Parallelogram : Day Two : Chapter 31

At the same time

The White House War Room was buzzing with activity.

Ramsey and Mentnor watched as technicians ran everywhere, trying desperately to establish some kind of uplink with the United States satellite in orbit of the planet. They were chatting on telephones – some of the conversations were obviously very heated – and they were tearing panels off walls to expose circuitry. The video monitors displayed various pictures, most of them pixilated garbage – color schemes and test patterns – as the men and women tried to squeeze anything – even a single frame – of footage from the cameras high above the Earth's atmosphere.

"They haven't the slightest idea of what to do," Mentnor observed aloud.

Ramsey sipped some hot coffee from his official White House cup. "Why should they?" he asked. "Hell, none of these techs look like they were old enough to pee during the Vietnam War. Their science geeks ... no insult intended, Isaac. You're different. You've been out there, you know? You've been in the field. These kids have probably never seen anything like this." He shrugged. "Right now, they're probably wishing they had a telescope so they could poke their heads above ground and take a look in the right direction. If nothing else, they'd feel a greater sense of job security."

"But it isn't their fault," the scientist argued.

"Of course, it isn't," Ramsey agreed. "Try telling that to them."

"Dr. Mentnor!"

Immediately, one of the technicians stood up and waved from a computer console several stations away. The young-faced man gestured for Mentnor to come over, and Isaac glanced at the director.

"Go on," Ramsey said. "If they've managed to link you into the BackStep system, I'll eat my hat ... if I had one."

"Try to be positive."

"I'm positive I'd eat my hat ... if I had one."

Mentnor scoffed at the man as he disappear in the direction of the computer consoles.

Ramsey felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to find Stoddard and McGinty at his back.

"What do we know?" he asked.

Quickly, the two White House staffers exchanged a quick glance.

"Mr. Ramsey," Stoddard began slowly, "the President has agreed that we should bring you into the loop as to everything we presently know."

Slowly, the director nodded. "I'm listening."

"Some of this ... you may find some of what I'm about to tell you very hard to believe," the chief of staff began. "But – I give you my word – everything I'm about to tell you is ... well ... it is everything we know."

Again, Ramsey bobbed his head at the man.

"A few hours ago, Senator Arthur Pendley came to the White House," Stoddard explained. "He confessed to being behind the whole affair. He's taken control of our satellite network – as you well know – and he's given us certain demands."

"Wait a minute," Ramsey interrupted, turning and looking for a table upon which to set his cup of coffee. He found nothing, but, instead, he handed it to the next young technician who buzzed past him. "Stoddard, are you telling me that one of our own – Senator Pendley – is behind this?"

"You have to understand the Washington dynamic, Nathan," McGinty offered, trying to shed some light on the curious circumstances. "Pendley is an established commodity in this town. He's what you might call very old school politics. He comes from tobacco money, the Pendley brand name itself. He's served the United States Senate for over thirty years ... and, for nearly his entire tenure, he's served aboard one of most prestigious intelligence committees in the Capitol. This past election, he virtually demanded a seat on the President's Cabinet, but Campbell refused the man."

"If he's so important, why did Campbell turn him down?"

"Just because he's old school," Stoddard tried, "doesn't mean it's a school you'd want to send any of your children to, Mr. Ramsey. As far as I'm concerned, Pendley has been a silent menace to this and previous administrations for many years. He's only interested in serving his own goals, his own agenda. That isn't to say he isn't a patriot. Rather, I would say that he has a very unique way of showing it."

It didn't make much sense to Ramsey, but, then again, not much of the Washington political circle ever did. Sure, he understood the fine art of greasing the big man's palm, but Pendley had money ... he had an established career ... he had a track record and was a household name ... what could he possibly stand to gain?

"What did he want?" the man asked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Mr. Stoddard," Ramsey started, leaning closer to as not to be overheard, "you don't have a lunatic taking control of one of our nation's critical defenses for no reason. I assume he gave you a demand – or a list of demands. What did he want?"

Again, the two White House staffers exchanged glances with one another.

Stoddard cleared his throat. "He had several ... requests. If we refused to comply, he was going to use this weapon again ... on an unspecified target. He wanted ... he demanded that the President draft an order surrendering all control of the Executive Branch to him."

"What?"

"Our thoughts exactly," the man agreed. "He knows the system, and he knows how to manipulate it."

"Well, couldn't the second President just rescind the order?" Ramsey asked.

Stoddard scratched his head. "Executive Orders ... they can be drafted in such a way as to eliminate any power to be rescinded. It's a matter of Executive Privilege."

The BackStep director rubbed a hand over his face. "That's not good news."

"That isn't all he wanted." Stoddard locked eyes with the younger man. "He wants control of FEMA."

Ramsey thought about it for a moment. "FEMA?" he rolled the word over his lips. Placing his hands on his hips, he huffed. "I guess that makes perfect sense."

Surprised, McGinty squinted at the man. "Why? We've been puzzling over that since Pendley made the demand. What could he possibly want with FEMA?"

"Either he's a fool," Ramsey explained, "or he's tipped his hand. Since you're pointed out he has a pretty solid track record around here, I'm going to rule out the former and concentrate on the latter. Pendley is no idiot ... but, right now, it would appear that he's alone or has relatively few men at his beck and call. Clearly, he wants FEMA under his control because that, in a fashion, give him his own military. If you tried to remove him from his new post as emperor – assuming to give in to his first demand – then giving in to his second would afford him the physical might to enforce it." Ramsey crinkled his forehead in thought. "Either that, or he has something very mission specific in mind."

"I don't follow," Stoddard tried.

Could it be ...? Ramsey considered the alternatives that maybe everything he had been told – perhaps the loss of the satellite network – wasn't permanent. Maybe Pendley needed a strike force to solidify his position. Maybe he desired it for show ... but that wasn't exactly logical, even for a madman. Power corrupts, and any powerful corruptor can always find faithful men and women to follow him ... at a price. The military associated to FEMA would follow him because they had been ordered to ... but what could he need them for? To secure the satellite network?

"Has Pendley offered to return the space defense grid to you?" he asked.

Stoddard swallowed. "Yes, he has, but only after we meet another of his demands."

"Another? Outside of controlling the only remaining superpower left on the planet, what else could the man want?"

"He wants BackStep," McGinty interjected. "Well, to be perfectly frank, he wants the program dismantled."

Ramsey chuckled. "That's no surprise," he argued. "Why allow a secret government program to exist when it could jeopardize your position of power? Pendley doesn't want BackStep for his own means. He's already put his cards on the table by killing the President's son-in-law. He's shown you how far he's willing to go to get what he wants. Giving him BackStep – much like giving him control of FEMA – only further cements his authority over you."

"But that isn't what he wanted in exchange for returning control of our satellites to us," Stoddard explained.

"Then what was it?"

After a pause, the White House Chief of Staff explained, "He demanded the head of Larnord be delivered to him."

"What?" Ramsey barked. "When?"

"We have about three hours to comply," McGinty explained.

It didn't make sense. With BackStep under his control, Pendley would have the ability to control any possible time travel. What purpose could a dead alien serve? Was he intent upon sending a message to the Mallathorn? If that were the case, why wouldn't he contact them directly – on his own – through official channels once he was given control of the country?

Dismantle BackStep?

Kill the alien with the ability to create a new BackStep Program?

Could it be that simple?

Ramsey shook his head. No. Pendley was a madman ... but he was calculating, as well. He wouldn't have survived his years in the Senate – his years in service in the intelligence community – only to piss it all away on a simple power scheme. Being granted control of the Executive Branch would give him all of the possible power and wealth he or anyone could possibly imagine ... but what was it about time travel ...?

Alaska.

"We don't know what happened in Alaska," Ramsey thought aloud.

"What's that?"

"I said ... we don't know what happened in Alaska ... do we?"

Stoddard was confused. "Well, from what we've been told, an energy signature not unlike that generated in the BackStep Sphere's temporal core created some kind of reaction that took the life of Trace Hightower ..."

"No," Ramsey concluded. Defiantly, he shook his head. "Mr. Stoddard, my guess is that Trace is alive."

His eyes open in surprise, Stoddard glared at the man. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that Pendley didn't want you to see what he was doing in Alaska, right?" he offered, holding up his hands, placing them on the chief's lapels. "He didn't want you to see it."

"Yes, but that's because we weren't aware ..."

"If Pendley is behind this controlled burst of temporal energy – as you say – then he didn't know whether or not it would work," Ramsey concluded. "Don't get me wrong, Stoddard. Pendley has this weapon. He used it on Trace. But ... the man didn't know whether or not the thing would work ... don't you see? This was his test run."

McGinty nodded. "That makes sense, Nathan, but I don't understand what you're getting at?"

Turning to the other man, Ramsey tried, "McGinty ... when the United States government is testing a new weapon ... let's say we're testing an experimental aircraft ... what's the procedure? We generally give it a test run in an area where it can't be seen by any of the American public, right? We generally conduct these tests that are in an area not subject to routine satellite photography, right?"

"Well," the man considered the prospect, "yes, that's correct."

"But once we know that the aircraft works, then we issue a press release ... or we send out an internal memo ... we let everyone know – on a need to know basis – that we have this new weapon – this new aircraft – this new technology. We don't give 'em the whole shebang, but we let 'em know what's gone beyond the drawing table and is at stage one of becoming useable, right?"

The two men stared at Ramsey.

"Pendley's taken his first strike," the man continued. "He's drawn first blood, don't you see?"

"Mr. Ramsey, I don't follow ..."

"Why, then, if he truly had drawn first blood – if he truly had taken the life of the President's son-in-law – why wouldn't he want to show the President firsthand evidence that Trace Hightower was dead?" Ramsey demanded. "Why wouldn't he give you back those satellites?"

Suddenly, realization dawned on Stoddard as he lifted his eyes: "Hightower's alive?"

"That's my guess." The director of BackStep Security was obvious pleased with himself. "Pendley wants the delay in order to make certain himself that he didn't screw up. Well, let's assume that he found out that he did screw up ... how could he fix it?"

This time, it was McGinty who spoke: "He'd need a strike force to carry out his plan."

"Exactly!" Ramsey exclaimed. "Pendley wants control of FEMA so that he can send a team into Alaska to finish the job that he messed up with this weapon of his! Don't you see? He missed the target, but in order to have any chip to bargain with, he needs the manpower to clean up the mistake!"

Determined, Stoddard slapped a hand to the man's shoulders. "Mr. Ramsey, we need those satellite photos. We have to prove that what you're saying is correct. If it is, then it may very well alter the course of decisions the President is going to have to make over the course of the next several hours."

Straightening, Ramsey tugged his suit coat firmly onto his shoulders. "I understand, Mr. Stoddard. Let me log into the BackStep server. Despite his political leanings, Yuri's a man of his word. If he's found anything worth sharing, I think it's time we had a look."

END of Chapter 31