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“You make it sound so easy,” said Cecily. “But my husband couldn’t even get out of the Pentagon alive. How are these guys supposed to go into an unscouted location and bring back a living prisoner with hundreds of troops shooting at them?”
“That won’t be the situation,” said Torrent. “If I’m right, then when we have possession of either Verus himself or Verus’s dead body, right there in their fortress, the other guys will stop because what’s the point?”
“They’re true believers, that’s why,” said Cecily. “They’re fanatics. They’ll keep shooting.”
“Some of them might,” said Torrent. “But at the point you have possession of Verus and, I hope, his top people, then you call in the Army. You just have to hold out till they finish mopping up resistance and secure the rest of the prisoners.”
“What if we can’t find the installation at all?” said Cole.
“That’s the thing,” said Torrent. “It’s all guesswork. And I certainly have no idea where in the area around the lake this place will be, if it exists. Or where, inside it, we’ll find Aldo Verus.”
“Why do you even think he’s there?”
“Because on this one,” said Torrent, “he’s not going to let anybody else control it. He’s micromanaging it, and he’ll be right at the center of power. Trust me, if the place exists, and it’s his, then he’s there.”
It dawned on Cecily. “You know him, don’t you? You know him personally. You know him well.”
Torrent looked surprised. “Of course. I assumed you all knew that. He’s been to several of my seminars. He hates me, but he learns from me.”
“Why does he hate you?” said Cecily. “You’re no more a Republican than I am.”
“Your example contains your answer,” said Torrent with a smile. “You’re no Republican, yet here you are. When I started consulting for the NSA, Verus accused me of being a whore and we stopped talking. Too bad, because he got it completely backward. Whores give out sex for money. Me, I’d give my advice for free. A chance to play with history? A chance to make a difference?”
Cecily had never seen Torrent be so candid about himself. And it fascinated her. “Good heavens, Dr. Torrent. You think you’re Hari Selden.”
“Who’s that?” asked Drew.
Load and Babe both snorted as if Drew had revealed himself to be a complete idiot. “Asimov’s Foundation trilogy,” said Load.
“Guy who thinks he can shape a thousand years of human history,” said Babe.
“Oh,” said Drew disdainfully. “Science fiction. All those futures, with lots of little green men but no black people.”
“That’s Hollywood,” said Babe. “Because they think black stars won’t open sci-fi movies. The books are—”
“Please, boys,” said Cecily. “You’re preparing for an incredibly dangerous mission and you’re arguing about movies?”
“You brought it up,” said Load.
“Hari Selden,” muttered Babe.
But after the meeting broke up, Cecily could not help but wonder how right or wrong she might be. It wasn’t a bad thing to be Hari Selden, really. A man who manipulated history in order to save the human race from many centuries of misery and chaos. Hadn’t Reuben come home from Torrent’s class full of talk about what the Pax Romana meant to the world, and how miserable the chaos was afterward? And that was what Asimov’s Foundation trilogy was about, too. The Decline and Fall, set in the future.
Now here was Torrent, getting to play in the sandbox of history. Getting to shape events.
Well, that was a good thing, wasn’t it? A good thing he wasn’t on the other side. If Aldo Verus was really the other side’s mastermind, he was making Al Qaeda look like a bunch of Keystone Kops—both for cleverness and ruthlessness. America needed somebody like Torrent to balance the equation.
But it was still guesswork. Maybe it always came down to guesswork.
SEVENTEEN
BORDER CROSSING
Armies have spent a lot of time and effort training their soldiers not to think of the enemy as human beings. It’s so much easier to kill them if you think of them as dangerous animals. The trouble is, war isn’t about killing. It’s about getting the enemy to stop resisting your will. Like training a dog not to bite. Punishing him leaves you with a beaten dog. Killing him is a permanent solution, but you’ve got no dog. If you can understand why he’s biting and remove the conditions that make him bite, sometimes that can solve the problem as well. The dog isn’t dead. He isn’t even your enemy.
Gathered in a classroom at Gettysburg College, Rube’s jeesh knew only two things: They were going to Lake Chinnereth, and they had to do it without anyone knowing they had entered the state of Washington on a military mission.
If they were caught, it would be taken as provocation. The governor had posted the National Guard at all the entrance points, with airplanes overflying the rest of the border, and boats patrolling the Columbia River.
