“Do you not understand, Mr. President? We are everywhere. We control everything. And now you will do everything I request—everything! Or the consequences will be horrible.”
“Colonel Zuko, I will not permit you to commit genocide in the Benzai Strip.”
“What action I take I do to secure our borders. And that is no business of yours! But it does not matter. There is nothing you can do about it.”
Although he wasn’t taking notes, Ben had been clenching his pencil with a white-knuckled grip throughout the entire conversation. He dropped his pencil, and without really thinking about it, bent down to pick it up.
While bent over, he looked under the table.
The president’s feet were moving. Not swaying. Not tapping. But tap-dancing. Moving back and forth in a sprightly manner that did not affect what the others saw above the table. One of the darker secrets in Ben’s past was that in the second grade his mother had forced him to take tap-dancing lessons. He knew a shuffle-ball-change when he saw it.
A foreign dictator was threatening to take out a large portion of the nation. And the president was tap-dancing.
The president and Zuko continued talking. Ben knew his expression must have changed, because Sarie gave him a concerned look. “Is something wrong?” she whispered.
He pointed under the table and mouthed, “Look.”
“Trying to get a look at my cleavage?”
Ben’s face flushed. He continued pointing.
She looked.
When her face came up again, it was ashen.
“What’s going on?” Ben whispered.
She spread her hands wide in a gesture of bafflement and helplessness.
Ben didn’t know what to make of her reaction. But the situation didn’t seem to be shocking her as much as it was him. He asked: “Have you seen this before?”
She hesitated before making any response, then, with considerable reluctance, nodded.
“What’s going on?”
She shrugged.
“What does his doctor say?”
She shrugged again, then added quietly, “He’s concerned.”
Ben was glad to hear Dr. Albertson understood the president was exhibiting strange behavior, but somehow
concerned
didn’t seem nearly adequate.
“How long?” Ben asked, careful not to attract attention.
Sarie thought for a while before answering. “Month or so.”
“Who else knows?”
She shrugged again.
Ben thought about that for a moment. More than once he had been amazed by the number of people the president met in the course of a single day. If he had been exhibiting these strange symptoms for a month, anyone could know.
Even the dictator of a foreign nation.
Ben began to whisper again, then caught a glance of Admiral Cartwright on the opposite end of the table, glaring at him. He felt as if he were being scolded for telling secrets in class.
The conversation with Zuko must have been reaching a fevered peak, because for the first time ever, Ben heard the president raise his voice.
“Colonel Zuko, the United States will not tolerate this!”
“When will you get it through your sun-baked brain that you have no choice in the matter?”
“We do not stand alone in the world, Colonel. The United Nations will not—”
“The United Nations is only as strong as the United States, and at the moment the United States is helpless.”
“We are not the only superpower.”
“Who do you think will come to your rescue? Russia has far greater ties to the Middle East than to you. China owns you. You may have allies on paper, but what can any of them do for you? You stand alone in the world. You stand at my mercy.”
In the corner, Zimmer, still wearing communications headphones and staring at a computer screen, gave the president a signal. Ben didn’t know what it meant, but his face seemed to have at least a trace of optimism.
“My people are already working on this problem, Colonel. It won’t be long before we pry you out of our computers.”
“It will be too late, Mr. President, because you have only thirty minutes before I let the next missile fly.”
“You’re making a mistake.”
“No, it is you who is making the mistake, a tragic one. You will withdraw your troops, and not just away from my borders, but from the entire Gulf. You will withdraw your forces from the Middle East, from our borders, from Saudi Arabia, from Iraq. Everywhere.”
“That’s insane!”
“My spy satellites are watching you. I know the truth, even if you do not care to reveal it to me. And I will not tolerate this.” He paused. When his voice returned, it was somewhat calmer. “I am not a barbarian. I am a civilized man. I will give you thirty minutes to order your men to retreat. If you have not begun to retreat in that time, I will launch the next missile. And this one will find civilian targets. That I can guarantee you.”
“Colonel, be reasonable—”
“Do not presume to give orders to me! I am not the one poised to invade your soil!” He sounded agitated, his voice jumping wildly in pitch and volume. “We do not meddle in the affairs of others. We do not attempt to play gendarme for the entire world. The American reign of terror has come to an end. You have meddled in the Middle East long enough, as your thirst for oil brought you to increasingly stupid decisions, extending your resources, living beyond your means, living the decadent lifestyle of high consumption and low productivity. Those days are done, Mr. President. You will withdraw your forces immediately. Or your people will face the consequences.”
“I can’t do that, Colonel. Not while you still occupy the Benzai Strip. Do you hear me?” There was no response.
“Do you hear me?”
Still no response.
“I won’t abandon our personnel. The people who went down in that helicopter are U.S. citizens. We have the right to retrieve them!”
Still no response.
“Are you listening to me, Colonel?”
When the colonel’s voice finally returned, it possessed an eerie calm that Ben found positively chilling. “Your time begins… now.”
Seamus McKay climbed into the driver’s seat of the beat-up Dodge the Company had loaned him for in-city work, grousing once more about how screwed up the whole system really was. The terrorists had better weapons than they did, better intel than they had, and perhaps most gratingly, better cars than they got. And yet they were supposed to track these people down and apprehend them—while of course being scrupulous about not violating their civil rights.
Good luck.
Come to think of it, he might have violated eight or ten civil rights during that brawl at the Washington Monument, but he had prevented the ugly obelisk from being blown to pieces, so he hoped that would be the primary focus of the debrief. Well, he could hope, anyway.
His whole midsection ached. He must’ve sprained something when he pulled his entire body weight up to the second level where the sniper was perched. He needed to get to the gym more often than he did, keep those abs in shape. But as his chronological age crept ever closer to fifty, the urgency of befriending the Nautilus machines seemed to subside. Wasn’t he getting too old for this life? Coming stateside had been a step in the right direction. Did he really want to spend the rest of his life chasing after the kind of scum who would rob a nuclear armory?
Speaking of which, he’d better phone in an early report. The security cops at the monument must’ve contacted his office by now. He’d better make sure his superiors got his side of the story, as quickly as possible. As he pulled onto the parkway, he dialed his cell with his left hand.
“Zira?”
“I’m here, Seamus. What the hell is going on?”
As succinctly as possible, Seamus tried to bring her up-to-date, explaining how he had followed the trail from the Arlington armory, using a tip from a trusted informant, caught up to the thieves just as they left their hideout, and followed them all the way to the Washington Monument. He left out most of the details of the fight, just mentioning in passing that he had taken out several men single-handedly.
“But one got away? With the suitcase?”
Count on Zira to accentuate the negative. “Unfortunately. I couldn’t be in four places at once.”
“So you took down three men of no importance and let the one with the nuke escape?”
“I took the fourth down, too. Unfortunately, he got back up again.”
He could hear a tsking sound on the other end of the connection. “I think this is another example of incredibly poor judgment, Seamus. Just the latest of many such instances.”
How had he ever ended up with a female operations chief, anyway? With her high heels and her perfectly tailored suits, she wouldn’t have lasted ten minutes in Afghanistan. Did someone in Washington think this was politically correct?
“I saved the monument,” Seamus said curtly. “And there were no casualties.”
“Yet,” she rejoined without waiting a breath. “But since there’s a maniac out there with a nuclear device, how long will that remain true?”
Seamus stifled the instinct to swear. “Look, I’ve still got some leads. I saw a couple of things out there that might indicate where this guy will go next. I’ll follow up.”
“No, Seamus. You won’t.”
He swerved his car onto M Street and pulled into the far lane. “Are you kidding? I’m the one who found these clowns. No one knows more about them than me.”
“Nonetheless, you—”
“I’ll come in and do a full debrief and report later. Promise. But I’ve got to cover the field while the trail is still hot.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Are you listening to me?” Seamus practically shouted into the receiver. “These guys stole a nuke and they’re planning to use it.”
“Yes,” Zira replied, “and sadly enough, that is not the most urgent threat facing our nation today.”
“What are you talking about?”
“How much do you know about Kuraq and its current leader, Colonel Zuko?”
Seamus resisted the temptation to say, “A hell of a lot more than you.” “Plenty. Kuraq isn’t that far from Afghanistan or Iran. I’ve seen Zuko in action, back before he took control.”
“Good. How would you describe him?”
“Smart. Western-educated. Insecure about his military position, which is likely to make him dangerous.”
“You’re certainly right about the last part. Zuko has somehow infiltrated our military defense computers and seized control of some of our ballistic missiles.”
Seamus’s eyes bulged. “More nukes?”
“No, conventional explosives, at least at this time. But very powerful. Capable of making a very big hole in the ground.”
Seamus ground his teeth together. “How did he do it?”
“Our computer guys are still investigating. The most popular theory is that he’s launched a spy satellite that has a powerful computer-hacking ability.”
“His computer geeks came up with something before our geeks did?”
“It’s looking that way.”
Seamus took a deep breath. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
“You’ll be putting in overtime.”
“More than that. Think about it. Someone robs a highly secret and heavily guarded nuclear armory. Someone hacks into our computers and seizes control of our missiles. Both on the same day? You got to think it’s the same people, executing some well-planned and highly coordinated attack against the United States. And there’s only one way that would be possible.”
“Do enlighten me, Seamus.”
He hesitated several beats before he could make himself say it. “We’ve got a mole.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am. It’s the only possible explanation. Zuko shouldn’t even know about the Arlington facility. Most people don’t. And I don’t care how good his hacking program is—I don’t believe he could get into the military defense system without inside help. Someone passed him some back doors to ease his entry.”
He was gratified to hear that, for once, Zira didn’t immediately snap back with a response. “That is a singularly disturbing possibility.”
“And a very real one. You need to start running the A-Alpha Shadow protocols. Find the mole. Look for someone on the inside who has been making unexplained phone calls to unlisted numbers. Especially foreign numbers. Find out if anyone has recently had a significant unexplained cash infusion to their bank account.”
“I know how to find a mole, Mr. McKay, thank you very much.”
Seamus smiled. It gave him pleasure to think he had gotten that officious bureaucrat’s goat.
“And what will you be doing, if I may ask?”
“I’m not sure,” Seamus replied. “I guess I’ll consult my computer expert. Find out how this might have been done. Who could have engineered it. If you really think this takes priority over the nuclear suitcase.”
“It does. We have no direct evidence—other than your unsubstantiated suggestion that they were going to detonate it in the monument—that the suitcase will be used anytime soon. But we have a direct threat from Zuko that a missile will be launched shortly. If you can figure out how to get him out of our computers, we need that intel immediately.”
“Then that’s what I’ll do.”
“Good. Get to it.” She paused. “Don’t bother calling in to the president. He’s in the bunker. You can’t get through. I can contact him via his Secret Service detail. I’ll pass along what you’ve learned.”
“Okay.” Seamus swerved his car around into the opposite lane and headed back the way he came. This new assignment called for a course correction.
“Call me the moment you learn anything.”
“I will.”
“And Seamus.” The edge fell out of her voice, but it was replaced by something darker and more urgent. “Understand that this is not just another assignment. You may have done decent reconnaissance work in the Middle East, but this isn’t contingent or theoretical. Those missiles are pointed right down our throats. This threat could bring down the presidency. This threat could take hundreds of thousands of lives and revert the East Coast to the Stone Age.” Her voice dropped another notch. “This could be the end of the United States as you and I know it.”