vice president.
“Jack, do we have any reason to believe we’re going to see attacks on civilians? Or is Burt right, this is a series of assassination attempts designed to decapitate governments friendly to us?”
“Well, Bill, I can’t rightly say, for sure. I can’t go on record about what else might be coming. You got a bunch of lunatics out there right now trying to undo Western civilization. But, yes, for the moment, the initial evidence suggests a concerted campaign of assassinations, targeted at friendly governments—mostly NATO governments—rather than widespread civilian terrorism. But, sir, you know as well as I do that that could change very fast.”
The vice president took a deep breath and took a sip of fresh coffee, just poured and prepared to his liking—heavy cream, three sugar cubes—by a Filipino Navy steward.
“All right. Look, here’s what we’re going to do. Marsha, put a full ground stop on private planes immediately. But hold off a bit on a full commercial ground stop. At least until I can talk to the president. I’ll get you an answer soon. Burt, take us to DefCon Two. The president will definitely concur on that and I’ll get it written out at Crystal Palace in the next few minutes. Tuck, send out a flash traffic alert to all of our embassies worldwide. Explain what’s happening. Tell them to be in immediate contact with the leadership of their host countries that a wave of assassination attempts is under way. Then you get a conference call set up immediately with the foreign ministers of the G-8. Find out what they know and what they’re doing about it.”
“From here, or State?”
“Good question. I don’t know. Bud?”
“Sir, I don’t think any of you should leave that bunker right now, not with what we’re seeing unfold,” said Norris.
“I think he’s right, sir,” Kirkpatrick agreed. “We’ve got the facilities in the next room over. Tuck, you can run your diplomatic track from Conference Room Two while we coordinate with the president and the Task Force from here.”
“Good, do it,” said the VP.
“Jack, anything else? Tell me some good news.”
“Sorry, sir,” said Mitchell. “I’m afraid I don’t have any.”
FIVE
Bennett slipped his U.S. passport and American Express Gold Card to the Delta ticket agent behind the bulletproof glass.
He’d already been in line for nearly half an hour, and the line behind him now stretched out the door. He began to think he’d never get out. But membership does have its privileges. Nine minutes later he got lucky—the last seat on the last flight that could get him to New York before the day’s end, and it just happened to be first class.
The attractive young Israeli woman with the slicked back dark hair and smoky dark eyes smiled seductively and slid him back his passport, credit card and a nonstop ticket. Delta Flight 97, leaving Tel Aviv at 1:30 P.M. local time and landing at Kennedy at 6:45 P.M. Eastern. That would be the easy part. Getting to Colorado would be the headache.
DIA, of course, was shut down indefinitely. The last flight from Kennedy to Colorado Springs—via American through Dallas-Fort Worth—left at 6:10 P.M. Eastern, more than a half hour before he’d even be on the ground in New York, much less cleared through Customs and able to get to the domestic terminals. And even if the American flight left late, it was completely booked anyhow. The next commercial flight to Colorado Springs didn’t leave until 5:50 the next morning. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The FAA had just ordered a full ground stop in Colorado—nothing was flying in or out of the state—so all of this was now moot anyway.
Bennett picked up his bags and glanced back at the Delta agent, who caught his eye and winked. He lingered for a moment, then finally convinced himself to go stand in another endless line, this one through security on the way to the passengers-only lounge. As he waited, he fished his cell
“Jack, do we have any reason to believe we’re going to see attacks on civilians? Or is Burt right, this is a series of assassination attempts designed to decapitate governments friendly to us?”
“Well, Bill, I can’t rightly say, for sure. I can’t go on record about what else might be coming. You got a bunch of lunatics out there right now trying to undo Western civilization. But, yes, for the moment, the initial evidence suggests a concerted campaign of assassinations, targeted at friendly governments—mostly NATO governments—rather than widespread civilian terrorism. But, sir, you know as well as I do that that could change very fast.”
The vice president took a deep breath and took a sip of fresh coffee, just poured and prepared to his liking—heavy cream, three sugar cubes—by a Filipino Navy steward.
“All right. Look, here’s what we’re going to do. Marsha, put a full ground stop on private planes immediately. But hold off a bit on a full commercial ground stop. At least until I can talk to the president. I’ll get you an answer soon. Burt, take us to DefCon Two. The president will definitely concur on that and I’ll get it written out at Crystal Palace in the next few minutes. Tuck, send out a flash traffic alert to all of our embassies worldwide. Explain what’s happening. Tell them to be in immediate contact with the leadership of their host countries that a wave of assassination attempts is under way. Then you get a conference call set up immediately with the foreign ministers of the G-8. Find out what they know and what they’re doing about it.”
“From here, or State?”
“Good question. I don’t know. Bud?”
“Sir, I don’t think any of you should leave that bunker right now, not with what we’re seeing unfold,” said Norris.
“I think he’s right, sir,” Kirkpatrick agreed. “We’ve got the facilities in the next room over. Tuck, you can run your diplomatic track from Conference Room Two while we coordinate with the president and the Task Force from here.”
“Good, do it,” said the VP.
“Jack, anything else? Tell me some good news.”
“Sorry, sir,” said Mitchell. “I’m afraid I don’t have any.”
FIVE
Bennett slipped his U.S. passport and American Express Gold Card to the Delta ticket agent behind the bulletproof glass.
He’d already been in line for nearly half an hour, and the line behind him now stretched out the door. He began to think he’d never get out. But membership does have its privileges. Nine minutes later he got lucky—the last seat on the last flight that could get him to New York before the day’s end, and it just happened to be first class.
The attractive young Israeli woman with the slicked back dark hair and smoky dark eyes smiled seductively and slid him back his passport, credit card and a nonstop ticket. Delta Flight 97, leaving Tel Aviv at 1:30 P.M. local time and landing at Kennedy at 6:45 P.M. Eastern. That would be the easy part. Getting to Colorado would be the headache.
DIA, of course, was shut down indefinitely. The last flight from Kennedy to Colorado Springs—via American through Dallas-Fort Worth—left at 6:10 P.M. Eastern, more than a half hour before he’d even be on the ground in New York, much less cleared through Customs and able to get to the domestic terminals. And even if the American flight left late, it was completely booked anyhow. The next commercial flight to Colorado Springs didn’t leave until 5:50 the next morning. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The FAA had just ordered a full ground stop in Colorado—nothing was flying in or out of the state—so all of this was now moot anyway.
Bennett picked up his bags and glanced back at the Delta agent, who caught his eye and winked. He lingered for a moment, then finally convinced himself to go stand in another endless line, this one through security on the way to the passengers-only lounge. As he waited, he fished his cell
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