‘Air Force Two?’ the Vice President queried. Flown by the Presidential Airlift Group assigned to 89th Airlift Wing at Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland, Virginia, the Boeing 757 used by the President and designated Air Force Two was sitting on the tarmac barely 10 minutes away at Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport.
‘No time. They’re meeting within the hour. You’ll need to wrap this one up, Mr Vice President.’
The Vice President nodded and turned back to his audience, every member of which had been handpicked and screened for the occasion. With the possible exception of the President’s chief political advisor and election strategist, Dan Esposito, no one in the Administration was more aware than Vice President Bolton that in a few short weeks the people of the United States would go to the polls. The mid-term elections would decide who controlled the Congress in both the House and the Senate. In American elections, where voting was not compulsory and low turnouts could spell electoral disaster, the support of groups like the National Rifle Association and the massive churches on the evangelical right was crucial. As he prepared to wind up his address Vice President Bolton made a mental note to get a message to Dr Richard Halliwell. His private meeting with the CEO of Halliwell Pharmaceuticals would have to be put back until after the video conference. It would mean a very late night, but Bolton thrived on late nights and the meeting was crucial to both of them.
‘We’re still safe!’ the Vice President joked to the audience. ‘Terrorists think twice these days before attacking the United States of America!’ He was not yet aware of the content of the latest video release by Dr Khalid Kadeer, but Bolton’s remarks would come back to haunt him. ‘We need to ensure that we keep America safe,’ Bolton continued. ‘The Second Amendment and the right of every law-abiding American to carry a gun is not negotiable!’ The pro-gun audience erupted with foot-stamping applause. ‘We need to keep America safe from terrorists like bin Laden and Kadeer. The only thing these Islamic terrorist thugs understand is the point of a gun. Debating societies like the United Nations and the Democratic Party only embolden these terrorists to commit more atrocities against the American people, and I’m not about to stand by and let that happen!’ As with every speech, Vice President Bolton was subtly positioning himself for another run at the White House.
The audience leapt to their feet cheering and whistling, and they were still applauding as the Vice President headed into the convention center’s cavernous foyer. His Cadillac DeVille with an attendant convoy of black Chevrolet Suburbans and heavily armed secret service agents was waiting in the driveway.
As the Situation Room beneath the Oval Office came into focus on the screen, the Vice President made a mental note of who was present. The President was yet to arrive, but the Secretary of State, Secretary of Defense, Secretary of Homeland Security, National Security Advisor, Director of National Intelligence and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs were all at the table, as was the White House Chief of Staff. The advisors’ seats crowded against the panelled wall were occupied by his own Chief of Staff and the Deputy National Security Advisor, as well as the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency. This video must be causing more concern than usual, Bolton thought. Ever since the new super Office of the Director of National Intelligence had been established, the CIA had lost its longstanding direct access to the President, causing more than a deal of angst amongst the die-hards at Langley, but today the Director of Central Intelligence had been summoned as well. The Vice President’s eyes hardened when he noticed that the DCI had brought along one of his principal advisors, Curtis O’Connor. Officer O’Connor and the Vice President had clashed more than once when O’Connor had had the temerity to disagree with him. Bolton had recognised early that O’Connor was dangerously articulate and he’d added O’Connor’s name to his long list of people to be watched carefully. The little shit seated against the opposite wall, Dan Esposito, was also on the list. Bolton was annoyed that the President’s powerful electoral advisor had also gained access to the war cabinet. Homosexual faggot, he fumed. Chuck Bolton had reluctantly decided to tolerate Esposito’s sexual proclivities, but only for as long as he remained useful. Bolton knew that should anything happen to this president, he was only a heartbeat away from the White House. Every time Chuck Bolton had raised the prospect of running for the top job, Esposito had evaded the issue. If the Republican Party did as badly in the mid-term elections as the polls were predicting, Bolton had already decided that the first head to roll would be Dan Esposito’s.
As he waited for the President to arrive, Bolton’s thoughts turned to his meeting with Richard Halliwell. Halliwell Pharmaceuticals was now the biggest of the world’s ‘Big Pharma’, the none-too-flattering epithet used to describe the largest of the drug companies, and although it had been officially denied, the Vice President still held a substantial interest in the company. In the last two years, Halliwell Pharmaceuticals had become larger still. Washington’s top-secret decision to quietly fund a new $500 million Biosafety Level 4 laboratory in the far corner of Halliwell’s sprawling 100 acre Atlanta complex had been pushed through by Vice President Bolton as part of the war on terror. The decision was so sensitive that several of the President’s closest advisors were still unaware of it.
Dr Kadeer brought his warning to a quiet but menacing conclusion. The video faded to an ominous black and an equally ominous silence settled over the Situation Room.
Curtis O’Connor reflected that the President seemed to be running out of options. Most Americans had long ceased to believe the White House spin on the war in Iraq and the Harrison Presidency was looking increasingly weak, even impotent. Once the chilling message from al-Qaeda had been broadcast by the big western media outlets, the public had become increasingly alarmed. Messages like this from the enemy would need a response. O’Connor glanced towards Dan Esposito. Curtis O’Connor knew that Esposito would ensure that the response was immediate. On the first day he’d met the short, fat, balding advisor the dislike had been mutual. Arseholes and Esposito had a lot in common, O’Connor mused.
‘What the hell does all that mean, and where the hell is Xinjiang,’ the President demanded, breaking the silence and directing his question to Curtis O’Connor. President Harrison was clearly feeling the pressure.
‘We’re not sure what this means yet, Mr President,’ Curtis replied calmly. ‘We’ve done a preliminary imagery and voice analysis and there’s no doubt that the video recording is genuine, although the location is open to question. al-Qaeda are meticulous in ensuring a nondescript background for recordings like this, and those rocks behind Dr Kadeer could be just about anywhere in Central Asia, of which Xinjiang – a large province in Western China – is a part.’ He could have added that at 1,600,000 square kilometres, Xinjiang was more than three times the size of France and it had common borders with Pakistan, India, Afghanistan, Mongolia and three of the ‘Stans’ – the Central Asian states that had been part of the old USSR – Tajikistan, Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan. He could also have added that the deserts, lakes and the Tianshan or ‘heavenly mountains’ of Xinjiang were stunningly captivating and that the Muslim Uighurs who had lived in the area for centuries had a deep spiritual attachment to their lands. He might have mentioned that the province was rich in oil and minerals, but he didn’t. The average man in the street might not know or care where Xinjiang or the ‘Stans’ were, but Curtis O’Connor was talking to the most powerful man in the world and Curtis figured that he should have known. Perhaps an atlas for Christmas, he mused wryly. But right now there were more pressing things to get across.