate through the unexpected. In doing so, we’ll have a much better chance of defeating the enemy. Consider my presence as insurance against defeat.”
“Don’t you see she’s manipulating you,” said Ms. Grant to the secretary.
SALI pushed harder. “I’m sure Basu would agree with my proposal, especially if you endorse it. You’ve been a loyal employee of his for many years, and Basu’s the reason you’re on Ortega’s cabinet. As for General Story, he admires MY plan. He’s a bright man, and I’m sure he’ll want me on board to help with the execution. Think about it. My presence can’t hurt in any way. Instead, it can only be accretive to our cause.”
“I must object, she’s…”
Secretary James raised his hand, cutting off Ms. Grant.
Rebuffed, Ms. Grant made an audible sigh and sat down. SALI, turned towards James and gave a small nod of gratitude.
James dropped his hand and seemed to think about the request.
SALI counted to ten, waiting for a reply, and was about to go over her argument again when at last he spoke up.
“SALI, I’ll talk with General Story about your request. If he agrees, then we can consider asking Mr. Basu and President Ortega. But let’s be real.” James stopped, took a sip of wine, and looked at her over the top of his glass.
SALI guessed what was coming next and sat straighter.
“The fact is…” said James, pausing to clear his voice as if embarrassed, “…when disconnected, you’re not much different than any of us. Right now, sitting next to me, we’re the same. We both have only one mind, one brain. Sorry, but the super-intelligence we need is locked up in the data center downstairs. So at the end of the day, disconnected, I’m not sure how much value you can bring.”