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The brass went over what they had on that topic, and Cole thought, maybe I'm here because of the Horn of Africa problem. I speak Arabic fairly well. But then, the Arab countries of North Africa were making it a point to protect their own desert borders—and none of them had a history of welcoming American advisers.
The meeting went on for more than half an hour, talking about the UN and the NGOs, which had withdrawn all their people but were now clamoring about how to deliver aid on the continent.
There was no mention of Cole's presence and certainly no one talked to him.
Finally, it began to sound as if they were wrapping up. Concluding remarks from everybody.
Until President Torrent said, "One more thing, and it's not small."
And without any other cue than that, everyone took a moment to glance at Cole and then away again.
"I think you remember and recognize Colonel Coleman's achievements during the civil war. Working with a team assembled by my late friend Reuben Malich, Colonel Coleman—then a captain, of course—handled a great deal of ultrasensitive work, assaulting and taking out multiple rebel caches throughout the country, without ever sustaining a single casualty of his own and without any human collateral damage. And you are all familiar with his taking of the enemy's nerve center in Washington State."
Murmurs. Glances. Mostly, though, steady downward looks. The Joint Chiefs were not happy about whatever it was that was about to happen—and it was clear they had no more idea than Cole did about what the President had in mind.
"Colonel Coleman has no experience whatsoever in any part of Africa, and it is certain that he cannot pass for native, so we can't expect him to blend in there. What we can expect is that with the proper breathing apparatus and reasonable care, he and various highly trained special operations teams can do much to shape events there—without coming home with the nictovirus. But if, in the course
of their work, one or more of them contracts the virus, we will extract them like any other wounded soldiers, and then provide every possible care until they either do or do not survive the disease. I wish I could say their high level of fitness works in their favor, but we have heard reports of this disease sparing feeble old people and children, while taking men and women in the prime of life. So there are no guarantees."
Cole almost spoke up, but the President, apparently sensing what he was about to say, preempted him.
"I do not expect that this will interfere with Colonel Coleman's team in any way—the virus is simply one more enemy they must be wary of and treat with the same caution and respect they already use in confrontations with human enemies."
The Army chief spoke up, rather like the wise-ass kid in a high school classroom. "I hope you won't be expecting him to disguise himself as one of that enemy."
Everyone chuckled, and Torrent showed no impatience, though Cole knew he was irritated. Torrent was often irritated when people interrupted him, but he tried never to show it. This guaranteed that he was interrupted even more—but it also kept people from thinking of him as arrogant or jealous or power hungry.
"We have recently received absolutely firm intelligence that the government of Nigeria is following a genocidal policy. Since the nictovirus only kills between twenty and fifty percent of its victims, we regard their one-hundred-percent fatality rate as something that must be stopped. Furthermore, it must be seen to be stopped so that in these trying times other governments do not resort to the same methods.
"We believe that the Nigerian government, which as you know is absolutely controlled by the northern Muslim Hausa-speaking minority, is creating a firewall of dead and burned-out villages between the Muslim areas of Nigeria and the non-Muslim south, where the vast majority of the people in the most populous nation in Africa live."
"We're supposed to protect the southern majority with a few special ops teams?" asked the Army chief.
"If you mean, are we going to protect them by building our own defended wall, then of course not. We don't have a large enough army to accomplish that if we sent them all to Nigeria, which we most certainly will not do, since the chance of controlling infection with such a large and differentially trained number would be impossible.
"No, Colonel Coleman's mission will be to destroy any and every team the Hausas are sending out to murder non-Muslim villagers. They may believe that with so much death already happening in Nigeria, a few thousand more will not be noticed. But they have been noticed. This is one genocide that will not go on.
"And in case anyone thinks I have turned altruistic, think again. We are accused of ruthlessness in our dealings with Africa. But we will show, through Colonel Coleman's work, that we care very much about the people of Africa. To survive the disease and be murdered by your own government seems to me to be precisely the kind of irony that our special ops troops exist to eliminate."
The Secretary of State raised his hand slightly from the table. "Sir, this will be a clear violation of national sovereignty—acts of war against a nation with which we are not at war."
Torrent nodded. "I believe that when a government starts carrying out a policy of genocide against large segments of their own population, they cease to be the legitimate government of that portion of their people. In this case, they are essentially abandoning the south while not allowing anyone else to come in and take their place. I expect we'll soon hear about a complete breakdown in social order in the south. The government will speak of thugs and rebel elements causing trouble, and will deny that they have withdrawn all loyal Muslims, including the loyal portions of their military, north of the firewall they are creating. They will say that the chaos in Nigeria is caused by the American quarantine."
"So Colonel Coleman is your answer," said the Secretary of Defense.
"No," said President Torrent, "General Coleman is my answer."
The military men in the room stiffened with displeasure. Torrent must have seen it, too, because he added, "Relax, this is a brevet appointment only—his permanent rank remains colonel. But for the duration of this assignment, he will be, and will be treated as, a major general. He will request troops, materiel, supply, transportation, and communications resources, and he will be given them instantly. Affected officers are free to offer alternatives, once. But anyone who obstructs General Coleman's missions will answer to me, and I can promise you that careers can end over this."
Torrent clearly understood what motivated bureaucratic officers, though Cole doubted any president had ever spoken so plainly before.
To raise a mere colonel to such a lofty rank, however colorful his reputation and however close to the President he might be, would make Cole one of the most hated men in the U.S. military. What Cole was seeing in the stony expressions of the Joint Chiefs was a wordless but immediate decision that Cole's career was over as soon as this president was out of office.
Torrent must know exactly what he was doing—he was a historian, wasn't he? He had just transformed Cole into a "creature," a courtier who was important only while the ruler who "made" him was in office. That was one way of assuring the loyalty of your subordinates. But it was not the best way, especially with someone like Cole.
But it would certainly seem to work, because Cole would fulfill his assignments faithfully. And since this set of missions would almost certainly kill him, between bullets and viruses, the issue of Cole's future was moot.
Well, Cole told himself, I always served at the pleasure of my commanders, and this is the commander in chief. If he wants to use up my career on this assignment, so be it. I can't do special ops forever—no matter how much you train and how hard you work out, your body gets older and stops doing what it used to be able to do.
