They didn’t say anything after that. Fifteen minutes later, he got a call from Enderlich, confirming the attack had taken place. Sunrise over southern China would be in about three hours. Shortly after that, the first satellite images would be analyzed, and they’d have a good idea of the degree of success.
The president called Jodie Ames and told her he was coming down.
He stood up. Heather stood as well. She stopped him, looked in his eyes, and kissed him. Then she took his arm, and they went down together.
The moment Ames put down the phone, she had put out an alert. Web stream controllers had ten minutes to get ready. As he took his seat behind the desk in the Oval Office, Joe Benton knew that all over the United States, all over the world, announcers were interrupting their programs, and in another minute they would carry his image from the camera positioned on the other side of his desk.
He glanced at Jodie. She nodded. Then he glanced at Heather.
“We’re ready, sir,” said Jodie.
He looked at the camera, set his face.
“Okay, Mr. President.”
The light on the camera went on. He began.
“My fellow Americans. Although I speak to you today as your president, I speak also to the people of China as the leader of a friendly nation who wants nothing more than our mutual goodwill and prosperity. I speak to all the people of the world as an American president who wants nothing more than to work with you, your leaders, to achieve a better world for us all.
“It is my grave duty to announce that in the past hour United States forces have been in action against a number of facilities attaching to the armed forces of the People’s Republic of China. We have been forced to this measure by the series of unprovoked attacks over the past week by the army of the People’s Republic against both United States forces in international airspace and against Taiwanese targets, a number of which have resulted in fatalities, and by the failure of dialogue to achieve a cessation of this activity. I emphasize that this is not a declaration of war by the United States on the People’s Republic of China, nor does a state of war exist between us. This carefully selected set of defensive actions was designed only to protect United States service personnel from attacks in international territory. Every care has been taken to avoid casualties, whether civilian or military, on the Chinese side, and I have confidence that our soldiers have achieved this aim. I ask now that the Chinese government...”
At the edge of his field of vision, something caught Joe Benton’s eye. He tried to keep looking at the camera, but couldn’t avoid glancing aside for an instant. A man in uniform, someone Benton didn’t recognize, had come into the room and a conversation was going on between him and Jodie Ames. A very agitated conversation.
“I ask that the Chinese government withdraw its forces from their positions threatening Taiwan in compliance with the terms of the Manila Understanding . . .”
He looked again. Jodie Ames was frantically whirling one hand, telling him to finish up, while trying physically to hold back the uniformed man with the other.
“I ask that they withdraw their forces from Taiwan,” said Benton, cutting to the key messages of his statement and trying to maintain the same steady, measured tone despite what was happening beyond the camera, “and sign up to the Carbon Plan that the United States has proposed. There is a peaceful way forward for all of us. God bless America. God bless China.”
He looked up. The uniformed man was already coming around the desk. “Cut it!” yelled Jodie. “Cut the feed!”
The soldier got to him and grabbed his elbow.
“Come with me, sir, please!”
“What is this?”
“Now, sir!”
The soldier was literally dragging him up from behind the desk. Another half dozen uniformed men poured in through the door from the Rose Garden. The president was being hustled out. He looked for Heather. She was surrounded by soldiers as well. His mind raced. What was going on? Why were these soldiers coming for him?
He was outside now. A helicopter stood on the lawn with its rotors turning. He tried to stop, pulling back against the two marines who were propelling him toward it.
“What’s the hell’s going on here?” he shouted. “Who are you?”
“Lieutenant Rivers, sir!” snapped the man who had first come into the office. “Duty officer, Alpha Unit!”
Alpha Unit, thought Benton. Alpha Unit. .. That was the unit tasked with ensuring his safety if the United States came under attack.
He looked for Heather.
“Sir!
Please keep moving, sir! We’ve got to get you airborne!”
~ * ~
The strike had hit the San Francisco Bay area. Joe Benton didn’t find this out until he was aboard Air Force One. He sought Heather’s eyes.
The Bay area. Stanford. Amy.
But there was no time for that, not for the president. Already on board were Alan Ball, Admiral Enderlich and a half dozen cabinet members. The secretary of state was supposed to be with the presidential group in an Alpha event, but he wasn’t on the plane when the president arrived and the rules were clear: the plane took off as soon as the president was aboard. The engines were already running.
Enderlich grabbed the briefcase with the nuclear codes from Benton’s military aide, and he and another senior officer took the president and Alan Ball straight into a room off the communications hub, which doubled as a situation room. As the plane was taking off, they began to give him the details as they knew them. A device had exploded over the Bay area at 2:28 p.m. eastern time. The center of the strike zone appeared to be two miles west of Palo Alto. Satellite pictures were obscured by the dust storm the detonation had raised and seismic records were still being analyzed. It was too soon to know the size of the device or the extent of the damage.
“Two twenty-eight?” said the president, struggling to get his head clear. “How does that. . . ?”
Flight time from eastern China to the West Coast for an ICBM is fifteen to twenty minutes,” said Enderlich.
“So it’s Chinese?”
“That’s our working assumption.”
“Do we know that?”
“What other poss—”
“Do we
know
that?” demanded the president.
“We didn’t identify it before it hit, sir. We’re going over our scans. We’ll track the route and then we’ll know.”
“Have they acknowledged responsibility?”
“Not yet, sir.”
There was a knock on the door. An officer came in. He handed a piece of paper to the admiral. Enderlich studied it.
“Order China targeting,” said Enderlich, and the officer nodded and left. Enderlich turned to Benton. “Mr. President, we have it launching from a base in Hunan province at two twelve p.m. eastern time.”
Benton put his head in his hands. He could hear the hum of the plane’s engines. He remembered what F. William Knight had said about President Wen. Take it seriously, Wen had said. The bombastic words of the Chinese president. Take it seriously. But who could have imagined?
“What’s being done on the ground?” he murmured.
“Alpha Plan is in place, sir. The vice president is being bunkered. Director of the CIA, secretary of defense, and cabinet members are with her. The Speaker of the House is being bunkered at a separate location.”
“No, Admiral. I mean on the
ground.
In California.”
“Nuclear Emergency Plan, sir.”
“What does that mean?” demanded Benton, looking up at him. “Right now. What’s being done?”
“Assessment. Satellite initially. Other information will be coming in via reconnaissance drones once the dust clears to provide adequate visibility. We’ll have personnel moving in from the periphery of the zone as radiation levels allow. Mr. President, I know your thoughts are with the victims, but I have to ask you to think about something else. We’re waiting on your decision for action, whether we launch full-scale retaliation or a limited strike.”
The president stared at him.
“Sir?”
Joe Benton felt cold. The reverberating thrum of the plane engines seemed to grind right through to his marrow.
“Sir, you have one hour from the strike time to override the general attack response. The code has now been transmitted to all relevant facilities to target them on China. If they do not receive your override in...it’s thirty-one minutes now, the system will assume you’re dead and we’re going to wipe China off the map.”
Enderlich put the codes briefcase on the table and snapped it open.
Benton looked at Alan Ball. Ball closed his eyes, slowly shaking his head.
“What happens in a full-scale strike?” asked the president. He must have been told, he knew, but his mind had gone blank.
“Strike on every known nuclear and nuclear-ready facility and all previously known locations of mobile launchers,” replied the admiral. “Also on major nonnuclear military facilities. One way or another, this will affect most major population centers. Certain offshore and unidentified nuclear assets will survive the attack, and we should expect that they will attempt to respond. In the case of China, we anticipate twenty to forty warheads of various sizes will be launched at the continental United States. Not all will reach their destinations.”
“What other choices do I have?”
“There are three choices, Mr. President. Apart from the full-scale response, there’s a limited response and a single strike. In the case of China, the single strike could be Beijing, Shanghai, or we could target a secondary city.”
Joe Benton felt ill. The room was small, the air stifling.
“Or nothing?”
“In principle, it is possible for you to stand down all facilities. But I strongly recommend against that, Mr. President. We have no deterrent if we are not prepared to use it.” Enderlich waited for a reply. “Sir?”
“I heard you. I also heard you when you told me a couple of days ago they’d never try something like this.”
“I repeat, Mr. President, we have no deterrent if you do not use it.”
“Is there any evidence they’re planning other attacks?”
“Not yet.”
“We wouldn’t exactly expect them to notify us,” said the officer with Enderlich.
Benton dropped his head again, trying to get it straight in his mind. Did he need to launch a retaliatory strike? Would that stop the aggression or escalate it? What if it escalated? What was the next step? How would he stop it?
He was aware of time passing, the seconds spinning away.
Suddenly he felt extraordinarily isolated from the outside world. He was in a small, closed room on an airplane. He was being told things. How did he know any of this was really happening? All he knew was what Enderlich was telling him. Suddenly he thought, how did he know it wasn’t a coup? Why wasn’t Larry Olsen here? How did he know this wasn’t some kind of coup by Olsen and the military?
“Show me the pictures,” he said suddenly.
Enderlich looked at him, not understanding.
“You said you’ve got satellite pictures of the strike zone.”
“Mr. President, we really don’t have time to—”
“Show me! Right now, Admiral.”
Enderlich stared at the president for a moment, then he glanced at the other officer and nodded. The officer went out and closed the door behind him. As they waited there was silence. Benton’s face was taut. He glanced at Alan Ball. When that door opened again, he thought, he would know. Either someone would come back with a handful of pictures or a squad of marines.