“Until such time as President Porter is once again capable of executing his duties, I shall serve as Acting President of the United States. In this capacity, and in order to better assist state and Federal authorities, I am declaring a state of national emergency.
“Together with the Department of Health and Human Services and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, I am asking for the cooperation of all Americans over the next several days. All public gatherings such as concerts, sporting events, and conventions are hereby temporarily suspended. Schools will be temporarily closed, and we are asking churches to also temporarily suspend services. If you don’t have to leave your home, don’t. Only by slowing this virus can we hope to stop it.
“I have spoken with all of the country’s governors who will be mobilizing their National Guard forces to help maintain order and deliver aid and assistance to those who need it.
“We have experts working around the clock and they are in touch with their colleagues around the world. From Beijing to Baltimore, the brightest scientific and medical minds on the planet are doing all they can to find a way to halt this virus in its tracks.
“During this time, you can do your part by staying indoors and cooperating with your local and state authorities. Please be mindful of the burden on first responders, and do not call 911 or approach your local hospital unless it is a life or death situation. Every minute hospital or emergency response personnel spend on non-life-threatening issues is a minute denied a heart attack or severely injured patient.
“These are trying times for America, but America has faced trying times before. We have always prevailed in the past and we will prevail again. I know this because—”
The old school telephone ringtone belonging to the Old Man began sounding and Harvath turned down the radio.
“I need you to turn around,” Carlton said.
“Turn around?”
“Yeah, I need you to go back home.”
Did Harvath hear that right? Home?
“Listen,” Carlton continued, “this isn’t a revolution. It’s a goddamn coup.”
“But the Vice President was just—”
“That was recorded hours ago. They’ve already activated the continuity of government plan and evacuated people out of D.C. to Mount Weather.”
Harvath was familiar with the Mount Weather Emergency Operations Center. Located in the Blue Ridge Mountains about fifty miles from Washington, D.C., it was one of the bug-out locations for the United States Government in times of national emergency.
In the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks, key members of the administration and Congress had been relocated there in order to assure that the government continued to function.
It was also FEMA’s base of operations and housed the control node for the nationwide, Federal Emergency Alert System, which allowed the government to interrupt television and radio broadcasts in order to transmit emergency messages.
Run by FEMA’s parent agency, the Department of Homeland Security, the facility resembled a small college campus sitting on just over four hundred fenced-and-barbed-wired acres. Right underneath it was a sprawling six-hundred-thousand-square-foot, reinforced concrete complex designed to withstand multiple nuclear strikes. It was provisioned with air purifiers, water access, electricity, and enough food, medicine, and supplies to keep hundreds of people alive for years.
Most interesting of all, was that Mount Weather was less than fifteen miles from Pierre Damien’s estate.
It would have been an incredible coincidence, if only Harvath believed in coincidences. People in his line of work who did usually ended up dead pretty fast.
“The Vice President spiked a fever on the helicopter on the way out,” Carlton continued. “He threw up twice, a source tells me, before they even touched down.”
“Where’s is he now?” Harvath asked.
“The Mount Weather Infirmary under quarantine.”
“Have they passed the baton to the Speaker of the House?”
“He’s sick too, and so is the President pro tempore of the Senate. They’re both in D.C. area hospitals, along with the goddamn Secretary of State.”
Harvath was floored. He remembered Mordechai’s comment about Presidential succession if the virus moved fast enough. “So who’s in charge?”
“Unless he has magically taken ill in the last five minutes,” Carlton replied, “Dennis Fleming, the Secretary of the Treasury.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“And guess who’s running things at Mount Weather?”
“Linda Landon,” said Harvath, not wanting it to be true, but knowing it was.
“Correct.”
“But what does any of this have to do with me turning around and going home?”
“Director McGee succeeded in persuading everyone on that Main Core VIP list to be transported to The Farm. Everyone that is, except for Chief Justice Leascht.”
Harvath wasn’t surprised that a man like Cameron Leascht had refused to hide out at Camp Peary. It was in keeping with the judge’s personality to stand his ground and fight. But this wasn’t a legal case. This was literally life and death. Harvath, though, still didn’t understand what this had to do with him.
“Where is Chief Justice Leascht now?” he asked.
“DHS has him. They picked him up forty-five minutes ago.”
“How do we know?”
“Mrs. Leascht called McGee. She said a team in hazmat suits showed up and took him. When he argued, they mentioned a journalist he had been interviewed by the day before, said he has the virus, and that they needed to bring Chief Justice Leascht in for mandatory observation. They claimed it was a public health emergency and showed him the declaration the Vice President had signed.”
“They’re not wasting any time, are they?”
“No,” said the Old Man, “which is why I need you to get back home.”
“And when they show up on my doorstep to grab me?” Harvath asked. “What then?”
“First, don’t resist them. When they showed up at Judge Leascht’s, they brought a lot of firepower.”
“They’d need a lot more if they came to my house.”
“Don’t be stupid. They’ll be prepared for you too. They know your background.”
“But why would I surrender to them?”
“Because we have to get Judge Leascht out.”
“With all due respect,” Harvath replied, “he had his chance. Why risk it now?”
“Because symbolism is important,” said Carlton. “As Chief Justice, Leascht is the highest judicial officer in the nation. People know him; they respect him, and he has more gravitas than the Secretary of the Treasury and all the Congressmen and Senators combined. He’s someone the nation will rally behind.”
“Are we still talking about a coup? Because it sounds to me like we’re moving into the realm of a revolution?”
“If we can’t stop this coup, we need to be thinking about what we do next, how we take back the country. No matter what happens, the nation needs Leascht.”
Once again, the Old Man was demonstrating his penchant for thinking several steps ahead.
“So, I get detained,” Harvath relented, “and then what? I have to concoct some sort of jailbreak?”
“No,” said Carlton. “I have a better plan.”
CHAPTER 50
When the DHS team knocked on his door several hours later, it went down exactly as Chief Justice Leascht’s wife, Virginia, had described their own encounter.