“Yes, I can see that, but if you want the church’s help, you have to trust us enough to give us your name.”
The priest’s black eyes reflected a trusting kindness. If she could not trust this man, then whom could she trust? Somehow, she knew that she could trust him. “Kristina. Kristina Wulandari.”
“And are you from here in Jakarta?”
“Yes, Father.”
“When you came to confession, you told me that someone important was going to die?”
“Yes, Father. And then I ran for fear of my life.”
“Who, Kristina?” Their eyes locked.
“The president, Father. I was referring to President Santos. And today that happened.”
“Yes.” Father Ramon stood and ran his hand through his hair and exhaled. “We all mourn for our president. And can you tell me, Kristina, how did you know this was going to happen?”
“General Perkasa had the president killed.”
“General Perkasa?”
“Yes, Father.”
“And just how do you know this?”
“Because…” She looked down. A sudden embarrassment overcame her.
“Because what?”
“Because I was his lover. I was in his house last night when I overheard the general and some of his staff members planning in the general’s study. They thought I was asleep. But I slipped down in the middle of the night, at the bottom of the stairway, and overheard them.”
“What were they saying?”
“They were drinking and laughing and talking about how they would make many, many millions of dollars, and then they started talking about a plan to kill President Santos.”
“Did they say how they were going to kill him?”
“All I could hear was something about the president’s personal physician was going to do it in an act of martyrdom.”
Father Ramon shook his head mournfully. “Do you remember anything else they said?”
“They mentioned Vice President Magadia,” she said.
“They are going to kill him too?”
“They said they were going to capture him at Istana Bogor, and hold him and try to force him to cooperate with them. I have a feeling that if he doesn’t cooperate, they will kill him.”
The priest sat back down. “Is there anything else that you think I need to know?”
“Yes, Father. They are going to buy nuclear bombs from Pakistan and slip them into the United States and use them on America. They are planning to kill President Williams in a nuclear blast.”
Father Ramon exhaled. Then he leaned over the desk and stared at her a few minutes, as if he was trying to decide whether to believe her. “Kristina, do you have any evidence of any of this?”
“Yes, Father.” She held up the memory stick. “I have this. It is all here.”
The White House
9:50 a.m.
Mack had left the majority of the National Security Council working in the Situation Room, while he returned to the Oval Office, all in an effort to preserve some semblance of normalcy in the developing international crisis.
He had brought with him his two most trusted, yet most likely to clash Cabinet members, the secretaries of state and defense.
The secretary of state was pacing back and forth across the back of the Oval Office, arguing, as usual, against a point just made by the secretary of defense. “With all due respect to Secretary Lopez’s call to drastically beef up our forces in the region, Mr. President, I would urge caution. Our navy is already providing tanker escorts. While it’s true that we may need to move more forces in, I’m concerned about international reaction to a Persian Gulf-style buildup.”
“But, Mr. President,” the secretary of defense shot back, “they’ve just tested a nuclear device in the Halmahera Sea. One of our ships has been taken out. We’ve lost who-knows-how-many men. That’s an act of war, Mr. President. We need more carrier groups in the region.”
The secretary of defense crossed his arms. “Mr. President, we all should be outraged, and we are outraged about the fact that they tested that device, but I disagree with my colleague on whether that is an act of war. Technically, I don’t think we can say it’s an act of war unless we can show that they intended to harm our ship. If you want to get right down to it, they’ve got a stronger argument that we committed an act of war against them by our operation against Merdeka Palace.”
A buzzing from the speaker phone on the president’s desk stopped Secretary Mauney in his tracks. “Mr. President!” A panicked sound from the president’s secretary, Gayle Staff. “The national security advisor and the chairman of the Joint Chiefs are here, sir. They say it’s an emergency.”
Mack’s stomach sank immediately. “Send them in, Gayle.”
Secret Service officers flung open the doors leading into the Oval Office, and Cynthia Hewitt and Admiral Roscoe Jones came running in. Their faces signaled disaster before Cyndi Hewitt spoke.
“It’s Philadelphia, Mr. President,” Hewitt said.
“What about Philadelphia?”
“A bomb.” The national security advisor broke into tears, crying like a baby.
“What?” Mack stood, his forehead suddenly clammy.
Admiral Jones took over for Hewitt. “I’m afraid it’s nuclear, Mr. President.”
“No. No! Please!” Mack wanted to heave, to vomit. A nuclear attack on American soil! He had to calm himself. He was the president. “Talk to me, Admiral. What happened? How bad?”
“Bad, sir. Looks like an explosion in the heart of the city. Relatively small nuclear device. Seismic indicators showing about one kiloton. That’s what we call a suitcase bomb. Still, this dwarfs the magnitude of 9/11.”
“Barry.” Mack nodded to the senior Secret Service officer on the presidential detail. “Flip on CNN.”
“Yes, sir.”
Images of firefighters, sirens, smoke, men, women, and children screaming-all flashed on the screen. The voice of the CNN anchor undergirded it all.
“This is Tom Miller. Again, this breaking story from Philadelphia. Tragedy. Horror.” The venerable newscaster’s voice began choking. He paused, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses, and recovered. “It…appears that a large bomb, believed to be a nuclear device, has exploded in the downtown area of Philadelphia.
“There is no word from the White House or the Pentagon as of yet, but we have bone-chilling film, shot from cell phone cameras outside the city, of a blast going into the sky like a mushroom cloud. Just look…”
The screen showed a blinding burst above Philadelphia, followed by a mammoth mushroom cloud rising over the city.
“This video was taken about ten minutes ago,” Tom Miller said.
Mack stood silent. Cyndi Hewitt had restrained herself, and was wiping her running mascara with a handkerchief provided by the secretary of defense, who was standing beside her with one arm around her.
By this point, the president’s personal secretary, Gayle Staff, had come into the Oval Office and was watching with the others. “Gayle, get Arnie on the line.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
Gayle stepped out as Tom Miller continued to speak. “Again, we have no official word yet on whether this…this mammoth explosion in Philadelphia was nuclear. But we are hearing preliminary reports from firefighters attempting to reach the scene that there are increased radiation levels in the downtown area. The intense heat, even a mile from the center, is said to be so great that firefighters cannot move in at this point.”
The telephone on the president’s desk buzzed. “Mr. President, your press secretary is on the line.”
“Thanks.” Mack picked up the phone. “Arnie, you watching the networks? Okay, I want a written statement from the White House immediately reassuring the American public of the following:
“First, that our nation has been attacked, and that the United States military will respond swiftly and appropriately.
“Second, inform the nation that the president and the National Security Council are meeting at this time to further coordinate our response.