“Well, Tank, I guess I should thank the Russian president the next time I talk to him, then.”
The secretary of state took this chance to interject. “Mr. President, the Russians are getting a little antsy. They’re concerned that this situation may get out of control — and spread. And they’re not the only ones.”
“What have we told them?”
“They’ve been watching CNN just like everyone else on the planet, sir. They’re not, however, aware of the Gemini connection. They’ve inquired about helping us — humanitarian relief, border security, that sort of thing.”
“I think those bastards have helped enough already.”
Adam Williamson continued. “Like I said, sir, the Russians aren’t the only ones showing concern over this. Our allies — especially Canada — are especially concerned about the spread of the mutations. Most countries have cancelled all international flights to and from the United States. Mexico and Canada have stated they’re going to station troops along their borders, as well. They haven’t closed them yet, but once Canada learns of the Minneapolis attacks, we can expect them to close their border.”
“We have to stop this before the spread reaches outside CONUS.” Andrew rubbed his face with his hands, the scruff of his day-old beard sounding like sandpaper against leather. He turned his attention to his CIA and NSA directors. “Jake, Steven, what are we showing on the threat boards?”
The director of the CIA, Jake Kesting, spoke first. “There’s still no evidence, Mr. President, to assume a state-sponsored attack. We’ve been digging hard into the terrorist organizations; other than sending messages back and forth about how this is a message from Allah that the end is near for the Great Satan, there’s been no chatter whatsoever claiming responsibility. Same for the domestic groups — they’re silent.”
“Sir, we have been intercepting some troubling communications from the Chinese,” Steven Jacobsen said. “NSA has seen increased message traffic to their regional commanders over the past few hours. The units they’re talking to are those units we assume would be used in an attack against Taiwan.”
Andrew’s gaze grew suddenly fierce. He focused it on his secretary of state. “State, you tell those bastards that if they even twitch toward Taiwan — if they even take a piss in the Taiwan Strait — I will not hesitate to blow their whole fucking country right off the face of the earth. You can use those exact words, Adam.”
“Understand, sir.”
“Tank, we need to get a new chairman up and running to take Smythe’s place.”
“Sir, right now the vice chairman is running the show — Admiral Burns. He’s the logical choice to step up to the pla—”
Jessie cut him off. “General Metzger, sir. He’s the right man for the job.”
“Metzger?” the President asked. “Isn’t he at STRAT?”
“Yes sir. General Thad Metzger is the commander, United States Strategic Command.”
“Ms. Hruska,” Tank said, his voice cool with contempt, “Admiral Burns, for the sake of continuity in this time of crisis, is the right—”
“Thad Metzger is a warrior, Mr. Secretary. Admiral Burns is a politician, a yes-man. He’s not the kind of leader we need right now.”
Andrew couldn’t help but smile. He knew Burns personally from their days together on the Pacific Command staff, years ago. Jessie was right about him.
Tank didn’t like being called on the carpet at all, especially by Jessie Hruska, and especially in the situation room in front of the president. His voice boomed low and loud. “Mr. President, with all due respect to Ms. Hruska, I strongly recommend Admiral Burns for this position.”
“Tank, you know as well as I do that Don Burns is an administrative genius. I knew him when he was a captain on the PACOM staff. He’s a hell of a staff officer, but he’s one of the most uninspiring officers I’ve ever met. We need a leader, Tank. Get me General Metzger on the horn. Right now.”
Allison spoke. “Mr. President, I agree with Mr. Stone that—”
“Not now, Allison. Tank, make the call.”
“Yes, sir.”
The president had made his decision. The time for arguments was over.
Allison watched, dumbfounded, as the president made another decision without even a whiff of consideration for what she thought. It was his prerogative as commander in chief, surely, but never had she seen him so blatantly disregard his own secretary of defense. Or her.
Allison didn’t think Donald Burns was the right choice, either, but Metzger? Not her first choice. As well as she knew — or thought she knew — Andrew, Metzger shouldn’t have been at the top of his list, either. Hruska made the suggestion, and Andrew had hopped right on board, almost like he was her friggin’ lapdog.
Not the Andrew she knew. At all.
The Russians were getting concerned. The Chinese, getting frisky. Old allies beginning to turn their backs. The American Midwest had turned into a massive killing field. A crisis like no other, and the president no longer seemed like the man beside whom she’d agreed to serve.
Now high over eastern Wyoming and heading north onboard the E-4, Allison was glad she’d listened to her hunch. Something was definitely wrong.
She had a bad feeling it was going to get worse.
CHAPTER 47
General Rammes stood at the Plexiglas wall, watching as the thing that was once one of his soldiers walked right up to him, its face clouded by mists of the soman gas, staring right at him. Burning, yellow eyes. Full of hate, full of hunger. Full of intelligence.
The thing let out a low moaning sound, its lips parting to reveal row upon row of black, triangular teeth. Serrated at the edges. Like a shark’s.
Without breaking his stare, Rammes said, “Carolyn, the soman isn’t having any effect this time. Why isn’t Sergeant Wil—” He paused, correcting himself. “Why isn’t this thing going through the same death throes that the rat did the first time we used the gas?”
Carolyn was amazed at how quickly General Rammes had made the switch from “Sergeant Wilson” to “this thing.” She realized, as Garrett had told her, that Sergeant Wilson was as good as dead as soon as the monster sank its fangs into his leg. The mutated creature standing just a couple feet away from the general was no longer human. It was no longer Sergeant Wilson. She regained her composure and answered. “Sir, what we’ve just seen is the Gemini agent mutating in response to the soman. The mutated rat is now immune to its effects. When it bit Sergeant Wilson, it passed this immunity on to him. Sergeant Wilson — it — is now impervious to the soman gas.”
“Can we raise the exposure? Maybe overwhelm the thing’s defenses and—?”
“General, I released the entire container of soman. There’s enough gas in there right now to wipe out a good portion of the eastern seaboard.”
General Rammes sighed. “I’ll let General Smythe know. He’ll have to tell the president to call off the attack.”
At that very instant, General Smythe’s body was being removed from the NMCC.
In the air above Des Moines, Springfield, Wichita, and St. Louis, B-52s were dropping their loads of ex-Soviet soman gas on the remaining ground waves of mutated creatures.
And on all the people who were still trying to escape.
CHAPTER 48
The commander, United States Strategic Command, was brought into the video-teleconference in a matter of seconds. Since Offutt AFB had been overrun, and USSTRATCOM headquarters had been abandoned, General Metzger was airborne. “Mr. President, this is General Metzger.”