Toby shared a long look with Gillian. Had the aliens decided to stop playing games and launch the invasion, or had something else happened?
“I understand,” he said. His secure phone had been left outside, but it would be easy to fetch it and place a call. “I’m on my way.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Washington DC
USA, Day 35
The Secret Service spared no expense. A helicopter picked him off the roof of the NSA building and carried Toby over towards the White House. Toby could see armed Marines patrolling the grounds, with Secret Servicemen staying well back and policemen working frantically to get the mob of protesters at the gates moved back for their own safety. As soon as the helicopter touched down, a mob of security officers surrounded him, checked his identity and then pulled him into the White House and down the steps to the bunker. The President was heavily protected at all times, but this was something greater. Toby had been a child the last time anyone had carried out an attack in Washington, when an airliner had been flown into the Pentagon. It had been chaotic back then too.
“It’s bad news,” the President said. He looked stunned, as if someone had hit him neatly between the eyes. It was hardly the most reassuring look for the most powerful man in the world, but then… all of the politicians who might be good in a crisis tended to be driving out of the running before they could even stand for President. And then those who survived often found that they were not up to handing crisis after crisis. “Air Force One has gone down in midair.”
Toby stared at him. Air Force One — actually, there were several planes decked out as Air Force One, but only one holding the title and callsign at any given time — was normally the President’s exclusive transport. But the President had had to send the Vice President to Japan to reassure the Japanese about America’s commitment to certain treaties and, just to ensure that they took him seriously, he’d ordered him to fly on Air Force One. And now something had happened to his flight… he’d been over the Pacific Ocean, if memory served, escorted by a flight of Tomcats from a carrier heading home to the United States.
“My God,” he said, finally. Why… who… if the President was the world’s number one target for terrorist activity, the Vice President certainly ranked as number five or six. His security was almost as good as the President’s security; there was literally no more secure aircraft than Air Force One. And the Japanese wouldn’t have played fast and loose with American security, not like some Middle Eastern nations he could name. It was already shaping up into a horrific nightmare. Fingers would be pointed everywhere…
He thought rapidly. Who benefited? Islamic terrorists would definitely be the prime suspects, but very few of the groups that had managed to remain active after the invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq would have the capability to mount such a successful strike. Most of them had started to concentrate on soft targets, mainly outside the United States. No halfway sane terrorist wanted to give the United States an excuse to wage war on their host countries. And then there were the aliens…
On the face of it, the aliens didn’t benefit at all. The Vice President had been, like so many others in government, a compromise candidate. He’d brought valuable support to the President’s administration, but few other qualities of value. On the other hand, he had been a good sounding board for some of the President’s qualities and he balanced the ticket nicely against Jeannette McGreevy…
Toby would have sworn aloud if he’d been alone. Jeannette McGreevy, the Secretary of State, the woman who was using the aliens to build an impregnable power base for herself… and a woman who stood alarmingly close to the Presidency. After the Vice President, the Line of Succession ran through The Speaker of the House of Representatives and The President Pro-Tempore of the Senate before reaching the Secretary of State, but neither of them could be expected to serve as Vice President, if only because they had few backers. McGreevy was almost the only choice for Vice President, yet she couldn’t be trusted. And the President didn’t know it…
He looked down at the President, who seemed tired and worn. Somewhere on his person, or scattered around the room, was an alien bug, a surveillance device so tiny as to be literally invisible to the naked eye. He couldn’t reach out to the President, or tell him about the resistance… or, for that matter, convince him to invoke presidential authority to help the resistance. If he did, the aliens would know… and then what would they do?
“We flew SAR aircraft out of Diego Garcia to link up with helicopters from the Truman,” Major Dalton said. He sounded nervous. Briefing the President was never easy at the best of times. Toby could hardly blame him. Washington sometimes operated on the ‘shoot the messenger’ theory of government. “They found nothing, apart from trace debris. The aircraft literally disintegrated in midair.”
The President seemed more composed now, but Toby suspected that it was partly an act. “What happened?”
“We have gun camera footage from one of the drones overseeing the flight,” Dalton said. Air Force One never flew alone, no matter what the movies claimed; there had been a powerful fighter escort from the carrier accompanying the flight. Terrorists might not fly in fighter jets, but one of the more persistent nightmares was a rogue state launching an attempt to shoot Air Force One down. But they should have been safe over the Pacific Ocean… “The footage suggests, after a preliminary look, that there was a bomb on the flight, which detonated with impressive force. They would all have been dead in the first few seconds after detonation.”
Toby frowned, inwardly. No one should have been able to slip a bomb onto the aircraft. The USAF only put the most reliable flight crew on Air Force One, and the ground crew were all specially trained and vetted. There might have been a lone Japanese terrorist who’d somehow managed to get onto the base housing Air Force One while the Vice President was in Japan, but Toby couldn’t see how he would have been able to conceal a bomb onboard. The security sweeps should have picked up anything before the Vice President got anywhere near the plane. No one — no one human — would have been able to plant a bomb on Air Force One.
He would have expected the aliens to simply shoot the aircraft down from orbit, but he had to admit that this was more subtle. A laser-type directed energy weapon could have only one possible source, an alien starship. It would have been an open act of war. This way, there would be considerable doubt over who had carried out the bombings, rendering it impossible to extract revenge. The aliens had carried out a neat strike and there was no way to prove what they’d done.
“We’re currently organising a sweep to pick up what remains of the wreckage, but the surrounding environment will make that difficult,” Dalton continued. “Once recovered, the wreckage will be flown to the nearest base for analysis, while the FBI conducts interviews of personnel who could have conceivably planted a bomb on the craft. We’ll vet everyone who might have had any access at all, Mr President. We will find the people responsible.”
The President’s eyes crossed the room to the CIA Director. “Who,” he said, coldly, “was responsible for this?”
Toby winced. The CIA Director had almost certainly come to the same conclusion as himself, but they didn’t dare say it out loud, not when the aliens might hear. No, they would hear. Gillian’s device might not be ready for mass-production yet, but the NSA had deployed a series of increasingly sophisticated detectors in the White House and they’d located at least nine active bugs. There could be dozens more that weren’t transmitting to anyone.