It was almost noon by the time I made it to the White House. By then everything was pretty much over. The fourth plane, United Airlines Flight 93, had been discovered to have gone down in a field in Pennsylvania. I had been following all the latest news from the commo section of Air Force Two. When we landed, the pushy Secret Service agent tried to order me around some more, so I fired him on the spot. The other two agents took one look at me and turned their backs on him and we left him standing on the tarmac at Andrews. Ten minutes later we landed on the lawn at the White House. I was to later learn that this was the first and only time that Marine Two had landed at the White House. Another agent was there and directed me to the bunker.
The bunker is buried fairly deep, but I don’t know if it is really nuclear bomb proof or just nuclear bomb resistant. Either way, I’d much rather be at my home in the Bahamas if somebody wants to find out for sure. I had been there once before, on an orientation tour in January. The conference room is a bit cramped, but nobody minded. There was a loud buzz that silenced when I came through the door. I glanced around and found most of the Cabinet already present, with two seats conspicuously empty, mine and the President’s.
Dick Cheney was sitting in a spot next to George Bush’s empty seat. “Mister Vice President?” he said, with a trace of hostility.
I looked around the room and saw a few faces missing. “Who’s not here?”
Colin Powell replied, “Ann Veneman is in Iowa and Tommy Thompson is in Minnesota.”
“Can we talk to them? Are they on the phone?”
A pair of voices came from speakers on the table. “I’m here, sir,” came from both a male and female voice, overlapping each other.
Ann was Agriculture and Tommy was Health and Human Services. “Can you hear us clearly?” I asked.
“Yes, very clear!” answered Ann.
“Same here, Carl… Mister Vice President! Sorry about that.”
“Don’t sweat it, Tommy,” I told him.
“Okay, let’s get started.” I looked at the others, most of whom had a look of disbelief and shock on their faces. “I just flew in from Andrews, so I’ve been out of touch for a few minutes.” I looked around and found Norm Mineta, the Secretary of Transportation. “Norm, you ordered the planes landed?”
He nodded. “Yes, sir, right after the second one hit the Towers. They should all be down by now, even if they have to land at divert fields. International flights have been diverted as well, some to strips in Canada.”
“You did this on your own authority?” I asked.
“Yes, Mister Vice President, I did,” he answered, sitting up straight.
I smiled. “Very good, Secretary Mineta. Thank you.” I looked around the others and said, “This is a most extraordinary occasion, and we will be taking extraordinary measures. Every one of us will need to do more than what we originally signed up for.” I looked back at Norm. “Thank you, sir.”
I looked over at Colin Powell. “Colin, what readiness state are we at?”
“When this started we were at DEFCON 5. After the second tower was hit, I got a call from Secretary Cheney and we took it to DEFCON 3.”
I nodded. The DEFCONs were Defense Conditions, with 5 being the lowest level — peace and quiet — and 1 being thermonuclear war. To the best of my knowledge, DEFCON 2 was the highest we had ever actually been, and that was during the Cuban Missile Crisis. “Now that the planes are grounded, shouldn’t we be lowering that?” I asked.
“We don’t know if this is the start of something else, maybe some other form of attack,” he answered, holding his ground.
I nodded again. “Okay, that makes sense. I would think we’ll know for sure by noon tomorrow. If nothing happens by then, let’s drop it to DEFCON 4.”
“Agreed.”
“Wouldn’t that be a call for President Bush to make, Mister Vice President?” asked Dick Cheney. He had a belligerent look on his face.
There it was, out in the open. Heads swiveled to face us both. I ignored Cheney for a moment and looked around until I found a Secret Service agent. I motioned him over. “Special Agent, your name please?”
He looked startled at this, since normally they just stand out of sight. “Special Agent Patrick Duvall, sir.”
“Thank you, Special Agent Duvall. Are we in contact with either President Bush or any of the agents assigned to him this morning?”
“No, sir. They all went off the air when the North Tower went down, about 10:28”, he answered.
“And they had not managed to get the President out yet?”
He shook his head. “No, sir. They were trying to figure a way to rig a sling, but the New York City helicopter wasn’t rigged with a winch. They were trying to get something from the Coast Guard when… when…” His face was ashen and he couldn’t finish the statement.
“Thank you, Special Agent Duvall. I am sure your colleagues tried everything,” I told him. I looked around the table. “I think we need to consider the provisions of the 25th Amendment,” I announced.
There was an immediate ruckus at this, and Cheney looked furious. “You can’t do this! He’s not dead!” he roared, effectively silencing the others.
I stayed calm. “I certainly hope he isn’t, but we need to be prepared. Attorney General Ashcroft, could you lend us your expertise?”
“We need to consider Section 4. It was written in case the President suffered a stroke or became incapacitated and couldn’t pass along his powers normally,” he replied. He already had a folded pocket copy of the Constitution before him, and it seemed as if it was open to one of the last pages. “It states that when the Vice President and a majority of the principal officers of the executive departments consider the President to be incapable of his duties, there is a procedure for which the Vice President can be named Acting President.” He read off some of the relevant amendment. “This was passed following the Kennedy assassination, to clarify the succession. We’ve never used Section 4 before, but it would have certainly been used when Wilson had his stroke,” he commented.
“Thank you. John, please clarify the procedure,” I asked.
“Like hell! You will never be President!” declared Cheney. “George was going to get rid of you and name me the Vice President!”
There was a small uproar at that, but I just held my hand up. “Please, let the Attorney General continue.”
John Ashcroft nodded his thanks to me. “When this was written it was envisioned that the principal officers meant the Cabinet. If we vote for this, you only need to win by one vote. Then we inform the President Pro Tempore of the Senate and the Speaker of the House, in writing, and you become the Acting President. You don’t need to be sworn in.”
“Hastert is the Speaker, but who’s the President Pro Tempore of the Senate?” asked Ann Veneman over the phone.
“Robert Byrd,” answered somebody.
Somebody else commented, “He’s still alive?”
Colin Powell took it one step further. “Why are we screwing around? We need to swear you in as President, sir!”
“Damn you! President Bush will be rescued!” exclaimed Cheney.
“Dick, face facts! There is nothing left of the World Trade Center but a pile of rubble. It will take weeks or months to dig it out. Nobody got out of there!” answered Powell.
“You go to hell!” Cheney retorted.