Games of State - Tom Clancy [104]
Rodgers nodded vigorously as the phone beeped again. He glanced at it. Ann Farris's calling code was on the LED display at the base.
"That's exactly what happened in the 1960s," McCaskey said, "when the Black Panthers became the militant allies of a number of civil rights groups."
Rodgers said, "If all of this really does fit together-- Dominique, his money, hate groups, and the destabilization of Europe and the U.S.-- we'd have one serious worldwide disaster." Rodgers put the phone on speaker. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Ann."
"Mike, Darrell told me you needed a check on press releases from Demain," she said. "I called D'Alton and D'Alton, their New York press people, and got the latest stuff faxed over."
"And?"
"It's all run-of-the-mill tub-thumping about games," Ann said, "except for one. It's about a new joystick."
"What's it say?"
"That with the new Enjoystick, you don't just play the game-- you feel it."
Rodgers sat up taller. "Go on." This was a perfect match with the hate games. He felt a chill in the small of his back.
Ann said, "It's FCC-approved and it's a new technology which stimulates nerve cells through a patented fingerprint-operated biolink. I guess that's to make sure you only use the link on your hands and not on other parts of the body. It says here that with an Enjoystick, you'll feel ail the thrills and excitement that your videogame character experiences on-screen."
Rodgers said, "Along with the hate and love and all stops in between."
"It doesn't say anything about that," Ann told him, "but I can't believe something like this exists. I feel like I'm in a science fiction movie."
"You're not," Rodgers said. "A lot of people still don't understand the power of this technology, but it's there just the same. Thanks, Ann. This was a big help."
"Any time, Mike," she said.
Rodgers hung up. Despite-- or because of? he asked himself-- the pressure of piecing together the Pure Nation puzzle, he was gratified by the short, pleasant exchange. He and Ann had never been charter members of each other's fan clubs. She made no secret of her infatuation with and unqualified defense of Paul Hood. That had often put her at odds with Rodgers, whose approach to crisis management was less diplomatic than Hood's. But Rodgers was working on that, and Ann was trying hard to accept that there was more than Hood's way of doing things.
There's probably a lesson for all of civilization in that, Rodgers thought. Unfortunately, this wasn't the time to don his purple robes and go proselytizing.
Rodgers looked at McCaskey, who was making shorthand notes on the cover of one file at his rapid 140-word-per-minute speed.
"It's all here, Mike," McCaskey said excitedly. "Dammit, it's all friggin' here."
"Let's have it."
McCaskey finished and looked up. "Let's say that Dominique uses bank setups like the one in Nauru to filter money to white supremacist movements. He throws us off the trail by giving us Pure Nation as busywork while at the same time he's quietly greasing the wheels of other groups. He's also getting ready to download hate games, games which can be played with the Enjoysticks. People feel good going after minorities." He looked at Rodgers. "I agree with Ann-- that's a little bit too Amazing Stories for me-- but let's put it in the mix for now. It's really not that crucial."
"Agreed," said Rodgers.
"Blacks are outraged by the games. Newspapers are outraged. Right-thinking citizens everywhere are outraged," McCaskey said. "Meanwhile, Pure Nation doesn't cop a plea, like you said. Uh-uh. They go to trial because a public forum is exactly what they want. And the trial happens soon because the evidence is compelling, the FBI pressures the courts to make room, and Pure Nation won't object to any jurors the prosecution wants. Their macho needs are satisfied by being the sacrificial lambs, They present their case articulately, and if they're good-- and many of these people are-- they actually sound rational."
"I'll buy that," Rodgers said. "A core of whites will secretly buy into a lot of what they say. Whites