thirty or more participants and a large video screen on the wall. Mahogany had been the wood surface of choice before the renovation. Now the walls were composed mainly of “whisper” materials.
But tonight the men were not in the main conference room. Nor were they in the president’s briefing room. They were in a small conference room that had two video screens on the wall and a row of world time clocks above. There were chairs for six people.
Only three of them were occupied.
The president’s seat allowed him to look directly at the video screens. To his right was Josh Potter, the national security advisor. To his left was Evan Tucker, head of the CIA.
That was all. The circle of need-to-know was miniscule. But there would be a fourth person joining them in a moment by secure video link. The regular staff in the Situation Room had been walled off from this meeting and the coming communication. There was only one person handling the transmission. And even that person would not be privy to what was said.
The VP would normally have been part of such a meeting. However, if what they were planning went awry, he might be taking over the top spot because the president could very well be impeached. They had to keep him out of the loop. It would be terrible for the country if the president had to leave office. It would be catastrophic if the VP were forced out too. The Constitution dictated that the top spot would then go to the Speaker of the House of Representatives. And no one wanted the head of what could very well be the most dysfunctional group in Washington to be suddenly running the country.
The president cleared his throat and said, “This could be momentous or it could be Armageddon.”
Potter nodded, as did Tucker. The president looked at the CIA head.
“This is rock solid, Evan?”
“Rock solid, sir. In fact, not to toot our horn, but this is the prize for nearly three years of intelligence work with our British friends under the most difficult conditions imaginable. It has, frankly, never been done before.”
The president nodded and looked at the clocks above the screens. He checked his watch against them and made a small adjustment to his own timepiece. It looked as though he had aged five years in the last five minutes. All American presidents had to make many gut-wrenching decisions. In many ways, the demands of the position were simply beyond the ability of a mere mortal to carry them out. But it was one person’s job and that one person had to act.
He let out a long breath and said, “This had better work.”
Potter said, “Agreed, sir.”
“It will work,” insisted Tucker. “And the world will be much better for it.” He added, “I have a professional bucket list, sir, and this is number two on it, right behind Iran. And in some ways, it should be number one on my list.”
Potter said, “Because of the nukes.”
“Of course,” said Tucker. “Iran wants nukes. These assholes already have them. With delivery capabilities that are inching closer and closer to our mainland. Now, if we pull this off, believe me, Tehran will sit up and take notice. Maybe we kill two birds with one stone.”
The president put up a hand. “I know the story, Evan. I’ve read all the briefings. I know what hangs in the balance.”
The screen flickered and a voice came over the speaker system embedded in the wall. “Mr. President, the transmission is ready.”
The president unscrewed the top of a water bottle sitting in front of him and took a long drink. He put the bottle back down. “Do it,” he said curtly.
The screen flickered once more and then came fully to life. They were staring at a man short in stature, in his sixties, with a tanned face, deeply lined. There was a rim of white near his hairline where the cap he normally wore helped to block the sun. But he was not in uniform now. He was dressed in a gray tunic with a high, stiff collar.
He stared directly at them.
Evan Tucker said,
But tonight the men were not in the main conference room. Nor were they in the president’s briefing room. They were in a small conference room that had two video screens on the wall and a row of world time clocks above. There were chairs for six people.
Only three of them were occupied.
The president’s seat allowed him to look directly at the video screens. To his right was Josh Potter, the national security advisor. To his left was Evan Tucker, head of the CIA.
That was all. The circle of need-to-know was miniscule. But there would be a fourth person joining them in a moment by secure video link. The regular staff in the Situation Room had been walled off from this meeting and the coming communication. There was only one person handling the transmission. And even that person would not be privy to what was said.
The VP would normally have been part of such a meeting. However, if what they were planning went awry, he might be taking over the top spot because the president could very well be impeached. They had to keep him out of the loop. It would be terrible for the country if the president had to leave office. It would be catastrophic if the VP were forced out too. The Constitution dictated that the top spot would then go to the Speaker of the House of Representatives. And no one wanted the head of what could very well be the most dysfunctional group in Washington to be suddenly running the country.
The president cleared his throat and said, “This could be momentous or it could be Armageddon.”
Potter nodded, as did Tucker. The president looked at the CIA head.
“This is rock solid, Evan?”
“Rock solid, sir. In fact, not to toot our horn, but this is the prize for nearly three years of intelligence work with our British friends under the most difficult conditions imaginable. It has, frankly, never been done before.”
The president nodded and looked at the clocks above the screens. He checked his watch against them and made a small adjustment to his own timepiece. It looked as though he had aged five years in the last five minutes. All American presidents had to make many gut-wrenching decisions. In many ways, the demands of the position were simply beyond the ability of a mere mortal to carry them out. But it was one person’s job and that one person had to act.
He let out a long breath and said, “This had better work.”
Potter said, “Agreed, sir.”
“It will work,” insisted Tucker. “And the world will be much better for it.” He added, “I have a professional bucket list, sir, and this is number two on it, right behind Iran. And in some ways, it should be number one on my list.”
Potter said, “Because of the nukes.”
“Of course,” said Tucker. “Iran wants nukes. These assholes already have them. With delivery capabilities that are inching closer and closer to our mainland. Now, if we pull this off, believe me, Tehran will sit up and take notice. Maybe we kill two birds with one stone.”
The president put up a hand. “I know the story, Evan. I’ve read all the briefings. I know what hangs in the balance.”
The screen flickered and a voice came over the speaker system embedded in the wall. “Mr. President, the transmission is ready.”
The president unscrewed the top of a water bottle sitting in front of him and took a long drink. He put the bottle back down. “Do it,” he said curtly.
The screen flickered once more and then came fully to life. They were staring at a man short in stature, in his sixties, with a tanned face, deeply lined. There was a rim of white near his hairline where the cap he normally wore helped to block the sun. But he was not in uniform now. He was dressed in a gray tunic with a high, stiff collar.
He stared directly at them.
Evan Tucker said,
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