Chapter 57

57
THE WHITE HOUSE

General Veemer and his chosen task force leader arrived promptly at 0745 to meet with the President. Staffers placed them in a small anteroom near the Oval Office and served the inevitable coffee and Danish on a polished sterling silver service to a background of muted, yet, stereophonic White House Muzak. They created their atmosphere of total military bearing, sitting comfortably at attention, carrying no brief cases or portfolios, drinking no coffee and eating no Danish.

The pair of Generals was not shown into the President's office as usual. Instead, President Haskill's voice could be heard all the way down the hall. "Why in the hell are they waiting for me in there while I'm over here waiting for them!?"

The Oval Office was always prepared with the right number of chairs, each placed the proper distance from the President's desk, each strategically near a convenience table, in this case an ornate credenza replete with an arrangement of flowers and ashtrays.

President Haskill in shirt sleeves actually followed them into the room and sat down heavily in his Presidential chair. The Generals stood up crisply. Another sterling silver service with coffee and Danish was deposited quickly on the credenza by a uniformed waiter who immediately faded from the room. President Haskill glanced to both ends of his expansive desk, thumbing his intercom in the same motion. "These Marines won't share their coffee cups with me. Will you please bring me one?"

The coffee cup appeared within seconds. President Haskill walked around his desk to help himself to the pot which had been offered to the Generals. "Gentlemen, please be at ease. This is my first cup of the morning -- I still have that damned Algerian thing getting me up at all hours." President Haskill stepped back to sit informally on the edge of his desk.

General Veemer, and dutifully in his shadow, the other Marine stood up again. "Mr. President I want you to meet General Justus Tower."

Rising, President Haskill looked deeply into the eyes of the Marine General before him, searching for some hint of personality that would betray the human man inside the uniform. True to his experience with Marine officers generally, there was none. Nothing shone through the face of this soldier except the face of a soldier. "I'm pleased to meet you General Tower. I trust General Veemer has briefed you about the ins and outs of this thing."

"I'm honored to meet you, Sir. Yes, we've spent most of the last twenty-four hours going over the problem." General Tower's words rattled down like the spent cartridges of a machine gun. Each one sounded reasoned, cool and almost rehearsed.

President Haskill began right on the point. "My highest priority is to quiet this country. The street fighting between the Fundies and the Neo-Apostolics is getting worse every day. We were hoping for a gradual decline similar to what happened after the tomb was found, but the frequency of violence and the increasing use of guns is rapidly building to a national emergency. I'll tell you right now that if this task force can't turn this around, I will be asking for enough Marines to recapture these cities and pacify them under general martial law."

"However, martial law must be avoided by almost any means if possible. The prospects of carrying it to a successful conclusion with an Army divided on personal religious beliefs is marginal. I am of the opinion that U.S. Main Force troops from all service branches are essentially just as polarized as the Joint Chiefs were in this office yesterday. They cannot be trusted, and their deployment in this crisis could easily make things far worse than they are now. The country is not safe globally if we show the world that our armed forces cannot act under unified command."

"My second priority is my political survival and the survival of this administration. General Tower, do what you must to restore order, but remember that my Presidency hangs in the balance. The bloodshed of American citizens in their hometowns at the hands of the U.S. Marine Corps acting under my orders is to be absolutely limited at all possible costs. I know your men will strive toward no loss of life, but if it comes to that my advisers are estimating hundreds to thousands dead. Every one of them could hurt me. If it comes to that, God forbid, we have to make every one of them count!"

"The third priority, and this is an important one, is to make certain that nothing we do will appear partisan to one side or the other, not even close enough for the worst mad dog conspiracy lunatic to construe a subtle bias. If this crops up we must absolutely stop it on the spot. Yes sir, stop it on the spot. This administration has no sympathy for either side, and it has no sympathy for civilians who are taking religion into their own hands. Under this scenario we are to look like the wisdom of Solomon. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir, Mr. President." Veemer and Tower muttered in unison.

"Now I want to hear what you two have figured out for a plan. I'm damned well ready to listen to something that even sounds like a plan." The President settled into his listening mode.

General Tower spoke first. "The biggest problem is that Jesus Robeles is saying nothing, but both sides of this street scrap are saying plenty. General Veemer

General Veemer added, "Yes, Mr. President. General Tower's first priority is going to be to get Jesus Robeles to open His mouth. It remains to be seen exactly how that will occur, but it will happen -- and as soon as possible."

"I'm sure you both know by now that we're dealing with something more than a snake oil salesman from the Amazon. The Guy is rapidly building a reputation for doing miracles -- just like the last One did. No one can tell if they are real miracles or if its just hysterical gossip." President Haskill cautioned. "I'm just telling you not to underestimate how much mischief this Jesus can stir. No sir, don't underestimate Him at all."

General Veemer stood up. "We've taken the liberty of adding some Marines to the Secret Service contingent at the Watergate. We need Him alive if we plan to get any good out of Him."

"The Marines have orders to protect both of them, both Jesus Robeles and His friend, Juan Gemarro. Its a little awkward, but not too complicated. They seem to stay together all the time." General Tower commented.

President Haskill broke in. "Who is this Juan? Is he, you know, like Jesus or regular?"

General Veemer answered this one. "Juan is apparently quite mortal. Our best intelligence shows him as a childhood friend of Jesus on the island. They've been boyhood companions for all of Jesus' life. His parents, Prospero and Juanita Gemarro were married and living on the island under contract to Robeles when Jesus was born. Juan was about two or three at the time."

"I want to hear how things are going very often. In fact I want to hear from you every day, General Tower. Yes," the President was thoughtful for a moment, "every day would be good. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir, Mr. President." General Tower answered.

"Then that will be all, gentlemen. I have to tell you that I am relieved to have some competent individuals at my side on this. Don't let me down." President Haskill stood, prompting the usual response from the Marine Generals before him. The two officers turned sharply and marched quickly out of the Oval Office.