by Andy King
Jack waves a hand, palm up. I stand.
“Hopefully that’s enough,” Josh says. “The city’s been taken over. Estimates are coming in, but I don’t have details. Something like twenty thousand Army troops have fanned out.”
Carmel bustles in, nearly running across the room to be by my side. I hold up my hand. She’s going to have to wait.
“Tom Shelby promised me ten thousand Marines, just for D.C.,” I say to Josh. “Can you liaison with him? See if you and he can direct the action around the city? I’ve got to deal with the rest of the world.”
“Will do.”
“You’re heavily guarded, I hope.”
He chuckles. “Sixty on-duty Special Ops, plus forty former Delta and JSOC men. My old connections came in handy.”
“Good, call Shelby, get Perez at Air Force and Heller at Navy to contact him, too. I want Tom running military operations, with you coordinating the bigger picture, including special agents and operatives. You’ve got your team on the streets?”
“They’re forming up and reporting in.” He leans away from the phone and checks with somebody. “Should all be accounted for in the next five minutes.”
“I want them to start rounding up the perpetrators, MacElvain, Laemmle, Faubus, Cage, Torres and McCracken.”
“Arrest them? Including the Vice-President?”
“Detain them. Yes, Bill too. He may or may not be in the circle. Better safe than sorry.”
“What about the media? I bet MacElvain’s going to spin this. We’ll probably have a live report any second.”
“He’s going to say something like he’s securing the country to prevent me from declaring martial law. As if I was worried about civil unrest over potential nuclear war with North Korea. Hang on.”
I whirl to Carmel. “You heard that?”
She bobs her head up and down vigorously. Nothing like a revolution to get people amped up in the middle of the night.
“This is Josh,” I say to her. “I want you to get with Susan. Have three stories ready to counter whatever MacElvain’s spinning out there. One of them should mention, but not highlight, treason. Get ahold of all friendly media and be prepared for a Twitter bombing run. Fling out whichever story we pick in two dozen sentences, like at least a tweet a minute. Be ready to coordinate with Josh, or Josh and me, within fifteen minutes.”
Susan Arnold is my press secretary. She’s the best all-around media person I could find. One thing I did right was recognize I needed to go all-out on digital. Her tweetstorms are awesome.
“Can you fill me in?” Carmel says.
“The situation’s absurdly fluid. Ask Jack, he’s been listening the whole time.”
I notice her disapproving look, but I can’t worry about it. My team is going to have to work together like family. If I have to demand it, I will.
Back to Josh. “You heard that? Get with Carmel on another phone. Give her whatever she needs so she and Susan can fire away shortly.”
“How will we know when?”
“Use your best judgment. Gotta go.”
I click off, hand the phone to the Navy man and take the one he’s offering.
“Hi, Becky.” I thank my stars that Prime Minister Rebecca Logsdon has elected to hold this long. I’m sure she’s busy, too.
“Hello, Cheri. I hear you’re in a bit of a tight squeeze over there.”
A faint smile crosses my lips. “Thank you for calling. I assume that I can count on you for—”
“Not to be rude, dear, but I need to tell you what MI6 has learned, posthaste. It appears that your CIA director has been subverted, as well as your FBI chief.”
Crap. I thought Josh had buttonholed them into supporting me. I need to make sure that the agents he’s sending to round up the opposition are actually going to carry out their missions. The only thing I’m sure of is that Secret Service Director, Lenny Carlson, is loyal. I scribble a coded shorthand note on a pad.
“I appreciate the advice, Becky. I know you’ve got a million things to do, but if you hear anything else, please let me know.”
“You’re aware that you have two thousand military personnel heading for the doors of some of the Silicon Valley companies, correct?”
“I’m still scrambling here.” I jot another note.
“Yes. I have the benefit of having been awake for some time. Apparently the wheels of sedition started in motion about six hours ago.”
That was right when I was getting ready for bed. I realize that I may have a mole, and scribble a third time.
“You’re a lifesaver, Madame Prime Minister. I owe you.”
“Good luck, Cheri. Let me know if I can do anything.”
“Will do, thanks.” I tap off, hand the phone to my aide and wave Jack over.
“I’ve got an assignment for you. The P.M. says this started about six hours ago.”
“That was about when I showed up at your quarters.”
“Right. There could be a spy that tipped them off. Find him or her and bring ‘em to me.”
His face tells me that he’s struggling with a decision. Protect me or follow my direction?
“That’s an order, Marine.”
“Yes, sir.” He salutes, turns on a toe and stalks away.
Suddenly I remember: Mom. I wave another agent over. “Wake up my mother and get her out of the building. I want three agents around her at all times. Take her home, and take any evasive maneuvers necessary to get her there safely. Two agents stay with her until I say otherwise. Do you understand?”
Evidently he’s not that senior. His eyes go wide. He seems to run through the possibilities.
“Go!” I shout.
His shoulders jump. He takes off running.
Carm leans in. “We’ve had a media inquiry. The story about you and Jack has gone viral.”
“I don’t have time for that now. Do something.”
“Like what?”
My hand shoots out. “Just deal with it!”
Her eyes narrow. It jerks me back to reality. I’m not being smart, yelling at Carmel.
“Sorry, Carm. Too much going on. Look, you know how MacElvain thinks. Get together with Susan and cook something up. I trust your judgment, you know that. Keep me up to speed on the story we’re going with, and anything you hear about the coup.”
Her tight nod says my words have hit the mark. She marches off to powwow with Susan.
My mind is clear, but huge black storm clouds float somewhere behind my vision. I pine for my shotgun.
But hope is not a strategy and wishes don’t cut it. I go back to studying the huge map, imagining that I can feel individual hairs on my head turning grey.
17
Jack
In the elevator I’m awestruck. It was as if Cheri became a different person in the few minutes between getting dressed and reaching the Situation Room. Like a captain of a ship in a classic sea battle, she stood far taller than her stature, commanding her navy, directing blazing cannons as gunships bombarded each other. I imagine a pall of smoke, wails of dying sailors, huge chunks of debris and masts with sails attached, floating in the water.
Pounding down the hallway, I wonder how I’m going to find the mole she suspects. I’ve got nothing to go on. With a grim smile I flash on the war. “Embrace the suck,” means deal with it, use whatever you’ve got.
I’m going to question agents and staff, starting with those closest and working outward, but there has to be a better way, a broad plan of attack. As if being dragged through wet cement, my mind is sluggish. My brain cells ache from lack of sleep.
Wait a minute. There are two people I can trust. Each has unique skills. The small office I used before is only a floor away. I fly down a stairwell, slip into the dark room and punch Anna’s number.
“Jack, I’m worried,” she says before I can speak. “When I was coming home, there were all these Army trucks driving around, and later there was a bunch of noise. I got up and looked out the window. There’s soldiers
everywhere. Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I can’t tell you the whole story right now. I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything.”
I sketch my question, telling her a few facts as I go. Normally I wouldn’t breathe any of this to anyone, but these aren’t normal times. I need to do whatever it takes to keep Cheri safe.
“Let me make sure I understand,” Anna says. “If I wanted to spy on the President inside the White House, and I couldn’t use electronics or a Secret Service agent, how would I do it? Right?”
“Right. This is really important, Anna. I want you to only think about this, nothing else. Call me when you have some ideas, OK?”
“Sure, but what about the staff? Aren’t there waiters and butlers and stuff?”
“They’re watched closely until they get to a very senior position. I know you like puzzles, so look at it that way.”
“All right.” She sounds excited, and says she’ll call me back.
I punch the next number. Angeline Porter’s awake, too. She grasped what was happening and she’s taking a circuitous route on lonely side roads to NSA headquarters. So far she’s evaded roadblocks, and pulls over to talk.
“I’m going to report to Director Jefferson,” she says.
“Good. Here’s what I need, if you can do it. I’m sure he’ll approve.” I quickly give her a picture like the one I gave Anna, with more detail.
“You want me to access all cell phone communication coming from the White House and analyze it?” She sounds doubtful.
“I know it’s a big job, but we’re up against a really big problem. If there’s a mole and they’re still operating, the President could be in danger.”
“I’ll try, but there are so many more experienced people who could do this better.”
“But we trust you.”
“OK, I’ll do my best.”
We hang up. I’ve cast my bread on the water, so I get up to unlock the door. And freeze, hearing voices right outside.
“We’ve got to go now, before dawn.”
“But we don’t have enough people yet, and they’re not in place.”
“We can’t wait.”
“OK, on the hour, mark the time.”
“Twenty-nine.”
“Right. Thirty-one minutes.”
No one speaks for a few seconds. I pull up on the doorknob to muffle the sound of the lock unlatching, and turn the knob slowly.
Poking my head around the doorjamb, I see someone turn a corner and disappear. I think I know who the agent is, but I’m not completely certain.
I’m pretty sure I know what they were getting at. We have a band of rogue agents inside the White House. They’re planning to lock the place down and take the President captive.
That’s not gonna happen.
I race down the hall, following the agent. Sweeping around a corner I almost run into a housekeeper. I let go of her wrists. “Sorry, did you see another agent coming this way?”
Her eyes are wide. I’m sure there are rumors flying around the building and confusion among the staff. Shoulders up defensively, she points in the direction I was headed.
“Thanks.” I don’t run, just walk fast hoping I don’t lose him, on guard against being surprised myself.
The next junction is a T, with halls going left and right. I sneak my head around the corner and peer down the right hallway. It’s empty. I start to turn left.
A fist lashes out.
I jerk back. It grazes my cheek. I spin, push off from the wall and spring. The agent swings again. I grab his fist and pull.
He sheers sideways and comes around with a kick. I dodge it.
We face off. He’s big, too, and familiar looking, but I don’t know him well. From his stance I see that he knows how to fight. That’s all I need to know.
In a flurry of jabs and hooks, he comes at me. I fade back. One of his blows catches my jaw, but I’m way too pissed off to feel it. He’s the enemy of my Cheri. He has to go down.
He launches a big right cross. I block it with a forearm and jab his jaw. No effect. I duck. A chop whistles over my head.
He tries to grab me, get me in a clinch, but I jump back and clip him in the side of the head. He’s unfazed.
Halfway down the hall, backing up, parrying his punches, I wait for the left hook I saw a few seconds ago. There! I grab his fist again.
This time I pull his arm with both hands, but drop my weight at the same time, spiraling toward his knees like a corkscrew. I hear a satisfying snap when his forearm twists a hundred eighty degrees. He screams.
I spin on my ass, driving his face into a wall. It’s not hard enough, he’s still staggering. I scramble up.
The pain from his broken arm seems to slow him. I hit him hard. It’s all I need. He flails back. My left foot shoots up and nails him in the belt. He doubles over.
I finish the job with a left jab, then a huge right cross. His head hits the wall with a thunk. He slides down, sitting reflexively, then keels over on his side.
My hand hurts like hell. The knuckles are bleeding, but I’ve got to get moving. There are more turncoat agents somewhere. I need to warn Cheri, maybe get her out of the building. I tear down the hall to the elevator.
18
Cheri
Like a carnival ride with worn out brakes, the conference call breeds nausea.
“We probably can’t hold them off, Madame President,” Marine Commandant Tom Shelby says. “We’re outnumbered four-to-one.”
“Any shooting yet?”
“A few skirmishes. So far, most of the action is maneuvering, assessing our positions. Of course, we’re assessing theirs.”
“We’ve got to start moving toward Plan B,” Josh says urgently.
“Evacuate, leave the White House?” Visions of my presidency in ruins crash over me, martial law declared in a military coup, a disaster. Not mere disaster: disgrace.
That’s not going to solve any problems. I need to pull my head out of my ass and make the worst decision I can imagine. “You’re sure?”
“I can guarantee you safe passage for fifteen more minutes,” Tom says. “After that, it gets dicey.”
“Josh?”
“You have to go with it, Cheri. You’re still President, just from a different post.”
“Camp David?” I’m not wild about the place, but it runs well, judging by a time I had to direct operations there during a standoff in the Middle East.
“Air Force One,” Tom says.
“I agree,” Josh seconds. “Decide where to put down once you’re safe.”
“All right. Alert Jordan and whoever else you need to. I’ll be back to each of you soon.”
“Let’s just keep the call going, if you don’t mind,” Tom says.
“Very well.” I turn to my aide. “We’re going to evacuate. Start packing all essential operations.”
He leaves to get people moving. My eyes skitter around the room.
Back to the phone. “While I’m waiting, let’s hear status on a few things. First, what was that gunshot?”
“You may have some Secret Service agents who aren’t on board,” Josh says.
Holy Mother of Christ. I thought there might be a mole, but agents? “Lenny gave me his word.”
“They may have gone rogue.”
No use crying over spilt milk. “What about the city? You said you could only guarantee me fifteen minutes.”
“There are more roadblocks than we thought,” Tom says. “Initially we heard the Army had brought in twenty thousand. It looks like forty, maybe fifty thousand. MacElvain persuaded Governor Marlin to loan him twenty thousand or so National Guard.”
I silently curse the Governor of Virginia and wonder how many other National Guard armies are out there roaming the countryside. “What about others?”
“Most of the southern states are mobilizing,” Tom says.
“So what, they’re going to secede? This is beyond a clusterfuck, it’s a fucking nightma
re!”
“The good news is we almost completely control the sky. Air Force, Navy and Marine air units are already patrolling.”
“Civilian air transport? Don’t tell me MacElvain’s grounded air travel.”
There’s an uncomfortable silence. Finally Josh says, “It’s patchy. Some flights are taking off and landing on schedule, but it appears that all United flights have been postponed.”
“Sonofabitch!” I yell. “Now everybody knows.” I whip around to Carmel. “Media?”
“Susan just started the first round of tweets. The media’s saying that given the unusual situation with North Korea, the Administration has ordered special exercises in populated areas.”
In other words, a practice run for martial law. Great, just great. Now Mac has what he needs in terms of spin. It can’t be avoided, though, and it’s the best explanation for the huge Army presence in the streets, I guess. I grit my teeth.
“What about PM Logsdon’s MI6 intel?” I say into the phone. “That the Army is going after some Silicon Valley companies? I assume Nick wants control of the Internet.”
“Now there we might have a bright spot,” Tom says. “I dispatched a couple of battalions of Marines. Happened to have a big ship in Oakland with a contingent from Camp Pendleton. My commander on the ground reports that companies are refusing entrance to the Army. My men are approaching from the rear.”
“Is there going to be a shootout?”
“We sure don’t want that. We’re informing the Army heads of command that their positions are untenable and they need to withdraw.”
“All right, please take all precautions against shooting. We really don’t need Americans firing on Americans if it can be helped.”
“Speaking of which, you need to get out of there,” Josh says. “It’s the only thing that’ll prevent bloodshed in D.C.”
“What about the ringleaders? Just in case we get cut off while traveling.”
“We’ve got Faubus, Cage, Torres and McCracken cornered. McCracken’s Secret Service isn’t sure what’s happening, but I’ve put them in touch with Carlson. We can’t find MacElvain or Laemmle.”
