Hidden Order

CHAPTER 73

“You can call it whatever you like, George” said the President to his Director of National Intelligence, “but I call it treason. We’re a nation of laws. That’s what makes us a republic. We need to start enforcing those laws and making examples of those who think they’re above them.”

“And the financial system?” the secretary of the Treasury asked.

“We need to allow it to fail. That damn Federal Reserve has done nothing but allow banks to take bigger and bigger risks, and whenever they get in over their heads, it’s the taxpayers and their hard-earned money that is used over and over again to bail them out. That needs to stop.”

“So we remove all restrictions from the financial industry?”

“Hell no,” the President said, rebuking him. “I want a top-to-bottom review in the next seventy-two hours. I want to streamline that entire industry. They’ll succeed or they’ll fail on their own, but they’ll know where the lines are drawn and that they’ll be enforced. No longer will we hold that any business is too big too fail, and I don’t want to hear that any person is too big to jail.

“It is going to be painful, I’ll give you that, but we need to take our medicine now, right now. If we don’t, we’ll never pull out of the nosedive we’re in. Our creditors need to know that not only do we have our house in order, we are also going to begin paying off our debt. For every job that’s been shipped overseas, we’re going to see five more spring up here by this government creating the most pro-business climate in the history of the modern world.”

“And what about the Federal Reserve?” the secretary of the Treasury asked.

“We’re not renewing their charter.”

“We’re not?” the man replied, stunned.

“No. The power to print money was intended for the Congress, not to be outsourced to some banking monopoly masquerading as a government agency. You’ve got twenty-four hours to get back to me with a plan on how we disentangle ourselves from the Fed.”

“But, Mr. President—” the man began.

“No buts. We’ve shut down central banks before in this country. It’s past time we do it again.”

“The shock to the economy could—”

“Be just what this country needs,” replied the President.

They went over a couple of additional items before the President thanked the Treasury secretary for coming and excused him from the balance of the meeting.

Harvath, Ryan, Wise, McGee, and Reed Carlton were all then shown into the Oval Office. It was the first time any of them had met the President. He directed them to the couches in the center of the room and asked them to sit down.

“We saw the secretary of the Treasury on his way out,” said Carlton. “He didn’t look so well.”

“Good,” replied the President. “Have you seen the state of our economy? The man should go to bed every night worrying that tomorrow he’ll be swinging from a lamppost if things don’t get better. I know I do.”

This President had been elected largely based on his common sense and a no-BS approach to problems. He was very charismatic and, unlike many of the slippery politicians in Washington, seemed to not only genuinely care about the condition that the country was in, but also to be truly confident that things could be turned around and that collapse wasn’t inevitable.

“But you’re not here to talk about what keeps me up at night,” said the President. “First, I want to thank you for what you did. I understand there were a few others who helped you,” he said as he peered down at his notes. “A Ms. Sloane Ashby and Messrs. Chase Palmer and Matthew Sanchez. Please also extend my thanks to them.”

Carlton assured the President that it would be done.

“Excellent,” he replied. “Now, on to business.” Looking first at Ryan, then Wise and finally McGee, he said, “I don’t know what the hell is going on at CIA, but it’s going to stop now. It needs all of the deadwood cleared out and a brand-new culture instilled. It’s filled with patriotic men and women who would go to the ends of the earth for this country if the bureaucrats gumming up the system would just get out of their way and let them do it.

“This whole Phil Durkin situation never should have happened. I have already asked the DCI for his resignation.”

Ryan and McGee were shocked.

“Who’s going to replace him?” McGee asked.

“You are,” said the President. “Both of you.”

“Codirectors?” replied Ryan.

“Unless you think one person can handle turning that agency around in the next twelve months.”

The Old Man smiled.

“I take it you approve?” said the President.

“Yes, sir,” replied Carlton. “In fact, if I may say so, it should have been done a long time ago.”

“It’s being done now.” Turning to Wise, the President asked, “Do you have any desire to come out of retirement and serve your country again?”

“If my country needs me, I’m happy to come out of retirement.”

“I think Ryan and McGee are going to have their hands full. They’re going to need someone they can trust to help weigh who stays, who goes, what gets saved, what gets cut, et cetera. I can’t promise you it will be glamorous, but I can promise that you’ll have the appreciation of a grateful nation.”

Wise nodded. “Thank you, sir. It would be my honor.”

“Good. I have already spoken with His Majesty in Jordan. He, of course, feigned outrage that his intelligence service was blackmailing the CIA with an active terrorist plot in order to extract information about Durkin’s political destabilization team. He assured me that the bombers would be apprehended immediately and that any and all information they have on the plot will be shared with us straightaway. Ryan, I’d like you to review it and brief General Johnson, who will in turn brief me.”

“Yes, sir,” Ryan replied.

“What else?” the President asked as he flipped through his notes. “I’ve asked the attorney general to give me recommendations as to how Sal Sabatini and this Samuel character ought to be handled. I have to tell you that I’m less worried at this point about the legal process than I am at the prospect that there could be others like them running around out there. Dr. Wise, I’d like you to make Swim Club, as well as all the other black programs Durkin had kept alive, your immediate focus at the Agency.”

“Yes, sir,” said Wise.

“Speaking of Durkin’s black programs, I understand the last member of the destabilization team, a Tara Fleming, has been placed in FBI custody and is being debriefed. I expect to meet with the FBI director soon to discuss what, if anything, he believes should be done with her.

“Which brings me finally to Mr. Monroe Lewis of the Federal Reserve. The scandals be damned — he’s going to stand trial for what he did. His security chief is going to be charged as an accessory as well. I think that does it,” he said, glancing once more at his notes. “Am I missing anything?”

Carlton raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll get to your request in a moment,” the President replied. Focusing on the others, he said, “I want to thank you again for what you did. It took tremendous courage. It’s that kind of bravery and sacrifice that is going to bring this nation back to prominence. Remember that when things get tough up on the seventh floor at Langley, because they will get tough.”

“We will, sir,” said McGee as he stood and shook the President’s hand. “Thank you, sir.”

Ryan and Wise joined him, and after they both shook the President’s hand and said goodbye, they exited the Oval Office along with Bob McGee. Harvath and the Old Man sat facing the Director of National Intelligence and the President.

The President looked at Carlton and said, “General Johnson debriefed me on what happened in Somalia and shared your request to pin the firefight and the casualties on Durkin. I’m going to grant the request. Run everything through the general’s office, and as long as it all has his approval, I’m okay with it. Technically, though, this conversation never happened. Understood?”

“Understood,” the Old Man replied, pleased that he’d be able to put the Sienna Star issue to bed and get their agency paid.

“I also understand that your firm lost its DoD contract and since that time has been struggling a bit.”

“I wouldn’t say we’ve been—”

“That’s correct, sir,” Harvath replied, cutting off his boss and answering the President’s question.

“I also understand, Mr. Harvath, that you worked for a prior president and helped chalk up some big wins. How come the next administration didn’t hold you over?”

“They had a different worldview, sir.”

The President thought about that for a moment. “I am very bullish on America’s future; I make no secret about that. But before we return to prosperity and abundance, I believe we are going to face profound darkness and be tested like never before in this nation’s history. When that happens, the United States is going to need its very best and very brightest to push back the darkness and take the fight to any enemy that would see us destroyed, both foreign and domestic.

“I’d like to be able to count on your organization. I want you to be part of that fight. With some of the reorganization that General Johnson and I are planning for the intelligence community, we believe a place can be made for you. Would that be of interest?”

Simultaneously, Harvath and Carlton replied, “Yes, sir.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” said the President as he rose, signaling that the meeting was over.

As he walked them slowly to the door, he left them with one final thought. “A man who occupied this office years ago once said that freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction. We didn’t pass it to our children in the bloodstream. It must be fought for, protected, and handed on for them to do the same, or one day we will spend our sunset years telling our children and our children’s children what it was once like in the United States when men were free.”

He then shook their hands and said, “I’m glad to know that you’ll both be with me in this fight.”