Games of State - Tom Clancy [75]
"Then," said McCaskey, "the average American gets outraged and the government cracks down on hate groups. End of story."
Liz shook her head. "No, not the end. See, the crackdown doesn't end the groups. They survive, go back underground. What's more, there's backlash. Historically, oppression breeds resistance forces. The aftermath of this aborted Pure Nation attack-- if there were, in fact, really going to be one, which we can't be sure of-- will be a rise in black militancy, gay militancy, Jewish militancy. Remember the Jewish Defense League's 'Never Again' slogan from the 1960s? Every group will adopt some form of that. And when this widespread polarization threatens the infrastructure, threatens the community, the average white American will get scared. And ironically, the government won't be able to help because they can't crack down on minorities. They come down on blacks, then blacks cry foul. Come down on gays, Jews, the same thing. Come down on all of them, and you've got a goddamn war on your hands."
Rodgers said, "So the average American, normally a good and fair person, gets drawn toward the radicals. Pure Nation and WHOA and the rest of them start to look like society's salvation."
"Exactly," said Liz. "What was it that Michigan militia leader said a few years ago? Something like, 'The natural dynamic of revenge and retribution will take its course.' When word gets out about Pure Nation, and what they were planning, that's what's going to happen here."
"So Pure Nation takes the fall," said Rodgers. "They get hunted, arrested, disbanded, and outlawed. They're the martyrs to the white cause."
"And loving it," Liz said.
McCaskey made a face. "This is like a surreal 'House that Jack Built.' " He said in a singsong voice, "These are the white supremacists who sent out a group of their own to be caught and sacrificed, to breed minority backlash, which scares the whites, who create a groundswell of support for others in the white supremacist movement." He shook his head vigorously. "I think you're both attributing way too much forethought to these degenerates. They had a plan and it got busted up. End of story."
Rodgers's phone beeped. "I'm not sure I buy all of what Liz is suggesting either," he said to McCaskey, "but it's worth considering."
"Think of the damage Pure Nation could do as decoys," Liz said.
Rodgers felt a chill. They could, in fact, lead the proud, victorious FBI every which way but right. With the media following their every step, the FBI could never even admit that they'd been duped.
He picked up the phone. "Yes?"
Bob Herbert was on the other end.
"Bob," said Rodgers. "Alberto briefed me a few minutes ago. Where are you?"
From the other end of the phone, Herbert said calmly, "I'm on a road in the middle of the boonies in Germany, and I need something."
"What?"
Herbert replied, "Either a lot of help fast, or a real short prayer."
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Thursday, 4:11 P.M.,
Hamburg, Germany
Hamburg has a distinctive, very seductive radiance in the late afternoon.
The setting sun sprinkles light across the surface of the two lakes, raising a glow like a thousand phantoms. To Paul Hood, it looked as if someone had turned a bright light on beneath the city. Ahead, the trees in the park and the buildings to the sides were positively iridescent against the deepening blue of the sky.
The air in Hamburg is also different from other cities. It's a curious mix of nature and industry. There's the taste of salt, which is carried from the North Sea by the Elbe; of the fuel and smoke of the countless ships which travel the river; and the countless plants and trees which thrive in the city. It isn't noxious, Hood thought, as in some cities. But it is distinctive.
Hood's reflection on the environment was brief. No sooner had they left the building and began walking toward the park than Hausen began talking.
"What has made this day