Jesus, help me, Mack thought.
“What’s that?” A blond head was hanging out of the window of the minivan right beside the U-Haul! Small hands and arms were waving under the blond head. “Close up on that minivan!” Mack ordered. The marine repeated the president’s order.
“Dear God! Is that a child waving out the window?”
The blond head disappeared back inside the minivan.
“Mr. President, we have to move now,” Admiral Jones said. “Our deadline is in less than three minutes. If he blows that bomb, that child’s going to die anyway. And possibly thousands of others. The military cannot authorize use of force inside the United States without presidential approval, sir.”
Mack’s hands covered his face. “Lord, give me wisdom.”
US Navy Seahawk
Over Bogor, Indonesia
3:13 a.m.
The choppers were moving fast through the night, and as Captain Noble barked last-second instructions that did not apply to her because she had been ordered to remain in the chopper, Diane gazed down through one of the chopper’s windows at Istana Bogor, the lavish presidential palace that she had studied but never seen in person. Illuminated from the air, with its square central structure connected by two flanking wings, it looked like Merdeka Palace bore a remarkable resemblance to the White House.
The captain’s commands pouring into her ears reminded her that this was not Washington, that the palace was not the White House, and that they were on a dangerous military mission that could end in death.
“On my mark, we hit the deck and shoot anything or anyone offering resistance. Move in twos. Remember, the XO has plans to the building and is going in. Our job is to protect the choppers on the roof. Everybody ready?”
“Aye, Captain!”
“All right. Lock and load!”
The choppers were feathering down toward the roof, slowing their descent. Then, a burst of machine-gun fire from the choppers. Chita-chita-chita-chita-chita-chita-chita-chita. Then another burst.
The loudspeakers from the pilot blared. “Captain, a couple of snipers on the roof. We opened fire to try and clear ’ em out. I think we got ’em. Be careful.”
“Thanks, Lieutenant,” Noble said.
Contact. The chopper landed. The doors swung open. “Move! Move!” Noble shouted, motioning his SEALs quickly out the bay door.
Zack turned and caught her gaze.
“Don’t go!” she said.
Zack kissed her on the head, and hopped out onto the roof to the sound of gunfire.
“Jesus, let him live,” she prayed aloud.
The White House
4:14 p.m.
You’ve got forty-five seconds, Mr. President,” Admiral Jones said. “If that fool is true to his word.”
“But he’s not at the bridge yet,” Mack said, hoping that the minivan with the blond-headed boy would turn onto a side street.
“No sir, but his deadline is four-fifteen, and he’s there, on the ground in San Francisco. Suppose he blows on his own time frame.”
“Thirty seconds, Mr. President,” Cyndi Hewitt said.
“How can I do this?”
“You’ve got to do it, sir,” the defense secretary said. “We have a point-blank shot, and we’re running out of time!”
Mack knew that his advisors were right. “My Lord and God, forgive me for what I must do!” Mack closed his eyes and gave the command. “Fire!”
“Fire! Fire!” The marine repeated into the headset.
The president could not bear to watch. Yet he had no choice. He opened his eyes. The clock showed exactly four-fifteen as the U-Haul still crawled parallel to the minivan in slow-moving traffic.
A streak of white smoke jetted from the camera. Two seconds passed.
Against a backdrop of morbid silence, the U-Haul exploded in a ball of orange flames and black smoke, now billowing with fury into the San Francisco sky.
The situation room was devoid of cheering or discussion. Only quiet. Some exhaling.
The silence was broken after a few seconds by the somber voice of the chairman of the Joint Chiefs. “We got him, Mr. President.”
“Yes, Admiral,” Mack said, staring at the billowing smoke that made the Embarcadero almost invisible. “It looks like we did.”
“Mr. President,” Jones continued, “I know you don’t want to do this, sir, but I highly recommend that we deploy Army and National Guard units to block all roadway entrances into Washington.”
Mack buried his hands into his forehead. “You’re right, Admiral. I hate to do it, but let’s do it.”
“Also recommend that we evacuate the city of all nonessential personnel.”
“Prepare an order declaring martial law in the District of Columbia and all surrounding counties in Virginia and Maryland. All nonessential personnel not determined as necessary for the defense of the city, as determined by the secretary of defense, shall be evacuated.” He pulled his hands down and eyed the NSC. “And that includes the Congress.”
Glances were exchanged amongst the council members. The secretary of state spoke what was being thought. “You’ve got some members of Congress who will take the position that the president can’t legally order them out of town.”
“I know that,” Mack said. “And if I save them from a nuclear blast and they live to tell about it, they can impeach me if they want.”
US Navy Seahawk
Istana Bogor Palace, Indonesia
3:16 a.m.
From inside the chopper’s cargo bay, Diane watched two of the SEALs holding a defensive position just outside of the chopper with their weapons drawn.
The pilots had shut the engines down on both helicopters, and the sound of boots tramping across the roof echoed.
Pow! Pow! Two more rifle shots rang in the night air.
“Stay down!” one of the SEALs said.
A few more moments of silence.
“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! We surrender!” The voice was Indonesian-accented English.
“Lay your weapons down!” She recognized Captain Noble’s voice. “Hands over your head!”
“Please! No kill! We give you vice president. No kill!”
“Petty officer, gather their weapons and put ’em in the choppers!”
“Aye, Skipper!”
The sound of more boots across the roof. A second later one of the SEALs came back to the cargo bay and dumped about six rifles into it.
“Skipper! Skipper! Comin’ up now. We got the VEEP!”
“Get him in Chopper Two!” Noble said. “Let’s get these birds fired up and get the heck out of here!”
More trampling of boots, and the whine of chopper blades starting to crank.
“In here, Mr. Vice President!” She recognized the voice of Zack.
Three silhouettes appeared, and then were illuminated by the chopper’s cabin lights. Zack, Petty Officer Toomey, and the vice president of Indonesia.
“Watch your step, sir,” Zack was saying, and the vice president stepped into the chopper. “Have a seat beside the lovely lady.”
Zack pointed at Diane, and as the helicopter engines returned to their full, high-pitched roar, and with Navy SEALs piling back in, Vice President Muhammed Magadia, looking worn and tired in a rolled-up white dress shirt, plopped into the jump seat right beside her.
Zack knelt in front of the Indonesian veep. “Let me help you with your safety belt, sir,” he said, gently buckling Magadia into his jump seat, all the while giving Diane another confident wink.
“All right, let’s get this bird in the air!” Captain Noble ordered.
The engines roared, and the chopper lifted into the sky, leaving the light-splashed palace below.
Residence of General Perkasa
Jakarta, Indonesia
3:30 a.m.
Why isn’t the American press reporting about the detonation yet?” General Perkasa demanded. “Our man was supposed to detonate fifteen minutes ago.”
“It takes a few minutes, General,” Colonel Croon said. “There was massive confusion, I am sure, and it takes a little while even for the Americans to begin to broadcast.”