“Okay.” Seamus swerved his car around into the opposite lane and headed back the way he came. This new assignment called for a course correction.

“Call me the moment you learn anything.”

“I will.”

“And Seamus.” The edge fell out of her voice, but it was replaced by something darker and more urgent. “Understand that this is not just another assignment. You may have done decent reconnaissance work in the Middle East, but this isn’t contingent or theoretical. Those missiles are pointed right down our throats. This threat could bring down the presidency. This threat could take hundreds of thousands of lives and revert the East Coast to the Stone Age.” Her voice dropped another notch. “This could be the end of the United States as you and I know it.”

Agent Zimmer rose to his feet, one hand pressed against his left earpiece. “We’ve lost the connection, sir.”

“Get Zuko back!” the president snapped.

“We didn’t lose him.” After a moment Zimmer added quietly, “He hung up.”

A brief silence ensued as Ben and everyone else in the bunker contemplated the confidence of a man who felt sufficiently secure to hang up on the president of the United States.

“I want him back on the line as soon as possible,” the president said firmly.

“Yes, sir. But Mr. President…” Zimmer pointed toward a screen at the top of the communications station.

They were marking the colonel’s countdown. Time was slipping away, all too fast.

“I know I can make the man see reason,” the president said. “Just get him back on the line.”

“I’ll do my best, sir.” Zimmer sat and returned his attention to the screen.

All at once, the lights and power began to flicker again. The lights shuddered on and off for several seconds, then actually went out altogether.

“What the hell?”

“What’s going on?”

“Who’s in charge here? Is anyone in charge?”

Ben recognized the last voice as Admiral Cartwright’s, but the panic and tumult were becoming so frenzied that after that it was hard to hear anything.

Then the lights came back on. A few moments later, power returned to the communications station and the screens. Ben heard the familiar whirring sound that told him computers were rebooting.

“What just happened?” the president said evenly.

“I don’t know,” Agent Zimmer said, motioning to another agent. “I’m sending people topside to find out.” Two of the agents streamed out the door.

“Aren’t all these power lines secure?”

“They should be, sir. The bunker has its own power conduits, and like the bunker itself, they’re designed to withstand a nuclear blast. Even the EMP from a nearby missile detonation shouldn’t cause more than temporary interference.”

“Find out what’s happening!”

“Already on it.”

“Good.” The president leaned forward, one hand squeezing the bridge of his nose.

Cartwright saw his opening. “Mr. President-”

President Kyler held up his hand, silencing him. “Just give me one damn moment.” He breathed in deeply, then released it, then did it again, then again, each time digging more desperately for air. He began to wheeze. “Doctor?”

Dr. Albertson walked to his side and presented what appeared to be an asthma inhaler. Ben had had no idea the president suffered from asthma. That had never been mentioned during the campaign or, to his knowledge, afterward. How had they kept it a secret? Or was this a symptom that had developed more recently, perhaps another sign of the great strain of the presidency?

President Kyler took two gigantic whiffs from the inhaler. A few moments later his breathing began to normalize.

“Mr. President,” Cartwright launched again, but Kyler waved him away.

“Zimmer,” he said, his voice subdued and remarkably calm, given the circumstances, “I want all the monuments on the National Mall closed. No, on second thought, make that all the monuments in Washington. Close them down and tell the folks to go home.”

“But Mr. President,” Secretary Ruiz objected, “if you do that, it could cause a panic.”

“I’d rather have panic than casualties. Colonel Zuko will be looking for symbolic targets. Dramatic demonstrations of his protest against our way of life. I think there are many in D.C. that would serve his purpose all too well. Close them down.”

Zimmer nodded. “Will do, sir.”

“Send a memo through military channels to other high-profile potential targets on the East Coast. Wall Street. The Statue of Liberty. Disney World. They need to know that today might be a good day to close up shop.”

“ If Wall Street shuts down early-”

“They can come up with some explanation that doesn’t involve a terrorist threat. They’ve done it before.” The president turned toward the communications station, where Zimmer was already hard at work. “Can you get me an update on the people who went down in that helicopter behind the Kuraqi border? I’d like to know if they’ve already been captured. If they’re POWs.”

“And if they are?” Secretary Rybicki asked.

“Then we have an even better excuse to bring our troops across his border.”

“Did you not listen to the man? He’s launching a missile in only a few minutes. If you invade, he’s likely to fire them all.”

“I assure you, Mr. Secretary, that I heard every word Zuko said. And I don’t have time for a review. Ben?”

Ben looked up abruptly. He had become so absorbed in the ongoing drama that he had almost forgotten that he was technically a member of the president’s staff, too.

“Yes, sir?”

“Give me a very quick brief on our international rights with regard to Kuraq. What’s the law? Does he have the right to defend himself in this way? What difference does the presence of our troops make? After all, we’re there with the express permission of a Middle Eastern nation.”

Ben took a deep breath. “As you probably know, sir, what we call international law isn’t really law at all. It is simply a hodgepodge of various conventions and agreements that have arisen over time, starting in the Middle Ages in, ironically, the Middle East. These have established values and procedures over time-but they are hard to enforce with a nonparticipating nation. You can get a judgment in the World Court, but how do you enforce it? You can get a proclamation from the United Nations, but what impact will that have on a nation such as Kuraq, which has refused entry to UN weapons inspectors for the past five years?”

President Kyler nodded grimly. “And I think now we can see why. They’ve been working on something big. Something they didn’t want anyone else to know about.”

“Last I heard, our ships were still waiting outside the twelve-mile limit, in international waters. If they come within twelve miles of the Kuraqi coast, however, we will be violating their territory as defined by the relevant UN charter agreement.”

“But we have the invitation of the Saudi Arabian government.”

“I know. But since when did one nation have the ability to waive the rights of another? Never, I hope. Does Canada have the ability to authorize Kuraq to invade U.S. airspace? I hope not.”

“I see your point. But this is different. Our intelligence data suggest that they plan-may have already begun-the systematic slaughter of the people on the Benzai Strip.”

“Then the appropriate course of action would be to obtain UN authorization. That’s what George Bush did-the first one. The UN Security Council authorized an invasion after Iraq invaded Kuwait. Over three dozen member nations participated, although of course the United States played the primary role.”

“His son didn’t have UN authorization to invade Iraq.”

“No, he didn’t, and partly as a result, his coalition was much feebler and the action never gained worldwide support. Most foreign nations viewed it as a war of aggression, not of liberation.”