Red Hammer 1994

“What’s the fucking point? You’re the only one that’s still alive. That’s the point. You were there from the start, the NSC meeting after the boats were first discovered. You alone were at the NMCC when the attack was first detected. You saw how things unfolded, how the president reacted. Then you were at the GMCC last night with Secretary Alexander. You’ve got a feel for how the decisions were made up and down the line, and that’s what the president needs. He’s in left field, being fed bullshit from both sides—candy-ass aides who want to unconditionally surrender and a gung-ho CINCSTRAT who wants to unleash the entire strategic reserve. Then there are civil matters. What a pile of shit. The president needs you, Bob.”

Hargesty stood with his arms folded. “Besides, you’ve got a reputation as a decent strategist and someone with backbone.”

Thomas sighed. “I don’t have any magical answers. I’m barely functioning.” He buried his face in his hands. Thomas felt overwhelmed.

“Your presence here is critical, even if you don’t say a goddamn word. You’ll lend credibility, legitimacy to the president. It’s your duty, Bob.”

Thomas looked up. The last statement was a cheap shot. Duty, my ass, he thought. He struggled to assemble his thoughts. He needed to figure out Hargesty’s game. “Secretary Alexander knew there would be heartburn over the speaker assuming the presidency. You must know that the CINCs weren’t thrilled. How about you, General?” It was the right question at the right time.

Hargesty gave Thomas an angry look. He leaned forward purposefully, riveting his eyes on Thomas’s eyes. He folded his beefy hands and rested them in his lap. It was lecture time. “I’m a simple guy, Bob. I don’t know why a supposedly merciful God let this happen, but I’m not going to get tied in knots trying to philosophize about life after nuclear war. We’ve got a nasty fight on our hands; it’s that simple. I obey the orders of the Commander-in-Chief. And I’ll personally kick anyone’s ass who is not on board. I’ve already relieved two commanders. I may appear cold and uncaring, but I’m no different than anyone else. Hell, my wife kissed me good-bye when I got on that helo. She was crying her eyes out. And I felt like it.” Hargesty slapped his thighs and stood. “That’s in the past; let’s go see the president. He’s expecting us.”

Thomas nodded. Not bad, he thought. He rose and followed the stocky general out the door and up the back stairs. Fatigue was beginning to settle in his lower back as a dull ache.

“You were hit by Spetsnaz,” Hargesty offered out of the blue, “which is no news to you. A bunch of them flew in from Cuba on a couple converted Boeing 727s that stuck to commercial air corridors. How they got into Cuba undetected no one knows. Sons-of-bitches hit just about every command site in the east and military bases as far west as Colorado. They nailed our ass. So much for our vaunted operational security. That’s why we can’t go to the North Carolina bunker. An alternate is being worked farther south, out of ICBM range. But we won’t show up there until those assholes are mopped up. We’ve got the equivalent of two infantry divisions tracking them down. What a waste of resources.”

The topic made Thomas recall the building’s bullet-scarred exterior. “What happened here?” Hargesty looked puzzled but then caught on.

“The bullet holes? Trigger-happy soldiers early this morning—when we moved in, they swore they took rounds from the buildings. Maybe they did, who knows? We never found anyone.”

They exited at the third floor where a handful of young soldiers stood guard in a U-shaped hallway covered with plush gray and burgundy carpet that was now covered with an artful pattern of muddy footprints. Stylish paintings adorned the corridor, oddly contrasting the somber mood hanging in the air. Hargesty stopped in front of a large wooden door belonging to an important-sounding law firm, rapping. The door slowly opened.

Inside, the expensive overstuffed furniture and end tables had been shoved aside, and the mahogany desks were strung end-to-end, covered with a collage of maps and charts. Mobile communications gear in hastily assembled racks covered an entire wall. Private offices had cots erected. It had all the trappings of a government in exile, on the run, thought Thomas. Not a pretty sight.

In the far corner, a tall, distinguished man looked up from the crowd of officers and civilians huddled around a conference table. He excused himself, walking slowly to where the two generals were waiting. Thomas felt uneasy, on a knife’s edge, uncertain as to where he stood. The man didn’t say a word, but reached out and gave Thomas a genuinely warm handshake that melted his anxiety and brought a flush of relief.