The frustrating part was how little anyone knew. The plane on which the President was flying – the one dubbed Air Force One – was a Gulfstream G650 jet put into service less than nine months ago, and Air Force Two was a Boeing 747 less than two years old. They vanished from radar within thirty minutes of each other on opposite sides of the globe. A coincidence? Impossible. An act of terrorism? Possibly – probably even, but no one knew.
The 747 carrying Vice President Taylor and Secretary of State Clancy was last reported near the Pacific's Mariana Trench, while the Gulfstream had vanished over the Caribbean Sea. The areas where the planes disappeared were two of the deepest places on the planet and hundreds of miles from land. Unprecedented search and rescue efforts were under way, but nothing had been spotted.
The nation’s borders were locked down the moment DEFCON 1 was implemented. No one entered and no one left. Every airport, public and private, was closed. For the first time in history, the entire country was under a no-fly order. The mass transit systems in New York, Boston, Washington and Philadelphia were closed and Amtrak cancelled every train in the nation. National Guardsmen carrying loaded automatic rifles were deployed in America's larger cities.
Some Americans reacted with violence. During the night, there were riots in Detroit, Los Angeles and Miami. A mosque was torched in Knoxville. In Chicago people roamed the streets, smoking marijuana, drinking whisky they'd stolen from liquor stores, and using bottles, trash cans and rocks to shatter storefronts along posh Michigan Avenue.
Many feared that the next step would be an attack inside the United States. Many steps were taken, including an order by the governor of Nevada that all casinos be closed. The mayor of Las Vegas also directed that the millions of lights that made the Strip and downtown visible from space be extinguished.
By daybreak the mechanics of DEFCON 1 were creating chaos in the lives of ordinary citizens. Workers couldn't get to work, commuters couldn't use Amtrak, and flyers were stranded in airports all across the country.
The Department of Homeland Security ordered schools and all nonessential governmental offices closed on Wednesday. DHS also urged private businesses to close for at least today, until the threat could be properly assessed. No group had claimed responsibility for what was tentatively being termed an act of aggression, but citizens of several Middle Eastern countries were clearly thrilled. They were on TV, gathering by the thousands in public places and praising Allah for the gift from God. The media filmed thousands of people shooting guns into the air and screaming defiantly as they burned United States flags in Iran, Syria and Pakistan.
_____
When Air Force Two disappeared at 9:30 p.m., Speaker of the House Chambliss T. Parkes, a Democrat from Austin, Texas, was still in his office in the Capitol. He was puffing on the last of three fine Cuban cigars he allowed himself every day. Staff and visitors alike complained about the Speaker's nasty habit and how much his office stank, but it made no difference to Parkes. The Speaker was a crude, quick-tempered man accustomed to having his way and oblivious to the needs, concerns and opinions of others.
It wasn't unusual for Parkes to be in his office at this hour. He often returned to the Capitol after a dinner engagement with friends, constituents or colleagues, and he'd have a nightcap and a cigar before heading home to bed. Ten minutes ago the Secretary of Homeland Security had called, alerting the Speaker that Air Force Two was missing with the Vice President and Secretary of State on board.
"Keep me advised," the DHS Secretary would later tell people was the Speaker's only comment.
On this monumental night when the fearsome events were headlined on every channel, the TV in Cham Parkes's office was muted. He wasn't watching the news; he was looking at his computer, scrolling through comments about last night's Democratic presidential debate. He thought he'd done very well, but the hosts of tonight's shows had vehemently disagreed. He never gave a damn about what Fox said, but when the liberal networks criticized him, it pissed him off.
An online CNN panel reflected on Cham's three decades in the House, contrasting his years of service against his much younger opponent's first term as governor of Delaware, one of the nation's smallest states. They pointed out the Speaker's vastly greater experience, but noted that his braggadocio demeanor and condescending attitude toward his rival had caused many former supporters to switch to the younger candidate with fresh, new ideas. There were just four months until the Democratic National Convention; polls showed Parkes and his opponent in a dead heat. What a defeat it would be for the Speaker, CNN reported, if a young, likable newcomer beat an irascible, ill-mannered career politician.
Screw them. Screw the damned media. They'll pay for this when I'm President.
Cham took another deep drag off his Churchill and thought again about last night's debate. His opponent was a weakling who had smiled every time the Speaker interrupted or berated him. When Parkes had called his opponent a baby who needed diapers, the wimp just stood there and took it. Calling him a baby was clever, the Speaker reflected. I thought that was my best remark.
Obviously not everyone had agreed. By all rights, Cham Parkes should have been ahead in the polls by thirty points, maybe forty. But he wasn't. He was dead even.
These idiots – the stupid voters – actually feel sorry for the wimp I'm running against.
Before last night his advisors had recommended toning down the rhetoric, but the Speaker only had one speed – full blast. It didn't matter anyway. There would be no problem because he had an ace in the hole. Before the convention in four months, he'd be so far ahead of his rival that the vote would be a foregone conclusion. Cham T. Parkes would be both the Democratic nominee and the next President of the United States.
Suddenly his office doors slammed open. This was unheard of; no one entered without the Speaker's permission, but there was clearly something different happening tonight. Three Secret Service agents rushed to his desk and said, "Code Red, Mr. Speaker! Code Red! Put the cigar out! We have to go! Now!"
Parkes calmly rose from his chair, stubbed out his cigar and quietly muttered only seven words, a sentence that one of the Secret Service agents would recall much later.
"This has been a long time coming."
For now those words were lost in the frantic hubbub. The agents surrounded the man who was third in line to the presidency and ushered him out of his office. Their guns were drawn and their faces showed grim determination. In the broad hallway outside, ten Capitol policemen with semiautomatic rifles surrounded them as the Speaker was shoved into an elevator in front of a dozen stunned staffers who were pulling all-nighters for their bosses.
Parkes never asked a question about what was happening and never raised an eyebrow about the sudden extrication from his office. He knew what Code Red meant. This wasn't about the Vice President's missing plane. Code Red meant the President was in trouble.
Those in the security detail surrounding him would remember how uncharacteristically impassive and calm the Speaker appeared. Typically he'd be barking orders laced with profanity. During the elevator ride to the Capitol basement, the man said nothing. Perhaps it was the gravity of the situation. Maybe he was lost in the knowledge that he might soon become leader of the free world. Whatever it was, this was not the behavior of the Chambliss T. Parkes the world knew.
A few minutes ago Pennsylvania Avenue had been closed to traffic. Now it was deserted as the motorcade pulled away from the Capitol. Soldiers in riot gear stood on every corner as the SUVs raced the two miles to the White House. The director of Homeland Security was on the line with Parkes the entire time, telling him what they knew about the missing planes, which was extremely little.
When they pulled through the White House gates, Parkes noticed sharpshooters on the roof. The last time he'd seen that was on 9/11. The SUV raced across the grassy lawn toward a helicopter sitting with its rotors idling, ready for takeoff the moment he boarded. A second chopper hovered overhead. It was crammed with heavily ar
med Marines and would provide increased security.
As the vehicle pulled up next to the helicopter, one of the agents got a call. "It's the Secretary of Defense for you, sir," he said as he handed it over. Parkes listened for a moment, and then he ordered implementation of DEFCON 1. When the Secret Service agents heard the words, they knew that history was being made tonight. America was in a dangerous, perilous situation, facing an unknown threat. And Chambliss T. Parkes was the senior person in the United States government.
More than one of them fervently prayed that this situation wouldn't last long.
When the call ended, Speaker Parkes pulled a piece of paper from his jacket pocket, handed it to the agent and said, "Give this to the press secretary." The paper was his handwritten statement approving threat level DEFCON 1 and asking the people to remain calm.
This is exhilarating, Parkes thought. From now on, the media would leap upon every comment he made. He was the man, the leader of the free world, beginning now. And he was looking forward to every minute of it.
"Stay in the vehicle a moment until we get in place, sir," the agent said. "Your wife's already on board, but we have to go to full readiness before we move you to the chopper."
Of course you do. I'm numero uno. How satisfying!
Karen, Speaker Parkes’s wife, had gone to bed early so she hadn't heard the news. Suddenly her bedroom door had slammed open and the four agents who guarded the house burst in, screaming, "Code Red! Code Red! We have to go, Mrs. Parkes. Now!"
Karen Parkes was supposed to know what Code Red meant, but she'd forgotten. She asked for time to dress, but they told her to grab a robe and come with them.
"Is it Cham?" she asked, hoping Code Red didn't mean something had happened to her husband.
"It's Harrison and Taylor," the agent replied urgently. "Go! Let's go!"
The President and Vice President? "Dear God! What happened to them?"
"They're missing. There's no time, Mrs. Parkes! We have to go now!"
Two black SUVs idled in the driveway, their red lights flashing in the darkness. Six Secret Service agents sat in the front car; Karen Parkes and the four agents got into the second one. They all had their weapons drawn, and that scared her. She hoped Cham was all right, wherever he was. The SUVs pulled into the street and were met by four Virginia state troopers with sirens screaming.
"Can you tell me where we're going?"
"We're going to the White House, ma'am. Agents are bringing the Speaker there."
The White House? She had no idea what was going on, but she'd just wait to find out. Cham would explain everything like he always did.
She watched the two SUVs coming across the lawn and hoped one was carrying her husband. They both stopped, but nobody got out for a few minutes. Suddenly a dozen agents jumped from the vehicles and ran toward the helicopter, lining a pathway through which the Speaker was herded like a football player entering a stadium before the big game.
When Cham climbed into the helicopter, he saw her robe and slippers and grunted disapprovingly. She didn't notice; she reached to touch him and wiped away her tears.
"I'm so glad you're here. What's going on? Why's there so much security? I'm so scared! They wouldn't even let me dress!" She tried to hug the man she'd been married to for decades, but he pulled away as usual.
"Didn't you hear the news?" he replied curtly. "Calm down, Karen. It isn't the end of the world. This could be the best thing . . ."
"One of the men said Harry Harrison and the Vice President are missing. Is this a terrorist attack? Where are they taking us? How can you be so calm?"
He shook her roughly. "Stop it! That's not what this is. Just calm down!"
"How do you know it's not a terrorist attack? What have they told you?"
The pilot turned to them. "Sorry to interrupt, Mrs. Parkes. Mr. Speaker, please put on your headphones. We're going to Rapidan. Your sons are being moved to that facility as well."
Mrs. Parkes screamed when she heard that her adult sons were involved. She began to cry.
"The boys? Why them? What's happening, Cham?"
As the pilot lifted off, he could hear the Speaker's response through his headphones.
Parkes spoke to his wife as if she were a child. "Listen to me and try to understand, darling," he snarled sarcastically. "Do you know what Code Red means? It means there's something bad that involves the President. Right now he and the Vice President are both missing. We're being relocated to Rapidan out in rural Virginia. It's the most secure bunker in America, and they're taking the boys there too until they can find out what's going on."
"You certainly seem to be taking the news calmly," she noted, still gasping between sobs.
"Shut up, you stupid cow! I'm about to become the President of the United States! Can't you understand anything? Sit back and enjoy the ride!"
The pilot had only flown Cham Parkes once, but the man's vulgar, brash demeanor was legendary inside the Beltway. He could hear everything the Speaker said, and he wondered how the man could be so unconcerned about the fate of two American leaders, even if they were from the other side of the aisle.
He doesn't seem the least bit upset that the President and Vice President may have died. In fact, he's about as upbeat as I've ever seen him even though he's treating his wife worse than I treat my dog. He actually seems to be enjoying all this. But it's none of my business. I'm paid to fly the arrogant son of a bitch, not to figure out what's in his head.
With the implementation of DEFCON 1, every plane in the United States had been ordered to land immediately at the nearest airport. Now there was no other traffic as the two choppers, flanked now by four fighter jets, flew west toward the Shenandoah Mountains. Those fighters were armed and ordered to destroy anything that appeared to be a threat.
They arrived at the Rapidan Wildlife Management Area forty minutes later, setting down on a helipad near a beautiful rustic hunting lodge built in 1929 as a retreat for President Herbert Hoover. The remote site consisted of several hundred acres of dense forest and a few outbuildings surrounding a lodge. Few people knew that in the 1970s a twenty-room underground bunker had been added to serve as a combination bomb shelter and secure hideout for the government's top officials. The facility was constantly maintained and kept stocked with food and water in the event of a national emergency.
Tonight would be the first time the bunker would serve its intended purpose. Vice President Cheney had almost been taken there when 9/11 broke and President Bush was aboard Air Force One, but instead he'd gone to a different secure facility in Virginia called Mount Weather.
A cadre of Secret Service and FBI agents had flown to Rapidan the minute news broke about the Vice President's plane. If this turned out to be the first step in an attack against the United States, this facility would house the President and his family. Now that Air Force One was missing too, the Speaker's family would become its residents.
There was no sleep for anyone for the rest of that night. Parkes spent over an hour on the phone with the Secretary of the Treasury. The Secretary's immediate concern was the likely collapse of the stock market, but he advised opening anyway in an attempt to maintain normalcy. That would turn out to be a mistake that resulted in the brief seventeen-minute market session and the huge drop in the Dow.
All the other cabinet members reported in, and everyone was cautious and tentative. This was a sticky situation – President Harrison and Vice President Taylor, two Republicans, were unaccounted for but technically still in office. Parkes, a Democrat, had no power to order anything, but he was next in the order of succession, as much as Harrison's appointees hated to face that reality. Parkes would soon be President if, God forbid, Harry and Marty Taylor were gone. They detested him, but they had no choice but to seek his guidance and opinions.
By late Wednesday afternoon, around twenty hours after it all began, the nation still reeled from a day like none other. Doomsday predictions abounded; in parks and squares people brandished sign
s that said "Repent Now!" while rioters, drunk on whisky from liquor stores they'd looted, mocked them. At least five Wall Street brokers committed suicide, apparently unable to cope with massive personal financial losses. As frantic citizens packed the National Cathedral in Washington, dropping to their knees and praying, an angry mob outside chanted, "Why pray to God? There is no God!"
It turned out to be a busy day at Rapidan. At five p.m. Parkes took a break from the constant calls and updates. He joined his wife and their two unmarried adult sons in a comfortable living room thirty feet underground. Everyone had a cocktail, and the Speaker, typically oblivious to everyone else, puffed on today's cigar number two, a fat one that filled the upper half of the room with dense smoke. The seventy-inch TV nearby was muted. They'd heard the repetitive reports all afternoon, and there was nothing but bad news. The Speaker didn't need the TV for news anymore. The second any information became available he'd be the first person in the world to know it.
Around noon, the last time Cham had seen his wife before now, she was still wearing her robe. Now she had a dress on; obviously someone had brought out her clothes. That was a positive, he thought for a second. It didn't look good for the first-lady-to-be walking around in a bathrobe.
"Dad, are you worried about the market crash and our family investments?" one of his sons asked. It was a legitimate question – for years they'd known that their parents were heavily invested in stocks.
"The market always comes back, son. How many times have I told you that? This is a momentary aberration in the big scheme of things."
There was a little secret no one knew. He didn't own one single share of stock anymore. Over the last three weeks he'd liquidated his entire portfolio – several million dollars in common stocks – and the proceeds were safely tucked into CDs at a dozen of the nation's largest, safest banks. There was also the other thing – the secret account Cham called his retirement fund. No one knew about that either. Wouldn't be prudent, as George Bush the first would have said.
Order of Succession Page 2
