Even Lovers Drown CH 41

“Those cowardly sons of ...” Fitz was swearing softly to himself as Cyrus and Jocelyn entered the Oval Office.

“Sir?” Cyrus asked.

He slammed his hands down on the desktop in anger. After a moment, Fitz looked up, then waved for the two of them to have a seat at the couches as he came around from behind his desk. He looked down to see that his hands were clenched into fists and made a deliberate attempt to open them and release the tension.

It was harder than he thought; he realized. His anger was still that white-hot. Lives were at stake and he’d been forced to play verbal word-games that yielded nothing. “We’ve opened up our back-channels for one reason, and one reason only - wasn’t that made clear?”

Cyrus was handling the majority of them, nodded carefully. “It’s been made very clear to all possible persons of interest that at the moment, our top priority is in retrieving our aid workers. We’re not open to discussing anything else concerning the region.”

“And I’ve made sure the word is being spread over our less obvious channels.” Jocelyn added.

Fitz nodded sharply. “Then can anyone explain to me why an Irasnian aide just left my office after trying to open up negotiations on oil trade concessions?”

His anger hung heavy in the air and the room went silent in its wake.

Jocelyn was the first to break the silence. “Who was he, sir?” When Fitz told her the name, she nodded.

“Khalif al-Madoun. A low-ranking functionary and not even a blood-relative of the house he serves. It’s plausible deniability. Testing the waters and seeing if there was any advantage to be had. If you confront them on it, his superiors would insist that he had overstepped his boundaries and his authority.”

Fitz glanced at Cyrus, who nodded in agreement. He looked no happier than Fitz felt.

“Do they think I am playing games here?” Fitz’s voice was low and dangerous. Several of his military advisers had brought up the subject of drone strikes more than once in their discussions. He’d held off until now, mainly because there were a few dissenting voices - including Cyrus’.

For a moment, the fact that Cyrus was against it almost made Fitz agree - but then he’d caught himself. There would be no taking revenge against Cyrus when American lives were in balance. He was rightfully ashamed that the thought - however brief it might have been - had even crossed his mind.

But now, there was nothing left in him but anger. Anger and frustration and an iron control that kept them both in tight rein, lest he give in to them. His jaw clenched and his eyes darkened.

“So, what now?”

“The options haven’t changed.” Cyrus said. “But in my opinion - which you already know - the use of drones is too premature. It will destroy any chane of retrieving any of the hostages alive.”

“And the governments of the ESF, have they offered any solutions?”

“Stalemate at the moment. Whatever they’re saying outwardly, they are all watching to see how the others leap. Extending a helping hand to America could become a lightning pole and bring down the collective wrath of several rebel and legitimate-in-their-eyes regimes.” Cyrus wasn’t saying anything that any thing that the three of them didn’t know already, but he felt it needed repeating.

“Or they could be the spear point in opening a dialogue between the powers of the region and the United States.” Jocelyn pointed out.

Fitz wasn’t as open to listening to his advice these days as he used to be, but now was not the time to bemoan the fact. Cyrus had been busy working every contact that he had, but he felt they were making very little progress - too little progress.

He glanced at the woman beside him, and Jocelyn took his cue. A part of him wanted to smile at that. No, Fitz wasn’t listening to him as much as he would like, but at least the newest advisor the president had tapped to stand by him in this crisis was one he could work with. And it seemed, they did have at least one thing in common. The both of them were committed first and foremost, to the well being and support of the president.

He’d just have to live with those facts.

“I also want to add that we all know the predominant mindset of the region has been from time immemorial that the enemy of my enemy is my friend...”  Jocelyn was saying.

“...In this scenario,” she continued, “the East Sudanese Front is neither to the Irasnians. The Irasnians regard them as a tool, one they use to advocate discord and at the same time, claim influence over - when it suits them.”

“They know that we don’t negotiate with terrorists. We never have.”

“They don’t know you, yet, sir.” Cyrus said. “Unfortunately this is the first incident involving non-combatants we’ve had to deal with since you’ve taken office.”

“And their timing couldn’t be worse.” Fitz pointed out. “Not with a middle eastern State reception and conference right around the corner.”

“It’s what leads me to believe that other forces might be at work in this. The ESF is not in the practice of working at such a high visibility level.” Cyrus said. Their protests are usually relegated to the borders of their own country and rarely beyond it. They say they want freedom from their oppressors - of which we are not one of...”

“In historical terms, no.” Fitz picked up where Cyrus left off. “But as an influence, an infringement of traditional ways with Western values - that may have become a part of their idealogy.”

“There’s always been the purists within their organization who believed that.” Jocelyn said. “But they were always few.”

“Maybe they aren’t the minority any more.” Fitz paused to let that thought sink into his mind.

A knock on the door caught their attention. Fitz called out permission to enter; one of the aides to the SecDef opened the door.

“Mr. President, excuse me - but there’s a situation; there’s a video that’s been delivered by the ESF.”

They were led quickly to one of the small conferences rooms where the cabinet members pertinent to the crisis as well as as many of his military advisors as could be rounded up on such short notice as was possible. Mellie had appeared as well, but there was no time to object to her presence. Fitz said nothing as she came to stand by his side.

A large television had been wheeled in and set up. Even now, an aide was finishing up with the connections and was powering it up.

“This came to us at the same time the news agencies received it.” someone was saying. “There was no time to vet it or to even think about keeping it underwraps for security reasons.”

The image was grainy at first, then swimming into focus, it resolved itself into the images of the hostages. They were lined up, all on their knees, all with their hands raised and clasped behind their heads.

A newspaper was thrust in front of the camera for a few minutes.

“So we know that this took place today.” someone muttered.

“Isn’t this a good thing?” Mellie asked, her face filled with concern. “Doesn’t this at least prove that they are all still alive?”

No one answered, but the level of anger, worry and tension rose in answer to her question.

Someone turned the volume up as one of the terrorists began speaking.

Without thinking, Jocelyn began translating.

“The East Sudanese Forces speak with one voice for the peoples of our lands - and what we say is that we want you gone - Western infidels who steal into our country to work their will upon us. We demand...”

An angry rumble went around the room at the word.

Jocelyn’s voice caught for just a second at the ferocity of the sound, then continued. “We demand that steps are taken at once to make this so.  We have been patient, we have been watchful and this contamination by your corrupt values must not go on any longer.”

One of the hostages was dragged forward and hit with a rifle butt, slamming him to the ground.

“To show that our intentions are true, this man, this preacher of the word of a god not ours - he shall eat of the dirt and drink the blood of his own agony.” With those words several men began beating him, slowly, methodically.

When the women among them began to cry out in protest, one of them sobbing and pleading, the men turned their attention to them. They were slapped several times, their screams of pain filling the room. Blood streamed from noses and mouths. When the other two men tried to come to their defense, they too were hit with rifle butts. The women, at least, had been spared that.

Mellie gasped and turned away, burying her face in Fitz’s chest. Unconsciously, his arm came up and held her. This was something no civilian should have to see,  Fitz thought. He burned with the helplessness of it all. Standing thousands of miles away and he could do nothing to save his people from the torture they and the world were being forced to watch.

Over all of this, one voice began shouting, repeating their demands again and again.

The screen went black.

They all stood in place as still as statues, varying degrees of disbelief echoed in all of their faces. That and the beginning of a deep and powerful rage.

Fitz released Mellie before breaking the silence. “I want a briefing in the Sit Room called within the next thirty minutes. Get the CIA and the Joint Chiefs. I want intel on every military option we have on the table at that time.”

“Sir,” Cyrus wanted to caution him but his words left him as Fitz turned a glacial glare in his direction.

“We just watched innocent American blood being spilled. Cowardly beasts who would call themselves men assaulting a man of God and - men and women unable to fight back.”

He turned back to the room. “We will continue to pursue every peaceful means of getting them released. But at some point, our options will run out and I want other solutions already in place if we are forced to go there.”

Fitz nodded once, sharply and the others in the room quickly filed out. He looked around. Mellie was still standing there, her face pale and eyes wide in shock. Jocelyn was still staring at the screen, her eyes oddly blank.

Fitz turned to Mellie. “I wish you hadn’t seen that.” he said. For once, his voice was kind. He meant what he said. “Why don’t you go see our son.” the thought springing suddenly into his mind.

“It will do you good.” he told her.

Mellie nodded in agreement. “What about you?” she said unexpectedly. “It would do you good as well.”

Fitz looked down at her.  He almost wished he could go with her, but there was too much for him to do. “Maybe later.”

Mellie, for once, understood. She said nothing else before leaving the room.

Cyrus hadn’t moved either. He was being very careful and very quiet by choice right now. Fitz didn’t care why, as long as he didn’t give him any argument right now.

But Jocelyn - he turned his attention to her. She hadn’t moved or spoken since she’d stopped speaking. She was still staring at the now darkened screen.

“Jocelyn.” and his voice softened a little in concern. “Are you all right?”

She stood there a moment longer, then shook as though she were just hearing him. “Yes. I’m fine.” Jocelyn replied. “It’s just that...I know Pastor Dan; he’s been working in the region for years and no one could doubt his sincerity and his desire to help and not preach. And  - and I think - I know one of the women hostages. I know her very well.”

She turned to Fitz. “After the meeting with the Joint Chiefs, I’d like to speak with you about something I’d like to try.”