“Jennifer, please, tell me where you are.”
Jennifer paused as she heard a distant wail of the national warning system sirens outside. “Like it matters now, Mom. We’re all going to die. Just like Dad.”
“Jennifer, I won’t let that happen. Tell me where you are. I’ll send help.”
“No, I’ll help you, Mom. I’m sending you a picture of the guy who tried to kill me.” She found the photo in the phone’s SD media card file and then emailed it to her mother. “Just make sure whoever you send isn’t him.”
Suddenly two headlight bes pierced the window and the low hum of a distant vehicle grew louder. “Oh, God!”
Her mother’s voice screamed through the phone. “Jennifer!”
Jennifer ducked and then peered through a corner of the window. The black Suburban with the crushed front end braked to a squeaky halt outside. The two Green Berets stepped out like something out of the War Cloud.
“They found me!” she breathed into the phone and hung up.
34
Now it was Sachs who lost it, screaming into the phone, “Jennifer!” She sank to her knees and burst into tears, unable to hold back. It all came out, everything she had bottled up since the morning: her separation from Jennifer, the chopper crash, her lock-up in the infirmary, and the strain of circumstances.
She felt Koz put a consoling arm around her shoulders, and let him help her up before she pushed back and brushed her hair from her angry eyes. “Captain Li had better sure as hell have traced that call, Colonel.”
“I’m sure we’ll be hearing from her any second with a location, ma’am.”
On cue the door slid open and Captain Li entered with her tablet displaying a map of suburban New York. “She called from somewhere inside the Bedford Country Club, Madame President.”
Sachs could only wonder how Jennifer ended up there. “The photo.” She opened her email. There was nothing but old messages that had stopped when the nuke had gone off that morning — a lifetime ago. “I didn’t get it.”
“We got it, ma’am,” Li said. “We grabbed it from her outgoing email server. This is the man.” Li tapped the display, and a blurred image of a Green Beret lunging toward the camera came into view.
“Oh, my God!” Sachs said, unable to mask her fear. “That monster is after my baby?”
“Yes, ma’am. We’re trying facial recognition, but between the face paint and blurred picture, we haven’t found anything yet. This guy is low-ranking.”
“But he’s one of Kyle’s Green Berets who tried to kill me. How hard can it be to ID him?”
“He’s not fitting the profile for anybody on Kyle’s unit.”
“It’s the same guys who tried to kill me, Colonel,” Sachs said, turning to Koz. “These are Kyle’s Green Berets, I know it. And you still haven’t told me who he might have been taking orders from.”
“I was going to tell you, but more pressing matters, specifically this imminent nuclear strike, got in the way,” he began. “The short answer is everybody.”
“Everybody?”
“I mean everybody, ma’am. It’s not like Kyle was some cipher who had some doctored or classified record anybody was trying to hide. He’s been everywhere in Iraq and Afghanistan and Pakistan and Iran, you name it. And he’s crisscrossed with just about every senior officer in all branches of the armed forces. He even saved Marshall once when Marshall was a major and his bomber went down in Iraq during Desert Storm and the Republican Guards were ing in on him.”
“That’s something, Colonel.”
“But it was Block who sent Kyle’s team to find Marshall in the first place, ma’am, and Carver who got Navy SEAL support for extraction. Like I said, Kyle was the go-to guy for impossible missions.”
“No wonder they all looked at me like I was crazy when I said Kyle was trying to kill me.”
“They just figured you — or your Secret Service detail — confused his tough-guy tactics to save you with a threat on your life, and that’s what may have inadvertently started a firefight aboard your chopper.”
“So that’s how it’s going down?” she said, angrier than ever. “How are they going to explain Jennifer?”
“They’re not, ma’am, because we’re going to get her first,” Kozlowski said. “I have just the team to reach her in less than 80 minutes. I would trust them with my life. Captain Li, please see if you can reach the RATS.”
Li paused, “The blast, sir.”
“If anyone survived it, they did,” Koz said. “I want them moving the second after impact and any EMP.”
“Yes, sir,” she said and left Sachs alone with Koz.
Sachs put her hands over her face. “Oh, my baby, Jennifer. I couldn’t even tell her that she saved my life. She’s the reason I’m alive. If it wasn’t for her, I would have been in Washington this morning when…”
Kozlowski handed her a handkerchief. She dabbed her eyes, embarrassed by her emotion.
“Thanks,” she told him, and tried to hand back the handkerchief.
Koz refused. “Keep it. It’s yours.”
She then noticed the presidential seal in the pattern and managed a weak smile. “I never expected any of this when I woke up this morning.”
“None of us did.”
Sachs shook her head. “Oh, I think somebody did, Colonel. And we’re going to find out who that somebody is, for the sake of our families and our country.”
“You can call me Koz, ma’am. Everybody else does.”
Sachs took a breath, then looked at him differently. He had succeeded in breaking her emotional state, which she realized was not in a good place for the commander-in-chief. “So, Koz, where’s your family?”
“Only a brother in Wyoming now. His backyard abuts a missile field. He knew the risks. Hell, we all did.”
Sachs asked gently, “Nobody else?”
He shrugged and smiled. “Don’t meet a lot of women up here.”
“Captain Li sure is a fan.”
Koz dropped the smile, not allowing a hint of ambiguity. “Strictly professional, ma’am.”
Sachs felt strangely relieved. “I’m sure it is, Koz. And you can call me Deb,” she said when suddenly the plane pitched and rolled, slamming her against the bulkhead and knocking her out.
35
Marshall felt the shockwave too from his general’s quarters aboard the Looking Glass plane. He had escaped there a few minutes earlier to collect his thoughts and run through his checklists away from the crew. Now an alarm was sounding and there was an expected knock on his door.
“General Marshall, sir!” It was Quinn’s quivering voice.
Marshall said, “Enter.”
Quinn walked in, EAM printout in hand. “We lost Strategic Command, sir. Our home base!”
“Then the day has finally come, Colonel,” Marshall said calmly. “Launch authority transfers to us here aboard Looking Glass. Shut the door.”
Quinn, not quite understanding, turned to close the door. When he again faced Marshall, there was an open bottle of Jack Daniels on the desk. Marshall poured two glasses and handed one to Quinn, who didn’t look like much of a drinker.
“Courage, Colonel, before the storm,” Marshall said and raised his glass in a toast and gulped it down.
Quinn took a sip and coughed. “Sir, we have to get to our posts.”
“We are at our posts.” Marshall set down his glass. “Remember when I asked you for your launch key and told you to shoot me next time?”
“Yes, sir.”
“This is next time.” In one fluid movement, Marshall drew out his M9 sidearm and shot Quinn between the eyes.