Agent Zimmer entered from a side door not far from the presidential seal. “Please take your seats.”

Everyone complied. Sarie took the seat nearest the coffee and poured herself a tall one. Ben knew she was a coffee junkie. He drank the stuff on occasion to make a good show, but in the privacy of his office, he always preferred a cup of chocolate milk. Cartwright was still grumpy, so Ben stayed out of his way.

“Welcome to the PEOC,” Zimmer continued.

“The what?” Ben said, apparently too loudly.

Zimmer smiled slightly. “You’re not the only one who doesn’t know, Ben. I guarantee it. Dick Cheney said he didn’t even know this place existed until we brought him here on September eleventh. PEOC stands for the Presidential Emergency Operations Center. It’s an underground bunker buried deep in the basement beneath the East Wing of the White House. It’s designed to withstand a nuclear attack.”

Ben swallowed. “Then you believe-”

“We do not at this time believe there is a nuclear threat, no. But with an extremely powerful conventional missile in the air and a nuclear suitcase gone missing, this seemed the most prudent response.”

“How long are we going to be here?” Ben asked.

“I have no way of knowing the answer to that question.”

“Can I call my wife?”

“Not at this time, no. This bunker is shielded so intensely that ordinary cell signals cannot get out. The only way to make contact with the outside world is through this communications station. I’ll let you know as soon as that situation changes.”

“Enough of this blather,” Admiral Cartwright said. “Tell us what’s going on. What’s this about one of our own missiles heading toward the White House?”

“I’m sorry. I’m not at liberty to disclose that information.”

“Do you know who I am, mister? I’m the head of the-”

“Yes, sir, I know very well who you are,” Zimmer said without blinking. “And that information still can only be disclosed on the president’s direct order.”

“What about me?” Ruiz asked. “I’m the secretary of state. Can you tell me?”

“Not at this time.”

“If you can’t tell me, whom can you tell?”

“The president is being briefed. After that’s completed, he can make a determination about what information he wants released and to whom.”

“Are you listening to me? I’m the secretary of state!”

“Yes,” Agent Zimmer said, absolutely stone-faced. “I knew that already. I also know that your wife’s name is Marjorie, that you have two daughters named Olivia and Danette, you keep a bull pup named Tiger, you graduated eighty-sixth in your class at West Point, and your favorite book is Pride and Prejudice.” He paused. “I really don’t need a briefing on who you are. But thank you anyway.”

Ruiz sat back in his chair, apparently chastised.

“Does anyone else require identification, or may I proceed?” Zimmer was looking directly at Cartwright as he said it.

Cartwright mumbled, “Proceed,” then he turned toward Ruiz, eyebrows knitted. “Pride and Prejudice?” he whispered. “That’s not a man’s book.”

“Have you read it?” Ruiz shot back.

“Well…”

“So shut up.”

Secretary Rybicki leaned forward. “Can you at least tell us if this is about Kuraq?”

“No,” Zimmer said, “I can’t even tell you-”

All at once, the lights in the room shimmered on and off. Someone shrieked, startled. Ben noticed that the power to the monitor and communications panel flickered off as well.

“What was that?” Cartwright demanded.

Zimmer’s face barely changed, but it was enough for Ben to be concerned. “I don’t know. I’ll investigate.”

“Damn it all, man, are we safe or not?” Cartwright said, rising to his feet. What he lacked in height he made up for in bluster. “Can they get to us?”

“Nothing can get to you in this bunker.”

“Apparently something is shorting out the electrics!”

“I wouldn’t jump to that conclusion. Power blips happen, even in the White House.”

“Don’t give me your flippant speculation. I want facts.”

“Then give me a chance to investigate,” Zimmer said, with just enough edge to get his point across. Cartwright sat down.

Ben found himself admiring Zimmer even more than he had before.

Zimmer moved to the communications station and talked to someone on the other end. Ben tried to eavesdrop but the chatter was too soft and too fast.

Sarie’s brassy southern drawl interrupted his reverie. “Somehow this wasn’t what I had in mind when I decided to go into politics.”

Ben nodded. “Wasn’t exactly what I was thinking when I went to law school.”

“I’ll bet you went to law school with grandiose notions of saving the world and helping those less fortunate than yourself.”

Ben shrugged. “Mostly I just wanted to irritate my father.”

Sarie laughed a little, which did a good deal to elevate his spirits. “Come to think of it, I think that was why I married my first husband.”

Zimmer returned to the table. “I have news,” he said. His eyes seemed to focus on the center of the table. “The missile just went down into the Potomac.”

Several jaws dropped. The silence spoke volumes. Ben knew what he was thinking, what they were all thinking. It really happened. It really happened.

“It exploded underwater. We don’t know of any casualties. At least not at this time. But as I’m sure you’re all aware… the Potomac is not far away.”

“How could this happen?” Sarie said quietly. “It’s impossible. Impossible.”

“Apparently not,” Ben replied quietly.

“We believe it was a theater ballistic missile-a short-range missile, basically. Range between three hundred and about thirty-five hundred kilometers. So called because it’s designed to be used against nearby targets-within the theater, so to speak. Although the warhead is capable of carrying a nuclear or even biological payload, this one, happily, did not.”

“But the next one might,” Cartwright spat out.

Zimmer ignored him. “That power blip was likely an EMP-electromagnetic pulse-from the explosion. It’s an electrical disruption that often follows a major detonation, even one non-nuclear in origin.”

“I still want to know what this is all about!” Cartwright said. “Is it Kuraq? Is that who’s doing this?”

“Sir,” Zimmer said, “I already told you I’m not authorized to-”

“Well, I am.” Behind him, Ben saw the president entering the room. Dr. Albertson followed just behind him.

Everyone began to rise, but he waved them back into their chairs. “Please remain seated. Is everyone comfortable? I mean, within reason, given the circumstances. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“You can tell us what the hell is going on,” Cartwright barked. “You’re the president, not a damned flight attendant.”

President Kyler gave him a patient, long-suffering look. “Can someone get me some coffee?”

“I’ll do it,” Zimmer said quickly. Ben was surprised to see a senior Secret Service agent fetching coffee, but he supposed it was a security measure.

The president took a sip of the hot coffee and then answered the admiral’s question. “Unfortunately, Admiral, I don’t know much more about the situation than you do. No one has claimed credit for the attack. We’ve been attempting to contact Colonel Zuko, but as you may be able to discern, he doesn’t always take my calls.”

“How are they doing this?” Secretary Ruiz asked.

“Somehow the enemy has managed to infiltrate our national defense computer systems. We’re not sure how. We believe they may have a high-tech satellite-maybe even something as low-riding as a dirigible-capable of penetrating our networks. But that’s speculation. Truth is, the only reason we suspect this…” He paused before continuing. “Is because we’ve been working on something like it ourselves.”

“Don’t we have antisatellite weaponry? Isn’t that what Sky King does?”

“It has been unable to locate the satellite. Or whatever it is.”