It was a white-knuckle landing onto Interstate 29. Sachs felt Air Force One touch ground only to suddenly lift again and then set down. The pilots immediately threw the thrusters into reverse to try and stop it. But the plane wasn’t slowing down and she couldn’t see outside from the seat with the five-point harness that Captain Li had strapped her into.
“What’s going on?” she asked, her voice shaking as her seat vibrated like an electric chair.
Captain Li put a finger to her earpiece. “There’s a new overpass across the highway that wasn’t on the maps. We had to jump it and now we’re coming up too fast on another one.”
This might be a real short landing, Sachs thought, but she knew that Marshall might launch missiles at any moment. She unbuckled her harness and stood up, her head immediately hitting an overhead bin she hadn’t noticed before. Captain Li was on her feet and right there behind her.
“What are you doing, Madame President?”
Sachs rubbed her head. “Koz can’t wait for us to stop to override Marshall’s launch authority. He’s got to do it now.”
Li didn’t try to stop her, but instead helped her move through the corridor to the battle staff compartment, where Koz and AF1 battle staffers were locked at their stations.
“Koz! We have to stop Marshall now!”
Koz was reading off his operations manual, punching in new authorization codes into the overhead consoles as the plane began to finally slow enough to make Sachs believe they were going to stop safely. “I think I’ve got it!” Koz shouted above the roar of the engines. “Get off this plane, everybody! You too, Madame President.”
She said, “I’m not leaving this plane without you, Koz.”
“Yes, you are,” he said and motioned to Captain Li and two officers, who grabbed her by the arms and began to drag her away.
43
Jennifer backed away from the window as she watched the two Green Berets walk toward the caddyshack. She ran back to the tiny kitchen that in the summer kept the caddies fed between golf rounds. She opened the pantry next to the refrigerator, which was unplugged. She pulled out the empty, removable stacks and shelves and hid them behind the fridge. Finally, she opened the back door a crack, to make it look like she had escaped. Then she hid herself in the bottom half of the pantry, ignoring the rat droppings. With a shiver she closed the door and held her breath in the dark.
She heard the front door rattle. A second later it was kicked open with a loud crash. She gasped and then clapped her hand over her mouth.
She could hear the soldiers check the sliders of the guns with a couple of loud clicks for effect, to signal they were coming after her, hoping she’d make a sound. She sat stone still.
One of the soldiers whispered, “Look.”
They were at the back door.
Jennifer felt a draft as the back door was fully opened.
“Maybe,” said a second voice. “Check it out.”
Jennifer heard the front door open again, hoping against hope they were leaving, when she heard the floor creak inside the kitchen.
Someone was standing directly on the opposite side of the pantry door. The door began to crack open. She was about to scream when the soldier’s radio popped and the door closed.
She heard his gravelly voice say, “Copy that. We’re out of here.”
She listened to his footsteps walking out of the kitchen. Then she heard the front door open and close shut.
A minute later the heavy thuds of the Suburban’s doors closed. The engine roared to life and then faded in the distance as it drove off.
44
Major Banks looked at him blankly inside the battle staff compartment.
“Turn!” Marshall repeated.
Banks turned her key again. Still nothing. “She’s changed the enabling codes!”
Marshall stared at the two launch keys, both turned in their respective launch locks. “Goddamn that Koz!” he said, his nostrils flaring as he exhaled. “I think it’s time we remove the final layer of federal bureaucracy.”
Banks nodded and moved to the consoles. She booted up yet another sabotage program. “Crash and Burn, sir?”
Marshall nodded. “Bye, bye, Miss American Pie.”
Banks pushed the delete button on her terminal.
45
It was as bleak as the late afternoon could get in Drayton, North Dakota, population 913.
Especially after two separate nuclear attacks on America. But Ethel’s Truck Stop Cafe was open for business, as always. The radio by the stove was playing “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” from the old rock group Tears for Fears. Which pretty much summed up the mood at the counter as Ethel with the blue hair poured another cup of coffee to rumpled Joe the truck driver when his cup and saucer started rattling.
Ethel stopped pouring and cocked her ear as she heard an ear-piercing noise outside. She had heard every kind of conceivable aircraft and missile in her lifetime around these parts, and knew it was a 747–200 military converted jumbo jet even before she ran outside and saw it coming straight for the diner.
“Jeez, Louise!” she screamed. “Everybody take cover!”
She ran back inside and ducked behind the counter, staring at Rusty the waitress and poor old Joe who wet his pants. The ground started shaking and plates were falling and crashing on the fverywhere. It sounded like a locomotive was passing straight through the diner.
And then, as suddenly as the roar began, it stopped until there was only the sound of a rolling dish or two breaking.
Ethel cautiously poked her head above the counter and looked out the glass doors as the plane skirted onto the I-29 in three bumps and rolled to a stop about 400 yards from the cafe.
A moment later it exploded into a giant ball of fire and Ethel ducked for cover again as the force smashed the windows, and shards of glass raked the walls like bullets.
