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Cull. Stafford Ray
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“Crap!” from Arino.
Myers ignored him and closed the folder. “Please read the facts and you will understand there is no choice but to put the country on a war footing to meet this challenge. There is no longer room for doubt. The door is closing so fast that even zero emissions within five years probably won’t do it. Climate change is not something for the undefined future. It is here!”
Arino groaned and slapped his forehead, then turned to face away from the table.
All other faces were on Tanner. He had run his presidential campaign as a climate change sceptic. He was all too aware what they were thinking.
Arino turned back and broke the silence.
“This is crap, right? We’re planting trees and burying biochar! We’ve invested billions in coal seam gas and shale oil. What do we say to those investors: ‘Sorry fellas; fill ’em in and go home?’ You’re crazy!”
Tanner’s hand was up to stop him, but he went on: “We’re paying out millions on clean coal research and…”
Myers laughed. “Haven’t heard much about that lately!”
“No,” asserted Arino. “That’s because it’s working and no longer news.” He appealed to the table. “We’ve got our policies out there and they need to be given a chance to work.”
Arino sat back and Tanner turned to Myers. “What do you think Wayne?”
“Tree planting and biochar can claw this back a little, but coal seam gas is still polluting big time, so is shale oil and clean coal is an oxymoron!”
“You’re the fucking moron,” fumed Arino. “Th is country runs on coal and Defense runs on oil!” He turned to Devaurno. “Right?”
Magnus Devaurno waved a hand in recognition of the point but remained silent.
Harry was puzzled by Devaurno’s changed attitude; no longer the hawk. It was as if the whole subject were passé. He was drawn back by his name.
“Harry, what are the Chinese doing and we aren’t that they can be so damned cocky? Maybe you had better try to find out.”
Harry nodded as Arino exploded. “How about we tell Fromm to ask those slit-eyed bastards why they are still building coal fired generators?” he snarled. “Why is the heat always on us?”
Harry realised they were used to Arino outbursts but wondered why they tolerated him as they waited on Tanner who seemed to have retreated into a reverie of his own.
Overloaded every day with information flooding in from all sides, keeping the press happy, answering dumb questions, security in tatters, with every man and his damned computer a potential Manning or Snowden, he could not give every issue due diligence. And recently, with re-election looming, his energies had been directed towards maintaining his political base, confident God was taking care of the rest.
In the silence that held, he prayed for guidance. Head bowed and silent, he heard the voice of God and was buoyed by its clarity. Feeling of purpose lifted his mood, with confidence that whatever happened after this moment, glory was his. But he still had the present to deal with and six pairs of eyes were looking to him for leadership. He needed a time-filler.
“I think we have the picture, but if we suddenly declare a new direction we’ll be crucified by the press and our own party, long before we face the people.”
“At last some fucking sense!” interjected Arino, ignored by Tanner.
“We need some fear in the electorate we can use to advantage,” he mused. “So here’s the deal. We talk up the China threat to hold the attention of our, shall we say, more xenophobic voters, and to pull in the bleeding hearts, we announce an inquiry into zero emissions by an expert panel. They deliver the bad news, not us. In that way, we are seen to be listening while they absorb the anger.”
Harry smiled in appreciation of the guile.
“The experts we choose will need to be high profile and have public support, so we draw that support to ourselves. We would need to appoint six or seven to bring in their supporters and spread the load. That may be the way to go.”
He looked around the table and sensed their fatigue. Time to wind it up. “Thanks people, it appears we have much to do. Have you anything to add, Harry?”
“Yes, Mr President. I believe Americans will make the sacrifice if they believe we’re all in this together. Someone needs to give this official urgency.”
They recognised the implied criticism and waited to see how Tanner handled it.
He stared at Harry for a moment, then surprised them. “Exactly, Harry and that is what we are doing.” He scanned their faces, dwelling a little longer on Devaurno. “Look,” he continued, “we are all tired and this problem demands our best efforts, so let’s leave it there until our next meeting on Wednesday. Same place, same game. OK? Call my office before then with your top six choices for the panel so we will have a list to consider. Then Wayne will sound them out and chair their meetings.”
Myers looked up sharply. He was being pushed to the front to take the bullet. Tanner noted his concern and offered the sweetener.
“The Myers Report will be a landmark document that could guide this nation for the next fifty years.” That hit the spot, as he knew it would. Myers nodded his acceptance.
“Wayne,” Tanner continued, “we don’t want any refusals to reach the media, so be discreet. We need maximum media on them and nothing negative on us, OK?”
He turned again to the table. “When we have the panel, we put them to work and leak findings that feed the fear. They create the fear and we claim the solutions.” He turned again to Myers. “Wayne, it’s your job to make sure it goes that way.”
As he closed the meeting his eyes stayed on Arino with an expression of assurance. Punk that he was, the party needed his money.
“Meeting closed. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen and thank you, Ambassador.”
As they collected their papers and shuffled to their feet, Tanner’s eyes returned to Harry indicating he should stay. Harry moved towards him as Devaurno rose to join them.
Arino hesitated outside the door and watched as Tanner took Harry’s elbow and with Devaurno on the other side, led him through to the Oval Office. Anger flared in Tony Arino, as he mumbled, “They’re consulting that fucking China lover,” he fumed. “He’s dead!”
4. LANGLEY
Bunton looked up from the document he’d been reading. The first of his illegals had entered the room.
“Nguen Thang,” he read from the document, then glared at his anxious visitor and snarled. “You entered the USA illegally! What do you say we send you back to Vietnam?”
Thang was silent, eyes downcast, dreading the words he knew must come.
“Look at me!” Bunton demanded.
Thang slowly brought his terrified brown eyes up to meet the cool grey of the Director.
“Now listen carefully,” he said, his tone softer. “That does not have to happen.”
The brown eyes did not flicker. He trusted nobody.
“I can arrange American citizenship for you, but first, you must do something for me.”
He lifted a medium-sized satchel from behind the desk and placed it in from of him. “In here is a million dollars US. Ten thousand in cash and the rest in travellers’ checks. It is aid money and I want you to spend it on your countrymen.”
He smiled, as hope