Kilmara. "Too many cooks and not enough terrorists. Closing down an airport when there is a bomb
scare is not counterterrorism. Crucially,
your political direction is weak and you don't approach the whole thing at the
right cerebral level. You've got to know
your enemy, really understand the
fuckers! Fundamentally, you don't
think there is a real threat. The
U.S.
is too big
and too strong. Even if there are hordes
of bad guys running around doing their worst, you don't think they can do more
than inflict the occasional pinprick.
"And
you're wrong. There is all kinds of lethal junk floating around in the world these days, and it is
only a matter of time before some of it falls into the wrong hands. Nuclear, chemical,
biological. It is all available
at the right price. That's the downside
of the collapse of communism and the introduction of market economies. Everything has a price and the people I am
worried about have money. Shit, they
have even got credit cards."
He smiled a
little grimly. "And they surely do
have motivation." He sipped some
more brandy. "The trick is to
demotivate them — in advance. Carrot and
stick, both applied with vigor and subtlety. You people don't do that. You
wait until something happens and then pursue the perps to the ends of the earth
— subject to the political exigencies. A big qualification. That just won't cut it. Someday
they will do something and there won't be any earth left to pursue them
around."
He looked
directly at the DDO. "As I keep
telling you, William, counterterrorism is a serious business. It isn't just jobs for the boys or for a
bunch of jocks with guns. Every so often
you have got to deploy those little gray cells and then do something! Capisce?"
William Martin nodded his head in acknowledgment. He knew Kilmara was right, but the reality of
being ‘ The Superpower’ was that you
moved with the subtlety and coordination of a herd of elephants.
Hell, the Pentagon actually had press quarters inside it and the CIA was knee-deep in congressional oversight
committees. That did not make for
preemptive surgical strikes. It did make
for an undue focus on ass-covering and gave new meaning to the word leak . It also had a disturbing effect on priorities. In practical day-to-day terms, a genocidal
war in
Africa
was of scant consequence. A negative article in the Washington Post was serious. And congressional hearings were a crisis.
Given the mandate of the CIA, that was almost exactly the reverse of the
way things should be.
It was one hell of a bloody world. But you dealt with the world the way it was. Idealists had notions. Practical people just dealt with things the
way they were. Which
was just as well, because nothing ever really changed.
It was time to focus.
"Hugo Fitzduane," said Martin. "How exactly does he fit into your operation these days?"
"Hugo is his own man," said Kilmara. "But we work together very closely. He has a part-time commission in the Rangers
and we train on his island. But mostly
he does his own thing. His latest baby
is this counterterrorist think tank. They're doing some very good analytical work. Governments don't have a monopoly on
talent. Hell, you should know. The agency subscribes."
Martin nodded. "We're
concerned about the company he's keeping and what it could lead to. We have enough internal political problems
without you people being caught in the middle. A little friendly advice might be in order. Tell Hugo to go and play elsewhere."
Kilmara laughed. "William,
you know Hugo. Say something like that
and he'll get curious and then you'll never get rid of him. Appeal to his reason, on the other hand, and
you are in with a chance. So tell me the
problem and I'll see what I can do. Let's start with the Congressional Task Force on Terrorism."
Martin snorted and then spoke with
scare is not counterterrorism. Crucially,
your political direction is weak and you don't approach the whole thing at the
right cerebral level. You've got to know
your enemy, really understand the
fuckers! Fundamentally, you don't
think there is a real threat. The
U.S.
is too big
and too strong. Even if there are hordes
of bad guys running around doing their worst, you don't think they can do more
than inflict the occasional pinprick.
"And
you're wrong. There is all kinds of lethal junk floating around in the world these days, and it is
only a matter of time before some of it falls into the wrong hands. Nuclear, chemical,
biological. It is all available
at the right price. That's the downside
of the collapse of communism and the introduction of market economies. Everything has a price and the people I am
worried about have money. Shit, they
have even got credit cards."
He smiled a
little grimly. "And they surely do
have motivation." He sipped some
more brandy. "The trick is to
demotivate them — in advance. Carrot and
stick, both applied with vigor and subtlety. You people don't do that. You
wait until something happens and then pursue the perps to the ends of the earth
— subject to the political exigencies. A big qualification. That just won't cut it. Someday
they will do something and there won't be any earth left to pursue them
around."
He looked
directly at the DDO. "As I keep
telling you, William, counterterrorism is a serious business. It isn't just jobs for the boys or for a
bunch of jocks with guns. Every so often
you have got to deploy those little gray cells and then do something! Capisce?"
William Martin nodded his head in acknowledgment. He knew Kilmara was right, but the reality of
being ‘ The Superpower’ was that you
moved with the subtlety and coordination of a herd of elephants.
Hell, the Pentagon actually had press quarters inside it and the CIA was knee-deep in congressional oversight
committees. That did not make for
preemptive surgical strikes. It did make
for an undue focus on ass-covering and gave new meaning to the word leak . It also had a disturbing effect on priorities. In practical day-to-day terms, a genocidal
war in
Africa
was of scant consequence. A negative article in the Washington Post was serious. And congressional hearings were a crisis.
Given the mandate of the CIA, that was almost exactly the reverse of the
way things should be.
It was one hell of a bloody world. But you dealt with the world the way it was. Idealists had notions. Practical people just dealt with things the
way they were. Which
was just as well, because nothing ever really changed.
It was time to focus.
"Hugo Fitzduane," said Martin. "How exactly does he fit into your operation these days?"
"Hugo is his own man," said Kilmara. "But we work together very closely. He has a part-time commission in the Rangers
and we train on his island. But mostly
he does his own thing. His latest baby
is this counterterrorist think tank. They're doing some very good analytical work. Governments don't have a monopoly on
talent. Hell, you should know. The agency subscribes."
Martin nodded. "We're
concerned about the company he's keeping and what it could lead to. We have enough internal political problems
without you people being caught in the middle. A little friendly advice might be in order. Tell Hugo to go and play elsewhere."
Kilmara laughed. "William,
you know Hugo. Say something like that
and he'll get curious and then you'll never get rid of him. Appeal to his reason, on the other hand, and
you are in with a chance. So tell me the
problem and I'll see what I can do. Let's start with the Congressional Task Force on Terrorism."
Martin snorted and then spoke with
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