“How is that possible?”

The president’s shoulders rose and fell. “This is speculation, but our techies believe it must be equipped with some sort of cloaking device.”

“Cloaking device? I’ve never heard of that.”

“Sounds vaguely familiar, though,” Cartwright mused. “Have I heard about that at a briefing? Maybe related to the hypersonic attack missile project? Or from the papers on the planned orbiting antiballistic missile laser?”

“Star Trek,” Ben said softly.

“What?” Every head in the room turned his way, and Ben wished, not for the first time that day, that he had kept his mouth shut.

“That’s where you’ve heard the term. The Romulans had them on Star Trek. Cloaking devices. Made a ship invisible to another ship’s sensors.”

“But that’s poppycock!” Cartwright sputtered.

“Unfortunately,” President Kyler said, “whatever it is these people have, it’s all too real. And all too effective.”

“Isn’t there something we can do?” Rybicki asked.

“Believe me, we’re working on it. But so far we’ve been unable to get the invader out of the system. Or to detect the cause of the invasion.”

“How extensive is it?”

“We know they control the Vernon missile silo-the one closest to the White House. They’ve blocked us out of the whole control system.”

“Can we depower the system? Take them offline? Or drain the missiles of their fuel?”

“Unfortunately, the invaders are also capable of igniting that fuel and have sent an email indicating that they will if we attempt to drain or depower the missiles. Those missiles use RP-seven fuel. It burns at about five thousand degrees Fahrenheit. In other words, if it’s exploded, it will do almost as much damage as if they had fired the missiles.”

“How is this possible?”

“Whatever these people have, it appears to be at least two, three years down the technological line from anything we’ve developed.”

“So in effect, someone else is controlling our military weaponry,” Cartwright said.

“To the extent that our weaponry is controlled by computer, yes. But not the entire arsenal. Only a small portion of the missiles located on the East Coast. And none of them is believed to be a nuclear weapon.”

“So what is this small portion of non-nuclear missiles capable of doing?”

“As I understand it,” the president said grimly, “they could take out about half of the population of the East Coast.” He paused. “Some of the most densely inhabited parts of the United States.”

Secretary Rybicki jumped in. “This is unacceptable.”

“I agree,” President Kyler said firmly. Ben admired his steady resolve in the face of a major crisis. He was the absolute antithesis of the man Ben had witnessed only a few minutes before, the one who’d been singing about a hole in a bucket. “We’re exploring all possible options. And our intelligence forces are attempting to find out who’s behind it. In the meantime-”

“Mr. President!”

Kyler jerked his head around, his eyes fierce. It was just possible he had been interrupted one time too often.

“My apologies,” Agent Zimmer said. “But I thought you’d want to know this.”

“Well, what is it, then?”

Zimmer cleared his throat. “We have Colonel Zuko on the phone.”

Kyler’s eyes widened. “Thank God. How did you track him down?”

“To tell you the truth, sir, he called you.”

“What? But how-why-”

“He says he wants to talk to you.” Zimmer paused. His voice deepened. “He also says he wants to know how you enjoyed the gift he sent you. The one he had delivered to the Potomac.”

Ben felt a thudding in the pit of his stomach. So it was true. Kuraq-and its military dictator-were behind the attack. How else could Colonel Zuko have known?

“How did he get this number?” President Kyler whispered. He looked as if he had had the wind knocked out of his sails.

“I don’t know, sir,” Zimmer replied. “But I imagine that would be substantially simpler than infiltrating our military defense computers.”

“Good point. Can I take it in the briefing room?”

“Sorry, sir. The only phones are here. At the communications station.”

Kyler grimaced. “Put it on speaker.”

Zimmer nodded and pushed a button.

Ben knew Zuko had been educated at Western universities, and the combination of the elevated British accent and the clipped Middle Eastern tones was unsettling, particularly coming from a voice that seemed permeated by false congeniality.

“Good morning!” the voice over the intercom boomed, with such ebullience you might have thought it was coming from one of the president’s long-lost friends. “How are you, my American counterpart? Are you enjoying your life underground? And did you like your present?”

In this instance, the president’s unflappability was perhaps the only thing that kept most of the people in the room from descending into total panic. “I take it that you are claiming credit for the firing of a short-range missile into the Potomac.”

“My dear Mr. President,” the dictator said, “I take credit because it was I who did it, with the assistance of my scholars and advisors. Isn’t it amazing, the technological advances that are coming from… what is it you like to call us? The third world? Maybe it is time we were promoted.” The colonel chuckled, a bone-chilling laugh that had no mirth in it. “Perhaps it is you who represents the third world. Or the fourth. Possibly the fifth.”

“Colonel Zuko,” the president responded, “we have reason to believe that you have knowingly and purposely interfered with our defense computer networks. I am formally demanding that you cease and desist all interference immediately.”

“But my dear Mr. President, you are not in any position to make demands. So long as we control your missile systems, we can send a weapon to destroy any target in the eastern United States within five minutes.” He paused, and when his voice returned, it was slower, heavier, and absent the false amiability. “From here on out, it is I who will be making the demands.”

“We’ll find your satellite eventually,” the president said.

“Perhaps yes, perhaps no. But I believe time is on my side. You can rattle your sabers and desperately run about trying to catch up to me. In the meantime, I can destroy your people simply by making a phone call.”

“My people tell me that your control is spotty and inconsistent. You may be able to launch a few missiles, but certainly not all.”

“Mr. President, how many missiles do you think I need to bring your puny nation to its knees?”

The president’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You are the new Hitler.”

“Hitler? You self-righteous fool. Perhaps you should ask your secretary of defense to give you a history lesson when we are done talking. I understand he is a student of history. I am no Hitler, my friend. I’m the new George Washington. I am a freedom fighter. Everything I do is to free my people, to cast off the yoke of the bully tyrant nation that attempts to control us and treat us like slaves.”

“That’s absurd. We never-”

“Do not attempt to persuade me with your ethnocentric view of the world. The American oppressor interfered in the Middle East for fifty years, and now you are planning to bring your oppression to my country. I will not sit idly by and let my nation become the next Iraq. We will fight. I have a duty to my people.”

“You weren’t even elected by the people. You took over by military force.”

“And if I recall correctly, there was much military force involved in the formation of your own country, true? Of course there was. But I did not call to debate history. You have declared war on my nation. And this is a war I intend to win.”

“We never declared war on Kuraq.”

“Your troops are just outside our gates! I can see them now on our radar. Do you expect me to wait until it’s too late to respond? I will not.”