Page 9 of Air Force One
Then they were through the second equally massive door.
Once inside, everyone ground to a halt. Sarah almost smiled. They were milling around the security foyer like a herd of cats. Even the PEOC’s security guards looked at a loss to explain the sudden influx of personnel into their quiet domain.
“Well?”
Special Agent Kali Singh had been decisive since the moment she took over Sarah’s protection detail—the same day that Roy Cole had nominated her to replace the murdered Vice President. Sarah had liked having Kali—the goddess of time, death, and destruction—protecting her. The woman barely broke five-five but Sarah had watched her take down men twice her bulk on the practice mats—well-trained men. As the daughter of two Marine Corps officers, Sarah knew a top fighter when she met one.
Now, Special Agent Singh looked lost.
“Kali?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Pardon my language but—What the hell?”
“I wish I was knowing, ma’am. We received word that President Roy Cole and General Drake Nason were dead.”
For lack of any chairs, Sarah shoved aside some forms and sat on the head of security’s desk. What it lacked in decorum, it made up for in a welcome solidity that her knees could no longer claim. “And how did we receive this word?”
Kali blushed, her mid-tone skin turning beet red. “I’m told that General Drake Nason reported their deaths.”
“Should I repeat myself?”
“No, ma’am. I fully understand your expletive.” In three years, despite the goddess she’d been named for, Kali had never cursed in her presence. “We are awaiting further information.”
“Has anyone tried calling them?”
“Calling them?”
“They’re on Air Force One together.”
“They are the ones who placed the call.” Kali stopped abruptly. “Yes. That is correct. I am sorry. I was so very focused on moving you to safety. That was my first priority. I was told that General Nason called Miranda Chase with orders to find out who had killed him and the President. I told the agent who overheard the conversation to bring her here immediately, then I moved you to safety. That is all the information I am so far having.”
Any other source, Sarah might laugh off. But Miranda, however convoluted her myriad personality quirks might be, was invariably careful in her communications. Sarah rather hoped that her accuracy was in question.
7
Being the daughter of two Marine Corps officers, Sarah also knew how to choose her priorities and called out orders to Kali as she moved. “If Miranda Chase is en route, make sure they let her in. And, no, I don’t care if we’ve crashed the White House or not—get her inside.”
If she was the last person to talk to Air Force One, Sarah wanted to wring out every detail she could extract.
She barely heard when Kali reported that Air Force One had declared an emergency. No shit, Sherlock.
“Go to COGCON 3.” That would require key government officials to notify the Watch Office of their locations. The first step down from peacetime in the Continuity of Government Readiness Condition scale. But it didn’t feel like enough. “Find Vice President-elect Crawford and the Speaker of the House, make sure they are both safe and separately well away from here. Do not go to COGCON 2, we don’t want to cause a panic until we know more.” DC newsies would recognize an evacuation of Congress, the Supreme Court, and the White House. It would be splashed on every screen in the country within minutes.
That took care of the civilian government, not the military.
“Go to DEFCON 4. Get General Elizabeth Gray-Nason on the line ASAP.” Elizabeth had hyphenated her last name at Sarah’s suggestion, because Sarah was tired of mixing up communications between the two General Nason’s. “Better yet, get her here as well. I need her advice on whether we go to DEFCON 3.”
Sarah had to stop and double check her memory that she got it right. Why couldn’t they have numbered COGCON and the military’s Defense Readiness Condition with the same scale?
She waved Kali away and stepped into the President’s PEOC office. There was no time for slow approaches or personal fears now; she dropped into the President’s chair, waved for Felicia to close the door, and tapped the intercom key. “Get me a direct line to Air Force One. Preferably the President.”
The Marine Corps officers that the National Security Council placed to monitor the Situation Room and the PEOC swung into action. While she waited she stared at the blank white walls of the rectangular room. Her desk sat at one end, facing a small group of chairs and a bank of monitors. In the middle stood a conference table with ten chairs and at the far end, a podium with the Presidential seal on it. Behind it was a dark blue velvet curtain and in front a pair of video cameras for addressing the nation. She definitely wouldn’t be doing that.
Sarah managed not to cry out with relief when she heard Roy Cole’s voice sound over the phone less than thirty seconds later. “In my chair yet, Sarah?”
“Not the one upstairs, but I am in PEOC. It’s not as comfortable as I’d imagined. But it’s very good to hear your voice.”
