Chapter 2: The General's Vice
Danny's point of view
The world's newsrooms burn up viewer ratings with the mysteries of the severed bomber's hands, the survival of the Pope and the President, and how the Secret Service accomplished such an incredible feat at undetectable speed. "Shows you how sophisticated our Secret Service is, doesn't it?"
"Yes and that goes for the Pope's Security team as well."
This being an election year, the presidential political advisors suggest withholding news of his survival for several hours. "Keep the public on the edge until their outrage at the attempted assignation and desire for him to survive peaks before announcing he is alive and well."
This strategy works because commentators and show hosts whips public sympathy and outrage to frenzy. Ratings soared, and the hearts of America were his.
Twelve hours after the assassination attempts, the Pope's spokesman announces his survival. Four hours after that the White House spokesman announces the President's survival.
The President holds a press conference the following day.
"Mr. President, how do you explain surviving getting shot twice and recovering so quickly?"
The President makes direct eye contact with the reporter and flashes his winning political smile. "Our Security Director of the Secret Service anticipated such action after the Vice President's abduction, and invested in special body armor. Bruises were worse than the superficial bullet wounds. The blood made it look worse than it was."
"Mr. President, the way agents handled the bomber was exemplary and phenomenal. Since his thumb was pressing the trigger, all he had to do was release it and BOOM! As I understand it, that's supposed to prevent him from being killed until he is ready to detonate the bomb. If he releases the dead man switch for any reason, the bomb detonates, isn't that correct?"
The President looks grim. "Yes, that's the way I understand it."
"But Mr. President, the bomb didn't explode when the agents apprehended the suicide bomber. How is that possible?"
The President flashes his charismatic smile and follows it with a serious, no-nonsense expression. "I asked that same question and this is my understanding; to defeat a suicide bomb, someone must cut the wires between the trigger and detonator without shorting the circuit. The security teams on site were on their toes, and their performance was exemplary. Their skills are incredible, aren't they?"
"Indeed, but how did those super agents do that?"
The president chuckles and says, "That's out of my expertise, but they have a job as long as they want it."
"Thank you, Mr. President." The reporter finished the interview happy with the story.
The Pope grants a short interview in his office.
"Your Holiness, a sniper shot you and yet you are still alive to tell about it. How did you survive such an assault?"
His expression is pleasant. "A great God, a sensational security team, and fabulous body armor."
"But sir, you were bleeding and fell hard. Weren't you beaten and bruised from the falls and the impact of the bullets?"
"Shallow bullet wounds bleed, and bruises heal, dear child." He holds up one finger. "Remember one thing; Man proposes, but God disposes."
"Yes, your Holiness. What does that mean in these circumstances?"
"The heavenly one is in charge, and no man or people alive can change that. Nothing thwarts his will."
Danny claps her hands in glee. "They followed our directions and suggestions for their interviews. They were great, weren't they?"
I am proud of them too, and my smile shows it. "The boys did well."
Kammy holds up her hand. "Wait! What about us? What's our status?"
"Status?"
"Yes, I mean, we've earned the top spot on the Terrorists most wanted list."
I agree. "That's as right as a man with no left arm. We're a hot commodity in the Arab world, guys. Before they try another big score for Allah, finding and beheading us will be an obsession. Like you said, Kammy, we'd better play underground and stay out of action for a spell."
Kammy trots off to the kitchen giving us time to talk in private. Danny asks me quietly. "How do we compensate Kammy?"
"She can't handle numbers this big. Let's set up an offshore trust account for her, fund it with ten million every year, for ten years and pay her two hundred fifty thousand dollars a year, plus bonuses and perks, like exotic vacations, cars, sponsor a NASCAR race car for her to drive, or whatever suits her. She'll decide. Sound good?"
"Yep. Perfect."
When I tell Kammy the plan, she spins around like a drunk duck.β β "WHAT? A million dollars. A WHOLE MILLION DOLLARS? For me? Mine?" Her expression is like someone who sat on a cattle prod. "One. Million. Dollars! Oh my gosh! I'm a millionaire!"
She tickles her tongue with the numbers over and over wearing a goofing grin. "A million dollars. MY MILLION dollars? A million U.S. DOLLARS all for me? For real?"
Danny laughs too long and hard to answer, so I take the wheel. "As real as pain, sweetheart, but you feel much better. With terrorists on our asses, it may be awhile before we take another gig. We'll set up an offshore account for you while we are here and fund it so your money will be tax-free until you bring it into the states."
"Oh yes! I pay taxes because I have a green card." She scrunches her nose. "But Danny, it expires in a year or so."
"I'll handle that once we're back home. You'll continue training with us and learning more means of transport on a flat salary of two hundred fifty thousand a year plus bonus' when the risk warrants it."
She screams and jumps up to do her happy dance. "Whew-hoo! I'm a Hawk!" Fifteen seconds later she stops dead still. "Um, excuse me, but did you say two hundred fifty thousand dollars a year?"
We both grin and nod before Danny replies. "Yes, every mission could be your last. High risk equals high pay. You'll still oversee the house, but hire someone to do all the work. Do we have an accord?"
She squeals and does her happy dance. "Yes, after I faint and go to Amsterdam for a joint. This is all so overwhelming." She runs out of the room to get a bottle of wine to celebrate.
Danny flashes a seductive smile, "I feel I've earned some personal one-on-one time with Sir Lotsa Cock, don't you?"
"Hmmm, yes, let's go work off some of that excitement."
***