Executive orders - Tom Clancy [150]
Forward, the two pilots were wearing flight suits of protective nomex previously sprayed. Their face masks muffled their words, forcing repetition of their request for clearance, but finally the tower got things right, and the Gulfstream began its takeoff roll, rotating swiftly into the clean African sky, and heading north. The first leg of their trip would be 2,551 miles, and would last just over six hours.
Another, nearly identical G-IV had already landed at Benghazi, and now its crew was being briefed on emergency procedures.
CANNIBALS. HOLBROOK SHOOK his head in temporary disbelief. He'd slept very late, having been up late the night before, watching all manner of talking heads on C-SPAN discuss the confusing situation with Congress after this Ryan guy's speech. Not a bad speech, considering. He'd seen worse. All lies, of course, kind of like a TV show. Even the ones you liked, well, you just knew that they weren't real, funny though they might be in ways intended and not. Some talented man had written the speech, with the purpose of getting just the right points across. The skill of those people was impressive. The Mountain Men had worked for years to develop a speech they could use to get people mobilized to their point of view. Tried and tried, but they just couldn't ever get it right. It wasn't that their beliefs had anything wrong with them, of course. They all knew that. The problem was packaging, and only the government and its ally, Hollywood, could afford the right people to develop the ideas that twisted the minds of the poor dumb bastards who didn't really get it-that was the only possible conclusion.
But now there was discord in the enemy camp.
Ernie Brown, who'd driven over to wake his friend up, muted the TV. I guess there just isn't enough room for both of them in that there town, Pete.
You think one will be gone by sundown? Holbrook asked.
I wish. The legal commentary they'd just watched on the CNN political hour had been as muddled as a nigger march on Washington to increase welfare. Well, uh, gee, the Constitution doesn't say what to do in a case like this.
I suppose they could settle it with forty-fours on Pennsylvania Avenue at sundown, Ernie added with a chuckle.
Pete turned his head and grinned. Wouldn't that be a sight?
Too American. Brown might have added that Ryan had actually been in a position like that once, or so the papers and TV said. Well, yeah, it was true. Both vaguely remembered the thing in London, and truth be told, they'd both been proud to see an American showing the Europeans how a gun is used-foreigners didn't know dick about guns, did they? They were as bad as Hollywood. It was a shame Ryan had gone bad. What he'd said in his speech, that was why he'd entered the government-that's what they all said. At least with that Kealty puke, he could fall back on family and stuff. They were all crooks and thieves, and that's just how the guy was brought up, after all. At least he wasn't a hypocrite about it. A high-class gypsy or coyote? Yeah, that was right. Kealty was a lifetime political crook, and he was just being what he was. You couldn't blame a coyote for crooning at the moon; he was just being himself, too. Of course, coyotes were pests. Local ranchers could kill all they wanted Brown tilted his head. Pete?
Yeah, Ernie? Holbrook reached for the TV controller and was about to unmute it.
We got a constitutional crisis, right?
It was Holbrook's turn to look. Yeah, that's what all the talking heads say.
And it just got worse, right?
The Kealty thing? Sure looks that way.