Engagement
The Secretary of Defense smiled and rose to his feet as she came in, but stayed behind his broad, gleaming desk.
“Welcome to my humble abode, Madam Secretary,” he said, his deep voice grating like a rusty hinge.
“Cut the bullcrap, Lonnie,” said the Secretary of State. “We don’t have time for it.”
She walked across the spacious room and dropped with a sigh into one of the massive leather-upholstered armchairs in front of the desk. With a practiced eye she swept the office, taking in the heavy, dark furniture, the bookcases lined with leather-bound volumes that looked as if they’d never been opened, the wall of photographs of the man with his fellow great and powerful ones, the view from the top-floor windows of the city across the Potomac and the spire of the Washington Monument. It was still raining, but there was a hint of late afternoon sunshine breaking through the gray clouds.
“You came alone?” asked Lionel Bakersfield. “Without your usual entourage?” The Secretary of Defense swiveled his plush high-backed chair slightly to and fro. The Secretary of State thought it betrayed a nervousness in him. Bakersfield was wearing a gray three-piece suit that had been hand-tailored for him, although its jacket hung open and his vest was unbuttoned. Even his old-fashioned rep tie had wormed loose from his collar. Sloppy, thought the Secretary of State. The man’s always been a slob, and he’ll never be anything but a slob.
A dangerous slob, though. They had campaigned against each other through the primaries and both lost to the current President. Both of them had been senators before joining their onetime rival’s administration, and senators always thought of presidents as temporary. The President proposes; the Congress disposes: it was a motto that had warmed many a senator’s heart over many, many administrations.
State was still in the pearl gray pant suit and tailored white blouse she had worn earlier. She felt a little grubby, but there had been no time to change.
“Anyone see you coming here?” Defense asked.
She knew he meant news media people. “No. I came in a closed limo. There won’t be any headlines about State visiting the Pentagon, I assure you.”
Defense made a lopsided smile. “And, if I may ask, exactly
God! thought State. The world’s coming to an end and he still can’t get out a single sentence without all his flourishes.
“I want to see a couple of the people on your situation team. That analyst from the NIC and General Scheib.”
Defense’s shaggy brows rose slightly. “I’ll get them up here right away.” He pressed a button on his desktop intercom and gave the order. Then, steepling his fingers as he looked back at State, he asked, “Why those two?”
State was surprised by the directness of his question. Then she thought, He’s trying to shock me into telling him the truth.
It was her turn to smile now. “I need to be brought up to the minute on this missile crisis.”
“Aha.”
“Phone links aren’t good enough. I need to see the players face-to-face.”
“I understand. They’ll be here directly.”
Five levels below the Secretary of Defense’s office, General Scheib frowned at the young tech sergeant who had handed him the message.
“The Secretary of Defense wants to see me in his office,” Scheib announced to the team. Pointing down the table to Jamil he added, “You too.”
Jamil looked shocked. “Me?”
General Higgins grunted. “It doesn’t pay to cross the Secretary of State, kid. She’s probably got the big brass upstairs boiling a pot of oil for you.”
“But we can’t go now!” Jamil said. “The North Koreans will be launching those missiles any minute!”
“Nothing you can do about that,” Higgins said. “You just follow orders, like the rest of us.”
Jamil got to his feet, looking uncertain, fearful. Zuri Coggins went to his side. “I’ll go with you,” she said.
Scheib snapped, “The call was for him and me. Nobody else.”
Eyes blazing, Coggins stood up to the general, even though she was barely the height of his chin. “I represent the National Security Advisor. If there’s going to be any boiling in oil, they’ll have to do it in front of me.”
Scheib actually took a step back from her. Then he shrugged and muttered, “Okay. You explain it to the Secretary, then.”
As the three of them followed the tech sergeant toward the door Higgins called after them, “We’ll try to keep the gooks from launching until after you get back.”
No one laughed. No one even smiled.
Charley had never been so cold and miserable in his whole blessed life. He hadn’t gone more than a dozen steps through the wet, fluffy snow before his shoes were soaked and his feet started to hurt like fire. Doggedly he pushed on, heading back down the road toward the gas station he’d remembered seeing.
The wind was in his face and cutting right through his polyester shell jacket. It had a wool lining, but it felt like nothing more than tissue paper. Charley tugged on the zipper. It was already as high as it could go. He mashed his Seattle Seahawks cap as far down on his head as he could, but his ears were exposed and tingling. Turning, he could barely make out the lines of the van stuck on the roadside.
Come on, Charley, he urged himself. Get moving. The more you move, the warmer you’ll feel. Get that old heart pumping.
Jamming his bare hands into the jacket’s pockets he mushed on, squinting against the snowflakes rushing into his face.
It’s only a couple miles, he told himself. I got to get there before the van runs out of gas. Got to get there before Martha and the kids freeze.
They shouldn’t have blizzards like this in October, he raged to himself. Those science people claim we’re having global warming, for Lord’s sake. This don’t look like global warming to me!
“We’re going to have company!” Colonel Christopher heard the shrill alarm in Captain O’Banion’s voice.
“What is it?” she asked, keeping her voice flat, calm. “Flash from Andrews. Pyongyang just launched a pair of fighters, vectoring straight at us.”
“Fighters?”
“Must be, from their speed.”
Fighters, Christopher thought. From North Korea. Info relayed from Andrews.
“How long ago did they send out the warning?”
