Chunks of marble and metal flew through the air in a grotesque pyrotechnic display. Seamus saw large chunks splash into the Tidal Basin Memorial. He saw another large piece crash down on the rooftop of the George Mason Memorial. No telling what damage that might have done, not to mention what treasures might have been destroyed.
Fortunately, as far as he could tell, all the tourists had been evacuated in time. Maybe Zira was right and they really could clear the area in seven minutes. He hoped so. He didn’t see how anyone in the immediate vicinity could have survived. If the explosion hadn’t killed them, the flying rubble surely would.
Seamus pulled a pair of binoculars out of the trunk of his car, but it was almost impossible to see anything. The billowing smoke and ash and fire rendered Seamus unable to get a clear view. All he really got was a portrait of devastation. A bleak landscape. A barren wasteland.
He had seen this before, possibly even seen it worse. But that had always been somewhere else. This was the first, the only time he had seen it on U.S. soil.
He heard the shuffling of Arlo’s feet behind him. “You should stay in the car,” Seamus told him.
Arlo didn’t listen. “Jesus. Is that—the Mall?”
Seamus compressed his lips. “What’s left of it.”
“They did it. They really did it.”
“They really did.”
“Is it over?”
Seamus shook his head. His upper lip began to curl. “No. If they were willing to do this, they won’t stop now. Zuko knows he’s going to be the pariah of the world community. He doesn’t care.”
“What does he want?”
“I don’t know. What does it matter? Every terrorist wants something. The important question is, how do we stop him?”
“What are you—” Arlo lurched into a coughing jag. The smoke had made it into his lungs. It was becoming difficult to breathe.
“Let’s get out of here,” Seamus said. They crawled back into the car. He started it up and headed in the opposite direction.
Behind them, the sky looked as if an enormous hand had reached down and ripped a swath out of the heavens. It was devoid of birds, of clouds, of any signs of life or beauty. Now it was only fire and ash. One of the key symbols of democracy, of the great truism that all people are created equal, was no more.
When Arlo spoke again, his voice was hoarse. “What are you going to do next?”
“Isn’t it obvious, kid?” Seamus gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. “I’m going to stop the bastards who just blew up my favorite memorial.”
The president slowly lowered himself into his seat. The formerly bickering room became silent, motionless. The giddy, infantile exuberance of only a few minutes earlier seemed completely replaced by the grave despondency of a leader who realizes a tragedy has just befallen his nation.
And, Ben imagined, who realizes that he might have prevented it.
Ben kept his eyes focused on Zimmer. At this moment, the Secret Service agent knew more about what was going on out in the world than anyone else in the room.
“I want updates in real time,” President Kyler said to Zimmer. “I want to know what you know, when you know it.”
“Yes, sir.” Zimmer covered the mouthpiece. “The reports are coming in slowly. Our people got out of there in time, but I’m getting intel from two agents in helicopters.”
“And?”
“It isn’t good, sir.”
“Just tell me, damn it, and stow the commentary.”
“Yes, sir.” As always, even in the face of presidential wrath, Zimmer remained totally implacable. “The Jefferson Memorial has been obliterated. It’s gone. Chunks of white marble are scattered across the Mall. We don’t know of anyone who was still in the building—but we can’t rule out the possibility.”
“Understood. The target was destroyed. Collateral damage?”
“I would imagine quite a bit, sir, given that the Jefferson Memorial was just struck by a ballistic missile. We can assume damage all across the area, all the buildings, monuments, statues, everything. There’s still a lot of smoke and dust, hampering visibility, but I think we can assume that our men will find considerably more damage with time.”
“Tell me about people,” the president said softly.
“I’ve also got a report that the Metro is down,” Zimmer continued, and Ben wasn’t sure if this was supposed to be an answer to the question, the one on everyone’s mind. “Apparently the station closest to the detonation has collapsed. There was no train in the station, but no trains can get through there, either, so the line is effectively disabled. It probably shouldn’t be run until we’ve had a chance to get structural engineers out to check over the entire system. There’s no telling where the foundations might have been weakened.”
“People,” the president said, with a little more force than before. “Tell me about people.”
Zimmer took a deep breath, then continued. “We had begun the evacuation of the National Mall before the missile struck. Theoretically, there should have been enough time to complete it. We don’t know of any casualties there or anywhere else in the vicinity.” He paused.
“But?” the president said. “I sense we are coming to a
but.”
Zimmer sighed heavily. “But there is no way I can guarantee no one was in that building or any other structure in the area. I can’t guarantee no one was in the Metro station. There’s no way of knowing what the shock waves from the explosion might have done in the surrounding area.”
“Numbers, Zimmer. I need numbers.”
“I don’t have them, Mr. President. But I would be astonished if there were not a casualty somewhere. Probably… several.”
“Damn,” the president said. His fist tightened. “Damn. On my watch.”
“This might not be a welcome comment, sir…”
“No, go ahead. You’ve earned the right.”
“I know you think Colonel Zuko is a madman. But the truth is, he chose a target that was largely symbolic—not all that lethal. He probably knew we were evacuating the Mall. If he’d wanted to take lives, he could have sent the missile elsewhere.”
President Kyler stared at him with astonished eyes. “Are you saying… Zuko did us a favor?”
“Of course not. I’m saying it could have been much worse. If he had moved the target a mile in any direction, it would have been.”
“Thank you, Zimmer. For whatever that’s worth.” Kyler rose. “If you’ll excuse me, my friends, I’m going to step into the other room for a moment. Please let me know if—”
“Mr. President!” Zimmer said suddenly.
“Yes?”
“I have Colonel Zuko back on the line.”
Kyler’s eyes closed wearily. “What does that malicious bastard want now? To gloat? To rub my face in it?”
“I don’t know, sir. He’s just asking to talk to you.”
Kyler pressed his head against the wall. “Put him on.”
“President Kyler.” There was no levity in the colonel’s voice this time, no urgency, and, to Ben’s surprise, no malice. “I’m sure you are not anxious to talk to me. I am calling to express my regret for what I was forced to do.”
“Regret?” Kyler exploded. “If you regret it, why’d you do it in the first place?”
“You left me no choice.”
“We always have a choice, Colonel Zuko. From the day we’re born. The choice to do good. Or the choice to do evil.”
“If my experiences in the world have taught me anything, it is that in real life, conflicts can rarely be reduced to anything so simple as good and evil.”
“Is that why you called, Colonel? So we can debate philosophy?”
“No.” There was a pause. Ben thought he might be projecting, but he sensed a certain degree of reluctance in the colonel’s voice. “I have called to again request that you remove the invaders from Kuraq’s borders.”
“You’re asking me to bargain with a terrorist.”
“According to my sources, your men will touch ground in a little over two hours. We will have to meet them with force to defend our land. Bloodshed will inevitably result. I would prefer to avoid that.”
“Then do.”
“And allow your soldiers to invade unimpeded? To take over my nation?”
“They’re just coming in to rescue the men who went down in that helicopter.”
“With all due respect, Mr. President, I don’t believe you. They were out there before the helicopter went down. And their number is far greater than would be necessary for a simple rescue operation.”
“I don’t have to convince you of anything, Colonel. And I’m not taking orders from you.”
“All I ask is that you respect our sovereign soil.”
“And I’m telling you that the United States does not negotiate with terrorists and the United States does not retreat!”
All at once, Vice President Swinburne rose to his feet, an incredulous expression on his face. His message to the president seemed self-evident: What the hell are you doing?
“I am sorry that you do not see the need to respect international law,” the colonel said, and Ben sensed genuine sorrow in his voice. “I am hoping that your advisors will be able to talk you into a more sensible position, so I will give you more time to reflect before we strike again. If you do not retreat, however, the next missiles will launch in two hours. At twelve noon, your time. Precisely.”
Ben felt his spine stiffen. Not again. Please, not again.
“And this time, Mr. President, this time—” To Ben’s astonishment, the colonel’s voice cracked as he spoke. He started again. “This time I will not be able to do you the courtesy of choosing a symbolic target. This time there will be civilian casualties. Many of them.”
“You can’t do that!” the president spat out.
“I have no choice. If you have not withdrawn your troops in two hours, we will send three missiles into neighboring residential areas. I will not bother telling you where so as to save you the trouble of attempting an evacuation. There is no time, no possibility. This time thousands of your people will die. People you could have saved. The collateral damage will be the blood of innocent Americans. And you will have to answer to the world for your own aggression.”
The line went dead. Silence blanketed the bunker.
The vice president broke the silence. To everyone’s surprise—and horror—he walked right up to the president and grabbed him by the lapels. “Are you insane?”
Everyone watched dumbfounded as the vice president shook Kyler back and forth in rhythm to his words. “I’m asking you a question! Are you completely insane?”
The president said nothing, but looked back at Swinburne with a mixed expression Ben didn’t know how to read—horror, shock, confusion, defeat. In any case, it was not what the VP wanted.
Swinburne threw the president down into a nearby chair. His eyes were wide and bulging. “My God,” he said, “you are, aren’t you? You’re completely insane!”
Dr. Anderson rose slowly to his feet. “Now wait just a minute—” Swinburne waved him away. “Don’t bother. It’s obvious now. It’s been staring us in the face the whole time. How else can you explain this bizarre behavior we’ve witnessed?”
“The president has been under a tremendous amount of stress….”
“Every president has stress. Everyone in this room has stress. But most of us aren’t singing TV show themes.”
“Now just you look here. I’m the medical man in the room—”
“And I’m the vice president of the United States!” Swinburne barked back. “And I am not going to sit here and let that monster take thousands of American lives for no good reason.”
“We both know there’s a reason.”
“Not a good one. Not for a sacrifice at that level.”
“The president has a free hand to make decisions in the foreign policy arena.”
“Not if he’s insane!” Swinburne clapped his hands down on the president’s shoulders. “Roland, listen to me! Pull back those troops. At least until we get that murderer out of our computer system. You can always go back later.”
“The United States cannot be seen backing down,” Rybicki said. “If we do, every tin-plated madman in the world will come after us.”
“They will understand this exception. We’re acting to save lives.”
“It will set a precedent. If we back down this time, who will be next? Who will be the next petty dictator with a grudge?”
“I don’t care!” Swinburne bellowed. Ben had to wonder if he was bordering on the brink of crazy himself. “I just don’t want thousands of Americans to die for nothing.”
Kyler folded his arms across his chest. “I will not alter my decision.” Swinburne spoke through gritted teeth. “Then you, sir, must be insane. And due to your mental incapacity, you must be replaced.”
Dr. Albertson stood again. “Mr. Vice President—”
Swinburne reached into his back pocket and threw something down on the table between them. It hit the tabletop with an impressive thwack.
Ben leaned forward to peer at the cover.
It was a pocket-sized copy of the United States Constitution. Just like the one Hugo Black used to carry in his back pocket. It seemed Conrad Swinburne had the same habit.
“You know what it says as well as I do, Doctor. The Twenty-fifth Amendment. When the president is incapacitated and unable to perform his duties—as this man clearly is—he will be replaced by the vice president. That’s me. So I’m taking over right now. Before this horrific day gets any bloodier.”
Ben picked up the small booklet and began turning to the amendment in question, the one that governed presidential succession. He had read it before, of course, but not recently. And never before had it been so relevant.
“You can’t do that!” President Kyler roared. “As long as I’m still standing, I’m the president.”
“Not if you’re incapable of performing your duties!” Swinburne shouted back.
“I don’t become incapable just because we have a difference of opinion.”
“No, you’re incapable because you’re insane!” Ben scanned the amendment as quickly as he could. He didn’t enjoy watching the president when he seemed so beaten and ineffectual, and it was hard to forget the bizarre behavior he had witnessed twice that morning. He forced himself to remember the Roland Kyler he had followed throughout the campaign, the inspirational leader who had given the country new hope, the possibility of alleviating the problems, both domestic and foreign, that confronted the nation. That was the man he wanted to remember, and that was the man he wanted to see rise again.