The Hispanic guy nodded soberly. “I’m sure that’s being corrected, ma’am. But you are Daniel Lenson’s wife?”
“I am.” Let it only be a wound, God. Even his legs.
But they called you on the phone to report someone was wounded. They didn’t send official notifiers.
The woman said, “Would you like us to come inside?”
“No, I don’t — you can tell me whatever it is out here.”
The man, a chief, said, “Ma’am, I’m sorry to have to notify you that Captain — Admiral — Lenson has been reported missing in action.”
She sealed her mouth with a palm. Said though her fingers, “Missing. What does that mean? Exactly?”
“You understand, we can only give confirmed information,” the lieutenant said. “All we know at present is that he was involved in an aircraft crash, in the line of duty. No bodies have been recovered, and the status of survivors, if any, is unknown.”
This felt like a dream, but she didn’t think it was one. “Um… an, a crash. You say. Was he lost at sea? In battle? Is it possible he was captured?”
The woman said, “I’m sorry, Mrs. — Ms. Titus. We really don’t have any more information. I wish we did.”
The man said, “Is there anyone we can call for you? A friend, or a pastor?”
“No. No, I don’t think that’s necessary. A crash. Does that mean he’s probably dead?” Wait a minute… she’d already asked that. Hadn’t she? Now she couldn’t remember.
The chief said patiently, “We really don’t have any more information, ma’am.”
After a pause the lieutenant glanced at her tablet, and thumbed something on the screen. “I have secondary next of kin listed as a Nan Lenson, daughter, residing in Seattle. Do you know if that’s correct?”
“Yes. His daughter. Seattle.” She gripped the jamb, trying not to slide to the floor.
“Would you have a current number for her, ma’am? We don’t seem to have up-to-date data on the secondary next of kin.”
Hands shaking, she went back to Dan’s office and rooted until she came up with what she hoped was his daughter’s address. Carried it back out. “Here it is. I’m not sure if this is current, but it’s the latest I could find.”
“If you’d just sign here, that you’ve been notified,” the lieutenant said, holding out the tablet and a silver stylus. “Also, please check that the contact number we have for you is correct. You’ll hear from us again with an update as soon as additional information becomes available. Here’s my card, if any further questions occur in the meantime. I sincerely hope the next news you hear is good, ma’am.”
The woman took a step back, fitted her cap on. Together, in unison, they saluted. Blair took a deep breath, and tried to smile. “Thank you. You have a hard job.”
“We’ve both lost people. Family, and friends,” the woman told her. “That’s why we volunteered for casualty notification.”
“Well, you’ve carried it out very professionally. Thank you. Would you like — I have water hot for tea, or coffee—”
“Thank you very much, ma’am,” the woman said. The man was already scrutinizing his tablet again, turning away toward the sedan. “But I’m afraid this is only the first stop we have to make today.”
She went to sit in an upholstered chair in the front room, hands over her face, trying to take it in. Then forced herself up. She couldn’t just sit here. Sitting here wasn’t doing anyone any good. She went to the foyer and checked herself in the mirror. Pale, but no tears. Good.
She was still due in the Tank.
The first call came in her car. She almost didn’t answer when she saw who it was from. Then, finally, pushed the Talk button on the steering wheel. “Titus.”
“Blair? Hu Kuwalay.”
Senator Talmadge’s senior staffer. “Hu. What can I do for you?”
“I just heard. I’m so sorry.”
“I thought there was a news blackout until after they notified the families.”
“Uh, Bankey has back-channel. You know that, right? The congressional liaison notified us. The senator wanted me to call right away. Express our condolences.”
“He’s not dead, Hu. Just missing. So condolences are not in order. Not yet.”
“Right, right. Important to keep that in mind.”
“Why didn’t he call himself?”
“I’m sorry?” Kuwalay said.
“Why didn’t Bankey call me? I know he’s up. He’s always been an early riser. Why didn’t he do this?”
“Um, well… he’s got someone in there with him.”
“He doesn’t want to speak with me?”
“I’m sure that’s not it, Blair.”
But from his tone, she knew it was. She and Talmadge had had a set-to three days before, about the funds he’d pledged to reimburse her for her campaign. Since she’d lost, it seemed to be a forgotten promise. Speaking off the record, woman to woman, his aide had let drop that the party’s isolationist wing cherished a grudge against her.
“What for?” Blair had asked.
“What for? For joining the other party,” Mindy had said, as if it were obvious.
Now Blair said, “Hu, put Bankey on. I know he’s there in the office.”
“He’s not here right now, Blair. I told you that.”
She felt her face heat. “No, you said he was busy. So I’m on the other side of the fence now? For joining a wartime coalition government? Think this through clearly, Hu. You know what the national security adviser keeps pushing for? A hard-line strategy. Escalation. Without me pushing back, we could be in an all-out nuclear war.”
The staffer said, “I hear what you’re saying. Seriously, I do. But you have to accept the reality, Blair.”
She was pulling off the cloverleaf, under the overpass, up to the Pentagon. “What reality would that be, Hu? Make it fast, I’m on my way in to the Tank.”
Kuwalay said, “The middle of the road is where people get run down, Blair.”
The E Ring, Corridor 9. Officially it was the JCS Conference Room, or the Gold Room. When the guard opened the door most of the Chiefs were already gathered around coffee urns and plates of sweet rolls set out on a sideboard. The room was carpeted and curtained in gold and centered with a glass-covered conference table. She wondered why the truly important spaces — the Situation Room, the Oval Office — always seemed too small. The chairs were covered in cordovan leather. Yellow pads and pencils lay precisely squared at each place. Bowls of peppermints and lemon drops were spaced along the table, at a convenient arm’s length from each seat.
The chairman, General Ricardo Vincenzo, was already seated, reading a document, halfway down the table. When he noticed her, he pointed to the chair to his right. An honor; usually the SecDef sat there. Obviously he wasn’t going to be here today. She nodded to the other generals, to Dr. Hui.
A bearlike form intercepted her. Nick Niles. “I heard about Dan,” the CNO rumbled. A huge hand enveloped hers. “I’m very sorry. What have they told you?”
“Not much, Admiral. Just that he’s missing, after a crash. Do you know anything more?”
“Apparently he was leaving his ship and the helo went down. Unfortunately, it was in a battle zone. Which complicates the search. But if he’s out there, we’ll find him.”
“Let’s get started,” the deputy chief called.
The first agenda item was the battle in the East China Sea. A naval captain she didn’t know briefed. On the whole, Operation Recoil had proceeded satisfactorily. Transit to the objective had been accomplished without significant loss. Advance force operations to degrade air defenses had gone well. Heavy carrier air and long-range bomber strikes had struck airfields on Okinawa and the mainland Ningbo complex. Preliminary reports estimated a 50 percent reduction in enemy forces. During the intrusion, two enemy submarines were also destroyed, and a total of twenty-one enemy aircraft and dozens of UAVs were shot down. No enemy surface forces had participated in the battle. Four theater ballistic missiles were launched from South Korean territory. Two got through, but inflicted no damage.