She turned to Admiral Keaton Grierson, commander, United States Northern Command — USNORTHCOM. “What are the numbers from KCI, Admiral?”
Admiral Grierson shook his head. “Not good. There’s a few hundred, but nowhere near what we prepared for.”
“Jesus, Keats. A whole city.”
“Yes, ma’am.” There was nothing more he could say.
Allison looked back up at the screen. The man delivering a message to the nation was, she knew, the right man for the job. As a leader, Andrew Smith had no equal. But as with any president, the constant pressures of the job were starting to take their toll. And after the loss of his wife…
Allison didn’t want to admit it, but Andrew seemed different now. The entire nation had mourned alongside him, but when he buried his beloved Kate, part of him went into the ground with her. His flame had grown dimmer. She’d noticed, but his staff had not. At least not yet. If — or more likely, when — they did, Allison would protect him as best she could. She hoped he could hold it together well enough to keep the American people from noticing. Or, for that matter, others around the globe. A weak president invited disaster — a cold, hard fact they’d all lived through with Andrew’s predecessor. They’d be watching him closely, especially now, and if they sensed weakness…
“The threat boards, Admiral.”
“Clear, Madam Vice President. Nothing outside of the norm.”
Allison nodded. “Keep both eyes open, Keats. The wolves at the gate can get a little frisky as soon as we hit a crisis like this.” Foreign policy was one of Andrew’s strengths, Allison knew. Talk to them, Andrew, wave the torch. Warn ’em off.
The president continued.
“In closing, I realize this may not seem real to some of you outside of the Kansas City area. When I was first informed of this situation earlier this morning, I honestly felt like I was trapped in a bad movie. I wish that’s all it was, but this is real. I promise each and every one of you that your government will take all steps necessary to control what has happened and to help all of you who have suffered, and are suffering, great loss.” A pause. A deep breath. “In my free moments this morning, I’ve prayed. I urge all of you to do the same, whatever your beliefs may be.”
His gut told him things were going to get worse. Now it was time for the president to speak to the rest of the world.
Andrew leaned forward, his piercing blue eyes peering straight through the camera lens to the millions of people watching this broadcast around the globe, both friend and foe.
“To those nations and people who wish us ill, I issue a simple warning. The United States has been wounded this morning. That is a fact. This is also a fact: although wounded, we are not weakened. You may delight in the news that we’ve suffered a terrible loss, but do not let our misfortune provide you the sudden courage to decide that now is the time to move against us. We are a peaceful people, a peaceful nation, but our sword is out of the sheath this day, and can be swung in many directions with an unforgiving, fearful vengeance. Stand fast.”
No president had ever been so direct, especially on live TV to a worldwide audience. His message was simple and clear: Don’t fuck with me right now, because I won’t think twice about ripping your heart out with my free hand.
Andrew’s gaze softened as he returned to addressing the American people. “My fellow Americans, we will persevere. The strength of the American spirit can overcome anything. We’ve shown our incredible fortitude in times of crisis, and I ask each of you to display that same courage now. Together, as a nation, we will get through this, and we will prevail. May God bless each of you, and may God continue to bless the United States of America.”
“We’re clear, Mr. President.” The camera was off.
The first person to approach Andrew was his national security advisor. He looked up at Jessie as she walked around the corner of his desk.
“Mr. President…” She wasn’t sure what to say.
Andrew stood and buttoned his suit coat. “Well, that wasn’t what we’d written, but I couldn’t read a prepared speech. I had to be straight with them.”
“Sir, you did just fine.” Jessie smiled, trying to give her president some assurance that the speech he’d delivered was probably the most heartfelt, direct message that’d ever gone out from the Oval Office. She put her hand on his shoulder, a gentle touch — definitely a break from the professionalism Andrew demanded from his people, but right now, it seemed appropriate.
He welcomed it.
“Thanks, Jessie,” Andrew whispered. “Now let’s go figure out how to kill these goddamn things.”
CHAPTER 11
The big choppers’ dual rotors sliced through the air with a reverberating, chest-rattling thwacka thwacka thwacka as the helicopters settled on the tarmac at Kansas City International, now devoid of any airliners or other civilian activity. KCI was now a military base of operations, the central evacuation point. For hours, the CH-47 Chinook crews had repeated a steady pattern of arriving, unloading, and departing, the evacuation of everyone within the forty-mile exclusion zone surrounding Kansas City now nearing completion.
Shouting to be heard over the choppers’ roar, Colonel Garrett Hoffman, United States Army, grabbed his sergeant major by the arm. “Sergeant Major! What’s the count?”
The senior enlisted soldier glanced at his clipboard. “We’ve got three birds on the ground in the city, Colonel, three more outbound, and four more on the way in. Once those four are loaded up and out of there, helo ops are complete. There’s five trucks on the way out of the city on I-70 West, and another six trucks going east.” He made a few quick mental calculations and added, “The city should be clear in another hour, ninety minutes tops.”
“Okay, pass the word,” Garrett ordered. “The city will open in ninety minutes.” He looked to the sky when he heard the multi-engine rumble of a C-130 Hercules approaching the field. There were already a number of Air Force cargo haulers on the ramp, mostly C-17 Globemasters and a few other C-130s, including three of the deadly AC-130 gunships. The cargo haulers were being used to fly people in and out of the airport, and the big gunships were arming up for possible use against whatever was in the city. Garrett had heard the president’s address to the nation, and afterward he was definitely in a hunting mood. He’d seen what the AC-130s could do — up close and personal — and he couldn’t wait to see their firepower unleashed on whatever had taken the lives of so many of his fellow citizens.
He quickly noticed the Herc that just landed didn’t have USAF markings. As a matter of fact, it had no markings whatsoever. He turned again to his sergeant major, who, from the look in his eyes, obviously knew what he was about to be asked. In a low voice, Garrett asked anyway. “Sergeant Major, who the fuck is that, and what the fuck is he doing landing on my fucking strip?”
“I don’t know, sir. I’ll get on it.” With that, the sergeant major double-timed toward the terminal.
From experience, Garrett knew unannounced C-130s — sans markings — were almost always a portent of additional ass pain, something he definitely didn’t need at the moment. It was probably carrying CIA, DIA, or some unnamed black agency muckety-mucks who were “here to help.” Garrett had a well-tuned operational ballet going on right now, and the last thing he needed was a bunch of black ops bastards — or worse, sport-coated bureaucrats — crapping in his sandbox.