Flies Dancing On Their Eyes

Sept 4th, 2001

Shimon Asher had an extensive history, no doubt. There isn’t the time to go over the entire rap sheet, but this fellow had put his life on the line for his country in Vietnam; He lost a leg in the process, but came home alive and with an extra heart.  Loosing a part of you is the sort of thing that can break a man and derail his life plans immediately. At first, it's all under the guise of “pain management”. Only at first, though. No, not for old Shimon. He wasn't going to let a mere loss of a little flesh stop him. He had promises he had to keep.

After his tour was over, Mr. Asher continued his public service by working in the US Attorney’s office for over a decade, mainly focusing on international money laundering. Yes, he was certainly a model citizen. The man even put Salvatore Gigiorali away for life after the flamboyant gangster had escaped six prosecutions, for God's sake. Outside of those three years Shimon had spent in the private sector with Marshall & Hum, he had devoted his entire life to the U.S. government’s agenda. He was respected, even beloved by both parties, as a unanimous confirmation told us, and had a strong knack for handling the enormous egos that propped the District up. This respect was not mutual, as Shimon would ultimately become one of the biggest critics of his government.

Nevertheless, at this time, the very folks he would later scorn, celebrated him. On September 4th, 2001, Shimon had entered the poorly lit Situation Room in the basement of the West Wing of the White House, beaming with pride. As soon as the fortified door had opened, Shimon was greeted to some familiar faces, as well as some new ones. To his surprise, everyone in the room, literally everyone stood up and applauded him as he entered. Shimon was certainly no stranger to praise, yet maintained a humble air by feigning a front of bashfulness. One of the familiar faces stepped toward Shimon to greet him on behalf of the group. Yes, Shimon knew Attorney General Baxter Allen quite well. By this time, the rest of the crowd had taken their seats. Shimon was glad the ovation was not awkwardly drawn out.  Although, it could have been a few seconds longer. It was a day to celebrate.

ALLEN: I just want to say congratulations of behalf of Justice. You’ve been with us a long time, and I’m glad you’re staying in the family.

Attorney General Allen extended out his hand and tilted his head to the side with a grin, daring Shimon not to take it. 

SHIMON: I appreciate that sir. You know I look forward to the challenge.

Shimon knew better than to snub his boss in front of the entire war council. He extended his own hand and shook, yielding to Baxter's firmer grip. At the same time, one of the unfamiliar faces muttered something about the inappropriateness of a celebration during a national security briefing, no matter how brief. It is certainly a judgment call, but giving someone accolades for becoming the sixth director of the Federal Bureau of Investigations during a meeting of then hypotheticals seems to be something too trivial to ruffle feathers.

ALLEN: Enough of this sentimental nonsense. Have a seat Shimon. We’d like to get started immediately, so I’ll save the introductions.

Shimon took a seat at the table to the left of the Attorney General and folded his hands in front of him. He nodded to CIA Chief Mathias Babington and Joint Chief’s Chairman Wesley Neely. For a moment or two, no one spoke. Some urgency. Eyes began to frantically move around the room as the shuffle of papers grew in volume. Tripp Sweetwater glanced in Harper's direction. Breakbricker. Per the usual.

TRIPP: Good morning gentleman, ladies. Why don’t you kick us off here, Mr. President?

Tripp waited exactly three seconds before slamming his hand on the mahogany.

TRIPP: Harper!

Harper Babington was seemingly caught of guard when he heard his name; he looked to be rather taxed with unearthing a hangnail from his left ring finger. The President was gracious enough to set that project aside for a moment to address the meeting of principles of the National Security Council on that September morning.

HARPER: Now let me get this straight. I’ve been summoned to this meeting for a seemingly dire issue of terrorism, and I’m the one that’s kicking this off? Christ people! I had a round of golf with Senator Domingez I had to cancel.

Tripp, never missing a moment to correct The President, interjected.

TRIPP:  Senator Rodriguez.

Harper’s National Coordinator for Security, Infrastructure Protection, and Counter-terrorism, otherwise known as the President’s Counterterrorism “czar”, saw this as an opportunity to chime in. He was an intense, grinding man named Byron Fluff. Yep.

FLUFF: I can go ahead and get us started, Mr. President.

HARPER: One minute. Now that I think about it, last I heard, I said I didn’t want to be briefed on this stuff anymore. Didn't I Tripp?  Those guys are small potatoes.  We know the issue is Udir. I think I was born with that craw up my ass. He’s the one we need to focus on. What do we have on him?

General Udir Hammadi was most definitely someone who needed to be brought to justice. As the leader of tumultuous Iraq for half a century, Hammadi has had to rule with an iron, bloody fist to maintain power for so long. He had oppressed not only his own people, but also threatened the majority of the countries that share its boarders. Harper felt strongly that the United States had to do something about this problem. After the first round with Udir, American citizens were weary. Oh, sure the general public could be quarreled into supporting the war just enough by being mislead into thinking that Hammadi possessed weapons of mass destruction, but that wasn’t the reason for Harper. Harper wanted revenge. Harper wanted to avenge.

FLUFF: Sir, with all due respect, we’ve gone through the proper channels to assemble this meeting. Others in this room agree that this topic of Syed Muqeel Azad…

Harper nearly fell out of his chair.

HARPER: Excuse me, mushmouth? Where the hell is a Muqeel Asad? Something from Burger Mac? Heh.

FLUFF: Syed Muqeel Azad. With a ‘Z’ sir. He’s an Islamic militant, sir.

HARPER: Iraqi?

FLUFF: Saudi.

HARPER: Saudi?

Harper leaned back and whispered to Tripp. Tripp nodded.

HARPER: The Saudi's are one of our strongest allies in the Middle East, are they not?

FLUFF: I’d have to defer to State.

Secretary of State Tamara Locke immediately perked up as eyes fixated on her.

LOCKE: Good morning Mr. President.

HARPER: Well, good morning to you Secretary Tamara. You look like you got some good rest last night.

Tamara raised an eyebrow as if she thought that comment was out of line coming from Harper.

LOCKE: I did all right, sir. Yes, the Suadis have been more willing to cooperate as of late. Are they as good as their word? Well, I put it at 76%. Extremists could take the country at any time, but I believe we’re on top of things there, diplomatically speaking.
HARPER: I always appreciated that you never hesitate to throw a number out there.  Ok, then, go ahead Fluffy.

Byron hated that nickname.

FLUFF: Sir, as I've mentioned to the administration on several occasions, there’s been a lot of chatter in the intelligence channels that would suggest he is planning an attack on U.S. soil. I believe you saw Brecken’s report in your daily brief last month.

Harper had moved his attention back to that hangnail.

FLUFF: Mathias, did the President get your man’s report?  I know it was in the Morning Book.

MATHIAS: I’m certain he forwarded it along. Your office got that, didn’t they Milsted?

Milsted diverted his attention from the monitors that were built into the wood paneling of the walls. He unfolded his hands, raised them behind his head, and refolded.

MILSTED: Cathode ray tube monitors? I’ve had LCD since ’98.

Fluff grew more agitated.

FLUFF: The Azad report, please!

Byron Fluff was known for his short temper, but today, it was especially short. His wife had just left him after thirty years of marriage. She had even taken the cocker spaniel they shared, Nixon. Byron was heartbroken, but would never let that show to his colleagues. The reason his wife left him was even more heartbreaking. Earlier in the year, none other than the new National Security Advisor, Wendy Trusilla, had downgraded his position in the administration to deputy level. No longer did he have Cabinet level privileges. His communications ceased going directly to the President, and had to now go through Trusilla and her Neocons to be framed. Sensing Byron was now a nobody, his former wife decided it was time to pack her bags and move on with her life while she had a few good years. The only thing Bryon had left in his world was Syed Muqeel Azad.

MILSTED: Yes, I got it. I put it into the Daily Briefing. The President was on a, um... working vacation, so it might not have been…digested as thoroughly as usual.

Milstead was always careful with his words.

Up to this point, nearly half of Harper’s time as President had been spent on vacation, pardon, a “working vacation” as President Babington’s Chief of Staff Henry Milsted so elegantly phrased it. To the casual observer, it would appear the work consisted of quail hunting and mixers.  Be that as it may, odds are, the report was indeed included in that August 6th Daily Brief; The President just wasn’t paying full attention.  The reason to place such confidence in Milsted is for a very simple reason. Compiling the Daily Brief is one of his few responsibilities in the second Babington Administration.

Some Chiefs of Staff have been quite powerful, historically speaking. The ones whom can truly control access to the President can become even more powerful than the President himself. Luckily for the United States of America, this plucky young man was not the one in charge. He never was called on to make an actual decision in his tenure. He solely collected the daily news and compiled it into bite-sized snippets for President Babington to shit out in the early afternoon. Everyone knew who was really in charge in this administration.

TRIPP: Why don’t you just refresh everyone’s memory and get them up to speed, Fluff?

FLUFF: Gladly. Numerous channels are telling us that Syed Muqeel Azad is the most credible threat to this country, sir. General Hammadi is not where we should be focusing. It is these non-state actors.

Mathias rolled his eyes so hard, his head went with them.  

TRIPP: Non-state actors? From what I’m hearing, these groups aren’t serious enough to do any real damage without state support.  Are you saying that isn't the case?

FLUFF: That used to be the case. Times have certainly changed. The Azad Network, as we call his followers, has grown rapidly, and merged with various other militant groups.  Some familiar faces, but mostly new jacks.

TRIPP: But where do they get the money? Where are they training?

FLUFF: You remember Mr. Vice President.  A lot of it came from us back in the late 70's.  The new money comes from donors as far as we can tell.

Hearing the word donor must have snapped Harper back to attention.

HARPER: How could someone have enough donors to launch a war against the United States?

FLUFF: They’re not launching a war in the conventional sense, Mr. President. They are planning to attack us on U.S. soul. With a bombing maybe. Anthrax, possibly.

HARPER: What would that prove?

FLUFF: That we have a weakness. It would make people not so afraid to cross us. Support for The Network would skyrocket. You've seen Stoney IV, haven't you, sir?

The President had. It was played aboard Air Force One during Fluff's last hurrah.

HARPER: Well, they mussed it up last time they tried, didn’t they?

FLUFF: They are much more sophisticated now. Much more discipline and elegant in their planning.

HARPER: Fluffy, if I didn’t know better, I would say you admire this guy. Allen, what does Justice have to say? You run counterterrorism don’t you?

ALLEN: We do. Terrorism isn’t high on the list at the moment sir. I can go over all the details with you if you’d like.

HARPER: No, I trust you there. You keep your people on this. Throw a few more on the job, won't you?

Harper turned and winked at Fluff, as if doing him a favor of personal nature.  Attorney General Allen grinned and shook his head.

ALLEN: Will do sir.

Fluff sunk back in his chair. He knew he wasn’t reaching the President. He was a holdover from a previous administration, and it greatly showed.  He wasn't there for the old Cold War days like the rest of the Cabinet.  He was slowly being squeezed out.

FLUFF: Mr. President, please, we know this group is planning something big. If they are capable or not of achieving this, I don’t know, but what I do know is this; if you do not act now to dismantle this threat, they will become capable soon.

Harper looked over at Tripp and let out a nervous chuckle.

HARPER: Well Fluffy, you’re scarin’ the giblets out of me. Asad Network is it?

FLUFF: Azad, sir. With a ‘z’, remember?

HARPER: Right. What do you propose we do about this?

FLUFF: I have to turn it over to CIA for the master plan. They’ve put together a comprehensive attack plan that I fully endorse, Mr. President.

Harper set his attention on his uncle.

HARPER: Well, Mathias, what have you got?

MATHIAS: It’s really a comprehensive plan, Harper. I believe it will truly be effective.

HARPER: So I hear.

Tripp looked annoyed.

TRIPP: Could you enlighten us with the details, Mathias?

MATHIAS: I believe it’s best to let my Counterterrorism chief go over the finer points. He’s been heavily involved since conception. Would you, Brecken?

Brecken Garcia had been battling butterflies in his stomach all morning. It had actually felt like a full on F18 dog-fight had been waged in his lower abdomen. It was a very uncomfortable feeling, but a feeling that was all too common for Brecken. He despised speaking in front of large groups. His dislike for public speaking was amplified many times over due to the leader of the free world and his inner circle being his audience. These were the most powerful men and women in the world, and all their eyes were now focused on Brecken. It was show time.

BRECKEN: Folks.

Brecken abruptly stopped talking. He tore himself up inside for starting with “folks”. Good God, what was he doing there? He began to glisten. Knowing everyone could start to see him glisten made that glisten turn to a light drizzle. He backtracked.

BRECKEN: I mean, gaides and lentilmen.

A light chuckle filled the room. Brecken was mortified.

HARPER: Ha, just like Jed, right Tripp?

Tripp nodded.

Attorney General Allen saw an opening to score.

ALLEN: This guy's got a mouthful of marbles!

Allen immediately felt disgusted at himself for pandering. He quickly got over it when Harper became amused.

HARPER: Come now, let the man speak. Lets have it Marbles.

That light drizzle turned into a flash flood rather quickly. The rage that was building inside of him due to that savage embarrassment imparted by Baxter Allen raised his core temperature at least a degree and a half, turning up the skin waterworks. Brecken hoped that no one was noticing the lakes forming under his armpits. He cursed himself for taking his jacket off. At this point he had but no choice other than to move passed his newly sullied image. Brecken Garcia may have single handedly doomed America because of a self diagnosed thyroid problem.

BRECKEN: Well, I'll keep this brief. We've been monitoring the movements of the Azad network with an unmanned ariel vehicle, a drone, equipped with highly sensitive cameras and are capable of flying at very high altitudes for long periods of time.

Harper leaned in with an eyebrow cocked. Brecken knew he caught the Presidents attention with that piece of gadgetry.

BRECKEN: We've actually caught footage of the reclusive Azad on several occasions, mostly in Pakistan and Afghanistan. It is of the CIA's recommendation that we arm these drones with live Hellfire missles. That way, we'll be able to have the option to strike him, should the mood strike you.

A shudder came across Harper. He liked the sound of the possibilities this magic flying machine could offer. His mind wandered to Udir.

HARPER: Do we have any of these things jetting over Iraq?

Brecken turned and looked an Mathias. Mathias just averted his eyes. Brecken was on his own.

BRECKEN: Yes, sir. We do.

Harper slapped his hands together.

HARPER: Hot damn! We'll get that sumabitch real soon, Trippie.

Tripp was now the one who was growing agitated.  One may mistake his biometrics for nervous.

TRIPP: Look, I've got about 10 minutes until my next meeting. Could we wrap this up?

Harper put on his stern face and nodded in agreement.

BRECKEN: Focusing back on the Network, we'd like to arm these drones that fly over Pakistan and Afghanistan with missiles, just in case we get the opportunity to take one of the leaders out. We'd also like to put six CIA teams on the ground in eastern Afghanistan, near the Tora Bora mountain range, to, to, uh, survey the area and see who they can find. We've got people on the ground as we speak, and those people tell me they are fairly confidant we could go in the tribal and mountain regions quickly and quietly, to wrap this network up before they know what hit's them.

Harper actually looked like he was following the plan.  That was a good sign.  Brecken noticed that Attourney General Allen clearing his throat.  That was not.

ALLEN:  Wrap them up?  Good God.  Whatever happened to justice?  We can't capture and put them on trial?

Brecken found his question valid, and had anticipated someone floating that idea.

BRECKEN:  That would certainly be ideal, natrually.  The problem is, these guys don't surrender.  General Hamiz of the Northern Alliance once told me he has been fighting these guys for years, and hasn't managed to capture one alive yet.  He says that when the network fighters are cornered, they'll all huddle up and one will detonate a grenade. 
ALLEN:  Christ.  That can't be true.

Mathias finally chimed in.

MATHIAS:  It's sick, but true.  The Russians confirm this.

A somber mood swept over the room.  Brecken could taste the dispair.  They all quietly understood that none of them knew how deep the rabbit hole went.

TRIPP: Why CIA? Why don't the SEALs go in? Or the Air Force? Why aren't they flying the planes?

BRECKEN: The Air Force has agreed to outfit the CIA's drones with hellfires, Mr. Vice President, but they refuse to use their drones due to budgetary and practical concerns.

Joint Chairman Wesley Neely found the need to defend himself.

NEELY: We can't afford to lose one, sir. We have them earmarked as it is.  You know how thin we are right now.  Besides, Mathias and his boys can launch and maintain the program more nimbly than we can.  They're the intel guys.

Mathias only coyly smiled.

NEELY:  Also, last I checked we were not at war with these countries.  You know we can't go in there like that.

Brecken had no intention of relinquishing the spotlight. He was already damp.

BRECKEN: CIA has an adequate arsenal of drones, sir. We just don't have the firepower. As far as the feet on the ground...you probably don't want the worlds greatest armed forces to go around performing these targeted killings. You don't want them jammed up in all that...muck.  That's our work.  We have guys with no insignia or other markings queued up. They're the bravest men this country has to offer, and we've kept them hungry and waiting. They're ready to rip through anything leaving nothing but bodies with flies walking on their eyes.

Brecken could see Harper becoming squeamish at the thought. He dialed it back a notch.

BRECKEN: We've got them looking like the natives, too, sir. It's quite remarkable what a few hours in the tanning bed and not shaving can do to some of our guys. A few of them actually have family from those countries, I believe...heh.

Brecken's stomach turned again. This time was certainly not due to his glossophobia. No, it was his naivety.  It's like the scope of his project...his years of hard work and gung-ho planning had finally lent itself to his own level of consciousness. Maybe he never had to rationalize why the CIA was the only place for the task. Maybe he had chosen to suppress the though. Either way, he had his epiphany at that moment. He was trying to convince the President of the United States to sanction an airborne death squad. An illness overcame him. He questioned every Christian fiber in his being. Brecken immediately began to draft his resignation letter in his head. How could he publicly ask the President to break the Geneva Conventions and authorize an operation so vile?

No one had spoken since Brecken let out his nervous chuckle. Close to a full minute must have elapsed; In Brecken's mind in was seven. He had to speak up.

BRECKEN: I just want to...

Brecken was cut off. This time he was utterly thankful to be interrupted.

TRUSILLA: Well, I like it!

The peppiness of Wendy Trusilla's support would haunt Brecken for the rest of his natural days.

TRIPP: I do too. Does anyone have any objections?

Tripp looked around the room for dissent. No set of eyes at the table would meet his own as he scanned from right to left, as if not making eye contact was enough protest to save them at their trials. Tripp eventually landed on Harper, his rubber stamp. Harper had returned to the rubber match with his hangnail.  Before Tripp could will Harper's attention, Fluff took his final shot.

FLUFF:  Mr. President...these machines have been ready for the better part of a year.  What we're arguing about is bureaucracy.  It sounds like CIA is willing if Defense can supply the juice.    

Mr. Vice President took his usual initiative.

TRIPP: Ok, Brecken. Your idea has some legs. Get me the details within two hours, two hours now, I mean it. How we launch. When we launch. I want it all. We're not half-assing this thing if we're moving.  

Brecken swallowed hard.  He assured himself he would be sharing a condo in hell with Pandora.

He nodded.

TRIPP:  Good.  What's next?

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