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“The area around the release has been evacuated, the majority of the material has been secured and the area is being decontaminated. No civilians were hurt by the release. I have been informed by experts on the scene that the release was very small and that once they are done there will be no threat to human activity in the area. It is expected that Tavernier Creek will be reopened sometime tomorrow. The Florida Bureau of Fish and Game has ordered a suspension of fishing in the area as a precautionary measure. However, given the small fish-kill, it is likely that there was very little contamination of the waters.

“This shipment is not the only one that we believe to be coming into the U.S. The entire U.S. government, as well as allied and friendly governments, has been actively attempting to prevent this terrorist operation from being successful. This was the reason for the increased terrorism alert and for the recent activity by law enforcement organizations in South Florida. During this operation, two more barrels were recovered without incident.

“I am asking the people of South Florida to keep an especially sharp look-out for suspicious activity and anyone who has any suspicion or knowledge of this terrorist operation to contact the FBI tip line or any local law enforcement agency. VX nerve gas is lethal in very small doses and a terrorist attack using VX could be more devastating than the attack on the Twin Towers. I will now, briefly, take questions.”

The President pointedly ignored an old lady in the front row who was practically hopping up and down in her seat and pointed to the man sitting next to her.

“Thank you, Mr. President,” the CBS reporter said, being first chosen. “The operation appeared to be by a special operations group. Was this an American Army unit, such as Delta, and would that violate the laws against posse comitatus?”

“First of all, we never discuss operational details,” the President said, sighing. “You know that, Larry. Second, posse comitatus doesn’t come into it. This is a direct attack by a foreign group on the U.S. and falls under the War Powers Act. I am free to use any force I have at my disposal to stop it, be they military or law enforcement.”

“Mr. President,” the second reporter asked. She was a leggy blonde from Fox and not technically the one who was supposed to be next in line by seniority but the President had learned to pick his reporters carefully. “There was a brief flash in the camera shot of what I am told is a Russian attack helicopter. My informant was unaware of any U.S. group that uses those helicopters, at least operationally. Could you comment?”

“Not at this time,” the President said, pointing to the next reporter.

“Mr. President, some of the special operations unit appeared to have been struck by the hazardous material we now know to be VX,” the reporter said. “Can you comment on that?”

The President paused and thought, then shrugged.

“Only in the abstract and there I’d be glad to,” the President said. “What I’m going to say will seem callous to some people, but ninety-nine percent of the soldiers, Marines, airmen and sailors in the armed forces would agree. The duty of a soldier is to place himself between danger and the people he or she is sworn to protect. If you’ll pay close attention to that video, you’ll see that the boat deliberately drove between the wreck where the VX was possibly being released and the civilian yacht. They placed themselves, in fact, very much in harm’s way. That was their job, their mission. And, yes, several were injured by the gas. By doing so, they saved the lives of the people on that yacht. Think about that the next time you’re reporting on the actions of our soldiers. They deliberately placed themselves in a position where they could be exposed to nerve gas to save the lives of civilians they’ve never met. No further questions.”

“Dude, you are sooo blown,” Randy said as Mike walked into the house.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Mike said.

“How bad are the guys hit?”

“Yosif’s pretty bad,” Mike replied, walking over to the bar and pulling out a bottle of Elijah Craig. He paused, then poured a small amount in a glass and tossed it back. “He’s at Homestead and is going to stay there for a while. The rest of the guys barely got a brush. Shouldn’t be any long-term damage. The stuff’s not very good as a skin contactant in low densities and they were washing down even as they headed to the Coastie base.”

“You still planning on doing an op tonight?” Randy asked.

“I dunno,” Mike said. “Ask me in a couple of hours.”

“Kildar,” Greznya said, walking into the room. “Phone. The President.”

“Shit,” Mike said, looking at the bottle, his jaw working. “I got it.” He turned away from the bottle and headed to the secure room.

“First of all, sorry,” Mike said when he had the headset on.

“It was bound to happen sooner or later,” the President replied calmly. “And at least now people know. Good job on finding these.”

“But now they know we know their methods,” Mike said. “They could change and then we’re up shit’s creek, pardon me, sir. I need to find the mother lode. The only way to do that is to intercept one of their boats and get the driver to talk. The last boat we got, the one we got these coordinates from, the driver shot himself. We’ve got the GPS off the boat but he’d shot that, too. My people can’t get anything off of it. The one guy I’ve got who could…”

“Is still in the hospital,” the President said. “Mike, you don’t have to go this entirely alone. Send us the GPS. I’ll make sure that top people get to work on it.”

“Yes, sir,” Mike said. “I’ll get with Admiral Ryan on getting it into U.S. hands.”

“Where do you think it is?”

“North of Grand Isle, somewhere,” Mike said. “Probably moored below water level. But there’s no way to find it. If you got every damned sub we’ve got down there and Yankee searched, you couldn’t find it. It’s a needle in a haystack. We’ve got an op planned for tonight that might get us the location. That is if I can get my boats back fast enough. I hadn’t planned on going to Largo last night.”

“Understood,” the President said. “I’ll say it again, you did good. And if you need anything that will stop this stuff, ask.”

“Yes, sir,” Mike said, thinking hard. “I’ll get with Admiral Ryan.”

“I’ll call him, personally, and ensure that he knows that whatever you need, you get it,” the President said. “Getting those barrels is the first good news in this entire thing we’ve had.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. President,” Ryan said, his head down, rubbing his forehead. “I have to say that I agree. And I’d say that even if you weren’t the President. Yes, sir. I will, sir. Thank you, sir. Goodbye.”

He hung up the secure phone and looked at his aide.

“Get me the Kildar.”

“Kildar,” Mike said when the call was transferred. He had a sandwich in one hand and a glass of tea in the other. He was chewing.

“This is Admiral Ryan. What do you need?”

“Hang on,” Mike said, swallowing and taking a drink. “Sorry. Long night. Can any fast birds from the Ronald Reagan land on a thirty-five-hundred-foot runway? I’ve got a GPS that’s all smashed up but it might still have something we can get from it. I’ve got an op going down tonight that, I hope, will tell us where the mother lode is. But if not, the GPS might.”

“An F/A-18 can. Barely. If it’s lightly loaded with fuel.”