The Zimmer Doctrine Read online

  President Zimmer didn’t look up from his writing, but said, “Tell them to turn the teleprompters off. In fact, see if they’ll take them offstage.”

  “But, sir, the speech...”

  “Change of plans, Bob.”

  Zimmer finally looked up and almost laughed at the look of complete exasperation on Lundgren’s face but that would have been cruel. Instead, he patted his press secretary on the shoulder and said, “The good news is that you’ll be kept plenty busy after I’ve delivered my speech.”

  The United Nations staff was just removing the teleprompters when President Zimmer walked on stage. He held a single note card in his left hand, and he looked quite presidential in his blue suit, white dress shirt and red tie, and the American flag pinned upon his lapel. He had more gray hair than the day he’d taken office, but he wore it well, only adding to his look of stateliness.

  He knew that most of the world didn’t have a clue what to think about him. A Massachusetts Democrat, Zimmer had done anything but toe the party line. Some had taken to calling him “The Hawk” while others called him a traitor to the cause. It was time to dispel any doubts of how his presidency would be remembered. He would blend his two sides, and he had Travis and Cal to thank for the inspiration.

  At the moment, re-election was the farthest thing from his mind. When he reached the podium, greeted by a chorus of polite clapping, Zimmer patted his right pocket. Inside was the only memento he’d taken from his former Chief of Staff’s office, Travis’s SEAL Trident pin. Zimmer smiled to the crowd, realizing that many in the assemblage would soon look at him quite differently.

  “Be with me, Trav”, Zimmer thought.

  He glanced first at the note card lying on the podium and then out at the crowd gathered before him. They were expecting a speech on the global economy and America’s plan to be at the forefront of tariff relaxation in addition to more open lanes of trade. Not this time.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, delegates, world leaders, and friends, I want to sincerely thank you for allowing me the privilege of addressing this distinguished assembly. It seems like only yesterday that I stood at the top of those stairs in the far corner, as a young boy, and I watched in wonder as President Reagan addressed this very room.” Zimmer shook his head at the memory. “Reagan was a master orator and a skilled politician who understood the value of a well-placed word. In addition, he personified the values of honesty and friendship. Now, I will never pretend to have his skills in front of an audience, but I think I have learned the need for honesty and valued friendships. I’ve been lucky enough to have friends in my life who have taught me more about morality and ethics than I ever could have learned in a classroom. That is why I am here today. Most of you were expecting to hear a speech about global trade, and my administration is working tirelessly to further invigorate the global economy. However, I believe there is a more pressing issue I feel compelled to tackle first.”

  He could hear the clicking of cameras, saw whispers between delegates, and sensed the mounting tension in the room. He’d never felt so sure about anything in his life. He felt like he was floating above the room, in complete command of his thoughts.

  “We live in a world of a thousand colors, shapes and creeds. War mingles with impossible beauty. Lives are lost as new communities are built. As citizens of the world, we must come together to build a global community built on acceptance and openness. I stand before you today to renew my pledge to both our current and future allies. We will stand with you, protect you, and train you. However, we will not be manipulated – by anyone. Like a corporation investing in another business, we reserve the right to ensure that our money, our resources, and the precious lives of our men and women in uniform are optimally utilized. What does this mean? As soon as I leave this building, my administration will begin a top-down analysis of our continuing aid, both monetary and military, to countries around the world. I will task my leaders to provide me honest assessments of three things. First, are we getting a positive return on our investment? Is the change reaped commensurate with the aid package being provided? Is it being put to good use? Second, are countries to which aid is provided being transparent with their use of those resources? This may entail an uncomfortable and in-depth look we have long ignored, but I believe it will be necessary to minimize the impact that years of corruption have had on needy populaces. No one side should unfairly influence the other. And third, and quite possibly the most important evaluation, are our friends and allies conducting themselves in ways that promote personal freedom among their citizenry? That starts with us, ladies and gentlemen. Are we doing everything we can in order to promote equality? Or, are we sowing the seeds of dissension by pitting our peoples against one another?”

  The murmurs were louder now. The Iraqi prime minister was stone faced. The North Korean Ambassador looked bored. Zimmer saw the Russians smiling and he returned their smiles.

  “In exchange for this honest dialogue, I pledge to do everything in my power to uproot traces of corruption and bribery linked to American involvement with foreign powers. This is a two-way street, and in the coming weeks, I hope to have some very frank discussions with many of you. Everything is on the table, but at the end of the day, I hope that we can see past our differences, put aside our own egos and self interests, and instead lead by example for the citizens we represent.”

  The room was quiet now. Zimmer wondered what they were thinking. He urgently wanted them to think. He wanted them a bit off balance. He wanted things to change. He was done being deceived. It was time to bring the skeletons into the light.

  After once again giving his thanks, he left the stage, and the voices of international representatives rose in deafening discussion. He ignored the confusion and wondered whether this “call-to-arms” for honesty, accountability, and ownership would be his undoing or end up becoming his legacy. Either way, it would be dealt with soon. He felt it was more advantageous to look into the flames than lurk in the shadows.

  When he arrived at the exit, Bob Lundgren was waiting. His face was pale, eyes wide. He looked like he was about to faint. Zimmer had never seen him so unsettled.

  “Mr. President, I don’t know…”

  Zimmer patted him on the shoulder again and said, “Don’t worry, Bob, we’ll work through it.”

  And then he was whisked away by his Secret Service detail, leaving Lundgren open-mouthed at the door.

  Chapter 4

  Haifa, Israel

  August 26th, 8:11pm

  Col. Osman gritted his teeth and crushed the soda can in his hand.

  “Yes, sir. I will find him,” he replied, wincing at the curt retort on the other end. The call ended abruptly. He was dismissed as if he he were a lowly lieutenant.

  Two days and still no word. Dr. Nahas was his responsibility. He’d been tasked to see to the scientist’s well-being, and for almost a year he’d done just that. Now Nahas was gone and the two agents who’d been assigned to protect him were dead. Their bodies had been found in the classroom next door to Nahas’s laboratory. The knowledge that the experienced team was taken by surprise and strangled, all in a fairly public location, led Osman to believe they were dealing with professionals. The mere fact that someone had known the top-secret location of the undercover security team made the veteran tremble with rage.

  Obviously, there was a leak. Although Dr. Nahas was clueless as to what he was working on, it was now apparent someone else had that knowledge. Ergo, it was imperative to find Dr. Nahas ASAP.

  Osman had ordered increased scrutiny at every border crossing and airport. Without Nahas and his tinkering, their operation might be set back months, if not a full year. Osman’s superiors would not be happy should that come to pass. They had the schematics and research stored, but the final product was still in Nahas’s head. In their last conversation, the inventor had promised Osman a completed prototype in two days.

  The timing of Nahas’s disappearance nagged at the suspicious soldier-turned-intel
ligence officer. His people had already tapped the phones of the doctor’s family, but it was almost immediately obvious that they hadn’t seen Nahas in some time. Osman remembered reading somewhere in the man’s file that he had the tendency to work like a hermit for months. No wonder he hadn't married. Who would marry a man like that?

  Osman had three marriages under his belt and the pelts of three divorces on his back. At least he’d found time for that.

  He debated sending one of his underlings out for a cigar. He’d picked up the habit on a cross-training exercise with the Americans. There was something about the pungent richness of the cigar that made his mouth water. He pushed the craving aside and yelled towards the door.

  “Maya, come in here.”

  A moment later, a slight young woman entered the room. Her dark eyes didn’t look concerned. She was used to his outbursts. They’d worked together for close to two years. He’d stolen Maya Eilenberg from her former post within the Israeli Defense Force, where they’d had her manning a computer and plotting points on a map. Some idiot, no idiots, had failed to recognize her skill set. Osman could see she had untapped potential.

  After he'd lost his former intelligence analyst to a corporation that paid him five times the salary Osman could offer, a brief search had unearthed Maya.

  She was barely thirty and, to the casual observer, she seemed meek and unassuming. Osman had been delighted to find a sharp mind and biting tongue under that innocent facade. She could take it as well as she could dish it out. Osman liked that in a woman. His second wife was testament to that.

  “Are they upset?” Maya asked, referring to the phone call.

  Osman shrugged.

  “What did you tell them?”

  “That we would find him,” Osman replied, tossing the crushed soda can in the waste basket.

  “About that...”

  Osman made a “Give it to me” gesture.

  “No signs of Nahas,” she reported. “Nothing has been reported at the airports, border crossings or ports.”

  “That doesn’t mean he didn’t leave in a box.”

  Maya nodded.

  “...and the leak?” Osman asked.

  “It wasn’t us,” Maya said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “You and I are the only ones here that know the entirety of the operation. I didn’t tell anyone. Did you?”

  Osman snorted. That’s why he liked Maya. Who else would talk to him with such impertinence?

  “What about the others?”

  “It’s possible, but we’ve been careful to tell others only what was needed. Even the two at the school thought Nahas was just another VIP.”

  It was true. They’d been careful. With an operation this sensitive, every aspect had been compartmentalized. Although he was no longer in uniform, Osman took his patriotic duty to his country as a sacred vow. He would personally kill anyone who got in the way of that duty.

  “Okay. Keep looking. I have some friends I should talk to.”

  Maya nodded and went back to her office. Osman tried not to look at her rear as she left.

  An hour later, Col. Osman pulled up to the security camera just outside the metal gate of a three-story residence. He looked directly at the camera and a moment later the gate buzzed and shuddered to life.

  His host, not quite sixty years old, awaited him at the front door wearing a look of amusement. She was still beautiful and Osman couldn’t help but smile as he mounted the steps.

  “Should I make drinks?” the lithe woman asked.

  “I don’t have time,” Osman answered, reminding himself this was a business visit.

  The woman shrugged and said, “Tell me you haven’t changed, Ozzy. When we were married you never sat down for a chat without a cocktail.”

  “Fine, one drink,” he huffed. Twenty years later, he still couldn’t say no to the woman. If it had been up to him, they never would have gotten divorced. But at the time she had wanted children and he aspired to make general.

  Neither of their wishes transpired, and they’d gone their separate ways. Well, at least personally. Hannah Krygier had gone on to enjoy much success as a force behind the Israeli political scenes. Over the years they’d kept in touch and they had swapped favors on several occasions. As a close advisor to two of the last three prime ministers, in addition to a select handful of Israeli's inner circle, Hannah was a well-placed source for Osman’s periodic use. It was good to know people in high places but, although Osman got things done in the intelligence realm, his gruff demeanor precluded him from direct dealings with politicians.

  Hannah was the polar opposite of Osman. She had the patience and deadly accuracy of a viper. If she wanted your career over, she could make it happen. But, on the surface, Hannah Krygier was gracious and polite.

  Osman grinned as he followed her into her spacious living room. If he weren’t so set in his ways and she so stubborn in hers they might still be together. She was still the most beautiful woman he had ever been with and some part of him still loved her.

  She made them drinks as he sat down and admired her paintings. Hannah had always had that gift of selecting awe-inspiring paintings. He still had the ones she’d given him each year as birthday gifts. The swirls of color fascinated him almost as much as the slender curves of her tenderly aging body.

  “What should we drink to?” she asked, handing him a glass full of something dark. Whiskey. She’d always liked whiskey.

  “To us,” Osman said, raising his glass.

  Her eyebrows arched but she clinked her glass against his and they both took healthy sips.

  “So, what did you really want to see me about?” Hannah asked, swirling her drink with an index finger.

  “We lost Nahas.”

  Hannah’s eyes narrowed. Osman took another healthy sip of whiskey.

  “What do you mean you lost him?”

  Osman told her about the kidnapping including the details about the two dead agents.

  “Do you have any leads?” she asked.

  “Not yet.”

  Hannah frowned.

  “I brought you into this, Ozzy.”

  “I know and I’m grateful.”

  And he was. Due to Hannah's connections, she was able to set him up in a new private role as a government contractor. Were it not for Hannah's help, where would he be now?

  He watched as Hannah digested the news. Osman knew what she was thinking. Word would get back to her contacts and, while her career might not be tarnished, it would look bad. Hannah did not like looking bad or inept in front of her peers.

  “I don’t have to tell you how important this is. If the Americans find out…”

  “I know. I saw Zimmer’s address,” Osman said, now taking a gulp of his drink.

  “How did this happen?” Hannah pressed.

  “That is why I am here, Hannah. There has to be a leak.”

  “Have you checked your people?”

  “Yes, of course. No one knew the details except for Maya and myself.”

  Hannah knew Maya and had gone to school with her father. There was no point asking if she was the leak. They were like family.

  “So what are you saying?”

  “Don’t you see? The leak has to be at the government level,” Osman said.

  Hannah tapped her glass with her ring finger, the tinging the only sound in the room for close to a minute.

  “Have you brought this to the attention of your contact?” Hannah asked, referring to the government official tasked with overseeing Osman’s team.

  “I wanted to tell you first. I thought you might have better ways of investigating it.”

  Hannah grunted.

  “I’ll talk to Shin Bet and see what information they can uncover.”

  Shin Bet, also known as the Israeli Security Agency, was the equivalent of the American FBI.

  “Is that wise?”

  “My friend knows how to be discreet.”

  Osman could tell that Hannah’s mind was
already running through contingencies, planning on who needed to know, and where the damage control might take them.

  “What would you like me to do?” he asked.

  “Do everything you can to locate Nahas. I’ll let you know what I find.”

  He left his unfinished drink on the table and nodded his goodbye. Hannah was already on the phone, no doubt ruining some poor underling’s night. Osman smiled as he returned to his car. It was always a pleasure seeing Hannah, even if during a crisis.

  He was so focused on the image of her well-toned body, he never saw the blade that plunged into the back of his neck. Osman fell to his knees, the searing pain blinding him. He felt a brief relief when the blade was pulled out, releasing its grasp. He slipped down further, gurgling blood, coming to rest on his back. His body seized, and his cough sounded distant, like it came from someone else. The last thing he saw, as the edges of his vision collapsed, was a shadow opening Hannah’s front door.

  Chapter 5

  The White House

  August 27th, 9:39am

  All night, the switchboard had been flooded by calls from ambassadors, prime ministers, presidents, and generals. They all sought the same answer - what did President Zimmer’s speech mean?

  “Are you still sending tanks?” the Ukrainian ambassador asked.

  “Will we be able to pay our soldiers?” the Afghani president asked.

  “Can we still get help with our drilling efforts?” the trade envoy from Kenya asked.

  The answer was always the same. “Everything stays the same until we’ve had a chance to do a thorough analysis. We will be in touch.”

  The White House staff cast glances at the Oval Office as they walked by, worry stamped on their harried features. What had the president done?

  President Zimmer didn’t take one phone call. He delegated that task to his well-trained team. The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff fielded the military calls. The director of the CIA dealt with his fellow intelligence chiefs. Even the vice president chipped in.