Ultimatum E-Book

Matthew Glass

• Herausgeber: Atlantic Books
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 719

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2009

Beschreibung

HE HAS BECOME THE MOST POWERFUL MAN IN THE WORLD... NOW HE HAS TO SAVE IT... 'The heir to Tom Clancy and Michael Crichton? Ultimatum is better than either.' Economist Joe Benton has been elected the forty-eighth president of the United States. Only days after the election results, Benton learns from his predecessor that previous estimates regarding the effect of global warming on rising sea levels have been grossly underestimated. With the world terrifyingly close to catastrophe, Benton must save the United States from environmental devastation. He resumes secret bilateral negotiations with the Chinese - now the world's worst polluter - and as the two superpowers lock horns, the ensuing battle of wits becomes a race against time. With tension escalating on almost every page and building to an astonishing climax, Matthew Glass's visionary and deeply unsettling thriller steers us into the dark heart of political intrigue and a future that is all too terrifyingly believable. Praise for Ultimatum: 'The first politico-diplomatic-disaster thriller, Mr Glass's engrossing work leaves the reader thinking long after the last page is turned... Vivid as it is dark... The ending is brilliant.' The Economist 'A spellbinding debut novel from a writer poised to turn the thriller world upside-down.' William Bernhardt 'Sharp as a well-honed scalpel, Ultimatum is a masterful novel with deftly drawn characters, real settings, and a dark, dark understanding of geopolitical reality. The ending will leave you gasping.' Douglas Preston

Leseprobe

ULTIMATUM

ULTIMATUM

Matthew Glass

Atlantic Books

LONDON

First published in the United States of America in 2009 by Grove Atlantic Inc.

First published in Great Britain in 2009 by Atlantic Books, an imprint of Grove Atlantic Ltd.

This electronic edition published in 2009 by Atlantic Books, an imprint of Grove Atlantic Ltd

Copyright © Matthew Glass, 2009

The moral right of Matthew Glass to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Acts of 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities, is entirely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN: 978 1 84887 364 3

Printed in Great Britain

Atlantic Books An imprint of Grove Atlantic Ltd Ormond House

ULTIMATUM

Tuesday, November 2

Wright Convention Center, Phoenix, Arizona

He came onto the stage just before eleven o'clock. In studios across the country, analysts and pundits were cut off as producers switched to the stream from Phoenix. By now the outcome wasn't in question, only the margin of victory. Vermont, the first state to be called, had kicked off a landslide rout that was roaring south and west as the evening progressed. One swing state after another came in. Ohio, where it was now one a.m., had been called for him almost as soon as the polls closed. Florida had joined his column a bare half hour later.

Dick Moberly, Arizona state chair of the Democratic Party, was onstage to introduce him. Dick was a short, round guy and every time he tried to start talking, the crowd whooped louder. He personally knew just about everyone in the hall. An excitable character at the best of times, he wasn't exactly helping his cause. Instinctively, as the crowd yelled, his arm went up and he punched the air.

"Okay, okay," said Moberly eventually. A few more stray yells came from the floor. Dick grinned but managed to keep his arm down. Finally there was silence. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the senior senator of the fine state of Arizona. I give you the president-elect of the United States of America … Joseph Emerson Benton!"

On cue, into an explosion of light and noise, he came out with his wife, Heather, and his two grown-up children, Amy and Greg. Joe Benton was a tall man, lean, with a handsome head of silvering hair, a fine straight nose, and deepset brown eyes that gave him an expression of seriousness and focus until his twinkling smile cracked it open like the top off a can. The smile cracked open now.

For two minutes solid, the crowd yelled. It wasn't words, it was just noise, sheer exuberance made into sound. The senator held up his hands. Then he turned to Heather, and Heather smiled, and then he held up his hands again, thumbs up. Still the noise went on. He dropped his arms and somehow, somehow, managed to bring it to an end.

"Friends," he said, "today the American people have made a bold choice. They have chosen to face our shared challenges with a strong heart and a brave will. They have chosen to create a new foundation. I can tell you that I have just received a call from President Gartner, who has graciously—"

Joe Benton had to stop as the noise rose in the hall. He smiled again, nodding.

"I have just received a call from President Gartner who has graciously conceded defeat in this election. I thanked him for putting up a fine, fair fight, which was a credit to our democracy."

There were sardonic cries from the crowd. The tactics of the Gartner campaign had turned as dirty as any in living memory when the true threat of Joe Benton's challenge became apparent. But it was too late by then. Nothing Gartner's people could invent came near enough to stop him.

A total of forty-six men and one woman in history had preceded Joe Benton in reaching this point, the announcement of election to the presidency of the United States. Like each one of them, he had followed his own individual, personal path to this moment. Each progress to the presidency is an odyssey, and each odyssey is unique, an unpredictable combination of circumstance, personality, timing and luck. Joe Benton was a three-term senator from Arizona. In his first term he was already being spoken of as a potential Democratic presidential contender, and speculation about him had gone on so long people had begun to believe he would never run. Too upright, too principled. Straight Joe Benton, as he was known in Arizona. But Benton knew there was only one way he could present himself as a candidate, he couldn't offer anything but the policies and the programs he knew to be right. Four years earlier, under extreme pressure to run against Mike Gartner's first bid for the presidency, he had reluctantly judged that the American people wasn't ready for the message he would give. In the end he declined to join the race, and the general view was that his moment had passed.

A lot had changed in those four years. Back then, Joe Benton was one of the few politicians of national stature talking seriously about Relocation. Not now. With two consecutive years of extreme floods on the Gulf Coast, Relocation had surged onto the mainstream agenda like a storm wave out of the Caribbean and Gartner had been forced to go to Congress for a funding package to move people out of areas that had become patently uninhabitable. Miserly and inadequate as the package was, it established Relocation as a central issue for the upcoming election. How had the situation reached such a dire state? Why were millions of people now to be uprooted and moved, and why had so little—nothing meaningful, in reality—been done to prevent this? Mike Gartner, as president for four years and vice president before that for eight, found it difficult to put daylight between himself and the answers to those questions. The electorate was growing disenchanted with other aspects of Gartner's administration. Unilateralism in foreign policy. Disengagement from the Kyoto process. The long U.S. military presence in Colombia and Pakistan. At home, a little too much of caring for the rich and letting the poor find their own way. This time around, as people began urging him to run, Joe Benton could feel a difference. Maybe there was an audience for his message, and maybe it was big enough not only to send him to the White House but to send enough Democrats to Congress to let him get on with the job. As the fall turned to winter, a support base coalesced for him out of the left, the center right, middle-class women, and ethnic minorities who wanted that message to be heard.

And so he hammered it home. No fancy sales pitch, no window dressing, just the simple things in simple language. Health. Education. Relocation. Jobs. A four-part package, New Foundation, as he called it. He hammered the message home, unwavering, undeviating, while Gartner's people tried their tricks. And the more they tried, the more it looked as if Mike Gartner from Virginia didn't have an answer to Straight Joe Benton out of Arizona, the more tired Gartner looked, the more oily, the more untrustworthy. Circumstance, personality, timing and luck. Through the spring and on into the summer, support for the Benton juggernaut kept on growing. After successive Republican administrations, this one was coming to an end.

"I want to thank everyone who worked so hard for the Benton-Chavez ticket. I recognize so many faces as I look around here tonight. Arnie … Margaret …" Joe Benton pointed to a couple of longtime party workers whose faces he saw, and cheering erupted in the hall around them. "Too many to name. I thank each one of you, in this room, in the country, wherever you are tonight. I don't know if you realize what an awesome job you did. It was a long road. I remember New Hampshire. Do you remember New Hampshire? That was cold." Benton's face cracked in his trademark smile. "Almost too cold for a Phoenix boy."

The crowd roared.

"Almost. But not quite."

The crowd roared again.

"But we made it. You know what? We're here!"

He nodded, and the roof almost came off the hall. He glanced at Heather and the children, and they smiled back at him.

"I won't keep you long. I know you've got a lot of partying to do. Enjoy it. You deserve to. This is a good night for the Democratic Party. I believe we already have six new senators, four governors, and a whole clutch of fine new representatives. And the night is young. This is a good night. Not only for our party, but for our country."

There were cheers.

"For our country. Because whatever our differences, whatever has been said and done over the past months in the spirit of a free and fair election—an election that has been contested hard, and strong, which is exactly how it should be contested—whatever is past, is past, and my job now, the thing I have been asked to do, is to work for all Americans, to make life better for all Americans. And from this moment, that is what I intend to do."

The noise had died away. Everyone in the hall knew something more serious was coming.

"Friends, we have work to do. If we have achieved anything in this election today, it's only a prelude, it's only so that we can start to achieve more, much more tomorrow." He gazed around the room. "The challenges we face are great. But we can face them with confidence, because if we have the courage truly to face them, to measure up, we will overcome them. Not only overcome them, but build on them to create a better country for ourselves, for the ones we love, and for everyone with whom we share this land."

An absolute hush had fallen in the ballroom. Every eye was on the senator, every face absorbed. Joe Benton knew that at this moment, all over the country, all over the world, on home screens, on their handhelds, people were watching him. These words, he knew, these images, would be restreamed for days to come. Right here, right now, his presidency began.

He had thought long and hard about the words he would utter next. They had been carefully crafted. Benton didn't want to be triumphalist. There was too much work ahead for that. But he didn't want to dampen the exuberance his people deserved to feel on this night. Yet he wanted everyone to know that even in the midst of celebration, the work, for him, had already started. The size of the task awaiting him, he knew, was extraordinary. Even with a majority in both houses of Congress—which now looked within reach—there was no certainty he would be able to do all that needed to be done. Everything would have to go right. And Joe Benton had been in politics long enough, had watched enough presidents and seen their support shrink and their pledged programs unravel under the pressure of events, to know that it never did.

But he also knew he would never get people even to make a beginning unless they believed he would get them all the way to the end. More than anything, he wanted these words to make people eager to start, to make them trust that if they went with him now, if only they took the first steps that he was asking of them, they would find a good, solid path ahead.

He spoke calmly, matter-of-factly.

"We must take care of each other. This has been the spirit of our republic since its founding days. If we have lost a little of this spirit, we must regain it. In the next years, we will face a great migration. Together, we can make this a time of renewal and growth. Here is the promise that I ask you to make with me. Each one of our fellow Americans who must uproot themselves will find a better life among us—not a worse. They will find the warm hand of friendship—not the cold shoulder of hostility. Communities that welcome them—not shun them. Rarely does a country have the opportunity to remake itself for the better. Those who live at such a time are blessed. My friends, we have this opportunity. It isn't something to be feared, but to be welcomed. It won't be easy, but I ask you, if any country can do it, surely it's these United States of America, this republic that has grown, endured, and prospered through more than a quarter millennium in human history, that is the one that can. Today, the American people have given me the responsibility to make sure that we do not miss this opportunity. From this moment, I will do everything in my power to make sure we succeed. Tonight, I ask each one of you—Democrat and Republican, black and white, Christian, Jew, Muslim, Buddhist or atheist, gay or straight, anyone and everyone in this great community of our republic—join me."

The senator stopped speaking. For a moment, his words hung silently in the hall. Then applause began, and it swelled, and soon the room was a thundering chamber of noise.

In network studios, on screens around the world, people saw Joe Benton reach for his wife and put his arm around her. They saw her whisper something into his ear, and he looked down at her and nodded. They saw him look around for his two children, who came closer, and he put his other arm around his daughter. The images zoomed in, and people saw his fine, lean face—a face they knew would become increasingly familiar to them over the coming four years—and they saw a slight furrowing of the brow, a slight clenching of the jaw, as he contemplated the hall before him, contemplated the responsibility he had just taken upon himself.

Joe Benton leaned toward the microphone. His face cracked in a smile.

"Goodnight," he said. "God bless you. God bless the United States of America."

Monday, November 8

Benton Transition Headquarters, Lafayette Towers, Washington, D.C.

He was going to be nothing if not ambitious. The morning after the election, at a press conference in Phoenix, Joe Benton declared that he would complete his cabinet nominations by Christmas. He also announced that Benjamin D. Hoffman would serve as director of the Transition Board and would come to the White House as his chief of staff.

Ben Hoffman was a forty-three-year-old Bostonian who had served on Benton's senatorial staff in his first term and had since gone on to hold cabinet posts in successive Massachusetts state administrations. He was a natural conciliator, amiable and attentive, but his mild exterior and chubby frame belied a powerful combination of organizational talent, political insight and fierce commitment to objectives. Hoffman was going to need all these skills from day one. There were eleven weeks until the inauguration and they would be a frenzy of staffing. His first task was to get the transition organization staffed and the process for nominating key White House and government appointments under way.

Hoffman immediately confirmed a number of key people from the campaign for roles on the transition team and brought in other personnel who had been lined up discreetly prior to the election. One of these was Steve Naylor, a well-networked, thirty-eight-year-old Los Angeles lawyer who had served as the California Democratic campaign finance director. Naylor's role was to oversee the vetting of candidates for key posts. This enormous job involved drawing on a diverse range of sources to gather names, finalize short lists, collate background research and put together briefing notes for the senator and others involved in the appointments. Naylor would soon have his own vetting team of five.

Joe Benton's first priorities were economic and domestic appointments. He wanted to keep the momentum of his campaign going all the way to the inauguration and into the first hundred days. At a Veterans Day speech that he would be making in Williamsburg later in the week, after paying due homage to the sacrifice of past veterans, he was going to draw an analogy between the collective national effort required in time of war and the collective effort required of the nation now. He was then going to announce that he would be upgrading the post of director of the National Relocation Commission to cabinet level, and that he would be creating a National Relocation Council, along the lines of the National Security and National Economic councils, to coordinate policy among the relevant departments and agencies. He would also announce a Relocation summit of experts and community leaders to be held within a month.

He was back in Washington by the weekend after the election. Monday morning, he was at his campaign headquarters at Lafayette Towers, which had now morphed into the transition headquarters, for his first meeting with Naylor. He arrived at the entrance five minutes before the meeting was due to start and didn't make it to the meeting room until a half hour later. This was the first time he had been at the headquarters since the election. The mood was elated. Staffers who had given every waking moment of the last six months of their lives to the campaign wanted to shake the senator's hand. And he wanted to shake theirs. Joe Benton climbed on a chair and made an impromptu speech, interrupted by exuberance and applause. He got down off the chair and kept shaking hands all the way to the meeting room door.

Ben Hoffman and Steve Naylor were waiting for him. Three other people were present as well. Jodie Ames had been the campaign communications director and the senator had already asked her to stay on and come to the White House. John Eales was a big, hard-hitting Chicagoan who was Joe Benton's closest political advisor and strategist, and he would be coming to the White House as well. And Angela Chavez was the vice president– elect, a two-time governor of New York State who had helped bring the women's and Latino votes to the Benton ticket. As a New Yorker, she also represented a state that would be both a relocation and reception state as people were moved out of threatened areas around New York City and into upstate reception zones. This would give her credibility in the hard lobbying that was sure to be needed over the coming months to get the legislation required for the Relocation package through Congress. In inviting her onto the ticket, Benton had promised to involve her strongly in the work of the administration, and he had every intention of doing that.

Everyone was in high spirits. It took a little time before they settled down to the business of the day. Naylor talked through the state of play of the vetting operation and then began to walk the senator through the names he had already pulled together. Benton wanted to offer the directorship of the Office of Management and Budget to Jackie Rubin, a Texas congresswoman who served on the House Budget Committee and had impressed him on a number of occasions when they had met. He wanted to hear if Naylor had found any reason to decide otherwise. He hadn't. Ben Hoffman said he'd set up a meeting.

They went through the other key economic roles, secretary of treasury, labor secretary, commerce secretary, chair of the National Economic Council, chair of the Council of Economic Advisors. Benton was determined to avoid the pitfall of stuffing his cabinet and administration with friends and former colleagues out of the Arizona party machine. Even when he had a preference, he wanted Naylor and his team to give him alternatives so he was sure to get the most competent performer.

"And we're looking for at least one Republican here," said John Eales. "Don't forget that. That's critical for credibility on the economic team if we're going to get support for our programs."

Naylor glanced questioningly at the senator. Benton nodded. Then he grimaced for effect, and there was laughter around the table.

"I guess there must be one Republican out there who doesn't turn our stomachs," said Hoffman.

Steve Naylor raised an eyebrow.

They went through the domestic roles. Benton spoke about the position of director of the National Relocation Commission, outlining his vision for the role, and Angela Chavez added some thoughts.

"I want an A-one person in this post," said Benton. "This is all about delivery. We're going to put the legislation in place and get a serious budget, and then this person's job is to take that and go out there and build an organization and get stuff done."

"And let's not forget," added Eales, "we're going to be trampling on about every special interest group in the country. This person's going to need to kick butt. This is going to have to be one thick-skinned son of a bitch who eats nails for breakfast."

The senator glanced at him. "Sounds like we ought to get you doing it, John."

"If only we could clone me."

"God help us," said Ben Hoffman.

The senator laughed.

"Maybe we should think about looking at industry for this one," said Naylor. "Senator, would you be comfortable for me to do that?"

Benton liked the idea.

"We're aiming to announce the director of the commission before the Relocation summit, right?" said Jodie Ames.

Eales nodded. "And the economic team too."

Jodie Ames glanced at Steve Naylor, who made a note.

They went through the state of play on the remainder of the domestic posts and then turned to the security roles. Joe Benton had earmarked Alan Ball, an ex–assistant director of National Intelligence and his closest campaign advisor on security and foreign affairs, for the position of national security advisor. For secretary of state he favored Al Graham, a New York lawyer who had served as undersecretary of state for Latin American affairs in the last administration but one, and had been another source of foreign policy advice during the campaign. John Eales wasn't sure about Graham and wanted the senator to keep an open mind. Ben Hoffman thought Graham was banking on secretary of state. All the more reason, in Eales's opinion, to look at other candidates.

"Al might do well at the UN," said Angela Chavez.

Benton thought about that. "Possibly. Who else is in the picture for State? I'd consider Sandy Murdoch."

"Henry Gonzalez?" said Hoffman.

"How about Larry Olsen?" said Naylor.

Benton smiled at that.

"No? Thought I'd try something from left field."

Angela Chavez laughed. "Larry Olsen? That would add an interesting complexion to the administration."

"Steve," said Benton, "draw up a short list for State. Keep Al Graham on it, please. I'm definitely not ruling him out. And let's have Sandy Murdoch on it as well."

John Eales glanced at his handheld. He got up and left the room. When he came back he caught Benton's eye and tilted his head meaningfully to the door.

"So, we're done?" said Benton as soon as the last cabinet post was discussed. "Steve? Okay. Good work. Anything you want to clear up, and Ben can't help you, give me a call."

"Thank you, Senator."

"Jodie?"

"We're fine, Senator."

"Angela, I'll catch you later."

Chavez nodded. She was staying on with Hoffman to talk through details of the Relocation summit.

Benton left the room.

"There's someone who wants to talk to you," said Eales when they were in the corridor. "I just got a call."

Benton glanced at him questioningly.

"Mike Gartner."

Joe Benton smiled.

"I'm serious."

Eales took the senator to the small office he used at the headquarters and gave him his handheld.

"Gartner wants to talk to you personally. That's the number … right there."

Eales watched as Benton made the call. After the opening pleasantry, the senator said little, mostly listening. His brow furrowed. "Certainly," said Benton. "I'll get him to do that." Then the call was over. It had lasted about a minute.

He gave the handheld back to Eales. "He wants to meet."

"We're setting up a meeting for a couple of weeks from now. Ben knows about it. You want me to get Ben?"

"Not that kind of meeting. Just him and one or two of his guys. No press, he doesn't want anyone else to know about it. Ed Steinhouser's going to call you to set things up. He'll tell you how we're going to do it. You and Ed talk directly so no one knows."

"When does he want to do it?"

"Soon. Ed'll call you today." Benton saw Eales open his mouth to ask the obvious question. "He didn't say what it's about. Just said it's something we need to talk about and when we do I'll understand why he wants to do it like this."

Eales nodded. Neither Joe Benton nor John Eales had ever been through the transition to the presidency before. Anyone who does it, does it only once, and it isn't the custom to leave instructions behind. Neither man knew what the rules were. They didn't know if there were any rules.

"John," said Benton. "You think this is normal? A secret meeting like this?"

Eales shook his head. "I was just about to ask you the same thing."

Monday, November 15

Canoustie House, Virginia

The Virginia countryside was wintry. Gartner was waiting inside when they arrived, along with Ed Steinhouser, the White House chief of staff, and Art Riedl, a special advisor who had been the man closest to Gartner during his presidency.

Mike Gartner was a Virginia Republican who had served two terms as vice president under Bill Shawcross before moving into the White House on his own account. Thanks to Joe Benton, he was going down in history as a one-term chief executive.

"Sit down, Joe," he said as he sat himself down in a big armchair upholstered in some kind of a floral fabric

It was the first time the two men had come face-to-face since the last debate before the election. Benton was generally considered to have wiped the floor with Gartner during that encounter. He had forced the president into defending his record, his long list of tax cuts and reductions to federal programs. The more Gartner defended it, the more hard-hearted he seemed.

"You ran a good campaign, Joe," said Gartner.

"Thanks," replied Benton. "I think I was saying what the American people wanted to hear."

"What they want to hear ain't necessarily what they need to hear," said the president.

Joe Benton didn't respond to that. The American people had given their own answer two weeks earlier.

Gartner shook his head. "One-term president." He looked up at Benton. "That's not something I recommend."

Joe Benton didn't say anything to that either. There was nothing to say he wouldn't be in the same situation, he knew, four years hence.

"Your son might run next time round, Mr. President," said Art Riedl.

"And give these boys another Gartner to wallop?" muttered the president sourly. "I don't think so." Gartner's oldest son had been elected junior senator for Florida four years earlier. "Remember what happened the last time we did that? What a fuckup! Twelve years in Iraq. What a goddamned fuckup."

There was silence.

"And now we're stuck in Colombia. Another godforsaken shit hole. You know, the funny thing is, people think I was one of the people who wanted to take us in there. But you ask anyone who knows." Gartner slapped his hand forcefully on the armrest of his chair. "I told Bill Shawcross. I said we'll never get out of that place. It's a fucking swamp. But he took us on in. Said there's only one way to stop the drugs coming out. Just a limited intervention. Pressured the Colombian government to invite us in to help beat the insurgency and the limited intervention expands and before you know it you're dropping bombs on housefuls of villagers and the whole goddamned cycle begins again. I'll tell you this. There's no such thing as a limited intervention. You start it, you never know when it's going to end." Gartner laughed disgustedly and ran his hand through his thinning dark hair. "There's some advice I hope I didn't need to give you. Well … You boys want coffee?" he asked suddenly. He motioned to a sideboard where there was coffee and juice and water.

Ed Steinhouser got up and started pouring. He gave a coffee to each of the men in the room.

The president slurped a couple of times, then put his cup down.

"Okay, we should get down to business," he said. "I apologize about the secrecy and all."

Benton smiled. "I thought you normally left a sealed letter on the desk."

"Yeah, I guess that's one way of doing it. It'd have to be a damn big letter."

There wasn't even a flicker of a smile on Gartner's face as he said it. Suddenly Joe Benton thought the other man looked weary. He had known Gartner for years, known him as a fellow senator even before he became Bill Shawcross's vice president, always ebullient, usually overbearing. He didn't think he had ever seen him look so down.

"What is it, Mike?"

"There's some stuff you've got to know about. I wanted this meeting secret because I don't want the press asking what we talked about. Pretty soon it's going to be your problem. Believe me, Joe, you don't want the press asking."

"What is it?" said Benton.

"I'm sorry to have to spring it on you like this. But you wanted the job, right?" The president picked up his cup and slurped again. "Okay. Tell me; you spoken to President Wen since the election?"

Benton nodded. About half the world's leaders had called him in the days following the election, including President Wen of China.

"What'd he say? You don't mind me asking, right?"

"He congratulated me. Said he hoped we'd work together. The world has big issues and we have to solve them as partners."

"What big issues? Anything specific?"

"It was a general conversation." Benton couldn't say much more without checking his notes. To his recollection it was pretty much the same conversation he'd had with most of the other leaders who had called, part congratulation, part platitudes about working together.

Gartner nodded. "Nothing else?"

"Like what?"

"Like we've been holding negotiations with the Chinese."

"What about?"

"Emissions. Bilateral negotiations, Joe. Strictly bilateral and strictly secret."

Benton stared at Gartner. Then he glanced at Eales, who had stopped, coffee in hand, and was staring at the president as well.

As president, Gartner's stance toward the Chinese had been one of perfect intransigence. That was one of the reasons the country had dumped him. The crucial swing vote—the Latino community and women between the ages of thirty and fifty-five—found him excessively belligerent and unilateralist in international affairs. Fully seventy percent of them, for instance, believed he was more likely than not to expand the U.S. military presence in Colombia. The percentage that believed Joe Benton would do that was so low it was essentially unmeasurable.

Gartner's line on China had always been that the Chinese government would have to show they were genuinely doing something on carbon emissions before the United States could sit down with them again. They had broken too many promises on emissions reduction in the past. Action first, was Gartner's line, often repeated. Action first, words later.

"How long have these negotiations been going on?" asked Benton.

The president glanced at Art Riedl.

"Seven months," said Riedl.

Benton nodded. It was starting to make sense. Gartner had been hoping to keep it secret, then announce some kind of a deal with China just before the election. Pull a rabbit out of a hat, steal the show, and ride triumphantly back into the White House.

He glanced at Eales.

"Now, I know what you're thinking, Joe," said Gartner. "But you're wrong. I'm not denying it would have been nice. Would have. But there were other reasons for keeping it secret. I'd like you to meet somebody." The president looked at Ed Steinhouser, who got up and left the room. "One of the fun things about this job," said Gartner as they waited for Steinhouser to come back, "is you get to find out about all kinds of stuff you never even knew existed. Stuff I had no idea about even as vice president. I'll tell you, if I had known there was all this stuff I didn't know when I was vice president, I'd have been frustrated as hell. And it was frustrating enough, that's for sure. You're lucky, Joe, you never had to do the job. That running mate of yours, Chavez, I pity what she's going to go through."

"Angela's going to be involved," said Benton.

"Sure," said Gartner, and he smiled knowingly.

Ed Steinhouser came back. A woman in uniform came with him. She was small, slim, with tightly coiffed blond hair.

"This is Dr. Richards," said the president. "Dr. Richards, Senator Benton."

Benton stood up and shook her hand.

"Dr. Richards heads a navy unit that's responsible for environmental surveillance," said Riedl. "I should add that the information Dr. Richards's unit gathers is not released publicly nor is it shared with any other government."

"Combining this with the data available in the wider scientific community, Senator," explained Richards, "we have the most complete data set available. That means we have a far more precise and accurate picture of environmental trends than any other government in the world. This puts us at a significant advantage in the quality of our scenario generation."

"In't that great?" quipped the president.

"What kind of data is this?" asked Benton.

"Deep ocean salinity, deep ice sheet temperature and thickness variations, ocean current velocities, ionosphere particulates and a number of other critical variables. Few institutions have the ability to track these variables even sporadically, and none have the ability to track them constantly, which is what we're able to do at the Environmental Surveillance Unit.

"They have a whole fleet of vessels," said Riedl.

"Fourteen," said Dr. Richards, "including support ships. And we have a number of ESU land stations. The unit was established nineteen years ago, Senator, after Kyoto 2 in the Copenhagen round, and with the quantity of historical data we now have we're reaching a point where our predictive accuracy is quite high."

"How high?" asked Eales.

"We feel in general we're now in excess of ninety percent accuracy."

"And what have you found?" asked Benton.

"We believe our previous predictions were incorrect. We're finding that the rate of change across a range of variables is fifteen to twenty percent higher than we had projected."

"Because no one's in compliance with Kyoto 3," said Benton.

"No, sir. That's factored into our assumptions. The increase appears to be largely due to carbon feedback effects. Principally we're talking about release of trapped carbon dioxide as ocean temperature rises and areas of permafrost thaw, and reduced reflection of sunlight as the Greenland ice pack melts and sea ice generally disappears. The Amazon fire is also having an effect, and a number of more minor feedback effects are in play as well."

Benton frowned. "None of this is new, right?" The senator was aware that feedback effects in climate change had been under discussion for decades, and if he knew about them, he assumed there must be deep understanding of the phenomena in the scientific community.

"No, sir. As you say, the existence of these effects isn't new, but the implications are. Let me explain. A feedback effect is a cycle. The more you have, the more it happens. It ramps itself up, if you will. For example, the more sea ice melts, the less sea ice there is to reflect sunlight, so the warmer the temperature becomes, so now even more sea ice melts, so now even less sunlight is reflected. And so on from year to year. That's easy. As you said yourself, we've all known these effects have been happening for many years. What's harder to determine, until you actually see it, is the rate at which the cycle ramps up. A huge number of variables can have an effect. Previous models had to guess, they were built on assumptions about the rate of increase. They tended to assume a fairly moderate rate."

"You mean to be on the safe side they should have assumed a faster rate?"

"It's not my place to comment on what others should have done, sir. I'm just pointing out that the models assumed a certain range of rates. The Relocation plan you outlined during your campaign, for example, would be based partly on these assumptions, because the models on which it was based had these assumptions built in. What's new is that we now have sufficient data to actually tell what the rate is with a high degree of confidence, and what these data are telling us, Senator, is that the cycle appears to be ramping up quicker than the previous models assumed."

"But if this is happening," said Eales, "other scientists will be picking it up."

"Oh, it's happening, Mr. Eales. And other scientists will pick it up. I would say, in a matter of two to three years, the trends will be more broadly obvious. We just have the ability to pick it up earlier because of our superior data gathering and monitoring capabilities."

"Dr. Richards," said Benton, "you said your projections were mistaken before. How do we know they're not mistaken again?"

"We've learned, sir."

"So you're confident of what you're saying?"

"We're confident that we're seeing effects happening at a rate fifteen to twenty percent faster than our models predicted. We can be ninety-nine percent certain that the increase is more than ten percent. Or to put it another way, there's less than a one percent chance that the trends we're seeing reflect less than a ten percent increase in the actual rate of change."

"In other words, you're sure."

"I never say I'm sure, sir."

Benton looked for a hint of a smile on Dr. Richards's lips, but didn't see one.

"Now, do you want to hear the bad news?" said the president. "Dr. Richards?"

"As I said, Senator, this is a feedback loop. That means the longer it goes on, the more it accelerates itself. To put it simply, the longer it goes on, the worse it gets. Not in a linear fashion, but exponentially." Dr. Richards paused. "With respect, do you understand the terminology, Senator, and its implications, or would you like me to explain?"

Benton nodded. "I understand."

"It's only in the last year that the trends have become this clear."

Benton watched Dr. Richards. She looked back at him with a clear, assertive gaze in her blue eyes. For a moment he wondered what she felt under that crisp exterior, if the numbers she cited so efficiently, the percentages, the degrees of certainty, found their way under her skin in terms of what they were going to mean to people. To millions of people, probably, if he had understood what she was saying.

"Can you outline what the chief effects of this will be?"

"Exacerbation of the phenomena we're already projecting. Sea level rise, enhanced storm activity, altered rainfall patterns, altered growth patterns, alteration in disease ranges, and desertification. The whole panoply of effects, Senator."

"More specifically?"

"Dr. Richards," said the president before she could answer. "Thank you. That's fine for now. Perhaps you could wait outside in case we have any further questions."

Richards nodded.

"Thank you," said Benton.

She turned to go. Ed Steinhouser led her out.

"Don't want to get too technical," remarked the president. "You'll have numbers coming out your ears if you let her go on. Believe me, I've seen it. It ain't pretty."

"We can get the detailed projections from her?" said Eales.

"Sure. Art'll set it up."

"Mike, you haven't made any of this public," said Benton.

"Would you have?"

"But you thought you could do a deal on this with the Chinese government?"

"Listen, Joe," said Gartner, "this is bigger than partisan politics. Way bigger. You heard what Richards said. This process accelerates itself. If we're going to do anything about it, we have to put an end to it right now."

"And the Chinese? What's the angle with them?"

"China hasn't honored a single agreement on emissions it's signed up to. Not a single clause. Not Kyoto 3, not Kyoto 2."

"We haven't been much better," said Eales.

"That may be true, Mr. Eales," replied the president sharply. "But China is worse. They overtook us as the world's biggest polluter in absolute terms twenty-five years ago. That's a whole quarter century, but they speak and behave as if they're still a developing country. They have to take some responsibility."

"Mike," said Benton, "I accept that. But if it's not for partisan reasons, I don't understand the secrecy here. We've got Kyoto 4 coming up. Surely that's the forum for this."

"You may choose to make it the forum, Joe. That's your decision now."

"I said all through my campaign we have to engage internationally, and I meant it. With respect, Mike, I think failure to engage in multilateral forums was one of the mistakes of your administration and of Bill Shawcross's, and I think the American people have just shown that they agree."

"With respect, Joe, that's just so much horseshit. The campaign's over, it's time to govern. You can say what you like when you don't have to deliver. Go ahead, deal with it through Kyoto 4 if you want. But you listen to me. I signed Kyoto 3. Bill sent me. Remember? I was the one in Santiago with the pen in my hand." Mike Gartner sat forward in his chair and stretched out his arm. "This hand right here. Now let me tell you something. There were a hundred and fifty-three other leaders there that day in the Palazzo whatever-the-hell-it-was, and they all signed, every last one, and I swear to you, as they signed those papers, not one of them intended to stick to the obligations they were signing up to. And not one of them did. And that includes the Chinese, and the Indians, and the Brits, and the EuroCore, and whoever the hell else was there. And us as well, I'm not saying it doesn't. And Kyoto 3 was weak. Remember? We were coming off the back of the recession and it looked like the global economy was doing half the work of emissions control for us. But when the global expansion started up, no one remembered that, and we all just went for growth like we always do. Held the line that new technologies would make everything better without any pain. Voluntary measures were enough, we'd all act honorably, no need for sanctions. The usual Kyoto crap, we'll all just wait ten years and see where we've got to." Gartner sat back in his chair and shook his head in disgust. "The pace never gets any quicker. A chunk of ice the size of Maine floats off some ice shelf in the Antarctic … Art, where was that again?"

"The Ronne Ice Shelf, Mr. President. And it was the size of New Hampshire."

"Right. And when was that? Eight years ago?"

"Nine, Mr. President."

"Right, nine. The size of New Hampshire. Splash! And what do we do? Same process, same speed. Like a fucking snail that's only got one gear. So you can listen to me, Joe, and take it from someone who knows, or you can learn it the hard way. Try to do it through Kyoto 4 if you want, just like you promised in your campaign. Spend another two years negotiating while this feedback cycle keeps ramping up, and then spend another five years monitoring until it's obvious everyone's in breach, and then it'll be time to start negotiating Kyoto 5 and see where we are then. Go ahead. It's your show now. You're the boss."

"China's not the only emitter," said Benton. "Even if you did a bilateral deal with them, what happens next?"

"Senator," said Art Riedl, "what has to happen is for the world's leading emitters to agree to sharp cuts, even savage cuts, and to show they're doing it. Action, not words. You get us doing it, you get China doing it, and then you've got the leverage to bring the rest of the world on board. No one's going to believe it's going to happen if the United States isn't involved, but you can't sell this to the American people if the Chinese aren't on board as well. So that was our strategy. Us and China first, then use that to bring the rest of the world into line. We believe the American people will take the pain if they can see China doing it as well and if there's a genuine verification mechanism with penalties to back it up. We don't believe they'll take the pain for the sake of yet another Kyoto that's going to turn out to have been ignored by everyone else in ten years time."

"How deep were the cuts?" asked Eales.

Riedl and the president looked at him.

"The emissions cuts you offered the Chinese, Mr. President. What did you offer them?"

"We showed them the data," said Gartner. "They knew why it's necessary to do something. When it came to the bottom line, we offered an immediate freeze, and a matched point for point emissions reduction over the next seven years. Mutually verified."

"How much?"

"Eighteen percent," said Gartner.

Benton didn't react. Not outwardly. Eighteen percent over such a short time frame was a massive reduction. And all the painless steps to cut emissions had been taken long ago. The economic impact of this would be … considerable.

"The time when we could do this easily is long gone," said Gartner quietly. "That was thirty years ago. There's no way to do it easy anymore."

"Mike," said Benton, almost not wanting to hear the answer to the question he was about to ask, "this accelerated rate of change we've been talking about—what's the impact? How bad is it?"

"The Relocation plan I took to Congress envisaged the abandonment of the majority of the Gulf Coast, parts of southern Florida, the Chesapeake Bay area, parts of the San Francisco Bay area, and sectors of New York and other coastal cities. That was a total of a little over six million people and the congressional requisition was 4.2 trillion over the next ten years."

There was silence in the room. Everyone waited for what was coming next. They all knew the numbers Gartner had just listed. Joe Benton had fiercely opposed Gartner's plan. The estimate of the total population to be relocated, he knew, was too small, and the financial allocation, six percent of the budget projection, was way too low to do anything but condemn those people to poverty. Benton expected to have to double it.

Gartner took a deep breath. "Magnify it fivefold. And while you're at it, say good-bye to Miami. The tri-county area will take a category four or better hurricane every two years and the storm surge will drown every living thing all the way to Orlando. And in case you're wondering, the drought in southern California, its never going to end. We're talking desert. All up, we're talking maybe thirty million people, and a cost of twenty-five trillion over the ten year period."

Joe Benton stared at him.

"Art can show you the math."

Benton didn't need to see it. Whatever Gartner said about the cost, he'd have to double it at least. "Is this done, or does it only happen if we don't get a deal for the emissions cuts you mentioned?"

"Most of it's done," replied Gartner. "Art's got the exact breakdown. You go spending another five years messing around with Kyoto 4 and it's all this and then you can add some more."

Riedl nodded. "I've got those numbers as well."

The magnitude of what he was facing left Benton groping for something, anything, to get a handle on it.

"I'm sorry to dump this in your lap, Joe. Truly I am."

Benton didn't reply. Whatever Gartner said, Benton knew that the chance of cutting a secret deal and announcing it just before the election would have been to the fore in his mind.

"Mr. President," said Eales, "can you tell us what the current status of the talks with the Chinese government is?"

"At the moment we have no talks, Mr. Eales. The latest word out of Beijing is they see no point continuing negotiations with my administration since it's effectively no longer in power."

"Who was in your team?" asked Eales.

"Art here. Art was the team. No one outside this room even knows we were talking with them."

Eales turned to Riedl. "You'll give me a full briefing?"

Riedl nodded.

"Joe," said the president, "I'm convinced now the Chinese never intended to cut a deal. They were stringing me along. They're conniving, deceitful bastards, and you can't trust them further than you can throw 'em."

A perfect match, thought Benton.

"They figured they'd buy time by letting me think they'd cut a deal before the election. But we had nothing back from them, all right? I want you to understand that. I'm telling you the truth here. Nothing."

Benton knew what that meant. Gartner had given the Chinese a proposal for the cuts he had outlined without receiving even a counterproposal in return, so chances were the Chinese would hold on to anything they considered favorable in Gartner's proposal and demand that as a starting position in further talks.

"I don't know how you're going to play it, Joe. I'm stepping back. I've got nine weeks left. I'll go along with whatever way you want to do it."

"Do you think they'll restart talks now?"

"With you?"

Benton nodded.

"Maybe," said Gartner, "but they'll be playing for time. They'll see if they can get anything out of you. If you ask for anything back, they'll say you're not in power yet."

Joe Benton thought that was probably right. "What about our allies internationally? Do any of them know about this?"

Gartner's lip curled. "Let me give you a word of warning, Joe. Whenever the Europeans say they'll do something, halve it. That's how much you'll get. And you'll get it about half as fast as they promise it. You want to act quick, you've got to go it alone. That's why we did it like we did. I want you to believe that, Joe. I can only tell you again, you can take this into Kyoto, but that would be a disaster for our country."

"Anything else?" said Benton.

"Isn't that enough?"

"More than enough."

"Then we're done," said the president. "Art'll give Mr. Eales the details. We can talk again if you want after that. Just let me know. Anything else happens, I'll keep you informed." He stood up.

Benton stood as well.

"We have a meeting in a couple of weeks with our staffs. Pretty pictures. I guess you can understand now why I wanted to do this one a little more quietly."

* * *

Outside, a cold fog had descended with the dusk. The limo headed off past bare, sticklike trees.

Joe Benton thought over what he had been told. "Usually the Republicans just tell you the budget deficit's going to be twice what they said in the campaign," he murmured. "But you've got to hand it to Mike Gartner. He always goes one better."

"He's been president for four years and vice president for eight," said Eales. "And he's got the nerve to tell us now, after the election, that everything's five times as fucked-up as he admitted. He was vice president when the Ronne Ice Shelf collapsed! What the fuck did he try to do differently afterwards?" Eales turned and looked back. The house where they had met the president had long disappeared from view. "What a piece of shit."

Benton didn't disagree.

"He never had a chance with the Chinese," said Eales in the same disgusted tone. "They would have played him like a cat with a mouse. But that's Mike Gartner for you. Hold the whole country to ransom for seven months just to try to keep his sick butt in the White House."

Benton nodded. That was exactly what he thought. That was exactly why Gartner had kept everything secret.

They rode on in silence.

Or was it? Benton saw the image of Mike Gartner thrusting out his hand toward him, the same hand with which he had signed the Kyoto 3 treaty in Santiago. He heard him saying that it was easy to talk from the sidelines, when you didn't have to get things done. And Art Riedl, explaining their strategy. It was a strategy, Benton had to give them that. And he could almost have believed their reasoning if everything in their past didn't show they were as much a pair of lying, deceitful, conniving bastards as anyone they could possibly have come up against on the Chinese side.

No, it was a strategy that just happened to fit the unilateralist prejudices of Mike Gartner and his entire administration. And one which conveniently might have allowed him to pull off a miracle win in an election he had all but lost.

"Get the details," said Benton.

Eales nodded. "I'll get with Riedl for a briefing. I want to see exactly what they offered."

"And talk to the navy woman as well. Directly. Don't trust Riedl."

There was silence again. Joe Benton tried to come to grips with the numbers he had heard, what it would mean for his presidency. Most of the damage was inevitable, even if rapid cuts in emissions could be negotiated. Gartner had mentioned a fivefold increase in the impact. If Benton had thought he was facing a challenge with the scale of relocation he had known about, now that looked almost easy.

What would this do to his plans? Day one, behind the desk in the Oval Office, what should he do about it?

Eales's thoughts had gone in the same direction. "Do you want to bring Angela in on this?"

Benton thought for a moment. "No. I don't think so. Not yet, anyway. Not before I figure out where this is going."

"I agree," said Eales. "And we keep Jodie away from it."

That hardly needed an answer. The last person Joe Benton wanted involved at this point was his communications director.

Day one wasn't far away. This would affect everything, his legislative program, the economy, his foreign policy. Benton knew that he urgently needed to start thinking through the implications. But he didn't have a team on board yet, not one to which he could confide information of this sensitivity.

Yet of the people who could help him, there were two, at least, who had already agreed to join his administration.

Thursday, November 18

Georgetown, Washington, D.C.

Jackie Rubin and Alan Ball came in by the front door. The senator wasn't too worried if they were seen arriving at his Georgetown home by press who were watching the street. Although he hadn't made any announcements yet, Rubin had agreed to leave the House of Representatives to become director of the Office of Management and Budget, and Alan Ball was slated to be the national security advisor. They arived at eleven p.m. The Bentons had just returned from a dinner for the Health Advocacy Forum, an activist organization they had supported for years.

Heather showed Ball and Rubin in. The senator was taking a call from Hugo Montera, a New Jersey lawyer he wanted as his Secretary of Labor. When the call was finished he joined them.

Rubin was in her forties, with an earnest, expressive face and short dark hair. Ball was a small, dapper man with a head that seemed too large in proportion to the rest of him. He was currently professor of international relations at the Kennedy School, prior to which he had been chair of the UN commission on viral pandemics and global avoidance. Further back he had served six years as an assistant director of national security.

John Eales joined the group as well. Benton gave a short introduction, stressing that no one outside this group, and an equally small number of people in the Gartner White House, knew what they were about to discuss. Then he asked Eales to give a briefing. Eales had spent a half day with Art Riedl getting full coverage of the negotiations with the Chinese, and another half day with Dr. Richards. He summed up concisely.

"What I want to do tonight," said Benton when Eales had finished, "is get the thinking going on this. I'm not looking for decisions yet, obviously. Let's get some first thoughts on what you see as the implications, any ideas for how we take this forward, and then we can all go away and think about it a little more. Let's start with your initial reactions. First of all, from each of your perspectives, then we can loop back to the bigger picture."

Alan and Jackie looked at each other.

"Go ahead," said Ball.

"Gee, thanks, Alan."

There were smiles for a moment. Then a serious frown came over Jackie's face.

"Speaking off the top of my head … The first thing that occurs to me is, I'm not sure where we go with our domestic programs if we have to absorb a hit like this. We've agreed all along that we ought to expect a deficit at least half as big again as the deficit the administration projected in the campaign, but this is a whole nother issue. If we're really looking at thirty or forty trillion more over the next ten years, that's almost … we're talking about numbers that are getting up towards half our total budget. Proportionately, that's probably more than we've ever spent even in a war situation." Rubin paused. "I'll check that. Maybe we're going to need to think of ourselves as kind of a war economy. There's going to be a massive transfer of productivity from consumption to capital investment just to replace infrastructure."

"We already anticipated that," said Eales.

"But not on this scale. Without seeing the figures, I'm guessing this is so big you can't expect to manage it within the economy as usual and there's going to have to be a significant restructuring of the allocation of resources. In other words some kind of central involvement in the allocation."

"In the allocation only, or in the investment?" Benton asked.

"I'm guessing both." Rubin frowned. "I have to think about this. And I need to get the numbers and have some work done on them."

Benton nodded. "Anything else?"