Silent Waters

Chapter 28

“That’s a wrap,” the director of the camera crew called out.

President Hawkins waited in his chair until the microphone was removed before getting up. He moved past the cameras and lighting equipment to his staff, who were waiting at the other end of the Oval Office.

“How did I come across?” he asked.

Three of the aides blurted out compliments in rapid succession.

“Excellent.”

“Tough and in charge, sir.”

“The country is lucky to have you in that seat, Mr. President.”

Hawkins was pleased with the response, but he knew he’d only hear the truth from his campaign manager, Bob Fortier. The old pit bull never minced words. He didn’t care about hurting the President’s feelings or chewing him into little pieces and spitting him out. He was a no-nonsense, straight-from-the-hip guy who, when it suited him, could be a wheeler and dealer who knew exactly how to get a job done. Right now, Fortier was standing behind the military advisors, near the window. His stony expression revealed nothing.

They needed to wait for the camera crew to leave the room. Someone handed the President a cup of coffee. He gulped half of it down, not minding the hot liquid burning his tongue and throat. He was in overdrive now, and he needed to stay that way until this thing was behind them.

When the television crew finally went out ahead of most of the staff, Joe Smith jumped to get his two cents in before anyone else could talk.

“Mr. President, your stance of not giving in to these thugs’ demands is rock solid,” the rear admiral said passionately. “I think it’s brilliant to lay out a detailed counter-attack strategy of your own before the American public. Put these barbarians on the defensive and keep them there.”

“Thank you, Admiral. I appreciate your support.”

“What I must disagree with,” Smith continued, “is your insistence that you remain at the White House, and announcing this to the country on live TV and radio. Everyone, Mr. President, including these hijackers, is listening, and you know damn well that we’re within the range of a Tomahawk cruise missile from Hartford. At this very minute, a missile could be headed for us, and there’s no guarantee we’ll be able to knock it down before it strikes.”

“Do you think I should be afraid, Admiral?” Hawkins asked with a smile, glancing out the window at the sunny skies of Washington, DC.

“Not afraid, sir, but cautious.”

“I’m taking precautions. The Vice President has been taken to a safe location. If the worst should happen and these thugs, as you call them, are not the cowards they appear, then I am sure that this great country of ours will continue to function even if the White House comes down around my ears.”

“Mr. President—” Smith started again.

“I have great faith in our military superiority,” Hawkins continued.

“Naturally, sir. But that doesn’t mean you should be exposed. Take yourself out of the line of fire,” the rear admiral wasn’t about to give up. “We don’t want to give these people a target.”

Hawkins passed on his cup to be filled again. “Life is about choices, Joe, about roads that we decide to take or not to take. Each step paves the way for the next. Each road leads us to a new adventure,” he said. “The events of this morning stand in history as the greatest threat ever raised against the American people. The magnitude of evacuation that is going on all along the East Coast is the largest ever engineered anywhere. People are scared, Admiral Smith. There is chaos across the country. I’ve ordered every facet of our government to do what we can to assist our people.”

“All completely admirable, Mr. President—”

“Now, by staying at the White House, Admiral, I’m doing exactly what I’m ordering my troops to do. A captain remains at the helm of his ship until the very end. People need to see that I’m calm, in charge, and not afraid. The American people need to see that, and the hijackers need to see that. This is the road that I’m determined to take. Whatever road my actions lead me to, then I shall welcome that venture, as well. But in the end I believe the men aboard that submarine will back down. If they don’t, they’ll rue the day they were born, Admiral.”

With a nod, Rear Admiral Smith acquiesced. Hawkins looked over at Bob Fortier. The old man was watching someone beside him. It was a reporter from the Post, and the man was writing notes ferociously on a pad.

The President glanced back at Fortier, who gave him an approving look.