Last War Read Free Page B

airbag – and it’s our job to make sure the president looks good while doing it.”
         When walking away, he shouted back, "And don’t forget there’s a cabinet meeting tonight. 7 p.m."
         “I can’t make it, Mike. I have a lot going on tonight. You all will have to get along without me. Send my best regards to POTUS and FLOTUS Harris.”
         Michael laughed.
        Jason looked towards his monitor which lit up a new message in blue and orange from Max.
         "Wow, a weekend seems good. Just let me know."
         I’ll show you what can’t hurt me.
         Jason clicked the ‘intercept-edit’ button and he typed, in behalf of Max, "I don't know, just let me know, though. You know how busy sometimes things can get on the weekend for me."
         He accepted the changes and forwarded the message.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    
     
    II
    White House Cabinet Room, Washington D.C.
     
    Friday, May 23, 2003
    CURRENT HOMELAND SECURITY ADVISORY SYSTEM: YELLOW—ELEVATED TERRORIST RISK
         Michael pulled his chair up to the legendary cabinet oval desk. One meeting at a time, his uneasiness became more static. The light-hearted nature of the President’s Cabinet had worn thin since he was appointed at the start of President Milton B. Harris’ term.
         “Morning, ladies and gentlemen.” Harris started, with his voice which always seem to originate from the bottom of his belly. “Glad you can be here, as usual. And let’s get right into it because we’ve got a  lot of things to think about. First thing: everyone has left their cell phones in the basket by the door?”
         The usual silent head-nod was met with Homeland Security Council, Josh Grambling’s fingernail concert ba-da-dump on the wood table. 
         “OK. We’ve had leaks. I don’t know that we have much clue as to where it comes from, but it’s not anyone too far up. That’s my thought. The info has only been enough to fuel conspiracy theorists to stretch their imaginations further. But, the problem is, it’s not helping Operation F.A.I.T.H. Michael, Mr. Grambling, let’s start with you two. Is this going to be a problem?”
         Grambling glanced towards Michael. His fingtips drummed on the wood, again.
         “I think your question may need to be directed to Zoe.” Michael deflected. Zoe Maclin was the current director at the NSA. “Seems the leaks may have come from a cyber at tack launched on us, or maybe, a journalist probing – and possibly, both. But, we need intelligence.”
         Zoe was finishing a sip of her coffee. “Our decoders are working at gaining the right amount of info. We don’t have it all.”
         “Why not?” The president asked.
         “It seems whomever is leaking this, is very good. He, they, she, or whatever it is, is very – “ Zoe looked into empty space in the cabinet room. A portrait of George Washington stared back into her eyes as she searched for the right word.
         “Experienced?” President Harris asked.
         “Patient.” She responded.
         “Alright.” Harris said. “Because, slowly, our people are getting equally impatient . Our constituents are getting restless, and you can see it in everything they’re doing. Operation F.A.I.T.H. can not work in a continually growing cynical atmosphere.”  
         “Mr. President. With all due respect.” counterterrorism chief, Harold Davis interrupted.
         “Go ahead, sir.”
         “I don’t think Operation F.A.I.T.H. is the answer.”
         “You’re kidding?” Zoe snapped. “Now? This, again? You choose to bring this up…again? We’ve gone over this, Harold.”
         “It’s just that, the thing we have to do, is gain back the control of this country – and, really, this government, too. We’re going along with a path other administrations set up for us, and we’re