She typed in Vicki’s name on her BlackBerry to call up the number and was about to hit “dial” when Colonel Kozlowski burst through the door with Captain Li and two armed Nightwatch officers.
Sachs froze as Li rushed over to Nordquist slumped on the floor. “He’s unconscious, sir.”
Kozlowski gave her a wild look and pointed an accusing finger at her BlackBerry. “Did you just make an unauthorized call?”
Before she could answer, he grabbed the phone and waved it in her face. “Our flight plan is secret!” His face was red with fury, the gentle touch gone. Somehow she was the enemy again. “You’ve compromised our location to anybody listening! Enemy missiles could get a lock on us because of your stupidity!”
He was shouting at her now. Her ears hurt.
“Listen, Colonel,” she replied calmly, the way she whispered to a rowdy classroom so the kids had to shut up to hear her. “I’m having a tough time getting up to speed on my new responsibilities. No thanks to the medication you gave me. I’d appreciate it if you treated me with a little respect and were more gentle.”
Koz looked at her like she was from another planet. “Gentle?” he repeated. “This isn’t the Lifetime Channel. This isn’t about you being a symbol of spunky feminism making her mark in a male-dominated world. This is war. You think the enemy is going to be gentle on you?”
“No,” Sachs replied, “but I expect my friends to be. Are you my friend, or are you my enemy, Colonel?”
Her words seemed to have an effect on him. He was looking at her as a real woman now, not some anonymous civilian. He seemed to be aware of the gravity of his verbal assault, because his tough facade began to melt.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Am I or am I not the designated president of the United States?”
Koz, aware of his officers, slowly nodded. “You are, Madame President, as soon as we swear you in.”
“And you have sworn an oath to defend the Constitution of the United States?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I may not be everybody’s idea of a president, much less a commander-in-chief,” she told them. “But I used to teach American History. And the history of America taught me that right is stronger than might. Right now, the U.S. Constitution has decided that there is only one right person for this job, and that person happens to be me. If we stay on the right side of history here, we will win.”
She looked into the eyes of the various crew members. Some seemed barely older than the middle and high school students she once taught. Others, with weathered faces, had clearly endured much in previous wars and in the life that is the American military. She watched their heads nod, acknowledging her appeal to their moral conscience, deeply impressing her.
“Now may I please confer with my military commanders?” She fixed her gaze squarely on Koz. “Before we waste any more time?”
“Yes, ma’am. But first the Constitution.”
Koz glanced over at a disheveled medic being slapped into consciousness by Captain Li. “Nordquist, get up off the floor and fix those cuts on the president’s face,” he barked. “Li, go grab your Bible and a camera and some make-up. We need to release an official photo of the swearing-in.”
Then Sachs watched his hazel eyes look into her own, look through them and deep into her.
“She seems fit to me,” he declared.
26
Jennifer turned the minivan up the long incline overlooking her aunt’s grand 1890 carriage house that abutted the riding trails. The secluded home looked dark and foreboding. Inside the minivan, the radio was playing with continuous news reports from New York’s WCBS-AM.
Jennifer pulled to a stop and looked out the frosty window at the house in the distance. It was early afternoon, but with the January snow it felt like early evening. She hadn’t seen the Suburban for an hour, and she was tired of playing hide-and-seek. If they had hoped to find her here, they would have already come and gone.
Robbie, tense as ever, observed, “The lights are off.”
“Doesn’t mean anything,” Jennifer said. “Carla likes to keep the ConEd bills low for my aunt when she’s out of town. It’s like a freezer inside.”
“You mean your aunt isn’t even home?”
“Vacation in the Bahamas with her boyfriend,” Jennifer said. “But there’s a loaded.357 Magnum locked up in a closet, food in the kitchen, and a place to hide in the basement.”
The CBS radio news was suddenly interrupted by a flat, ominous tone. A deep, authoritarian voice blared from the speaker.
“This is the Emergency Alert System. This is not a test. Repeating. This is not a test.”
“Holy crap!” Robbie squeaked.
Jennifer looked at Robbie and suddenly wondered what she ever saw in this wus. “Shut up and listen.” She turned up the volume.
“This is the Emergency Alert Message from the president of the United States.”
But it wasn’t President Rhinehart that came on. It was a woman.
“Whereas an unprovoked nuclear attack has been launched against the United States by foreign military forces…”
Jennifer listened closely to the distant but familiar voice.
“…And whereas the exigencies of the international situation and of the national defense require the suspension of traditional democratic practices…Jennifer cocked her ear in disbelief. “Mom?”
“We’re doomed!” Robbie moaned.
Jennifer punched him in the arm. “I told you to shut up!”
“…Now therefore I, Deborah Sachs, president of the United States, hereby proclaim that a state of war exists.”
Oh, my God, Jennifer thought, clapping both her frozen hands over her mouth.
Robbie pointed an accusing finger at the dashboard radio. “Hey, the Constitution says only Congress can declare war.”
Jennifer cracked open her door and planted one boot in the snow.
“Hey!” Robbie shouted. “Where are you going?”
“Are you deaf?” she said. “Didn’t you just hear the radio? My mom and Aunt Dina are probably worried sick about me. I can call them from inside the house and let them know I’m OK. You coming?”
“No way,” he said and slid behind the wheel. He quickly adjusted the driver’s seat so his feet could reach the pedals. “You’re surrendering.”
“I’m the First Kid now,” she told him. “Everybody has to listen to me. Including you. Fine, drive home to your folks. They’re probably just as worried.”
She shut the door and watched him put the minivan into reverse, back up, and then screech down the road, disappearing into the darkening afternoon. She then turned and trudged through the knee-high snow down the hillside, one long stride after another, toward Aunt Dina’s house.
She burst through the front door, key in hand. “Carla? Carla?” she called for the housekeeper.
The living room, filled with expensive built-ins and antiques and period rugs, was empty. “Carla?” she called out, then ran up the stairs to the bedrooms.
But the bedrooms were empty too, including her own. She looked at the shelves next to her bed lined with trophies from soccer, basketball and softball. Even the trophies, however, were dwarfed by the ribbons and cups from her horse riding conquests. But it was the solid crystal cube— a commemorative urn — on the middle shelf that caught her eye. Etched in the crystal was an outline of an old-fashioned biplane and the words: