on I-70. It would appear that there were six terrorists in this assault, an usually brazen attack, with, presumably, two men still inside with hostages.”
At the moment Megyn made her final comment, the picture being broadcast of the mall parking lot and entrance erupted in a large explosion, smoke and flames pouring out of the mall entrance, reaching the closest police vehicles. Megyn was standing about sixty yards away and the picture of the scene skewed violently as the helicopter carrying the camera veered away from the rising blast, steadying several seconds later as the pilot gained control.
“Are you still with us, Megyn?” Shep said, his voice rising.
With a shaky picture, the camera again focused on the disheveled reporter, her hair and clothing in disarray. “I’m here, Shep,” she said, regaining control. “There has been an explosion. Someone inside the mall has triggered a bomb and one can only imagine that those closest to the blast have been severely injured. We could see at least a dozen or more people seated around the planter inside the front door. Hold it, Shep,” she said, even more intense. “The police are rushing the front door. SWAT is storming the entrance, Shep.”
Senator Rachel McKenzie and her mother stood transfixed in the Marriott Hotel as they watched the dramatic scene play out in front of their eyes. Rachel stepped outside into the foyer and motioned to the officer who had spoken to them.
“Officer, I want to go to my local office. I won’t be returning to Washington today. Can you arrange that?”
“Yes, ma’am. The van is arriving now. If you would like to come with me, we’ll see that you and your party are transported safely.”
By 1:30 PM, just under 300 city and county managers had reconvened in the Grand Ballroom where the mayor of Kansas City was to address them. The remaining seventy-seven registered attendees had presumably remained in the lounge or their rooms, watching the horrific event unfold on their televisions. At 1:36, just as the deputy mayor was advising the attendees that the mayor had been called away to deal with the terrible developing disaster in Overland Park, the first explosion erupted in the room, midway through the seated crowd. Over the next four minutes, three other explosions blasted various areas of the Marriott Hotel, including the lounge, the main foyer, and the circular entrance to the hotel, bringing down the overhanging balcony and balustrade. Over 175 people died in what became known as the Kansas City Massacre and made news headlines around the world.
In Tel Aviv, two cabinet ministers seated in a local cafe watched CNN coverage when one remarked, “I wonder if American politicians will ask themselves to use restraint in their response as they have always asked us to tread lightly.”
“One thing is for certain,” his companion replied, “they can no longer be neutral.”
It was 2:54 PM in San Antonio, Texas.
Rachel’s cell phone rang just as she entered her private office in downtown Kansas City. Her staff was absent, other than a couple of key members who were present during the ICMA speech.
“Senator McKenzie,” she answered.
“Rachel, it’s Pug.”
“Pug, I didn’t recognize the number.”
“I’m calling from the anteroom outside the Oval Office. I’m about to speak with the president.” He paused. “Rachel, I’m so thankful to hear your voice. I knew you were speaking at the Marriott this morning.”
“I left about an hour before the explosion.”
“Are you staying to see what you can do?”
“I am. Don’t know when I’ll return.”
“May I call you again?” Pug asked.
“I’d be grateful, Pug. And thank you.”
“I’d better go. The president will be available in a moment. Stay safe, Rachel, and give your mother my regards.”
“Pug,” Rachel said.
“Yes?”
“I’ll probably be back mid-week, perhaps a few days later. Will you do something for me?”
“Anything I can, Rachel, you know that.”
“Will you meet me at the airport? I… I just…”
“Let me know when. I’ll be there, Rachel, and thank you,” Pug replied.
As he ended the call, the door to the Oval Office opened and FBI Director Granata exited, nodding to Pug as he left. The president’s secretary stepped toward Pug.
“General, the president can see you now. He has three minutes before his next meeting.”
“Hopefully I’ll need less than two. Thank you.” Pug stepped into the office and stood before the president’s desk. President Snow said a few quick words into the phone and hung up. “Pug, this has not been a good day.”
“No, sir. Mr. President, I just spoke with Senator McKenzie. She delivered an address at the Kansas City Marriott this morning, but was out of the hotel about an hour before the explosion. She is safe and in her local office.”
The president just nodded. “I’m a bit rushed, Pug. I presume you’re looking for a Troy designation for this event today?”
“Yes, sir. At the moment, the Kansas Highway Patrol and Kansas City police are still pursuing the terrorists west on I-70. The police are not equipped or trained to deal with this type of emergency or this type of enemy, Mr. President. They will continue to pursue until they can contain the situation. The terrorists will seek additional hostages somewhere and more people will die.”
“What do you recommend?”
“Mr. President, I want to get an Army Blackhawk up from Fort Leavenworth, block the interstate in both directions, and take this vehicle out as if it were an enemy troop transport. This is a military enemy, Mr. President. We have ample means to stop them, but we need your approval, or a Troy designation, following which I will issue the authority to fire on the vehicle.”
The president observed Pug for several seconds and then voiced his approval. “Jennie will have your written Troy designation in hand in five minutes. Just wait for it by her desk. And Pug, General Austin trained you well. Such situations permit no equivocation. You’re the right man in the right place.”
“I’ll see to the Army, Mr. President. Thank you, sir.”
Chapter 32
Strategic Initiatives
Washington, D.C.
June
John Harford’s office at Strategic Initiatives was busier than usual, with multiple people, including many in uniform, coming and going. It had been like that since Saturday afternoon, after the first episode in Kansas City. By Monday, the bee hive of activity had not settled down.
“Senator Winchester, thank you for coming to see me this afternoon. I know that your Mondays are very busy, but this is highly important. It’s been a terrible weekend for America,” John Harford said, taking a seat next to the senator from Connecticut.
For the past forty-eight hours, every major news station had run the endless, repetitive loop of the Kansas City bombing, and with live coverage, the Fox News helicopter had been on scene about seventy-five miles west of Kansas City on I-70 when the Army Blackhawk helicopter had fired a missile at the black van as it raced along the interstate. Only one occupant had survived and he did not last through the trip to the hospital.
Coverage of the San Antonio intervention was, of course, less dramatic, since only six terrorists and one Strategic Initiatives trooper had been killed. Still, high praise was voiced from all quarters on the successful event, and when SI released the film clip from the Predator drone that had initially spotted the six men outside of San
