Authors: William W. Johnstone,J. A. Johnstone
Target Response (20 page)
“And I am honored to serve under you, General.”
General von Cairns stood up then, a signal that the meeting was over. Jake stood as well and started to leave.
“Jake, are you still seeing that nurse? What is her name?”
“Karin Dawes, sir. Captain Karin Dawes.”
“Yes, she’s the one I pinned the Bronze Star on last month, isn’t she? She’s a good woman. You could do worse.”
Wednesday, January 18
Hello, America.
On this last night before we swear in our new president, I would like for us to take inventory of just where we are in this country.
Four decades of social engineering have begun to accrue in such a way as to presage disaster for the U.S.
Gregoire held his hands over his head and waved them as he rolled his eyes.
This is not just the ravings of “mad” George Gregoire. No, sir, and no, ma’am. Events over the last several years have borne me out.
Consider this. Stringent environmental laws have inhibited drilling in new fields for domestic oil. Those same laws have also limited refining capacity and dictated exotic cocktail blends of fuel for certain parts of the country. Even during times of critical fuel shortages, these blends cannot be transshipped from region to region.
Automobile companies are mandated CAFE standards and unnecessary safety features that add thousands of dollars to the base price of cars.
Do you remember when we were young, how eagerly we looked for the new cars each year?
Gregoire changed the tone of his voice, mimicking the excitement:
“Have you seen the new Ford? Yes, but wait until you see the new Chevy.”
He was silent for a moment, masterfully playing his audience.
Tell me, America, when is the last time you greeted the new models with anything more than a yawn?
And have you noticed that fewer and fewer models are being introduced now? Proud names such as Plymouth, Oldsmobile, and Pontiac Trans Am—cars that we once lusted after, cars with style and performance, are no more.
He began to sing:
What a thrill to take the wheel, of my brand new Oldsmobile.
America, we have had a century-old deep and abiding love affair with cars, but now we find them boring. We look back on the cars of the fifties and sixties with a reverent nostalgia, and like most nostalgia, this is an unrequited love—we will never return to those days. Do you remember those yesterdays when we were young? Do you remember the sweetness of life then, like rain upon the tongue?
He began to sing Roy Clark’s “Yesterday, When I Was Young.”
Oh, and how is this for intelligence? In California, federal courts, in order to preserve a two-inch inedible fish, have restricted the flow of water into some of the most productive agricultural areas in the country. And since California produces nearly fifty percent of the nation’s fruits, nuts, and vegetables, this water restriction is already having a drastic impact on the market price.
Government interference with bank lending has caused the housing market to go bust, resulting in the loss of billions of dollars in personal equities across the country.
Gregoire, who was standing now, stuck his hands in his pockets and looked at the floor, silent for a long moment before he spoke again. The camera came in tight on his face so he could give the audience his most sincere look.
My friends, this is the country that elected Mehdi Ohmshidi, a naturalized American born forty-seven years ago in Islamabad, Pakistan. I can only pray that we survive this monumental mistake.
Thursday, January 19
“All right, Candidate Lewis,” Jake told his flight student. “We’ve just received word from previous flights that the LZ is bracketed by small-arms fire from your two-seven-zero, and shoulder-launched ground-to-air missiles from your nine-zero. How are you going to avoid the ground fire?”
“Make the approach below their field of fire, sir,” the warrant officer candidate replied.
“Make it so,” Jake said, mimicking Captain Picard of
Star Trek.
As WOC Lewis started his descent, Jake saw a flock of geese approaching from the right.
“Watch the geese on your ninety,” Jake said.
“I see them,” Lewis answered. Jake pulled collective to try to go over them, but the geese were making the same maneuver.
“Damn!” Lewis shouted as several of the geese collided with the helicopter. Blood and feathers from those that hit the main rotor suddenly appeared on the windshield. There was also a sudden and severe vibration at the same time they could hear the high-pitched whine of the tail rotor driveshaft spinning without any resistance.
“I’ve got it!” Jake shouted, taking the controls.
There was a loud bang as the tail rotor and a part of the tail fin separated from the aircraft. The center of gravity pitched forward and, without the antitorque action of the tail rotor, the helicopter began to spin to the right. Instinctively, Jake depressed the left antitorque pedal to halt the spin, even as he knew that without the tail rotor, it would be ineffective.
The spin was much faster than anything Jake had ever experienced, and earth and sky blended into a whirling pattern that made it impossible to separate one from the other.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jake saw Candidate Lewis start to grab the cyclic.
“Hands off!” Jake screamed.
They were about seventy-five feet above ground and had already spun around at least fifteen times. Jake knew he needed to kill the engines in order to lessen the torque, but the engine controls were on the cockpit roof and he had to fight the centrifugal force in order to get his arm up. Finally he managed to kill both engines. The whirling main rotor blades continued to generate torque but, mercifully, without the engines, the spinning slowed.
Then, just before impact, Jake jerked back on the cyclic and the nose of the helicopter came up. Now, with the spin rate down to half what it had been, and with the helicopter level, the Blackhawk made a hard but somewhat controlled landing.
Jake sat in his seat with dust streaming up around the helicopter and the rotor blades still spinning. He waited until the spinning was slow enough that he knew they would not generate lift, then pulled the collective up, putting enough pitch in the blades to slow them until they finally stopped.
“Are you okay?” Jake asked.
“What the hell happened?” Candidate Lewis asked.
“You got hit by an RPG,” Jake said.
“What?”
“A goose, or some geese, took out the tail rotor,” Jake said. “It was the same effect as being hit by an RPG.”
“Damn. I’m glad I wasn’t flying solo,” Lewis said.
“Funny you would say that,” Jake said. “I was just thinking I wish the hell you had been flying solo.”
Although neither pilot was hurt, they were required by SOP to report to the hospital for a physical evaluation. Jake was in the examining room just zipping his flight suit closed when Karin came in with a worried look on her face.
“I heard you were in a crash!” she said, the tone of her voice reflecting her worry.
“I resent that. I made a controlled landing,” Jake replied. “A hard landing, yes, but it was controlled.”
Karin threw her arms around him. “Oh,” she said, “when I heard you had been brought in I was scared to death.”
“It’s nice to be worried about,” Jake said. “But really, it was no big thing.”
“Hah, no big thing my foot. I heard some of the other aviators talking about it. You lost your tail rotor but were able to land. Everyone is calling you a hero.”
“A hero?” Jake said. He smiled. “Yeah, I’ll accept that.”
“Well, now, don’t let it go to your head,” Karin teased. “You are hard enough to be around as it is.”
“Really? How do you manage to be around me so much?”
“Because I’m a saint. Didn’t you know that?” Karin asked. She kissed him.
“Careful, what if one of the other nurses came in now and caught you cavorting with a patient?”
“I’d tell them to get their own patient,” Karin replied with a broad smile.
“I’m off tomorrow,” Jake said. “Because of the aircraft incident, I’m supposed to take a forty-eight-hour stand-down. What about you?”
“I’m not off until next Tuesday, but I can trade with one of the other nurses.”
“Come over to the house. We’ll watch our new president be sworn in.”
Friday, January 20
The pictures on the TV screen, taken from cameras stationed all through the nation’s capital, showed throngs of people ecstatically cheering as the car bearing President-elect Mehdi Ohmshidi drove by, headed for the Capitol steps.
It is estimated that the crowd gathered in Washington for the inauguration of our nation’s first-ever foreign-born president numbers well over two million people.
The television reporter was speaking in breathless excitement.
The excitement is contagious and the atmosphere electric—enough to send a tingle running up this reporter’s leg. History is being made here today. President-elect Ohmshidi is the first person ever to take advantage of the Twenty-eighth Amendment to the Constitution repealing Section One, Article Two, and making any naturalized citizen eligible to be president of the United States. Think of it. America is now the world, and the world is now America.
Jake was in his living room, eating popcorn and drinking a root beer as he watched the inaugural proceedings.
Jake had not voted for Ohmshidi, but then he had not really been enthusiastic about the other candidate either. His vote, as he had explained it to Karin, had been more against Ohmshidi than it had been for Admiral Benjamin Boutwell, the former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Jake had often declared that if he had omnipotent power he would replace everyone in government, regardless of their party, with someone new.
Ohmshidi was born Muslim, but long ago renounced the faith of his birth. He had risen to national prominence as the federal prosecutor who tried the case against Masud Izz Udeen. Izz Udeen was an Islamic terrorist who released sarin gas into the ventilation system of Madison Square Garden, killing more than seven hundred Americans.
As Izz Udeen received his sentence of death, he pronounced a fatwa against Ohmshidi, whom he denounced for abandoning Islam, and implored Muslims of the world to martyr themselves if need be in order to kill Ohmshidi. The fatwa against him, along with his successful prosecution of Izz Udeen, propelled Ohmshidi to national prominence, resulting in his election to president of the United States.
Jake watched as Ohmshidi stood on the steps of the nation’s Capitol building with his right hand raised, and his left hand very pointedly not on the Bible, but hanging by his side. The Chief Justice of the United States administered the oath of office, then concluded with, “So help me, God.”
Ohmshidi responded with, “And this I, Mehdi Ohmshidi, affirm.”
“Damn,” Jake said aloud, speaking to himself. “What was that about?”
Ohmshidi moved to the microphone to present his inaugural address.
My fellow Americans. As your new president I make you this promise. It is not a campaign promise, it is not a mere statement of ambition, it is a promise that will be fulfilled. On this day we are embarking upon a world-altering journey that will bring about a new paradigm in American culture. This fundamental change will enable the poorest among us to share in the bounty of this, the wealthiest nation in the world. I will accomplish this goal by requiring more from those who have greatly profited by the opportunities offered them.
That means that the wealthiest among us will have to do their fair share in order to make all our citizens truly equal. But from their sacrifice will emerge a new order. Think of it—no more will there be people with no place to lay their head, with no food upon their table, without adequate health care, and with none of the finer things that make life worthwhile.
Such a thing has long been the goal of compassionate people, and in the past we have introduced welfare programs, food stamps, aid to dependent children, Medicaid, Medicare, and yes, even Social Security, to move in that direction. But any economist will tell you that all those programs have failed. I will not fail. We will have, before I complete my first four years, a universal program of shared wealth.
There was a light tap on the door, and when it was pushed open Captain Karin Dawes stuck her head in.
“It’s me,” she called.
“Come on in, Karin,” Jake invited. “You’re late. I’ve eaten almost all the popcorn already.”
Karin walked over to the refrigerator and opened the door. “Don’t you ever buy any kind of soft drink except root beer?”
“There is no soft drink except root beer.”
“What a deprived life you have lived,” Karin said as she grabbed one. “What have I missed?” she settled on the sofa beside him, pulling her legs up and leaning against him.
“Not much. Ohmshidi just admitted that he was a communist.”
Karin popped the tab, and the root beer can spewed a fine mist. “You’re kidding me!”
“Well, he as much as did. He’s talking about sharing the wealth.”
“Oh, that’s all. Now, tell me the truth, Jake. Wouldn’t you like to have some of Bill Gates’s money?” Karin asked as she took a swallow of her drink.
“Not unless I did something to earn it. I believe in a fair wage for honest work, but I certainly don’t believe in taking money from the successful to give to the losers who voted for this bozo.”
“Come on, give him a chance. He hasn’t been president for more than an hour, and you’re already picking on him.”
“It took him less than fifteen minutes to show his true color,” Jake said. “And forget the people who were calling him a pinko during the election. He isn’t pink; he’s red through and through.”
Karin laughed. “Jake, I can’t believe you are such a troglodyte. Just calling you a right-wing wacko doesn’t quite get it. You are to the right of Attila the Hun. Are all Amish that way?”
“If you mean do they want to do for themselves, the answer is yes. And I agree with them. I didn’t abandon everything the Amish believe in when I left the life,” Jake said. “I’m still a strong believer in the idea of individual self-reliance, rather than depending on the government for everything.”
“He can’t be all that bad,” Karin said as she turned her attention to the TV screen. Ohmshidi was still talking.
“I thought you told me you didn’t vote for him.”