“What now?” Boomer asked.
Stewart held two fingers a fraction apart.
“You were this close to having me call Honolulu PD and you being taken into custody.”
“Were?” Boomer asked.
“Were,” Stewart confirmed.
“Now we wait. Air Force One will be here and the Man will have to decide what to do.”
Air Force One was cruising at 34,000 feet, heading west toward Hawaii.
The airspace for 100 miles around the plane was kept clear by air traffic controllers. Inside that space, besides the large 747, two F-16 Fighting Falcons flew escort, shadowing the bulky plane like two sleek watchdogs, their radars scanning the skies all around, their missiles armed and ready for firing.
Inside Air Force One, General Maxwell slowly put the phone down. He glanced up as Senator Jordan walked down the aisle. Jordan had been spending more time with Maxwell over the course of the past month, feeling him out on his views. Maxwell knew that Jordan was a key player between the White House and Congress. Most importantly, though, was the fact that Jordan had the President’s ear and Maxwell knew the best way to approach the President was through the senator.
“What’s wrong, general?” Jordan asked, taking the deep seat across the way from Maxwell.
“We might have trouble in Hawaii.”
Jordan waited silently. Maxwell began with the phone call from Agent Stewart, then worked backwards, telling the story he’d just been told.
When he got done. Senator Jordan made no comment.
“What do you think?” he asked.
Maxwell took a deep breath.
“I’m not sure. I don’t know this Major Watson who came to Agent Stewart. However, I don’t think we can afford not to believe that the story may be true, particularly with all that has been happening between this administration and the Pentagon. Before he departed on advance security I told Agent Stewart to be on the lookout because I’ve been concerned about the strained relationship between the President and the military.”
Jordan shook his head.
“This is ridiculous. This country has never been concerned about its military doing something like this. What you’re talking about here — the plot this man has come to Agent Stewart with — it’s unthinkable.”
Maxwell thought that was a rather simplistic approach.
“We have to consider it as possible, sir.”
Jordan frowned.
“This Major Trace. She supposedly has some sort of proof that this organization exists?”
“Yes,” Maxwell said.
“Unfortunately she has not been heard from in the last twenty-four hours. She was last seen at West Point.”
“Is there anything we can do to track her down?”
Maxwell nodded.
“I’ll make some calls,”
“And the soldier?” the senator asked.
“What is his status?”
“I’ve asked Agent Stewart to hold him until we arrive.
Technically speaking, of course, Stewart should be turning him over to the local police for questioning on homicide charges.”
“You did right holding him,” Jordan said. He paused in thought. “Have you ever heard of this Line?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“And you’ve been in the military for over thirty years.
Don’t you think you would have run into it? Especially when you were in command over in Yugoslavia? If you’ve never heard of it, I doubt that it exists.”
Maxwell considered his thoughts carefully.
“I have never heard of an organization called The Line, that is true.
But I also could not swear to you that such an organization does not exist. I have seen and heard too much in my years of active service in uniform to discount the possibility.
There has always been a closing of ranks among senior officers from the service academies.”
“That’s not a stand, general. I can’t go to the President with that.”
Jordan pressed home.
“Do you believe — yes or no — that an organization called The Line exists?”
Maxwell thought for a few moments, then startled himself, never mind the senator, with his next words.
“Yes, I do believe it exists.”
“Oh shit,” Senator Jordan said, losing his composure.
“Do you believe that there’s a plot against the President in Hawaii?” he demanded.
Maxwell’s forehead furrowed.
“I think something is going to happen. I’ve felt all along that at the very least the President was going to be confronted by General Martin and the Joint Chiefs in Hawaii over some of the issues.”
“Confrontation and assassination are two radically different words,” Jordan said.
“I know that. But this information is disturbing, the Special Operations Forces parachuting off the north shore and the Vice President just happening to be vacationing up there. The movement of the Special Ops sub toward the SHARCC — the President was scheduled to participate in a highly classified exercise on board there, yet these people know about it — that meant others knew about it.”
“I want you to check on that, general,” Jordan said.
“Find out who authorized those troops to move and what their mission is. If there is a mission.”
“I’ll check on it.”
Jordan pushed the call button and a steward appeared.
Jordan raised a finger and glanced at Maxwell.
“Coffee,” the retired general said.
The steward returned with a drink for the senator and the coffee.
Jordan took a sip.
“Maxwell, you were one of them.” He held up a finger as the general started to protest..
“No, listen to me. The President has no ties to the military,” Jordan chuckled.
“That may be the understatement of the year. So talk to me. What’s going on in the Pentagon?”
Maxwell cradled the coffee mug in his hands.
“They want the President to back down on the MRA and allow it to die in the Senate. They also want him to allow full funding of the Hard Glass system and cut all support for the Ukraine.”
“What are they going to offer in return?” Senator Jordan asked.
“I think they’ll endorse the recommendations of the Fortney Commission,” Maxwell said. The Fortney report had been done by a group hired by the Pentagon in response to the administration’s MRA research.
Its recommendations, mollified by the fact that the Pentagon controlled the commission’s budget, had been mild to say the least, and bore little resemblance to the sweeping changes in the MRA.
“And?” Jordan asked.
Maxwell shrugged.
“That’s all.”
Jordan blinked.
“You’re joking.”
Maxwell’s face didn’t betray any emotion.
“No, I’m not.”
“And if the President refuses?”
Maxwell shifted his steel rimmed glasses toward the senator.
“We have a problem. Now you understand why I’m inclined to believe Agent Stewart’s report.”
Jordan stirred the ice in his drink.
“General Martin is political. He has the support of the opposition in Congress.
The Joint Chiefs could embarrass the President with some incident if they so desired. But a military coup is a far cry from political embarrassment. It surprises me that you believe the situation could be this critical.” Jordan looked at the folders piled on the seat next to Maxwell.
“Have you seen a draft of the President’s speech?”
Maxwell nodded.
“How do you think the military audience at Pearl will react?”
Maxwell remembered all too well the chilly, almost insubordinate, reception the President had received at a military post early in his campaign several years ago.
“In a military manner,” he said.