lcionline Chapter 134 Nixon in a Dilemma
Chapter 134 Nixon in a Dilemma
Chapter 134 Nixon in a Dilemma
Washington, D.C., the White House.
Sunlight slanted through the glass, attempting to bring a touch of warmth to the Oval Office, a symbol of the world's highest power.
However, the office owner felt cold all over and was clearly not happy.
Richard Nixon sat behind the resolute desk, his eyes sunken, his chin covered with a layer of unshaven stubble, and his usually shrewd eyes were now filled with tired, bloodshot veins.
"Bang!" Several newspapers were slammed heavily onto the table.
The front pages of The Washington Post and The New York Times, without exception, featured the latest developments in the Watergate investigation in the largest font.
The impeachment calls on Capitol Hill have intensified, and just an hour ago, his most trusted White House chief of staff placed a resignation letter on this table.
His political life was irreversibly coming to an end—if he didn't do something soon, the prospect of disgrace and even imprisonment was looming.
In this darkest hour, Nixon knew better than anyone that conventional public relations tactics had completely failed.
He desperately needs an external crisis large enough to shake the entire United States of America, to pull the nation's attention away from the quagmire of political hacking, so that he can have a chance to breathe.
Therefore, when he received Kissinger's call yesterday, he immediately arranged a closed-door meeting.
The phone on the table suddenly rang, breaking the deathly silence in the room.
"Mr. President, Secretary of State Kissinger, Secretary of Defense James Schlesinger, and General William Sterling of Logistics Command have arrived. The highest-level closed-door meeting requested by the Department of Defense may begin." The secretary's voice came through the receiver, tinged with caution.
"Let them in." Nixon rubbed his temples, suppressing his exhaustion, and put on the imposing mask of the American president once again.
The heavy double doors were pushed open, and three figures who controlled the lifeline of the American military and political system filed in. Kissinger locked the door behind him, walked quickly to his desk, and pushed the explosion-proof box that had been airlifted from Los Angeles in front of Nixon.
"Mr. President, time is of the essence, let's skip the pleasantries." William Sterling, also known as General Bill, grabbed the red combination lock and clicked it open.
The lid was lifted, revealing the horrific explosives and a stack of photographs.
Nixon picked up the top photo: several large blocks of C4 were strapped to the supporting pillars of the Dorothy Chandler Theater, where the 45th Academy Awards ceremony had just been held.
"This is top-secret intelligence sent from Los Angeles yesterday." General Bill flipped through the photos, occasionally picking one out and handing it to Nixon: "Armed assassins from the Japanese far-right organization, the Seirankai, are attempting to detonate these high explosives—enough to level the entire theater—during the Oscars ceremony."
Standing to the side, Defense Secretary James Schlesinger, with a pipe in his mouth, looked ashen-faced.
As a well-known hawk in the military, he was a notorious iron-fisted director of the CIA before taking office at the Department of Defense.
Although he had seen these photos before, seeing them again now still filled him with an overwhelming rage: this had happened so soon after his transfer, there must be someone in the CIA trying to make things difficult for him.
"Mr. President, this is not an ordinary violent crime." James said through gritted teeth, his voice filled with a chilling intent: "This is a provocation against the national security of the United States of America! Those rats in Tokyo dare to extend their reach into our heartland!"
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A cold sweat broke out on Nixon's forehead: If this explosion actually happened, if Hollywood's top elites, California's political and business luminaries, were blown to pieces in that theater—
For him, the only good news might be that the Watergate scandal would no longer be the headline of major newspapers.
The entire United States will inevitably fly its flags at half-staff in mourning, and as president, he will be devoured alive by the angry nation, his political career will be completely over the moment the explosion occurs.
"Are all the intelligence agencies incompetent bastards?!" Nixon slammed the photograph onto the table, his chest heaving. "The FBI and CIA, consuming billions of dollars of taxpayer money every year, allowed a bunch of foreign militants with C4 to swagger into our country's most prestigious party!"
He roared, denouncing the intelligence agency's incompetence, and slammed his fist on the table.
However, beneath the roar, deep within Nixon's heart, an uncontrollable ecstasy was growing wildly like weeds!
This is simply a perfect lifeline that God threw out in a desperate situation!
What could attract more public attention than an international terrorist attack that nearly destroyed America's cultural center and massacred two thousand social elites?
Watergate? Phone hacking scandal?
In the face of terrorist attacks that threaten the survival of the nation and the security of its territory, those petty political thefts are utterly insignificant!
If the fire gets big enough, he can use his presidential privileges to legitimately declare a state of emergency.
At that point, all domestic political conflicts must give way to national security.
Richard Nixon will transform from a disgraced scandal protagonist into a "wartime president" leading America against foreign enemies!
"Hold a White House press conference immediately." Nixon's breathing gradually calmed, his gaze fixed intently on General William Sterling: "I want the entire American people to know about this."
"And I want to personally award medals to the heroes who stopped this disaster at the last minute!" he asked eagerly. "Which unit solved this problem? The Navy SEALs? Or the Los Angeles SWAT?"
General William Sterling stood ramrod straight and responded loudly: "Mr. President, it was not an official military or intelligence agency that defused the theater bomb and annihilated this Japanese suicide squad at Long Beach Harbor."
"Instead, it's a civilian armed contractor called Han's Security. More accurately, it's a newly established company dominated by Chinese and employing some Vietnam War veterans."
"Chinese?" Nixon's body stiffened, and the eagerness on his face receded like the tide.
As an extremely shrewd politician, Nixon knew all too well where his political base lay.
Back then, he seized the most important political capital of his life by vigorously promoting McCarthyism in the "Committee on Un-American Activities".
His core voters were the most conservative and traditional white people in the American Midwest, and in their minds, discrimination against immigrant races could never be eliminated.
If the White House were to hold a high-profile press conference now and publicly admit that the entire U.S. intelligence system has been blind, and that a "Chinese company" has saved thousands of white elites, including Hollywood moguls, instead...
This is practically a blatant slap in the face to white supremacists and conservative voters.
If he angers his core supporters, the backlash will only worsen his already precarious vote count.
But what if we give up and don't promote this?
Nixon's gaze swept over the newspapers on the table: No, if he gave up this excellent opportunity to divert attention, all that awaited him was impeachment proceedings in Congress.
This has truly turned a one-track mind into a double bind.
The immense weighing of interests plunged the American president into a deep dilemma, and the silence in his office felt like a mountain pressing down on him, making it hard to breathe.
Just then, Kissinger, who had been silent all along, slowly stood up.
As one of America's most outstanding politicians, he naturally understood the president's inner struggles long ago.
Pushing up his glasses, the Secretary of State broke the suffocating silence: "Mr. President, please allow me to share some different perspectives."
Nixon turned his gaze to his most trusted strategist, said nothing, but simply gestured for him to continue.
"You seem worried that excessive praise for a Chinese company will provoke resistance from conservative voters," Kissinger pinpointed the crux of the matter, then raised his voice slightly. "However, you've overlooked the most dazzling halo you currently possess on the world political map."
"Just last year, you completed a groundbreaking journey that shocked the world." In the eyes of the international community, your recent handshake across the Pacific Ocean made you a great icebreaker who created peace and broke down the barriers of the Cold War!
As the person who orchestrated this trip, Kissinger knew very well that this would be one of the most important chapters in Nixon's memoirs after his retirement.
As he watched the president's eyes gradually brighten, he continued to offer his thoughts: "Now that national policy has shifted eastward, we need some landmark events to demonstrate to the world the diversity and inclusivity of America."
"This security company, called Hans, is legally registered, pays taxes according to regulations, and even employs our veterans. Most importantly, they shed blood to protect the security of the American homeland in a critical moment!"
"Accepting and praising such a group of law-abiding Chinese will not damage your foundation. On the contrary, it will show those undecided voters that their president has a great vision that transcends race and prejudice."
Kissinger stood up, walked to his desk, placed his hands on the surface, and looked directly into Nixon's eyes: "Mr. President, this is not only a victory in the war on terror, but also a golden opportunity to solidify your historical status as an 'icebreaker'!"
This political mastermind, who had a deep understanding of human nature, used the phrase "historical positioning" to completely shatter Nixon's last remaining concerns.
The president's breathing became heavy: "You're right, Henry, a great nation needs an inclusive heart. Those heroes who protect our citizens, regardless of skin color, deserve to be rewarded!"
He pressed the intercom button in front of him and ordered, "Get the White House press secretary to come to the Oval Office immediately."
After handing over instructions to the press office, Nixon leaned back in his chair, his shrewdness as a politician prompting him to begin outlining the details: "However, we still need to maintain a certain artistry in our propaganda messaging."
He looked at General Bill: "Set the tone for this incident as a major counterterrorism victory. Regarding the security company, the press release shouldn't overemphasize their Chinese background; instead, vaguely portray them as 'patriotic Asian American heroes' or 'brave civilian security forces.' This will minimize conservative backlash."
General Bill nodded slightly; he knew this was the biggest concession the president could make.
Once the White House sets the tone for "folk heroes," the protective umbrella that Qin Han needs will be fully in place.
After dealing with the public opinion issue, Nixon's focus suddenly shifted: diverting domestic attention was only the first step; he needed to use this opportunity to burn down those disobedient political enemies within Washington.
"James, the fact that those Japanese far-right extremists can run rampant on American soil means there's a serious problem with our internal systems."
The president's voice carried an undeniable killing intent: "You've worked at the CIA for quite some time and are very familiar with the procedures. Now, I officially authorize you, in conjunction with the Military Investigation Bureau, to conduct a comprehensive investigation within the intelligence and defense systems."
"Go and dig out all those corrupt officials who took bribes from Japanese conglomerates and provided shelter to terrorists! Don't worry about their ranks; I want them to know the price of betraying their country!"
"Yes, Mr. President." The Secretary of Defense stood at attention and saluted, a hint of barely concealed excitement flashing in his eyes.
With the president's supreme authorization, he could finally legitimately purge the old guard within the military.
The two generals exchanged a glance, their unspoken understanding clear: even if they couldn't eliminate all the old guard, the influence of the younger generation would inevitably penetrate even deeper into the core of the Pentagon this time.
Five hours later, in Los Angeles.
Inside the villa in West Hollywood, Yang Guangjiu was on the lawn in the backyard, while Qin Han was in the yard, vigorously driving a wooden dummy into the ground.
"Ring ring—" The telephone in the house rang crisply.
Wiping the sweat from his body, Qin Han returned to the living room and answered the phone.
General Bill's voice, barely suppressing a laugh, came through: "Qin, the winds in Washington have been blown. The White House press office is reviewing the press release, and by tomorrow morning at the latest, this major news will be broadcast on national television networks."
"The president personally set the tone for you as anti-terrorism heroes. Although the wording was somewhat toned down, your image as heroes is now completely cemented."
"As long as your people don't blow up the Pentagon, no one will dare to cause trouble for Hans Films at this critical juncture."
"Thank you for your mediation, General. Lorna has already drafted a press release, which I think we can show to the press office. If it's appropriate, we can release it directly as a press release."
"Have her send me a telegram."
The two chuckled knowingly on the phone and ended the call.
After putting down the phone, Qin Han stood up, walked to his desk, and dialed Luo Na's number.
The phone was picked up almost the instant it connected.
"Qin! How's it going? My typewriter keyboard is practically smoking from all the banging!" Rona Barrett's excited voice rang out.
"Ready to shock the whole of America, Lorna?" Qin Han looked out the window at the clear blue sky. "Send your article to the White House press office for review. If it passes, your exclusive report can be published directly."
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