The Leviathan Effect by James Lilliefors

said.
    “Just one, and I’m sure you’ve discussed this at length, as well.” She felt nervous asking it, sensing Easton’s disapproval. “If you’ve determined that this is credible and that thousands of innocent people may have already lost their lives, why aren’t we reaching out more to the international community?”
    “We are,” Easton said. He leaned forward in his chair, glancing at her.
    The President’s eyes closed for a moment. She could sense that it was a question they’d already discussed.
    “I just mean, isn’t there a moral obligation—I mean, couldn’t a warning mitigate what’s going to happen by drawing attention to the threat?” She looked to DeVries for support, but didn’t find it. “Mobilizing the world community against it?”
    “Or perhaps have the opposite effect,” said Easton. “The fact is, we don’t know enough yet to make that sort of judgment, Secretary Blaine. Or to take that sort of risk.”
    “Cate, I understand your question,” the President said. “The main reason we aren’t doing this more transparently is that, until we learn exactly who we’re dealing with, we can’t afford to. We’ve been asked very pointedly not to let this information out of our small circle. The implication is that there will be catastrophic consequences if we do. That leaves me with a very difficult choice. After much deliberation, I’ve decided to heed that warning until we know more. Remember, this is day ten for us, Cate, and day one for you.”
    DeVries added, “And if you look at the case of the most recent threat, there was no specific location given. Just ‘Western Europe.’ The first one was ‘Eastern Asia.’ I think information of that sort is essentially useless, anyway.”
    Blaine nodded. “And we don’t have the ability—I mean, our satellites aren’t able to detect how this is being done?”
    It was Easton who answered. “If we knew where they were, Secretary Blaine, we’d have ordered bombing runs ten days ago.”
    “Sorry,” she said. “I guess I’m just playing devil’s advocate.”
    “Understandable,” the President said.
    “Although, in this case, the devil doesn’t need an advocate, Secretary Blaine,” Easton said, showing what might have been a smile.
    “Cate, let me just reiterate,” the President said. “We’ve all asked these same questions. We’re looking at everything very closely. Changes in the atmosphere, ionospheric irregularities. Any anomaly that might offer some pertinent information about where these events originate. We do have a game plan.”
    “Of course.”
    “If we play by their rules, at some point—very soon—they’re goingto make a demand. At that point, we’ll learn who they are, and we’ll learn what their motive is. Then we will respond accordingly.”
    Blaine was silent, absorbing what they were saying:
So the rest of the Cabinet has no idea this crisis is happening. Nor does anyone in Congress
. It was not how Blaine would have handled it. But she understood the stakes, and the unstated concerns that the President was balancing. This was the sort of crisis that could define Aaron Lincoln Hall’s presidency—or sink it.
    “What about the media? How concerned are we about something leaking?”
    “Another reason for keeping the circle tight,” Easton said.
    “They’ve already gotten hold of the wrong story, as you know,” DeVries said.
    “I do.”
    “Here’s what I’d like to think, Cate,” President Hall said. He leaned back and lifted his chin, giving her a stern, unfamiliar look. “And what I’d like all of us to think: that whatever this is, there’s still a possibility it can be resolved behind closed doors. Without any public crisis. Without any catastrophic event visiting our shores.”
    Blaine watched the President’s measured smile, suspecting that this was actually Clark Easton’s idea. It wasn’t quite the way the President talked, or thought. Easton had come up through military