"It's badly listing and continuing to slow, but we need more hits, like in the next few minutes."
"We have bombers — ah, four minutes out and a Texaco standing by to give you a drink."
Rosenbaum checked his fuel and decided to play it safe. "I'm going to orbit overhead, then go in to JFK."
"Roger that, and — ah, hold overhead at eight thousand."
"Climbing to eight, Salty Four-oh-six."
Right on time, the other F/A-18 Hornets attacked the slow-moving ship. After the third aircraft simultaneously dropped two bombs, the grand ocean liner began to capsize southwest of Long Beach. With incredible precision and timing, the tactical jets continued their relentless assault on the Queen Mary 2.
Hartwell Prost called from the VIP helicopter when he left the White House landing pad. Molly silently swung into action and began preparing a hearty breakfast for Mr. Prost and his guests. Zachary, Jackie, and Scott assisted Molly while all four kept a watchful eye on the news concerning the beleaguered luxury liner. Wire-service reports were now confirming the worst fears: the entire crew of the QM2 and all the passengers had died from unknown causes.
A news helicopter was providing television coverage from a safe distance, but the enhanced images on the screen seemed much closer, especially when the bombs exploded. It was surprising how accurate and detailed the initial news reports were. The media professionals dedicated to monitoring the various radio scanners were doing a great job of separating fact from rumor. A few media sources were reporting that two people had been rescued from the ship, but the reports were unconfirmed.
The disaster was flashing around the world while international press sources began focusing on the appalling terrorist attack. Most of the commentators made comparisons to the horrific assault on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon.
The minute-by-minute updates on the tragic story were heart-wrenching. But watching fighter planes from the U. S. Navy and the marine corps strafe and bomb the battered ship were too much for many viewers. It was like watching the Twin Towers collapse in slow motion.
On a split screen, viewers could see additional helicopters taking off in the general direction of the Queen Mary 2. Another live broadcast showed dozens of rescue boats leaving foaming white wakes as they rushed to intercept the stricken ship. The crews were betting that some of the passengers might still be alive and would abandon ship.
Suddenly Fox News interrupted their broadcast with a devastating announcement. The anchor was just taking his chair when the camera began transmitting the live report. "This just in to Fox News. We have, as of this moment, received confirmation from senior members of the White House that Secretary of State Brett Shannon perished onboard the stricken Queen Mary 2. Initial reports state that his staff was with him. There are conflicting accounts of a delegation of lawmakers in his party."
The anchor continued to update the astounding story while U. S. Navy and marines corps planes continued to bombard the ill-fated QM2 on the split screen. For many viewers, the images were surreal. The eye transmitted the information to the brain, but processing it into reality was difficult at best.
Jackie, Scott, Molly, and Zachary stopped what they were doing when the mighty ship began rolling faster and then capsized. The turbulent waves were carrying scores of bodies away from the QM2 as she slipped beneath the water. Only her four-pod propulsion system and the red bottom of her hull protruded from the water. For most viewers, it was a horrifying sight.
Jackie was the first to find her voice. "Another phase of the jihad has begun," she said bitterly. "There's going to be hell to pay again, and I mean hell to pay."
"You're right," Scott said. He heard the sound of an approaching helicopter. "Hartwell's back."
When the national security adviser walked in, Zachary and Molly were putting the finishing touches on a buffet-style breakfast. Hartwell looked emotionally drained. He thanked Molly and Zachary and they left the room. The threesome quietly filled their plates and sat down in the breakfast nook adjacent to the kitchen.
No one spoke while Hartwell spread his napkin across his lap and reached for the coffee urn. He poured coffee to the brim of his cup. "The Berlin Wall has fallen, the Cold War is over, Saddam is history, and now we've entered another phase of the war on terrorism." Hartwell's eyes were full of contempt. "The eradication of the barbarians on this planet — every damn last one of them."
He explained the known details of the QM2 disaster to Jackie and Scott, followed by news of the tragedy aboard USS Truman.
Stunned by the magnitude of the two disasters, Jackie and Scott stopped eating and listened.
"And there's more." Hartwell leaned back in his chair. "Zheng Yen-Tsung was not your bomber in Texas. The Fort Worth policeman, who, by the way, is reported to be in good condition, told the FBI the driver of the car looked Middle Eastern. He only saw the man for a brief moment, but he remembers him having dark, deep-set eyes. Definitely not Oriental."
"Farkas," Jackie said. "Khaliq Farkas."
Hartwell nodded. "That would be my first guess."
"Ditto," Scott said. "Farkas is one of Shayhidi's most experienced thugs. He'll be in the middle of the action."
"That's how we see it." Hartwell reached for the briefing folder he brought from the White House. "We believe he's been in hiding outside the United States and had orders to eliminate the two of you before their next reign of terror began."
Scott glanced out the bay window. "Well, they had to start without our dead bodies." He caught Hartwell's attention. "What does the president plan to do?"
Prost took a sip of coffee. "As you saw after the attacks on New York City and Washington, assured response is the paradigm in our deterrent posture. We don't know where a lot of the terrorist leaders are, which embarrasses me a great deal, but Shayhidi occasionally surfaces in various places around the world. We're just never fast enough to snatch him before he disappears again, but I'm convinced we'll get him now."
"Echelon Two?" Jackie asked.
"Perhaps. He has social and business dealings all over the planet. He spends most of his time taking care of legitimate enterprises: shipping, banking, oil trading, charities, and other interests. He meets with the senior leaders in his terrorist organization, including Farkas, three or four times a year and then goes back to running his legitimate businesses."
Hartwell paused as if he were savoring the bouquet of a vintage Bordeaux. "We've created a large dent in Shayhidi's armor. For the past month, we've been able to track his new plane sixty-eight percent of the time."
"I don't understand," Jackie said.
"We bugged it," Hartwell admitted.
"That's great, terrific." Scott gave Hartwell a thumbs-up gesture. "The Bug Man?"
"Yes. We had some help from the Agency while the plane was undergoing an interior completion at Lufthansa Technik in Hamburg."
Scott allowed a brief smile, remembering shared beers and great ideas with the legendary CIA agent known as the Bug Man.
"He managed to install listening devices in the plane's cabin. The cockpit, where we really wanted access, was tightly sealed and unreachable in the amount of time he had."
Scott had a question. "Shayhidi never showed up to inspect the work while the plane was there?"
"Not once, but we were waiting. His pilots and the four guards who watched over the plane twenty-four hours a day were the only people we encountered."
Hartwell paused a moment when Molly walked in to refill their coffee urn. He thanked her and waited until she left the room. "Between Echelon Two and the listening devices, we've been able to keep fairly close tabs on Shayhidi, but not all the time. On many occasions, from what we've been able to cobble, Shayhidi gets off the plane at a given location and the pilots fly it to another airport. It's a cloak-and-dagger thing, and Shayhidi plays the game extremely well."