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Because I don’t have my head up my ass, he almost said, but managed to think it through first. Instead he said, “I know you and Simeon Zetter are friends, and I know you trust him…”
“Implicitly.”
“Understood. I, however, do not trust anyone implicitly. It’s my job not to make assumptions.”
“Are you saying that’s what I’m doing?”
“I’m saying that’s what everyone is doing, Mr. President. We are all in shock because of this, and we are all cognizant of the implications of last night’s events. Heads will roll here in Washington, even with the spin control we’re using. Heads will have to roll. Dietrich will take the most heat, but everyone knows that a soldier follows orders. Unless we intend to crucify him as a rogue who exceeded all authority including a presidential order—which would put him in jail—then we’ll have to hang others out to dry. That’s a political fact.”
The president shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but he did not disagree.
“But all of that is secondary, Mr. President. I can’t stress enough how strongly I believe that this matter is not over.”
“General Zetter is in Stebbins, Scott. You’re not.”
Neither are you, you officious moron, thought Blair.
“Sir,” Blair began slowly, but the president cut him off.
“I’m not ordering another attack on Stebbins.”
“I understand that, sir, but to put it quite simply, Simeon Zetter is nearing the end of his career, and even though he was formidable in the field once upon a time, I think now he’s become more of a politician than a soldier. He is supporting you and your presidency. I don’t know that I entirely trust his assessment of the situation in Stebbins, because we have to accept the possibility that he is wrong about containment, we must—absolutely must—get Dr. Volker’s research notes.”
“I thought you said we’d find Volker.”
“We will, but we haven’t yet, and every minute we spend looking is time not spent preparing for contingencies.”
The president considered, nodded. “Did you have something in mind?”
“Yes. Trout has that research on Volker’s flash drives. Sir, I would like to—”
“Stop right there, Scott. I know what you want to do. You want the Guard to storm the school and take those drives away from Trout. I won’t do that. What I have done is order General Zetter to obtain the drives. This he will do. End of discussion.”
Blair wondered if he could throttle the president before the Secret Service could stop him.
“Now … is there something else you’d like to discuss, Scott?” asked the president.
“Yes, sir,” said Blair tiredly, “but it concerns General Zetter. If … I may speak candidly—?”
The president steepled his fingers. “Go ahead,” he said guardedly.
“I think we need an independent assessment of the state of things in Stebbins County. We need unbiased eyes on the defenses, the deployment of resources. We need someone who has experience in ultra-high profile biohazardous situations—which, by the way, no one under Zetter’s command has. We need a diagnostician, not a general practitioner.”
The president pursed his lips, considering the point. “Do you have someone in mind?”
“Yes,” said Blair, “there’s a man we both trust, and he’s already in the area.”
“Who?”
Blair gave him the name. “I think you’ll agree that he’s well-suited for this particular assignment. He’s also available and close. I could have him and a small team inside the Q-zone in twenty minutes.”
The president gave him a calculating smile. “He just happened to be in the neighborhood?”
“No, sir. I called him yesterday and told him I needed him in the on-deck circle. Just in case.”
“And he’s there to observe, assess, and report only, is that correct?”
