Able One (35 page)

Defense nodded, picturing the speech she would give at the United Nations. A good platform for her, he thought.

“I suppose you’re right,” he conceded.

“Of course I am.” She smiled as she said it, but it was clear that she meant it with all her heart.

Defense said, “Well, you have a lot of work ahead of you.”

“So do you,” State countered.

“Yes, I know. Get a good night’s sleep, my dear. Big day tomorrow.”

And he clicked off the phone connection, carefully replaced the receiver on the console, rolled over, and swiftly fell asleep.

Air Force One

The President was jubilant as he spoke to his wife.

”They loved it,” he said, a big boyish grin splashed across his face. “I told them we shot down those missiles and they loved it!”

The First Lady smiled back at her husband from the screen set into the bulkhead of the plane’s compartment. “Of course they loved it. You showed them that you’re strong, and at the same time you prevented a war from breaking out.”

The President sobered. “The threat isn’t over yet.”

“It’s not?”

Glancing at his chief of staff, sitting out of range of the First Lady’s vision, the President said, “We’re not entirely out of the woods yet. We’ve got to find out who was behind this attack, why they did it, and what they’re after.”

She bit her lip, as she always did when she was unsure of herself. “But you said they got the soldiers who launched the missiles.”

“Yes, but we’ve got to determine what was behind this business. They weren’t acting on their own, you can bet on that.”

“Oh.” Then she brightened. “But you proved to the whole world that we can shoot down any missiles that they fire at us. That’s important, isn’t it?

Norman Foster rolled his eyes to the heavens as the President replied, “We showed we can shoot down two missiles, honey. Russia’s got more than a thousand and China’s not far behind that.”

The First Lady said, “I thought the real problem was unstable countries like North Korea or Iran. And terrorists.”

“That’s the first problem, true enough. But there’s a lot more to worry about, as well.”

Still smiling, she said, “Well, you’ll handle it. You always do. I’m really proud of you, and I know everybody else in the country is, too.”

“Even the Republicans?”

Laughing, she replied, “Even the Republicans. Most of them, anyway.”

They chatted for a few moments more and the President insisted that the First Lady stay in the White House instead of driving out to Andrews Air Force Base to meet his plane when it landed.

“It’ll be nearly dawn when we touch down. You stay with the kids. I’ll sleep on the plane, don’t worry.”

“I miss you, baby,” she said.

“Me too. See you in a few hours, though.”

“Oh!” The First Lady’s eyes went wide with a new thought. “Listen. You ought to invite the crew of that plane to the White House.”

The President scratched at his chin. “Good idea. There’s civilians in the crew, you know. As well as Air Force people.”

“Even better. Congratulate them personally.”

“Right. Good image.” Smiling at his wife, the President said, “Smart idea, honey.”

She beamed back at him. “Good night, Mr. President. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Good night, Mrs. First Lady. I’ll be coming to you.”

Foster put his head down and stared at the deck.

Once the screen went blank, the President turned to his chief of staff. “Sorry if we embarrassed you, Norm.”

Looking up at his chief, Foster put on a smile. “Nothing to it, boss.”

The President started to get out of his seat, but Foster put out a restraining hand.

“It’s late,” the President said. “I need my beauty sleep. There’ll be plenty of news media at Andrews when we land.”

“I just want to ask you to think about where we go from here.”

“Where we go?”

Foster rubbed at his eyes for a moment, then said, “What you were talking about with your wife. We’ve got to find out who was behind this attack and what they’re after.”

Arching a brow at his chief of staff, the President countered, “I would think our first order of business is to get our satellites working again. If we can’t fix ‘em, we’ll have to replace them.”

“That goes without saying.”

“I just said it.”

Foster was obviously not in a joking mood. “Those gook soldiers didn’t pull this stunt for the hell of it. Somebody was behind them. Somebody big.”

“The government in Pyongyang? Are they that crazy?”

“The situation team came up with the possibility that China’s behind it all. That’s what this analyst from the NIC has put together as a scenario--”

“China?”

“The NSA representative on the team agrees with him.”

“China,” the President mused. “But why would they do it? Why would they risk a nuclear confrontation?”

“That’s what we’ve got to find out,” Foster said.

Suddenly breaking into a substantial yawn, the President said, “That’s what we’ve got the intelligence agencies for. And the State Department. Now, I’m sleepy. Let’s pack it in.”

But Foster pressed. “You want to hand this problem to the Secretary of State?”

“And the intel people.”

“It’ll put her smack in the middle of the spotlight, you know.”

At last the President understood his chief of staff’s reluctance. “So she gets the spotlight. Don’t sweat it, Norm. I’ve got the reelection sewed up after this. I’m the president who showed the world we can defend ourselves against missile attack! I’m the president who saved us from a nuclear war! The Republicans don’t have anybody who can come close to beating me.”

“But you’ll be giving her a big boost, you know.”

“What of it? She can’t challenge me next year. And four years after that she’s welcome to run for the top. That’s what she’s been after all along, right?”

“Right.”

“So let her have it. After I’ve finished my second term.” He yawned again. “Now I’m going to bed. G’night, Norm.”

The two men rose to their feet. “Good night, Mr. President,” said Norman Foster.

ABL-1: Crew Compartment

“Christ, I’m pissing blood!” Harry heard Monk’s frightened roar as he sat strapped tightly into his seat in the narrow compartment. Taki Nakamura, facing him, looked startled.

The plane was bouncing, jinking as they bit into the storm clouds. The thumping made Harry’s swollen nose hurt.

“We’ll have a doctor waiting for you when we land, Monk,” Harry shouted, feeling embarrassed, almost ashamed.

“What the hell did you do to him?” Wally Rosenberg asked.

“Kidney punch,” Harry mumbled.

“He break your nose?” Angel Reyes asked.

Harry started to shake his head but winced with pain. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Your eyes are swelling up,” Nakamura said, her face etched with concern.

“Yeah,” said Harry.

Rosenberg chuckled softly. “You’re gonna look great for the photographers, Harry. Two black eyes.” He laughed mockingly.

The plane lurched so badly all four of them clutched their seat arms.

I’ll look great for the photographers, Harry thought. If we land okay. If we don’t go into the drink and drown.

“Got Misawa’s beam,” O’Banion reported.

Colonel Christopher answered, “Great! Pipe it to me.”

She heard the thin, scratchy tone of the airfield’s radio location beam. We can ride in on it, Karen thought. Even if the weather’s zero-zero at the field, we can home in on the beam.

“Getting nasty,” Kaufman said, his voice high, nervous.

“Yeah.”

They were in the storm now, bouncing and lurching in the turbulence of the thick black clouds. Lightning flashed every few seconds. Hold together, baby, Karen crooned silently to the plane. Just a little bit longer. Hold together and we’ll get home. Just a little bit longer.

“What’s the ceiling at Misawa, Jon?” she asked into her lip mike.

“Checking,” Lieutenant Sharmon answered. Then, “Eight hundred and lowering. Raining hard.”

“Obie, get Misawa traffic control and tell them to clear a runway for us.”

“Already did that, Colonel.”

“Good.” We’ll make it, she told herself. But we’ve only got one shot at it. With the condition this bird is in, we won’t be able to go around and try a second approach if we goof the first one. I’ve got to make it on the first approach. Got to.

Missoula Community Hospital, Montana

Charley Ingersoll knew it was bad news when three doctors came into his room with a clerical-collared minister accompanying them. They all looked like they were going to a funeral.

“Martha?” Charley asked before any of them could open their mouths. “My kids?”

“They’re fine,” said the oldest of the doctors. “Really?”

“Really. They’re right here in this hospital, being treated for exposure. But they’ll be released later today and they’ll come to see you.”

Charley was sitting up in bed. One of the IV drips had been removed from his arm, but the other one was still connected. Charley had tried to figure out which of his toes they’d taken off, but he couldn’t tell by wiggling and the bedclothes covered both his bandaged feet.

Suddenly all the breath seemed to gush out of Charley, as if he’d been holding it in for a year. He felt light-headed, like he was drunk or high or something.

“You saved their lives, Mr. Ingersoll,” said one of younger doctors. He didn’t look happy about it, though.

“They’re okay,” Charley said, his voice shaking. “That’s the important thing.”

“The same snowplow that found you picked up your family a little farther up the road,” said the older doctor. “You were semidelirious, but you kept telling the driver that your family was stuck in a snowbank.”

“You saved them,” the other younger doctor said, almost in a whisper.

“Then everything’s okay,” Charley said, hoping it was true.

“Well,” said the older doctor,
“almost
everything is okay.”

“Whattaya mean?”

Looking very unhappy, the doctor explained, “We did some routine tests on the blood samples you gave us--”

“Gave you?” Charley snapped. “I didn’t give you no blood samples.”

“You were unconscious when you were brought in. We took blood samples as a matter of course. Strictly routine.”

“So?”

Glancing at his two younger colleagues, the doctor said, “The routine screening we did indicates that you have . . .uh, cancer.”

“Cancer?” Charley yelped. “Me?”

“Prostate cancer.”

Charley sat there gaping at them.

“It’s apparently in the early stage,” said one of the younger medics. “It’s definitely treatable.”

Charley had heard about prostate cancer. They cut it out of you and then you can’t control your bladder or even get an erection anymore.

The other younger doctor produced a thick sheaf of papers. “These are forms you’ll have to sign.”

“Sign?” Charley echoed.

“For the tests and therapy. Maybe surgery.” He put the wad of papers on the nightstand by Charley’s bed.

The older doctor put on a phony smile. “Well, in an hour or so your wife and children will visit you.”

Then he turned and headed for the door, trailed by the two younger docs.

Charley stared at the minister, who reminded him a little of the pictures he had seen of Jesus: a little bit of a beard, sad, sorrowful eyes. And he remembered when he’d been freezing out in the snow that he’d asked God to save Martha and the kids even if it meant taking him.

“Reverend,” Charley asked, feeling lost and bewildered, “why does God give with one hand and take away with the other?”

The minister shook his head. “The Lord moves in mysterious ways, Mr. Ingersoll. But it’s all for the best, believe me. Trust in the Lord.”

“Yeah,” Charley said. “Sure.”

Washington, D.C.: Jefferson Hotel

The penthouse suite was brightly lit, as if a gala party was to take place there, but the only two people in the spacious sitting room were the Secretary of State and Quang Chuli.

The Chinese businessman appeared to be perfectly at ease as he sat in the plushly upholstered armchair watching the Secretary of State at the bar, pouring herself a glass of wine. It was close to midnight, but he seemed as fresh as ever, wearing the same dark suit he always wore. Does he have a closet full of them? the Secretary of State wondered. It can’t be the same suit.

For her part, State had changed into comfortable peach-colored slacks and a white silk blouse that hung over her hips. She had a long-stemmed glass of California chardonnay in one hand. Quang had politely refused a drink.

“I thought we would toast to avoiding a war,” she said as she settled herself onto the little sofa that faced her visitor.

“I congratulate you,” said Quang equably. “You came through the crisis very well.”

“Have we? Do you mean that the crisis is over?” Quang dipped his chin slightly. “The hard-liners in Beijing are in disgrace. You have proven that you are capable of defending against missile attack.”

“Only two missiles,” said State. “We couldn’t stop a full-scale attack by the People’s Republic.”

“Not yet.”

State blinked at that, her mind rapidly deciding,

He thinks we’re going to increase our missile defenses! He thinks we’re going to build them up so we can stop a Chinese attack. Or a Russian one.

Carefully, she asked, “Do you mean that this was all a test? Nothing more than a test?”

Quang sighed. “Ah, if only the world were that simple, Madam Secretary. Unfortunately, it is not.”

State had no reply. She studied her visitor’s face, trying to fathom what was behind his bland smile, his enigmatic words. It was like trying to get hard data out of the Sphinx.

Sensing her uncertainty, Quang said, “As I have tried to explain to you in the past, the government in Beijing is not monolithic. Far from it. It is a coalition that includes moderates, hard-liners, and even a few farsighted statesmen.”

“Like your brother-in-law,” she murmured.

“The chairman is indeed a farsighted statesman. But he must balance the various forces and attitudes that are present in the Central Committee.”