Destiny

THIRTY-SEVEN

A crowd, estimated to be more than seven thousand people, watched as the long, black Cadillac limousine made its way slowly down the National Mall in the direction of the Lincoln Memorial. The limo, flying the American flag on the left and the presidential seal flag on the right, was flanked by two black SUV’s filled with Secret Service agents. Metro police on motorcycles led the procession. More black cars with government agents followed in the rear.

“There he is!” shouted a teenager to her boyfriend in the crowd. “The president waved at me!”

International television crews, perched on risers near the Lincoln Memorial, trained their cameras on the convoy. The signals, beamed to satellites, were carried live on television and the Internet to the world.

Inside the limo, the president turned to the prime minister and said, “We couldn’t have asked for better weather. It brought out a nice-sized crowd.”

The prime minister smiled. “I see many happy faces out there. It’s good, but not surprising, considering the long history of our nations. I appreciate your invitation to be here today. I actually have a picture of President Lincoln in my office.”

“I do as well.” The president grinned.

“Did you know that President Lincoln was a friend of the Jewish people and did something in his term to prove it?”

“What was that?”

“I read that during the Civil War, General Ulysses Grant had issued an order to remove the Jews from states where his forces had taken hold — states such as Kentucky, Tennessee and Mississippi. When President Lincoln heard what had happened, he immediately rescinded the order. It truly is an honor to be here today.”

Alicia Quincy stood in the media room at NSA headquarters and watched the ceremony play out across a dozen fifty-inch plasma screens. Some were direct feeds from the television networks. Other images were coming in live via satellite, the pictures crystal clear from an altitude of two hundred miles above Washington.

Bill Gray, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up on his thick forearms, sat on the edge of the conference table, arms folded, watching. Technicians switched between cameras in real time, all video instantly archived on their server’s hard drives. Four other cryptographers and two field agents were in the room.

They watched the president make a few remarks about the Lincoln Memorial and how Abraham Lincoln knew how to make difficult choices for the overall good of the nation. He read a few lines from the Gettysburg address and spoke of the eloquence and insight from Lincoln’s words.

The prime minister was introduced and began speaking, citing the symbolism between Lincoln’s struggles with a divided nation and the divisions in the Middle East.

Secret Service agents were everywhere, and they were the ones that were easily identifiable, dark glasses, suits, and eyes watching everything except the president and prime minister. Plainclothes agents filtered through the crowd, looking for any sudden or out of character moves. They had blocked all boat traffic in the Potomac River directly behind the Lincoln Memorial. Vehicle traffic was closed on the Arlington Memorial Bridge, Ohio Drive, and Independence Avenue. Two helicopters hovered, each about a half mile away in opposite directions of the ceremony. Two fully-armed F-22A Raptor Air Force jets circled high above the crowd.

Marcus sat on his desk in the Hebrew University Library and sipped a cup of black coffee, watching the ceremonies at the Lincoln Memorial on his computer screen. Jacob Kogen nursed his usual afternoon cup of tea and sat next to Marcus while the event unfolded.

“So far so good,” Jacob said. “I went to the wall to pray last night.”

Marcus stared at the screen, almost not blinking. “It looks like the prime minister is ending his speech. He’ll join the president to carry the wreath up the steps. This is where they’ll both be the most vulnerable.”

Jacob stood, folded his arms and said a silent prayer. “Paul, if they are both harmed…killed, it would be chaos, and one of the world’s greatest tragedies.”

The prime minister concluded his remarks, and then the president invited him to help carry the wreath. Two helicopters circled. Secret Service agents moved through the crowd. A mockingbird warbled from a cherry tree while the prime minister and president carried a large wreath to a stand on the top step of the memorial, near the statue of Lincoln. More than thirty federal agents and dozens of uniformed police officers stood in front of the barriers that kept the crowd at bay. Officials had reminded the gathering that pictures from cameras or phones would not be allowed due to security concerns. Everyone complied.

Everyone…except one man.

He was tall, standing a foot over most of the crowd. He stood behind three people who pressed against the wooden barriers. The man lifted a camera above his head and pointed it toward the president and prime minister as they climbed the steps.

“One o’clock!” shouted an agent with dark glasses.

In NSA headquarters, Bill Gray stood from the desk. Alicia Quincy hugged her arms; suddenly, she was cold.

“An incident!” Gray said, stepping closer to a plasma screen. “Take satellite seven!” The images on the screen switched to an overhead of the crowd.

Marcus leaned closer to his computer. “They have somebody!”

“Does he have gun?” Jacob asked.

“Looks like it’s a camera.”

“Thank God.”

In less than ten seconds, two agents had the man’s camera and were walking him to a spot near the reflection pool for questioning. He was held there as the president and prime minister set the wreath on the stand to the applause of the crowd. Using a wireless microphone, the president said, “Let the vision that President Lincoln had for people of the United States, his vision for peace, expand around the globe and touch the hearts and minds of the people everywhere. Thank you all for coming. The prime minister and I wish you a great day and a safe and enjoyable time here in Washington.”

Within seconds the Secret Service had the two heads of state in the limo and began a procession to the White House.

Marcus leaned back in his chair and let out a breath. He stood and looked at his watch. “I’m glad that’s over. I guess the data was wrong, or that’s not the right prime minister…or it’s all something else. I’m just glad they’re okay.”

Jacob nodded. “You did what you thought was in the best interest of those men. Imagine if you’d done nothing and something tragic had happened. Let’s find some food. I burned my allotment of calories for the day just watching those proceedings.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll take a rain check, I still have a few things I need to do.”

In the secure building on R Street in Washington D.C., Jonathon Carlson sat alone in the conference room, the ceremony at the Lincoln Memorial ending on the large plasma screen, the images replaced by two Fox news commentators on camera. Carlson hit the remote button, the screen fading to black. He picked up a phone on a secure line and made a call to Moscow. As the call connected, he sat back in his overstuffed chair and smiled. When the former president of Russia came on the line, Carlson said, “I trust you saw, all went as planned. They had a massive security presence at the Lincoln Memorial. Israeli security was everywhere. Paul Marcus sounded alarms. Next time, they’ll fall on deaf ears.”

“The Arab states will soon be eating out of our hands, especially Syria. The plan of our fathers is coming together.”