“And?”

Zimmer paused only a few seconds before answering, but it seemed an eternity. “A missile has been launched.”

“Do you know where it’s going?”

Zimmer was still listening to his intel source in one ear. “I’m afraid I do, sir. It has almost arrived.”

“And?”

“And… it couldn’t possibly be any worse.”

The president pressed his fingers against his temples. “Just spit it out, man.”

And then Zimmer told them.

“Oh, my God. Oh, my dear God. Not that. Anything but that!”

Seamus pulled his car over to the side of the street and stared at the vast destruction before him. Even at this distance it was impossible to miss the devastation that lay before him.

He had seen the missile strike. He had spotted it when it was on its way, quickly found a good vantage point, and parked the car. Arlo stayed inside. Just as well. He might want to tuck his head under his hands, for that matter. Seamus wouldn’t blame him. No one needed to see this. He had seen missiles strike before, but this was different. This was not out in the barren, mostly unpopulated desert.

This missile struck at home.

The targeting was perfect. He had to give the terrorists-or perhaps their computer guru-credit for that. It struck dead on the roof of the Jefferson Memorial and instantaneously exploded it into billions of pieces. In less than the blink of an eye it was transformed from a marble masterpiece of neoclassical architecture to a field of rubble.

Chunks of marble and metal flew through the air in a grotesque pyrotechnic display. Seamus saw large chunks splash into the Tidal Basin Memorial. He saw another large piece crash down on the rooftop of the George Mason Memorial. No telling what damage that might have done, not to mention what treasures might have been destroyed.

Fortunately, as far as he could tell, all the tourists had been evacuated in time. Maybe Zira was right and they really could clear the area in seven minutes. He hoped so. He didn’t see how anyone in the immediate vicinity could have survived. If the explosion hadn’t killed them, the flying rubble surely would.

Seamus pulled a pair of binoculars out of the trunk of his car, but it was almost impossible to see anything. The billowing smoke and ash and fire rendered Seamus unable to get a clear view. All he really got was a portrait of devastation. A bleak landscape. A barren wasteland.

He had seen this before, possibly even seen it worse. But that had always been somewhere else. This was the first, the only time he had seen it on U.S. soil.

He heard the shuffling of Arlo’s feet behind him. “You should stay in the car,” Seamus told him.

Arlo didn’t listen. “Jesus. Is that-the Mall?”

Seamus compressed his lips. “What’s left of it.”

“They did it. They really did it.”

“They really did.”

“Is it over?”

Seamus shook his head. His upper lip began to curl. “No. If they were willing to do this, they won’t stop now. Zuko knows he’s going to be the pariah of the world community. He doesn’t care.”

“What does he want?”

“I don’t know. What does it matter? Every terrorist wants something. The important question is, how do we stop him?”

“What are you-” Arlo lurched into a coughing jag. The smoke had made it into his lungs. It was becoming difficult to breathe.

“Let’s get out of here,” Seamus said. They crawled back into the car. He started it up and headed in the opposite direction.

Behind them, the sky looked as if an enormous hand had reached down and ripped a swath out of the heavens. It was devoid of birds, of clouds, of any signs of life or beauty. Now it was only fire and ash. One of the key symbols of democracy, of the great truism that all people are created equal, was no more.

When Arlo spoke again, his voice was hoarse. “What are you going to do next?”

“Isn’t it obvious, kid?” Seamus gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. “I’m going to stop the bastards who just blew up my favorite memorial.”

The president slowly lowered himself into his seat. The formerly bickering room became silent, motionless. The giddy, infantile exuberance of only a few minutes earlier seemed completely replaced by the grave despondency of a leader who realizes a tragedy has just befallen his nation.

And, Ben imagined, who realizes that he might have prevented it.

Ben kept his eyes focused on Zimmer. At this moment, the Secret Service agent knew more about what was going on out in the world than anyone else in the room.

“I want updates in real time,” President Kyler said to Zimmer. “I want to know what you know, when you know it.”

“Yes, sir.” Zimmer covered the mouthpiece. “The reports are coming in slowly. Our people got out of there in time, but I’m getting intel from two agents in helicopters.”

“And?”

“It isn’t good, sir.”

“Just tell me, damn it, and stow the commentary.”

“Yes, sir.” As always, even in the face of presidential wrath, Zimmer remained totally implacable. “The Jefferson Memorial has been obliterated. It’s gone. Chunks of white marble are scattered across the Mall. We don’t know of anyone who was still in the building-but we can’t rule out the possibility.”

“Understood. The target was destroyed. Collateral damage?”

“I would imagine quite a bit, sir, given that the Jefferson Memorial was just struck by a ballistic missile. We can assume damage all across the area, all the buildings, monuments, statues, everything. There’s still a lot of smoke and dust, hampering visibility, but I think we can assume that our men will find considerably more damage with time.”

“Tell me about people,” the president said softly.

“I’ve also got a report that the Metro is down,” Zimmer continued, and Ben wasn’t sure if this was supposed to be an answer to the question, the one on everyone’s mind. “Apparently the station closest to the detonation has collapsed. There was no train in the station, but no trains can get through there, either, so the line is effectively disabled. It probably shouldn’t be run until we’ve had a chance to get structural engineers out to check over the entire system. There’s no telling where the foundations might have been weakened.”

“People,” the president said, with a little more force than before. “Tell me about people.”

Zimmer took a deep breath, then continued. “We had begun the evacuation of the National Mall before the missile struck. Theoretically, there should have been enough time to complete it. We don’t know of any casualties there or anywhere else in the vicinity.” He paused.

“But?” the president said. “I sense we are coming to a but.”

Zimmer sighed heavily. “But there is no way I can guarantee no one was in that building or any other structure in the area. I can’t guarantee no one was in the Metro station. There’s no way of knowing what the shock waves from the explosion might have done in the surrounding area.”

“Numbers, Zimmer. I need numbers.”

“I don’t have them, Mr. President. But I would be astonished if there were not a casualty somewhere. Probably… several.”

“Damn,” the president said. His fist tightened. “Damn. On my watch.”

“This might not be a welcome comment, sir…”

“No, go ahead. You’ve earned the right.”

“I know you think Colonel Zuko is a madman. But the truth is, he chose a target that was largely symbolic-not all that lethal. He probably knew we were evacuating the Mall. If he’d wanted to take lives, he could have sent the missile elsewhere.”