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“Not in front of me !” Cole said.
Out of his own mouth, he made her point for her.
So he learned to wait. And in the Army, he learned again. Nothing like live-fire exercises to concentrate the mind. He schooled himself to wait for many hours, for days. He learned to hide even the fact that he was waiting.
But that was war. He knew as soon as General Alton brought him back to the Pentagon that he couldn’t do nothing.
He didn’t even go back to the office. There was too much danger that Alton’s reassurances about how nothing would happen to him were a scam. So easy to detain him—soldiers didn’t have the rights of civilians against phony arrests. They could say he needed to be interrogated again. Then he’d disappear. When Congress subpoenaed him, the Army would tell them that Cole was on duty somewhere. And then his family would get word that he had been killed in action. His body would be produced with all the appropriate wounds.
How could he consider this kind of thinking paranoid? There was a general openly plotting a military coup. Cole’s inclination and his sworn duty as a soldier and a citizen required that he do whatever was within his power to stop it from happening.
So he got in his car and started driving. CNN or Fox News? Atlanta or New York? On the one hand, CNN would be all too eager to hear about a right-wing coup-in-progress. On the other hand, Cole’s purpose wasn’t to inflame people against conservatives, it was to be heard by soldiers who might be tempted to cooperate with Alton’s coup. And those soldiers regarded CNN as being almost as much of an enemy to the America they loved as NPR. They’d be watching Fox.
When he called Rube from the car to tell him about Alton, he couldn’t quite bring himself to report where he was going and what he intended to do. He knew that was wrong. That it was stupid. Why did I hide that information? he asked himself. The answer was obvious—you didn’t have to have a psych degree to figure out that he didn’t tell Rube what he was doing because he fully expected Rube to order him not to do it. Or to talk him out of it by persuasion alone.
He thought of all the reasons why he shouldn’t do it.
They won’t believe it. So they won’t broadcast it.
If they do believe it, they still won’t broadcast it because Alton’s people have already gotten to them.
If they believe it and broadcast it, I’ll come across as a complete wacko. Especially if everyone denies everything I’m saying and the coup doesn’t actually take place.
If they believe it and broadcast it and the coup happens, at best I’ll be out of a job. At worst I’ll be dead.
And it won’t make a bit of difference to history whether I do this or not. It’s a completely futile campaign. I’m wasting myself for nothing. I’m pulling the pin on a grenade just so I can fall on it. Either the coup happens or it doesn’t, regardless of what I say now.
Yet he kept driving north, up 1-95 to Delaware and then across the river into New Jersey and its ugly toll road that funneled you to New York City as if you were being flushed down a toilet.
He found public parking, mortgaged his firstborn child to pay for it, and then walked to 1211 Sixth Avenue—no, “Avenue of the Americas,” as if the fancy name changed where it was located—and threw himself on the mercy of Fox News.
Army interrogators were trained never to reveal any reaction to what the person they were questioning might tell them. The reporters and producers who interviewed him tried to do the same, but they couldn’t hide their skepticism. Until it finally dawned on somebody that he was one of the two guys in that Tidal Basin video they’d been running for the past twenty-four hours.
Then they loved him. Only they didn’t know what to make of his story. “We can’t corroborate,” said one of the producers, finally. “Nobody backs up your story.”
“I’m not surprised,” said Cole.
“The thing is, we can’t run it as news unless we know we can stand behind it.”
So it was all for nothing.
“What we can do, Captain Coleman, is interview you on the air. You’re newsworthy because of what you and Major Malich did yesterday, trying to save the President and nearly succeeding. In that interview, you can tell the story of your meeting with General Alton. Then the news is not that there’s going to be a coup, the news is that you said there was going to be a coup. We don’t have to stand behind the truthfulness of what you say, we only have to stand behind the fact that you said it on the air.”
“Okay.” Cole knew that their interview shows were largely during the primetime hours. Who would he get? Greta Van Susteren? Hannity and Colmes?
“Bill O’Reilly wants you,” said the producer. “It’s the most watched show on cable TV, so that’s a good thing, right?”
“Right.”
“Captain Coleman,” she said. “I don’t think you’re lying. But I sure hope you’re wrong.”
“I hope so, too,” he said. “Though if I am, I’ll look pretty silly, won’t I?”
“You got a lot of hero points yesterday. Even if you get a bunch of nut points tonight, they’ll probably balance out.”
“Am I going to be one of the guys O’Reilly goes after? Or one of the ones he treats sympathetically?”
“What, you think Bill tells us what he’s going to say?”
