And McGreevy, who was almost certainly a traitor, was sitting at the other side of the room.
“Well, we’re only just looking at communications intercepts and human intelligence sources, but the general conclusion is that the attack was carried out by Islamic terrorists,” the CIA Director said, finally. “Three of the crewmen assigned to Air Force One were Muslim; all three of them went down with the plane. There has been a considerable upswing in chatter between known terrorist cells over the past two weeks and it is quite possible that one of them has made the shift from plotting to action.”
“A very clever strike,” the President observed, bitterly. “How did this happen?”
There was an uncomfortable pause. “Well, Mr. President,” the CIA Director said, finally, “there are always problems with ensuring that the security barriers surrounding any target are impregnable. We are not allowed to discriminate against anyone just on suspicion, or because they practice a religion that includes terrorists who want to kill us all as brutally as they can. At times, people slip through the holes and managed to get into a position they can use to hurt us badly.”
“So these terrorists managed to join the USAF and operate undetected for years before they struck,” the President said. He sounded angry; Toby didn’t blame him. The cock-and-bull story they’d given him made the USAF’s security division look very bad. And no matter what happened, chances were that three innocent crewmen were going to be posthumously declared the worst terrorists since the men who’d struck at America on 9/11. The lives of their families would be blighted by the investigators, trying to prove a link between their dead relatives and international terrorism. And it was quite possible that the aliens had turned someone on the plane into an unwitting traitor. “Why now?”
“The Middle East has been going through a series of political earthquakes,” the CIA Director said. “The price of oil has fallen dramatically ever since we started to turn to fusion power. We may not have made a complete shift just yet, but perceptions are important — and perceptions say that there won’t be more than two years before demand for oil falls sharply. And then the money runs out.”
Toby nodded. The latest alien miracle introduced by the Welcome Foundation was a set of batteries that could store vast amounts of power almost endlessly, turning the long-held dream of electric cars into a reality. All one had to do was plug the battery into the mains socket — power supplied by fusion, of course — and the car would be ready to drive within hours. The designers had pulled an engine out of a popular car, replaced it with a battery, and let the results speak for themselves. There were already ecological pressure groups getting organised to demand that all newly-produced cars were powered by fusion power, rather than gas.
“I think we will be looking at far more terrorism in the near future,” the CIA Director said. “Whatever they say openly, far too many Arab governments — Saudi and Iran in particular — back the terrorists. If they can force the Galactic Federation to abandon Earth, they could reclaim their former prominence as oil suppliers to the world.”
“So they’ll keep attacking the Federation,” the President said. “We may need to increase security at their bases…”
“I think there is another problem,” McGreevy said, sharply. “How do we know that this was an Islamic strike at all?”
“We don’t,” the CIA Director admitted. “However, the Islamic terrorists have been threatening the Galactic Federation…”
“And so they struck at the Vice President,” McGreevy said. “I’m not sure I follow their logic. They want to hurt the Galactic Federation so they kill the Vice President of America? Where’s the logic in that?”
“Terrorists,” the CIA Director said, carefully, “tend to look for spectacular strikes. Destroying an aircraft in flight is irritating, but largely harmless in any long-term sense. Assassinating the Vice President, however, gives the impression that they can strike anywhere — and if the Vice President isn’t safe, no one is safe.”
“The fact remains that this serves no logical purpose,” McGreevy said. Her eyes fixed on the FBI Director’s face. “I think we should be looking closer to home. Is it not a fact that we have been seeing an increased number of threats against federal agents from home-grown right-wing militia groups?”
Toby kept his face impassive, but he was starting to see her line of logic. They’d lost Blake Coleman… and the only reason the FBI hadn’t descended on Coleman’s family to discover what he’d been doing had been that the body hadn’t been recovered. And no one human could have removed the body before the police arrived. If the aliens had worked out who’d intercepted their team of assassins, they might be trying to put the blame for the Vice President’s assassination on Toby’s father, ensuring that two of their enemies wound up fighting each other.
The FBI Director sighed. He knew little about the alien threat. “The FBI has been monitoring the militia movement ever since it became an issue,” he said. “We have placed agents and informants within most of the militia movements — and, quite frankly, most of them pose more threat to themselves than to others. Despite their often fiery speeches, the most serious criminal offense they do is hording illegal weapons — some of which are often illegal based on technicalities.”
“The law is the law,” McGreevy said. “And why have you not arrested them?”
“There is a general feeling that they’re largely harmless,” the FBI Director said. “You may recall Waco and other nasty incidents — I assure you that they do. If we were to crack down on them — over minor issues that take a weapon from legal to illegal — we would run the risk of transforming a marginalised bunch of nutcases into a serious movement that would pose a serious threat to the stability of the country. The vast majority of militias are peaceful — we have had some cases of people talking about striking back at the Feds — that’s us — and being pushed out of the movements.”
McGreevy snorted. “And they are the ones with a real grudge against the Vice President,” she said. “Wasn’t it he who took their money and then pushed for heavier restrictions on assault rifles? Wasn’t it he who personally put forward the money for interfaith centres in all American states? His reputation among the far right was lower than Bill Clinton’s — maybe, with the Galactic Federation offering us a way to live in peace, one of your harmless movements has moved from talking to action.”
“It’s a possibility,” the FBI Director conceded. “However, in order to carry out such an operation, they would have to plot it, put their people in place and conceal it until the time came to strike. None of the militias have that sort of patience — many of them would prefer to act at once rather than wait for the right moment. I think that the evidence will eventually lead to Islamic terrorists.”
The President held up a hand. “Enough,” he said, with surprising force. “We will double our security precautions everywhere — perhaps attempt to halt demobilisation until we can get better security networks in place.”
“The Galactics won’t like that,” McGreevy warned.
“Their timetable is too short anyway,” the President countered. “They’ll live.”
He looked up at her, grimly. “You’ll be nominated as Vice President tonight,” he added. “Congress will, I suspect, approve you as soon as possible. I trust that that meets with your approval?”