Thorn couldn’t be goaded into firing back. “Because I need to know, Kevin,” he said softly. “I know you didn’t do nothing. But why did you do what you did? Why didn’t you just use the immense power we have to solve these crises?”
Martindale fell silent, then shrugged his shoulders, as if not caring if Thorn knew his reasoning or not. “Plain and simple: I hate the idea of losing,” Martindale finally replied. “Spending weeks or even months mobilizing an army, then sending them across the globe to fight and die in a war, just doesn’t sound right to me. It sounds like a wasteful, inefficient, risky thing.”
“So if you send in HAWC or Madcap Magician,” Thorn summarized, “and they get beat, you think you haven’t lost?”
“No, I’ve lost, all right — but I’ve lost a scrimmage, not the real game,” Martindale explained. “And both those units have been pretty dam good in their scrimmages — sometimes they beat the bad guys so badly that there is no game afterward. In any case, the secret units were fast, efficient, highly motivated, they reported directly to me, and their funding and support were buried in black programs with minimal congressional oversight. That is, until now.”
“I see,” Thorn said. He looked at Martindale carefully — then, to Martindale’s surprise, he smiled and nodded. “Very well. Thank you for your time, Mr. President.”
“That’s it? That’s all?” Martindale asked incredulously. “No threats, no warnings, no condemnation?”
“Of what?”
“Of—” Then Martindale stopped. He smiled, wagged a finger at Thorn, then stood up to leave. “I see. Very clever. You shove me around a bit so I’ll reveal some information, then simply leave me to fend for myself”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kevin,” Thorn said. “I just wanted to ask you about some of the aspects of your tenure as president. I think I have a pretty good idea now.”
“Let’s stop playing games, Thorn,” Martindale said angrily”You called me in here for a reason. Spit it out.”
“Very well, Mr. President—”
“And stop with the ‘Mr. President’ shit,” Martindale interjected. “I’m not the president — you are. You have about as much respect for me as I have for you.”
“All I have to say is this, Kevin: what you’re planning to do is dangerous — maybe not to you, but to the men and women you’re recruiting to work with you,” Thorn said. “Executive privilege won’t protect you, and the Geneva Conventions won’t protect them. No matter what you do, no matter whom or how it benefits, the United States won’t come to your rescue. As they said in the old TV shows, we’ll disavow any knowledge of your actions. You’ll be nothing more than high-tech vigilantes.”
“Then do something yourself,” Martindale said, all traces of bravado gone for now. “Sponsor us. Underwrite us. We’ll take the risk, but we’ll do it under your direction. We’ll keep ourselves out of the spotlight, follow the spirit of the law, cooperate as much as possible with domestic and foreign governments. But this isolationist, laissez-faire policy of yours will drag this country down, and someone has to act to protect our vital interests.”
“You want to follow the law, Kevin? Drop this crazy scheme,” the President said. “You’ve done enough damage as it is already.”
“We haven’t even begun to fight, Tom,” Martindale said. “You are not going to be able to stop us. You might as well work with us.”
“Who else is involved in this, Kevin?” Thorn asked. “Who in my administration? Which active-duty officers? Which retired officers?”
“You expect me just to give you a roster?”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“Not as far as I can throw you,” Martindale replied. “Of course, if you’d agree to join us, or even not to interfere and to pass us some intelligence information every now and then, perhaps I’d be convinced that you could be trusted.”
“I’m not going to spar with you, Kevin,” Thorn said. “I’ll assume you have some sort of ultraminiature recording device on you. It doesn’t matter. I’ll say this plainly: I’ll oppose anyone who wants to conduct their own foreign or military policy. I don’t know if what you’re doing is illegal or not — that’s a question for the Justice Department. But if you give me the names of all your members, and if Justice deems your operation illegal, which I think they will—”
“Of course they will. The Attorney General works for the President,” Martindale interjected. “I know how that works, Thorn, remember? I played that game. The Justice Department doesn’t stand for ‘justice’—it stands for whatever the White House stands for. Justice’s job is to make the laws fit the wishes of the White House.”
“—then I’ll give the participants you list one free pass. No judicial punishment. They’ll be allowed to go free if they keep their noses clean.”
“I’ll give you an offer in return,” Martindale said. “You continue to do whatever the hell it is you do in this place, whatever your pointed little head tells you is the will of the people. When Russia invades Turkey or Ukraine or Georgia, when China tries to invade Taiwan or take over the South China Sea again, if Iran tries to take over the Persian Gulf or Red Sea, and suddenly the bad guys mysteriously start losing ships and planes and bases, you just keep swearing that the United States isn’t doing anything. You promise to investigate the matter, then simply drop it.
“Every now and then, your folks pick up the phone and toss us some information or a few old satellite photos or EM intercepts. Nothing direct — a file carelessly left on a desk, a fax or e-mail to a wrong address, an intel package or classified situation report mysteriously delayed a few minutes on its way from the Pentagon to the White House. You continue to deny everything, chastise the press for spreading accusations and being alarmist, and continue on your merry mission of burying your head in the sand. Someone else will take care of all the messes in the world.”
“You think this is a big joke, eh, Martindale?” Thorn responded. “I assure you, this is a very serious situation. I can pick up the phone and have you arrested right now. The FBI will eventually find the rest of the members of your little gun club. You’ll be disgraced and vilified for the rest of your life. Your participants’ lives and careers will be ruined.”
“Thorn, don’t be an ass,” Martindale admonished him. “You know as well as I do that nothing will be proven. You will have arrested, harassed, and slandered a former president of the United States, and none of the accusations will be found to be true. Congress will completely abandon you — you’ll have zero chance of getting one piece of legislation passed. You’ll be even more of a laughingstock than you are now.”
“I’m giving you one last chance, Kevin,” Thorn said. “Abandon this crazy scheme. Tell me who your main officers are, and they’ll be exempt from prosecution one time only, after we sit down with them and advise them of the trouble they’re in and the punishment awaiting them if they’re found guilty.”
Martindale looked at Thorn for what seemed like a long time, then shrugged his shoulders. “It was nice talking with you, Thorn,” he said, as he extended his hand to the President. “Your naïveté is exceeded only by your dedication to your convictions. Maybe you really are the reincarnation of Thomas Jefferson, like all the weirdos claim you are.”
Thorn looked disappointed, but he shook hands with Martindale nonetheless. “It was nice talking to you, too, sir,” he said. “I don’t envy the path you’ve chosen for yourself and your misguided followers. I predict it will be long and difficult.”