Free Balance of Power: A Novel by James W. Huston Page B

the only superpower left, and some terrorists can sink one of our ships, kill a score of Americans—and we can’t do anything about it?”
    “That’s about how I see it,” chimed in Dick Roland, the short and intense Secretary of Defense, then hurriedly tried to recover. “But it’s only because we have limited information. We’ll know more by tomorrow. We are working closely with the State Department and the CIA to identify all known terrorists and guerrilla organizations operating in the Southern Pacific. I expect we will hear from the terrorists themselves within the first twenty-four hours. They’ll want to tell the world who they are and why they have done this.”
    “So that’s it? We sit and wait until tomorrow morning?”
    “ We sit, Mr. President,” said Admiral Hart. “But our aircraft keep searching, the battle group steams to the exact location where this happened and inspects every wave, and we find the people who did this,” he added.
    “I want to be kept fully informed,” the President said. “I’m going to have a press conference at seven A.M. to catch the morning news shows, and I’m going to announce that the American crew has been killed and the ship sunk. I don’t want anyone leaking that until I’ve had a chance to announce it. But before then, I want to know who did this. Understood?”
    They all nodded and rose to leave. “Stay here, Ms. Vaughan,” said the President. Molly looked embarrassed. She had no idea why the President had called her, nor why he’d singled her out after the meeting. She felt awkward and out of place. She waited for the President to speak again.
    “Thank you for staying, Ms. Vaughan,” he said when they were alone.
    “Certainly, Mr. President,” she replied stiffly. “What is it I can do for you?”

    “So that’s all we know,” the Speaker said to his entire staff in the large conference room next to his office. “It’s gotten ugly. We’ve been ordered not to talk to the press about it until the President’s news conference at seven in the morning. Everybody clear on that? If anyone talks, it will make me look bad, and it will make you unemployed. Clear?” They all nodded. “It’s already late,” he said, glancing at his watch. “If you need to, go home and get some sleep. But be here early.”
    Frank Grazio, a young assistant, nudged Dillon as everyone rose to leave. Grazio asked, “What do you think?”
    “About what?”
    “About the hijacking,” Grazio said. “What do you think is going to happen?”
    “How would I know?” Dillon said, annoyed.
    Grazio stopped, “Did I say something stupid?”
    “No. I just don’t know what to say. We don’t know who did it, so it’s hard to know what the right response is.”
    “No, the proper response is easy. We go and kick their asses, ” Grazio said in his Long Island accent. “The question is whose ass to kick.”
    Dillon walked into the hall and headed toward his office.
    “Where you going?” Grazio said.
    “To my office,” he replied. “I’m going to find out everything I can about Indonesia. I don’t really know much more about it than what I saw in a weird Mel Gibson movie ten years ago. A Year of… something or other.”
    “Well,” Grazio said, slowing down, “I think I’ll call a friend of mine over at the Pentagon and see what Indonesia has in its military.”
    Dillon looked at him. “Get with Chuck. He’s probably already doing that. I doubt Indonesia itself is the one we’re dealing with, but it won’t hurt to know what they’ve got.”
    Grazio nodded and left.
    Dillon went into his office, sat down, and began to organize his thoughts. He had done research before, but never for anything this important. And never out of anger.

6
    “I DON ’ T THINK YOU CAN HELP .” C APTAIN Z EKE Bradford appreciated the enthusiasm of his two best fighter squadron commanders. They were always out front, ready to do whatever needed to be done. But this time it might just