their border.”
“Chongjin,” Defense murmured.
State turned toward him with a questioning look.
“The Korean War. China came in when our troops approached the Yalu River, the border between Korea and China.” Defense looked suddenly old and frightened, his liver-spotted face gray.
Coggins stepped up beside Jamil. “For what it’s worth, I think this scenario makes sense.”
“And the President’s been apprised of all this?” State asked.
Coggins replied, “I’ve spoken to my boss, the National Security Advisor, personally. He’s contacted the President’s chief of staff out in San Francisco.”
Impatiently, General Scheib said, “Whatever scenario you want to believe, we’ve got the airborne laser approaching the North Korean coast and the gooks about to launch their missiles. I ought to be down in the situation room.”
“Yes, you should,” Defense said. With a wave of one hand he commanded, “Get down to your post. I only hope to God Almighty your people can shoot those damned missiles out of the sky.”
Zuri Coggins realized that General Scheib was terribly tense. Despite the cool appearance he was trying to project, she could see that the general was boiling inside. As the elevator stopped at every floor and people got on and off, Scheib nervously jabbed repeatedly at the button for the basement level even before the elevator doors could close. “Come on, come on,” he kept muttering. Jamil, standing beside her in the back of the elevator cab, half-whispered, “Thanks for backing me up in there.”
He looked weary, spent, close to exhaustion.
“I think you’ve got it right,” she told the analyst, also speaking in a near whisper.
“I thought she called me up there to fry my butt,” Jamil confessed.
Coggins said, “Speak truth to power.”
“And get your head chopped off.”
She nearly laughed. “This isn’t Iran, Mr. Jamil. We don’t hack people’s heads off.”
His eyes narrowed. “You assume I’m a Muslim, don’t you?” Before she could answer, Jamil stated, “My family’s been Christian since the Middle Ages. That’s one of the reasons my father left Lebanon.”
“I see,” said Coggins. She debated telling him, then decided it would do no harm. “I
She thought that if the situation weren’t so desperately deadly the stunned look on Jamil’s face would have been hilarious.
The Secretary of Defense leaned back in his plush swivel chair and eyed the Secretary of State closely. She seemed lost in thought, sitting in the big leather armchair, her eyes turned toward the windows but obviously seeing something other than the view out there.
He lied to me, State was thinking. Quang told me China had no intention of attacking the United States, but if what this analyst says is true, then China’s actually behind the North Korean attack. Quang lied. After all these years, he lied to me. How long have the Chinese been preparing for this moment?
“Well?” Defense rumbled, tired of the silence. “What do you think you’ve accomplished?”
State stirred herself out of her private thoughts. She blinked once at the man behind the big ornate desk.
“Do you believe him?”
“Who? That kid?”
“He’s a first-rate analyst with the National Intelligence Council. I had my people check him out after we spoke together on the phone earlier today.”
“If he’s right, we’re in deep shit,” said Defense. “Whatever we do, we’re in for it.”
Strangely, State smiled. Defense had seen that smile before. It usually preceded a beheading.
“I read somewhere,” State said slowly, “that the Chinese symbol for crisis is a combination of two other symbols: one for danger, the other for opportunity.”
“Opportunity?”
“The President has handled this crisis badly, going off to San Francisco to show what a macho strongman he is.”
Wondering where she was heading, Defense chose his words carefully. “If that kid is right and San Francisco is nuked…”
“Parkinson becomes President.”
Defense huffed. “He’s a horse’s ass.”
“Yes, isn’t he?”
“I had him bundled off to the National Redoubt this morning, when this missile business came up.”
“So he’s safe.”
Defense nodded and muttered, “Too bad.”
“Not at all,” State countered. “You wouldn’t want the Speaker of the House to be President, would you?”
“God, no!”
“Parkinson can be handled. He can be led.”
“By you?”
“By us,” State replied, her smile widening. “We can form a sort of committee.”
“A triumvirate. Like in ancient Rome, after Julius Caesar’s assassination.” And he remembered from history that the triumvirate quickly broke apart as Octavian bested the other two and made himself Rome’s first emperor, Augustus Caesar.
State nodded absently, her mind already obviously looking ahead. “If the President dies in a nuclear attack on San Francisco—”
“Parkinson wouldn’t have the guts to order a counterstrike on North Korea.”
“I think you’re wrong, Lonnie.”
My name’s Lionel and she knows it, Defense growled inwardly. But he kept his pique off his face and asked innocently, “Wrong?”
“I think we can get Parkinson to give the attack order while he’s right there in the National Redoubt, snug and safe from attack. I think I could convince him.”
Defense shook his head. “So we clobber North Korea. And the Chinese clobber us.”
“No, Lonnie, you don’t understand,” State said. “We hit China right away with a preemptive strike. Cripple their missile forces so they can’t hurt us too much.
Defense stared at her. She was still smiling, as if she were talking about rearranging the flowers on a banquet table.
“The fallout will drift over Japan,” he muttered.
The Secretary of State’s smile did not diminish by a single millimeter. “Regrettable,” she said. “But one of the ancillary benefits will be to remove both China
Defense realized what her smile reminded him of: a rattlesnake, poised to strike.
“Have they launched?” General Scheib shouted as he burst into the situation room. General Higgins, sitting at the head of the table, his chair turned so he faced the wall screen, shook his head. “Not yet, Brad.” Gesturing to
