Takedown

“No. I have no qualms with preemption, but there have to be limits. We have to obey the rules.”

“Really? Tell that to the families of the people who died today and see if they give a rat’s ass about limits or the rule of law. PC or not, we’re smack-dab in the middle of a crusade, and the only way Western civilization is going to survive is if we meet radical Islam’s force with overwhelming force of our own.”

“But Western civilization isn’t about brute force. It’s about the power of ideas-one of the greatest of which is the rule of law and that as all men are created equal, they are equally bound under those laws.”

“Wake up, Alan. The sword is the midwife of civilization and everything that has happened since civilization’s birth has happened at the tip of that sword. I don’t care how many Starbucks are in my neighborhood, how many digital pictures my secretary can cram onto a single memory card, or how realistic the imagery is on my nephew’s new PlayStation, we still live in a world where might makes right. The moment we lose sight of that rule and start shrinking from our duties as a nation, is when we’ll all need to begin trading in our minivans and baseball mitts for prayer rugs and Arabic lessons.”

Even as a product of the 1960s, Driehaus had never seen the nation so ideologically divided. Why did so many have such a hard time seeing the damage that the current policies were doing to America? “So we just toss the rule of law out the window?”

“No,” replied Lawlor. “What I’m suggesting is that we stop believing that Western principles apply to our enemies. We can’t win the war on terror playing by a set of rules our opponents refuse to recognize.”

“And that’s where you come in? You and your collection of former soldiers and ex-intelligence agents hidden away in the bowels of DHS operating from budgets I’ve never even heard about?”

“Careful, Alan. You’re wiping your feet on the threshold of a very dangerous house. One, I should point out, into which you haven’t been invited.”

“I don’t care. I want to know right now what people you have in New York. These are people who are operating under the umbrella of this agency, of which I am in charge.”

Lawlor’s patience was quickly coming to an end. “Don’t let your philosophical judgments cloud your ability to execute your job. You know how this works. My division may be in DHS, but it’s not of DHS.”

“So all animals are created equal, but some are more equal than others, is that it?”

“I prefer to see it as we all make our own unique contributions to the welfare of our nation.”

“That’s an interesting way to characterize blackmail, kidnapping, and assassination.”

Lawlor sat with his best poker face waiting for the secretary to actually make a point or get the hell out of his office.

“What happened today is a real wake-up call for our country, Gary. The war on terror is not working. The pace at which attacks are being plotted against the United States is beyond exhausting. We can’t win with this strategy. Don’t you see? Just because we perceive ourselves as having the right to do something doesn’t mean we should do it. We can either lead by our example or be reviled for it.”

Lawlor turned to a stack of paperwork on his desk and barely masking the disgust in his voice said, “I suggest you get back to the war room. I guarantee you’ll be much more appreciated there.”

Driehaus was pretty sure he’d gotten the information he wanted from the OIIA chief and opened the door.

As he was about to step into the hallway, Lawlor said, “By the way, Mr. Secretary?”

“Yes,” said Driehaus as he turned around.

“Just for the record, it wasn’t Western civilization that made all men equal. It was Samuel Colt.”

Twenty-Nine

THE WHITE HOUSE

President Rutledge traded drafts for his television appearance with his press secretary all the way back to Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland. The only break he took was when Carolyn Leonard brought him an update on his daughter. Knowing that Amanda’s friends had been killed-as well as presumably all but two of her protective detail-and that they were trying to get her to a hospital for treatment of her unspecified injuries, made it very difficult for Jack Rutledge to concentrate on the task at hand. Carolyn promised to brief him every twenty minutes, whether she had any new information or not.

With confirmation that Amanda’s friends had not survived the attack on the Williamsburg Bridge, Rutledge contacted their parents from Air Force One and delivered the heartbreaking news personally.

When the president arrived at the White House, he read through the final draft of his speech and nodded his head. No one had heard him utter a word since entering the building. The man’s face was resolute, and it was clearly evident that he was both enraged and distraught beyond communication.

Waving off the makeup artist, Rutledge stared into the camera and waited to be given the signal that he was on the air. When it came, he began speaking.