“Really?” Rybicki said. “What was the conclusion of the study?”

Cartwright pursed his lips. “That we had a lot of work to do to make this country secure.”

“And was that work done?”

“Some of it. We haven’t had time-” He stopped short. “Well, we haven’t!”

Ben was wishing now he had never spoken. He’d thought it was obvious to everyone already that Zuko had inside information. But it seemed all he had done was magnify the already massive sense of paranoia in the room. In any case, he thought the bunker needed an immediate change of subject before this turned into a bloodbath.

He noticed that Zimmer had stopped talking for a moment, and so he seized the opportunity. “Agent Zimmer, I know you’re busy, but given the exigent circumstances… is it possible I could make a brief phone call to my wife?”

Zimmer shrugged. “The problem is, if I let you make a call, I need to do the same for everyone.”

Ben frowned. Since there were eight people down here, plus the Secret Service agents, and only about ten minutes left on the clock, that was clearly a deal breaker.

“I don’t need to call home,” Cartwright said, to Ben’s surprise. Was he being generous, or did he just consider anyone who wanted to call his wife during a crisis a pantywaist? “My Brenda has been a military wife for thirty-nine years now. She knows the drill.”

They took a quick poll of the room, and as it turned out, Ben, Rybicki, and Sarie were the only ones who wanted to make a call, so Zimmer allowed it, though he limited each call to one minute.

Sarie went first. She looked terrible. Ben wondered whom she had called. She wasn’t currently married, and he didn’t think she was close to any family members. Her work was her life. But there was someone she wanted to talk to before it was too late. She trembled as she spoke, which was more than unfortunate. When you had to get a call completed in one minute, it’s a poor time to develop a stutter.

Secretary Rybicki made a brief call, then it was Ben’s turn. “Remember,” Zimmer said, “you can make no reference to the missile crisis, Colonel Zuko, or anything else that is not currently public knowledge.”

“Understood. One minute.”

Zimmer smiled slightly. “Well, for you, Ben… perhaps I can make it two.”

Zimmer turned his back and took a few steps away, presumably to give Ben a tiny quantum of privacy. Ben quickly dialed Christina’s cell phone.

“How’s my favorite wife?”

“Ben! Oh, my gosh. Is it really you? I’ve been so worried! The news said that the White House might be in danger, then they said there was a gas explosion, but people on the Internet are saying a missile exploded, and I didn’t know where you were or-What happened? Where are you? I went to-”

“Christina, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I only have two minutes.”

“What?”

“I just wanted you to know that I’m safe. I’m still at the White House-sort of-and I’m with the president and we’re all safe. I may not be able to come home for some while, though, so I wanted to assure you that-”

“Oh, my gosh, Ben. They’ve closed all the monuments on the Mall. Something big is going on out there.”

“Yes, I know-”

“What is it?”

“I can’t talk about it.”

“Spoilsport.”

“But I’m safe, honey. And when I get home, I’ll have big news. You’ll never top this.”

“I’ll bet I can.”

Ben felt an irritable gnawing in his stomach. “No, not this time, sweetie. There’s just no-”

“Your mother is going to redecorate the spare room.”

“And you’re telling me this now? When the whole country-”

“Didn’t you say I could decorate the room?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“Good. She has excellent taste. And isn’t family more important than politics?”

“I suppose,” he said. She didn’t need to know how serious this crisis really was.

Out the corner of his eye, Ben saw Zimmer holding up all his fingers. Ten seconds.

“Honey, I have to go now. I just wanted to tell you not to worry. I’m safe. And I love you very much.”

“I love you, too, you goofus. Get your sexy butt home soon.”

Ben flushed and hung up the phone.

When he returned to the conference table, everyone else was engaged in a heated debate.

“We can’t give in to terrorists!” the president insisted.

“We should’ve pulled out of the Middle East a long time ago,” Ruiz said. “Found our energy somewhere else. Let the damn camel jockeys obliterate one another.”

“Look,” Vice President Swinburne said, “I don’t know where you were in your deliberations before I made the scene, so I’ll just jump in-if you don’t mind, Mr. President. I know I’m not technically a member of the cabinet.”

“I always value your opinion, Connie.”

The expressions Ben read on both faces suggested that neither of them believed a word of that statement.

“Then let me be blunt. I think we have to tell our forces to retreat. Get us the hell out of there. Before this countdown runs out.”

The president slowly lowered himself into his own chair. “Are you seriously suggesting that we give in to this terrorist?”

“But he isn’t a terrorist, Roland. He’s the internationally recognized leader of a sovereign nation.”

“He seized power in a bloody coup.”

“That’s ancient history. He is the leader of Kuraq and he has a legitimate beef.” Swinburne spread his hands wide. “Look, I don’t want to see all those people in Benzai slaughtered, either. But if it’s a choice between losing them or losing some of our own people-well, I hope I don’t have to explain what side I come down on.”

“We’re the most respected nation in the world, Connie. We can’t always act in our own interests. We’re citizens of the world.”

Ben could see that Swinburne was becoming agitated. “Then let me put it to you even more bluntly, Roland. Do you have any desire to be reelected?”

“I hardly think this is the time-”

“A poor decision here could tank this administration.”

“That’s my decision to make.”

“And you won’t just be dragging yourself down. I’d like a shot at your job when you’re finished. And that isn’t going to happen if the people learn that you traded American lives for those of some non-Christian foreigners most people haven’t even heard of before!”

“This is a time for cool-headed foreign policy statesmanship, not political maneuvering!” the president shouted.

“This is a time for pragmatism, not boneheaded idealism!” Swinburne shouted back. “And if you won’t do what needs to be done, I will.”

“Over my dead body!”

The vice president looked at him levelly. “I can think of an easier means to get you out of the way than that.”

Seamus called 911, then snapped his cell phone shut. “Come on, kid.”

“Do I have to?”

“You’re not safe here. And I’m not done with you.”

Seamus moved toward the car, but Arlo hesitated.

“What are you waiting for? A papal bull?”

“I just-I-” Arlo shook his shaggy head. “You were seriously harsh with that guy.”

“He’s a terrorist who tried to kill you, kid. Remember?”

“You tortured him!”

“I wouldn’t put it that way. I… persuaded him.”

“You tortured him.”

“Look, he was fading fast, and if I was going to get anything out of him, it was going to have to happen fast. He’s working with people who have pointed our own weapons at us and are threatening to launch them at any minute. I don’t have time to say pretty please.”

“Yeah, I get that, man. I just-I don’t know why you had to go all Gitmo on him.”

“Have you forgotten that this guy came here to kill you?”

“No. But if we start using the same tactics as the bad guys, doesn’t that make us just like the bad guys?”

Seamus swung the car door open. “I don’t have time for a philosophical debate. Get in!”