Strike Force

“Senator, our witness list is complete,” Carl Minden said firmly. “It’s always possible that we could add witnesses later, but at this stage we don’t anticipate doing so. We know the debate will go on for quite some time — we don’t need to waste ours or the committee’s time with a parade of witnesses all saying the same thing.”

“If there is such a thing as a ‘parade of witnesses,’ Mr. Minden, I would think General McLanahan would be leading that parade — in fact, he should be in the grand master’s limo, being bombarded by confetti and ticker tape,” Barbeau said. “Speaking of which, Mr. President, as you recall, I presented a proclamation on the Senate floor after the general returned from Russia, congratulating his courage and dedication and recommending he be given a hero’s parade in his home town. The proclamation was unanimously approved. Yet the White House kept him hidden away. If anyone deserved to be honored, it was General McLanahan.”

“As you recall, Senator, the nation wasn’t celebrating anything in those days — especially anything having to do with the Russian attacks or the extreme losses the nation suffered,” Vice President Hershel reminded her. “We were going to over a dozen funerals or memorial services a day for weeks; half the government was spread out in secret reconstitution facilities; the citizens were too busy building bomb shelters to be out throwing confetti…”

“I am well aware of that horrible time, Miss Vice President,” Barbeau said in a clipped voice, only glancing at Maureen as she spoke. “But America is strong and we have proven once again that we can take a licking and still prevail with honor and pride. The incident may have been years ago, but Patrick still deserves the honor.”

“We’ll consider it, Senator,” the President offered.

“Then may I suggest, Mr. President, that one way to honor Patrick’s service and patriotism is to allow the American people to hear what he has to say regarding the future of America’s ability to strike back at our enemies,” Barbeau said, a bit more insistently this time. “You could pick no better point person for this very important campaign, Mr. President, I assure you.”

“Thank you for your advice, Senator,” the President said. “I’ll consider it very carefully as well.”

The outer office secretary came in, escorting someone else, who dropped a note into Barbeau’s hand and scurried away. “I feel it would be an insult to General McLanahan to subpoena him to appear before the committee,” she said, casually glancing at the note, “but I suppose that is always an option — unless you intend on exercising executive privilege.”

“That is always an option,” the President said. “But I’m sure we can come to some understanding to avoid any appearance of confrontation.”

“That is always our desire, Mr. President,” Barbeau said, giving the President another heart-melting smile. She then immediately turned to Patrick and said, “General, I know you’ve been out to Eighth Air Force headquarters many times, but just three or four times in the past six months. Are you getting all the information you need? I asked General Zoltrane to give you anything you require, any time, day or night.” Eighth Air Force, based at Barksdale Air Force Base near Boissier City, Louisiana, was the command responsible for all of the surviving long-range B-52, B-1B, and B-2A bombers — and the northern Louisiana districts were her base of power too.

Patrick glanced quickly at the President, whose smile began to dim but nonetheless nodded his assent to respond. “I receive outstanding support from General Zoltrane and all of the units, Senator,” Patrick replied.

“I had absolutely no doubt. But if there is anything at all you need, Patrick, please do not hesitate to call on me. At any time.”

Patrick noticed everyone in the Oval Office sigh and squirm with pleasure at Barbeau’s invitation, sad that it wasn’t directed at them. “Thank you, Senator. I will.”

“I was quite surprised to see you here this morning, General,” Barbeau remarked. “If I recall correctly, my staff had tried to make an appointment to speak with you just yesterday afternoon, and was told you’d be available later this afternoon. Yet here you are in Washington. My, you do get around, I must say.” Patrick said nothing but merely smiled and nodded. Barbeau’s eyes flared a bit as she added, “Almost as if they shot you out here from Nevada on a rocket ship.”

Patrick again glanced at the President and Vice President, who had both adopted stony expressions. Carl Minden stepped over to Patrick. “I hate to interrupt, Senator, but if we’re going to get that report in to your committee on time, we’d better get back to work.”