“Why don’t you go catch a few winks.”
“I can’t.”
“You should. Even a few will do you some good.”
“I’m not that tired.”
“Yes, you are.”
“There’s too much to do and—”
“I know how you feel. You don’t want to break away from what you’re doing because if you do, you’ll feel like you’re shirking your responsibilities.”
“It’s not that, I—”
“Yes, it is.”
“Garrett, there’s going to be more trouble tonight if I don’t keep working on this.”
“There are other people here who can do what you’re doing, Carolyn.”
She glared at him.
He continued anyway. “You’re exhausted. When you’re tired, you can miss things. Important things.”
“This is my baby, Garrett. I know exactly what I’m doing, and I’m not about to step away from it and let someone else do this. Am I tired? Yes! I’m damned tired, so are you, and so is everyone else down here. Countless people have died, and more will die unless we figure out how to stop this.”
“Fifteen minutes of shut-eye. That’s all I’m asking. Fifteen minutes, and you’ll be amazed how you’ll feel,” he said.
Carolyn shook her head and turned back to her screen.
“Fifteen minutes, Carolyn.”
She ignored him.
“Fifteen minutes.”
Ignored again.
“All right, if you’re going to be insolent about it, then I’ll make you get some sleep.”
Before she could say, And just how are you going to do that? Garrett barked orders to one of the guards.
“You! Over here!”
“What are you doing, Garrett?”
“I already told you,” he said. The guard stood in front of him. “What’s your name, soldier?”
“Specialist Blevins, sir.”
“Blevins, you will escort Ms. Ridenour here to the back room. She’s going to get some sleep.” He glanced at Carolyn, and to both of them said, “That’s an order.”
“Yes, sir. Ms. Ridenour? Will you please come with me?”
“I will not leave my station.”
The specialist looked at Colonel Hoffman, a questioning look in his eyes.
“Blevins, you have your orders,” he said. “If you have to pick her up and carry her, you’re authorized to do so.”
“Ma’am?” Blevins said, hoping he wouldn’t actually have to pick her up.
The look in Carolyn’s eyes was beyond icy as her glance slowly bored twin holes through Garrett’s skull.
But maybe he was right, Carolyn thought. She was tired. No, more than just tired. She was spent. She could be missing something important.
“All right, Specialist. I’ll go. Lead the way.”
Three minutes later, Carolyn was sound asleep.
Three minutes and thirty seconds later, in a chair in the corner of the clean room, Garrett was, too.
CHAPTER 63
Allison stared at the screen, waiting for Andrew to appear. A man whom she thought she knew so well had ordered a nuclear strike against three American cities without so much as a whisper to her.
A nuclear strike.
The very thought chilled her.
Although nuclear weapons had been a part of the American psyche since August of 1945—even if it seemed as if they’d been around forever — their actual use was something entirely different. She remembered the hokey Civil Defense films she’d seen on TV as a child, the “Duck and Cover” film clips that taught American children that the flesh-searing heat and unimaginable overpressure from a nuclear blast could be avoided simply by jumping under your desk at school. She remembered the pictures of the home fallout shelters people had built during the 1950s, as if a robust version of a storm cellar would keep a family from being poisoned by radiation, or simply incinerated, for that matter.
She remembered the dreams she’d had as a kid: standing in her front yard looking up into the sky, watching the sun glint off the aluminum skin of what she knew was a Soviet bomber leaving stark, white contrails across the blue Colorado sky, and then seeing a small, black object falling from its bomb bay. She would stand and watch the thing fall, hoping she was far enough away, and then a fiery mushroom cloud would bloom in the distance. The beginning of the end.
She’d dream of a war that, thankfully, never happened.
It had been so surreal then. A fact of life parked in the back of everyone’s minds, unavoidable, yet accepted. Dreamt about, but never experienced.
When she was growing up, there had been well over a thousand American missiles on strategic alert, ready to launch. Hundreds of American bombers sitting on alert ramps at Strategic Air Command bases around the country, their crews waiting for the Klaxon to sound, to call them to their aircraft so they could get the birds on their way to Mother Russia before they were obliterated on the ground. Command and control aircraft — the “Looking Glass”—flying twenty-four-hour airborne alert, ready to take the helm if Washington were suddenly destroyed by one of the many Soviet ballistic missile submarines lurking off the coasts of the United States.
It had been a scary time.
But the ever-present fear had been manageable.
Because nuclear war could never really happen.
Couldn’t happen.
People weren’t that crazy.
Or so she thought.
As she rose through the government after her time in the US Coast Guard — and her security clearance rose as well — she’d become aware of just how many close calls there’d been.
On both sides.
Too many times when a blip on a radar screen nearly started World War III. Too many times when a fail-safe system failed. Too many times when a collection of seemingly unimportant, unrelated events swirled together at just the right time to place fingers on buttons that would unleash Armageddon.
Somehow, those buttons had never been pressed.
Until now.
And it was the president of the United States pressing the button, against his own country.
The situation was grave. She realized that.
But not that grave.
Not yet.
She knew she had to act fast.
“Madame Vice President, the secure comm link is established. The conference will begin in ten seconds.”
“Thank you, Commander.”
Nine seconds later, the smiling face of Jessie Hruska filled her screen.
It didn’t surprise Allison at all. In fact, she’d expected it.
“Madame Vice President, the preside—”
“Where in the hell is President Smith?”
Allison watched Hruska’s smile quickly fade. “The president is in conference with the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Madame Vice President, and he told me to—”
“Cut the crap, Jessie. I want to see the president immediately.”
“The president is not available, Madame Vice Presi—”
“God damn you! Let me make this as clear as I possibly can. I am the vice president of the United States of America. I have requested to speak with the president — immediately — and I don’t give a flying fuck who he happens to be in conference with at the moment!”
Hruska’s smile reappeared. Reptilian. “Yes, ma’am. Please stand by.”
The screen went blank.
“Commander?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“I need the Eagle Seven Four comm codes. Now.”
The naval officer quickly exited the vice president’s cabin.
“Allison. Andrew Smith. What can I do for you?”