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Chapter 53
The Director of the Homeland Investigation Authority stared out of the window. At a distance, he could see a little stretch of the Potomac River.
The sight of the river was soothing. A little reminder, if he needed it, that politicians and bureaucrats came and wentnot exempting himself, even if his tenure had been much longer than usualbut the nation remained.
Throughout, half his mindbut no more than thatremained attentive to the continuing prattle coming from the national security adviser. The rest of his mind was busy recalling every NSA whołd passed through Washington in the years that Hughes had sat in the directorłs office. Had any of them been quite the unmitigated ass that Jensen was?
The answer kept coming up: no. Close, in one or two cases, but no cigar.
“charges of treason not out of the question, I tell you!"
Enough was enough. Hełd listened politely, now, for well over fifteen minutes.
“That is perhaps the silliest statement IÅ‚ve ever heard in this office, Georgeand IÅ‚ve heard quite a few."
He swiveled his chair to look at the NSA sitting on the couch some distance away. Jensen had insisted on the couch, as usual. This time, though, Hughes had insisted on remaining at his desk.
“The charge of Å‚treasonÅ‚ is a very specific one, whose parameters are clearly spelled out in the Constitution. You couldnÅ‚t find a shyster anywherenot even in this town, not even in the Justice DepartmentwhoÅ‚d agree to bring that charge against Madeline Fathom. TheyÅ‚d be afraid of being disbarred for incompetence."
A pity we canłt do the same for NSAs. But he left that unsaid.
“George," he continued, “if you do so much as try to charge her with violating this or that security lawoh, you could certainly find something, weÅ‚ve got so many of themyouÅ‚d still come out of it on the short end of the stick. Å‚Short endÅ‚ as in"
He held up his pudgy hand, with only a millimeter or two separating the tips of his thumb and forefinger. “youÅ‚ll be clutching the itty-bit tip fighting desperately for your political survival, while Fathom uses the great big meaty part of it to club you silly. Well... not her, personally. SheÅ‚d stay out of it, directly. If I know Madelineand I doshe wonÅ‚t even make any statements to the press. DoesnÅ‚t matter. The media will beat you to death."
He leaned forward, plucked a small stack of magazines from the top of his desk, and flicked them over to the coffee table.
Hughes had been a pretty good basketball player in his youth, until the certain knowledge that hełd never be taller than five and a half feet put paid to that ambition. All but one of the magazines landed squarely on the table. Even that one landed face up on the carpet.
Madeline Fathomłs face up, to be precise. That was Celebrities Today, which, as usual, had gone for a full-face glamor shot. Most of the other magazines, being newsmagazines, had run a different picturethe image taken by A.J. Bakerłs recorders as hełd first found Madeline in the collapse of the ice tunnel.
“She was on the cover of half the magazines in America, that week. With Å‚AmericaÅ‚s SupergirlÅ‚ as the banner in most of them. SheÅ‚s better known to the public than you are these days, George, andI guarantee you this muchone hell of a lot more popular."
He chuckled heavily and added, in an exaggerated southern drawl, “A popular security agent, if that donÅ‚t beat all! Created one heck of a problem for us, oÅ‚ course. The HIAÅ‚s been flooded with applications since, at least half of them girls about to graduate from high school. Betcha that a few months from now, Å‚MadelineÅ‚ will be the most popular name for newborn girl babies. Give you ten-to-one odds."
Jensen was staring at the magazines as he might stare at so many venomous snakes set loose from a cage.
“Face facts," Hughes said coldly. “Start with the fact that sheÅ‚s way smarter than you think. There was not a single military secret in that entire transmission. Not one. That was her assignment. Defined in precise and narrow terms, I admit, but thatÅ‚s exactly how a hostile press will define itand what are you going to say? Much less charge her with? Å‚She failed to read our minds properlyÅ‚?"
“Who cares, Andy?" Jensen exploded, half-rising from the couch. He was so agitated he lapsed into profanity, something he normally avoided. “The whole fucking transmissionÅ‚s a violation of national security! She told the whole world everything, God damn it!"
Now, he did rise fully to his feet, and dramatically started counting off on his fingers.
“Start with item one. The whole world now knows that such a thing as a reactionless drive is possible. Which means that every relevant university lab and research institute in the worldnot just ourswill be kicking into high gear to figure out how to make one.
“Item two. The whole world now knows that weÅ‚ve found the key to translating the Bemmie language."
Almostnot quitehe sneered at Hughes. “So big deal if itÅ‚ll take years to decipher that key, assuming the linguists are rightand whoÅ‚s to say they havenÅ‚t been compromised? One of them is a foreign national, you know."
“Å‚Compromised,Å‚" Hughes drawled, again exaggerating his accent, as if he couldnÅ‚t help do so while savoring the word. In the dialect of Washingtonese favored by Jensen and his type, that translated as: canÅ‚t be certain to get with the program in every jot and particular.
He sat up straighter and went back to his usual manner of speech, which had only a trace left of his Mississippi rural origins. “Yes, one of the linguists is a foreigner, indeed. A citizen of our well-known arch-enemy, Great Britain. The only country, let me remind you, to ever invade the United Statesand whoÅ‚s to say their conduct for the past two centuries hasnÅ‚t just been a ploy to get us to lower our guard so they can do it again?"
“This is no time for jokes, Andy!"
“WhoÅ‚s joking?" He twisted his head slightly, gesturing in the direction of the Pentagon. “You and I both know perfectly well that somewhere buried over there are plans for repelling a British invasionand invading them, for that matter. TheyÅ‚re called Å‚contingency plansÅ‚ and weÅ‚ve got them for just about everything. A surgical strike at AntarcticaÅ‚s penguins, I imagine, if thatÅ‚s ever needed. And so what? Nobody in their right mind really expects them to be usedjust like nobody in their right mind really thinks Ms. Jane Mayhew is Mata Hari. Including you, so donÅ‚t give me lectures about telling jokes. And will you please sit down? As short as I am and as tall as you are, youÅ‚re giving my neck a crick having to look up at you."
After a moment, Jensen did so, his long and angular body folding up on the couch like a collapsing pile of sticks.
“What a nightmare," he hissed, closing his eyes and rubbing them. “ItÅ‚s the combination that makes it such a mess. A reactionless drive in the abstract would be one thing. Such a drive and the possibility we might someday be able to interpret what might be blueprints for building it has every nation in the world hollering bloody murder. All of them are now insisting that the United States has to open up the space program and give everyone equal access to Melas Chasma. The Central African Republic, Mongolia, Paraguay, you name it."
He lowered his hand and stared gloomily at the opposite wall. “Those we can brush off, of course. But the Chinese and even the Europeans are every bit as adamant, and..."
“Those we canÅ‚t. Or, if we did, wouldnÅ‚t do any good. IÅ‚ve seen the intelligence. If they really put their money where their mouth is, the Europeans can build a Nike or its equivalent inside of three years. ItÅ‚d take the Chinese longer, but not that much. The Indians could eventually manage it, toopossibly even the Braziliansalthough that would take a couple of decades or so."
He swiveled his head to look out of the window again. The Potomac settled him down, as always. That very same river had flowed there, after all, more than two centuries earlier when the British burned the capital. Hughesł long career, if nothing else, had convinced him that most political uproars were a lot of sound and fury, signifying nothing once a few years went by.
“And then what?" he mused. “Do we instruct our people on Mars and Phobosthat mighty military hostto fend them off with... IÅ‚m not sure what. I believe Captain Hathaway has a few pistols stashed away somewhere, in the event he ever had to suppress a mutiny."
“The Presidentjust this morningsent down orders to start building three more Nike-class ships," Jensen growled. “We can get them functional before anyone else can assemble even one equivalent ship up there, and I can assure you"
“Yes, yes, theyÅ‚ll be armed to the teeth. Andagainso what? Do you really propose to start a new world war over this?"
He turned his head back to look at Jensen. “Well. Do you?"
“DonÅ‚t be absurd!"
“IÅ‚m not being absurd. Å‚AbsurdÅ‚ is a word you apply to a threat that everyone knows is empty. Which that threat isand the Europeans and the Chinese will say so openly. The Europeans will probably be polite about it. Formally speaking, at least."
His hand started moving through the pile of papers on his desk, looking for one of them. “ItÅ‚s a done deal, George. My own recommendationyes, I know itÅ‚s out of my areais that you recommend to the President that we be Mr. Nice Guy about the whole thing. Offer to set up a joint space program. In the real world, once their feathers get unruffled, the Europeans and Chinese will let us basically manage it. If for no other reason, because they wonÅ‚t want to sink the money into creating their own full-scale alternative. So we wind up with a messy compromise but still one that isnÅ‚t out of control."
He found the paper he was looking for and took in his hand. Then, waited.
Jensen gave the innocent wall the benefit of his glare for another minute or so. “Very well. But whatever elseI want that woman fired. Fired, do you hear?"
The Jensens of the world were so predictable. Hughes grunted, a bit amused, and held up the paper in his hand.
“DonÅ‚t need to fire her. This is her offer of resignation. She sent that as a coda to the main transmission."
Jensen stared at him. “She resigned?"
“I didnÅ‚t say that. I said she offered to resign." He glanced down at the paper. “To quote her exact words: Å‚...in the event that would prove helpful to either you or the administration. I would, of course, respect the terms of my confidentiality agreement.Å‚"
JensenÅ‚s narrow face looked almost like a blade. “She knew. How else explain that offer? This was no innocent girl fumbling a job too big for her."
“Of course, she knew. I told you she was one of my three top agents. I donÅ‚t pick Å‚emsure as hell donÅ‚t promote Å‚em as fast as I promoted herunless theyÅ‚re smart as a whip. And Fathom is something of a real genius at this work."
“Å‚Genius.Å‚" JensenÅ‚s lip curled. “You have a strange definition of the term, Andy."
He unfolded his body and rose to his feet. “Very well. Tell her the resignation is acceptedmake sure you stress the penalties attached to violating the confidentiality agreementand weÅ‚ll let it go at that. IÅ‚ll so recommend to the President. In the meantime, weÅ‚ll want you"
He broke off, seeing Hughes shaking his head.
“Not Å‚me,Å‚ George. Whatever it is you want, youÅ‚ll need to discuss it with my successor."
The Director of the HIA leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands over his belly. “You can inform the President heÅ‚ll have my resignation on his desk tomorrow as well."
Jensenłs stared at him. As the seconds past, his eyes grew wider and wider. So did his mouth.
“I will, of course, respect my confidentiality agreement also. But I do remind yousorry, George, but itÅ‚s the lawthat any such agreement is superceded in the event Congress launches an investigation. Which" He smiled, very thinly. “I imagine they probably will."
Jensen shook his head abruptly, as if to clear it of fuzziness. “Andy... nobody is asking you"
“Be quiet," Hughes said. All the simmering anger heÅ‚d felt at the current administration since it came into office finally surfaced, although his tone of voice remained soft-spoken. “I am sick and tired of people who think the phrase Å‚national securityÅ‚ is just another way of saying Å‚what suits us, because itÅ‚s politically convenient at the moment.Å‚ I didnÅ‚t survive more than twenty years in this office because I let whoever the current occupant of the White House was dictate to me my responsibilities. ThatÅ‚s the reason Congress and the public have put up with me for so long. IÅ‚m the anti-J. Edgar Hoover, if you will, in that respect. Everybody makes jokes about the PresidentÅ‚s legal plumbers and the buck vanishing here, but nobody takes it all that seriouslybecause they trust me, enough at least, not to allow the HIA to get pulled into those games. IÅ‚ve proved it before, in a crunch, and IÅ‚m quite willing to prove it again."
He unfolded his hands and pointed a forefinger at the Security Advisor. It was a very short, stubby finger, to be sure. But it still bore an uncanny resemblance to a cannon.
“The real problem here isnÅ‚t Fathom. ItÅ‚s thatas usualyou people insisted on having your cake and eating it too. If you wanted Fathom to clamp down full and tight security, you only had to instruct her to do so. Of course, that would have produced a political firestorm, once the word got out publicly. Even here at home, much less abroad. So, instead, you relied on her to interpret your inner desires properly. So that if something went wrong, you couldas usualblame the flunky in the field for whatever mess you found in your lap."
He returned his hand to its comfortable clasp over his belly. “Clean up your own messes. I do not and have never allowed one of my agents to serve as a sacrificial lamb or a scapegoat for an administrationÅ‚s convenience. You fucked it up, you fix it."
Hughes used profanity even more rarely than Jensen did. And Jensen knew that, since he wasnłt actually stupid.
“What..."
“I suggest you recommend to the President that he take FathomÅ‚s fait accompli as established and pre-existing policythe thought of doing otherwise never occured to him once and you can practically see the butter not melting in his mouthand we go from there. IÅ‚ll send her a private message making clear that she stretched it as far as she could. Coming from me, sheÅ‚ll accept that. Thereafter"
He shrugged. “It ainÅ‚t the end of the world, George. Just another complicated situation that we live with from one day to the next. Like weÅ‚ve been doing for a long time now. The world gets a reasonably open space program that they feel part of, and donÅ‚t feel too threatened by, and we can still buy ourselves a year or twowonÅ‚t ever be longer than that, donÅ‚t kid yourselfin the event the people at Melas Chasma ever do turn up any real military secrets. Å‚CÅ‚est la vie,Å‚ as our off-and-on French friends say."
Jensen was trying to glare at Hughes, but... was obviously finding the task difficult. As several of his predecessors had discovered over the years, the country boy from Mississippi was impervious to such efforts. Mississippi was ancient history. Hughes had been in Washington and survived its feuds longer than just about anyone. One of the other common jokes in the capital was his nickname. Devil Anse Hughes.
“All right, then, keep her if you insist. But send out a replacement as soon aswhat? You wonÅ‚t even give me that much?"
Hughes stopped shaking his head. “George, for PeteÅ‚s sake. Think. Or if you wonÅ‚t, then trust my assessment of the situation. Now that FathomÅ‚s gotten what she wanted"
“Which was what? What did that bitch" he broke off, seeing the DirectorÅ‚s glare. Andy Hughes glared even less often than he used cuss words.
“Not in this room, George. Not ever. Way I was brought up, we donÅ‚t call a lady a bitch. Sure as hell not a lady like Madeline Fathom. SheÅ‚s been places and done things would have"
He broke off himself. Pearls before swine, and all that.
He leaned forward, putting his hands on the desk. “What did she want? Exactly what sheÅ‚s going to get. You still donÅ‚t understand, do you?"
Then, wearily: “Ah, never mind. My recommendation to the President is that we leave the existing agent in place. Seeing as howthis is not rocket scienceone of the other side-effects of her transmission is that sheÅ‚ll now have all those cantankerous scientists out there eating out of her hand. Thirty percent of whom, I remind you, are foreign nationalsand one hundred percent of whom are among the top scientists in the world and will be about as easy to keep squelched as herding cats. Genius-grade cats, to make things worse. If thereÅ‚s anyone who can do itwell enough, anywayitÅ‚ll be Madeline Fathom."
“Oh."
“Yeah. Å‚Oh.Å‚ Live with it, George. Just live with it." He looked at his watch. “YouÅ‚d best get back, since youÅ‚ll be having a new crisis coming down the pike."
“What are you talking about?"
“Oh, I figure right around..." He glanced at the watch again. “Now, IÅ‚d say, it will finally be registering on every CEO of every major aerospace, oil and auto companyprobably the railroads, toothat a reactionless drive might upset their applecarts. TheyÅ‚ll be flooding the President with calls demanding to know what he intends to do about that dire threat to national security."
He managed to say it without a trace of sarcasm. A waste of effort, really, since by the time he was finished the National Security Advisor was already out the door.






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