Tank Stone took a step toward the president’s desk. “Sir, why doesn’t the vice president know?”
General Metzger stepped in front of Tank Stone and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Sit down, Mr. Secretary.”
“Get out of my way, Thad.”
“I can’t do that, Mr. Secretary.”
“Get out of my way, General Metzger, or I’ll tear your fucking head off.”
General Metzger pulled his sidearm and quickly affixed a silencer to the end of the barrel. “I think not, Mr. Secretary.”
Tank paused, clenched his fists.
Metzger pointed his pistol squarely between the SECDEF’s eyes. “You will sit down.”
Unaware of what was happening in the situation room, General Blackburn placed his hand on his own panel, which immediately identified him through instant DNA analysis. “This is General Ryan D. Blackburn, senior controller on duty, National Military Command Center. I have received orders from the president of the United States authorizing the release of nuclear weapons. Authentication Tango, Delta, seven, two, nine, six, Charlie, Bravo, one. Day code one, seven, Foxtrot, Xray. Code word, falcon. Release is on his authority as president of the United States of America.”
A steady green light appeared on the president’s panel. The order had been received.
Tank tried to move past General Metzger, at the same instant shouting, “General Blackburn! Belay the—”
His statement was cut off by the puff of a silencer, and a bullet slamming into his forehead. Tank’s body fell to the floor in a heap, a crimson pool spreading from the jagged exit wound in the back of his skull. His eyes remained open.
Hugo McIntyre sprang from his chair. “Jesus Christ! What the hell have you done!”
General Metzger nonchalantly swung the barrel of his pistol toward the secretary of Homeland Security. “Don’t make a move, Mr. Secretary.”
“Mr. President? What’s going on there?” General Blackburn asked, hearing the commotion on the other end of the line.
The president stared at Jessie as he spoke. “Nothing, General. We’re all secure.” She smiled at him. “You have your orders.”
“Yes, sir, I have my orders.”
The president terminated the connection.
“Mr. President, I suggest a lockdown of all communications until this is over. We’d better get you airborne,” General Metzger said.
“Yes. I’d better get airborne.”
Hugo McIntyre couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. “Mr. President! This son of a bitch just murdered the SECDEF, and you didn’t even blink an eye!”
“He was trying to interfere with the president’s legal orders to our nuclear forces, Mr. McIntyre,” Metzger said. “I couldn’t let that happen.”
“Bullshit! He was trying to stop the madness, and you killed him! Why doesn’t the vice president know about your order, Mr. President? Why was Tank trying to stop it? Why?”
Jessie Hruska calmly stepped over the lifeless body of the SECDEF and sat on the edge of the president’s desk. “Andrew, you did the right thing.” She pulled a surgical glove from her jacket pocket, along with a small vial. “You know that, don’t you?” She uncapped the vial, placed a small amount of the drug on her finger.
“Yes. I did the right thing.” His voice was flat, almost robotic.
“And I love you for it, Andrew.” She slowly rubbed the drug into his skin, behind his ear.
“I love you too, Jessie.”
“What in the name of God is going on here?” Hugo McIntyre asked, his mouth hanging open in disbelief.
“The cause lives on, Mr. Secretary.” General Metzger moved closer to Hugo McIntyre. “Generations have patiently waited for this day, Mr. Secretary, right under your noses. The country we once served may have lost the Cold War, but the dream that gave it life still burns brightly.”
Hugo McIntyre’s voice was cracking. “My God, what are you talking about?”
“Andrew, Hugo may be a threat to you. To our national security.” Jessie smiled and winked at Hugo McIntyre.
“Yes. A threat,” the president repeated.
“You should order General Metzger to kill him.”
“Yes,” the president said flatly. “General Metzger should kill him.”
Hugo McIntyre turned toward the door, but never took a step. The puff from a silencer was the last sound he’d ever hear.
General Metzger detached the silencer and holstered his weapon. He picked up the president’s phone. “This is General Metzger. There’s been an attempt on the president’s life. We’re going airborne immediately.”
Jessie removed two pistols from the president’s desk and placed one in a hand of each of the two dead bodies.
Metzger smiled at Jessie as he continued. “Mr. McIntyre and Mr. Stone attempted to assassinate the president. They’re both dead. Get the Secret Service escort down here now, and inform the alert crew at Andrews we’re on our way.”
Jessie stroked the president’s hair. “It’s time to go now, Andrew.”
“Yes,” he said. “It’s time to go.”
CHAPTER 60
“Madame Vice President, there’s been an attempt on the president’s life.”
“What did you say?”
The Navy commander handed her the message and gave her a quick synopsis. “It was in the situation room. The SECDEF and secretary of Homeland Security tried to kill the president. General Metzger shot and killed them both and then took the president to Andrews with Ms. Hruska. They’re airborne right now.”
This is wrong. Allison knew what she was reading couldn’t be true. “Commander, tell the pilot to transition to orbit twenty-seven. Do not, I repeat, do not inform control that we’re leaving this orbit.”
“Ma’am?”
“You heard me, Commander. We’re going to move, and we’re going to do it quietly. No contact with control. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He left the vice president’s cabin and headed for the cockpit.
What she’d just ordered the pilot to do was completely out of the ordinary. He was never to leave a prescribed orbit without informing secret government air traffic controllers where he was headed. Although most aircraft transmitted their identification continuously via transponder, the vice president’s aircraft — along with most high-level government aircraft — deactivated their transponders in a time of crisis. To use a term familiar to submariners, they were running silent and running deep. Orbit 27—where she’d directed the pilot to head — was a rare portion of the North American airspace that was not monitored by radar. It was a blind spot. A place to hide.
Allison Perez stared at the message in her hands.
If what she was thinking were true, she’d need to stay hidden. Maybe for a long time. She felt the plane begin to bank as it left its prescribed orbit and headed north toward Canada.
A knock on her cabin door startled her.
“Yes?”
The commander opened her door, with another message in his hands. His face was ashen. “Ma’am, the president has ordered execution of operation Three Kings.”
“What is Three Kings, Commander?”
“You’d better read this one for yourself, ma’am.” He handed her the message.
It was a nuclear strike.
The president of the United States had ordered a nuclear strike against three American cities — Minneapolis-St. Paul, Oklahoma City, and Little Rock.
She now knew beyond a doubt that something was terribly wrong. Not only had two highly trusted members of the cabinet been killed — supposedly after trying to kill the president — but Andrew had ordered the execution of a nuclear strike without even hinting to her that he was thinking about it.