believe they were making the proper decision. They had to risk anything from a career or national security to the lives of millions on that belief. Hood was about to do that. He was about to do both, in fact. But there was a proverb that used to hang in the high school classroom where Hood's father taught civics. It was appropriate now:
'The first faults are theirs that commit them. The second theirs that permit them.' As Hood turned and left the Cabinet Room, he did not feel the weight of the decision he made. Nor did he feel the danger it represented. He felt only the privilege of being able to serve his country.
Baku, Azerbaijan Tuesday, 11:15 a.m.
It had been a long time since Maurice Charles had to make a sudden retreat from a safe site. It infuriated him to run from a place he had carefully prepared. But it infuriated him even more to run from anyone or anything. It did not even matter to him at the moment how someone had found out where he was. From their accents, the intruders were Russian and American. Perhaps Moscow and Washington had been tracking him without him knowing it. Perhaps he had slipped up somewhere. Or maybe one of his associates had made a mistake. But Charles did not believe the couple had been there by accident. For one thing, he had taken both of the keys to room 310 when he checked in. The front desk did not have a third key to give out. When the click of the bolt being opened woke him up, he knew something was not right. For another thing, Charles had watched the woman's feet, listened to her speak as she came in. Everything about her entrance was tentative. If she truly thought this were her room, she would have strode in and turned on the light. Women were always eager to prove things when they believed they were correct. Yet, as angry as Charles was, he refused to give in to his rage. The immediate task was to cover his tracks so he could get away. That meant eliminating the couple who had come to his room. He had not considered calling the assassins he had used the night before. He did not want it to be known that he had run into trouble. That would be bad for his reputation and bad for business. He had gotten a good look at the couple's feet and pants. That would be enough to identify them. He had his gun and his knife. They would not survive the morning Charles had walked halfway into the parking lot before turning around. If the couple were looking out a window to find him, he wanted them to see him. He wanted them to come rushing downstairs to stop him from getting away. That would make them easier to spot. It would also tell him whether or not they had backup. If they had called for help, cars or other personnel would converge on the parking lot within moments. If that did not happen, he could dispatch them and then get out of the city by train as he had planned. After giving the couple a chance to see him, Charles doubled back to the hotel. He entered by the side door, which led past a row of shops. There were fire sirens approaching the hotel but no police sirens. No other cars came speeding into the lot. That did not mean Charles was home free. But it did suggest that the man and woman had been acting without immediate backup near or on site. Losing himself in a crowd that was fleeing a fire should be easy. First, however, he had to finish his business with the intruders.
Washington, D.C. Tuesday, 3:17 a.m.
During the administration of Harry Truman, the White House was virtually gutted and rebuilt due to the weakened condition of its centuries-old wooden beams and interior walls. The Trumans moved across the street to Blair House and, from 1948 to 1952, new foundations were laid and the decaying wooden struts were replaced by steel girders. A basement was also excavated, ostensibly to provide more storage space. In fact, it was created to provide safe areas for the president and members of his staff and family in the event of nuclear attack. Over the years, the basement was secretly expanded to include offices, command headquarters, medical facilities, surveillance posts, and recreational areas. It is now comprised of four levels that go down over two hundred feet. All four basement levels are only accessible by a pair of elevators. These are located in both the East and West Wings. The West Wing elevator is located a short distance west of the president's private dining room, in a corner that is halfway between the Oval Office and the vice president's office. The carriage is small and wood paneled and holds six people comfortably. Access to the elevator is gained by thumbprint identification. There is a small green monitor to the right of the door for this purpose. Since the White House recreation areas are down there, all the members of the First Family have access to the elevator. Hood went to the vice president's office and waited outside. Because the vice president was at the White House, there was a secret service agent standing a little farther along the corridor. The vice president's office was close to the State Dining Room, where the original White House meets the newer, century-old West Wing. Hood was there less than a minute when Megan Lawrence arrived. The First Lady was dressed in a medium-length white skirt and a red blouse with a blue scarf. She was wearing very little makeup. Her fair skin made her silver hair seem darker. The secret service agent wished the First Lady a good morning as she passed. Megan smiled back at the young man and then continued on. She embraced Hood warmly.
'Thank you for coming down,' Hood said. Megan put her arm through his and turned toward the elevator. That gave her a reason to stand close to Hood and talk quietly. The secret service man was behind them.
'How are you going to handle this?' she asked.
'It's going to be a tough, uphill fight,' Hood admitted.
'Back in the Oval Office, the president was very focused. If your husband has had doubts about his ability to function, then what Fenwick and the others have given him is the perfect remedy. A crisis. They couldn't have planned it better. The president seemed to be putting a lot of trust in what Fenwick was telling him. He needed to. It was helping him get his confidence back.'
'So you said,' the First Lady remarked.
'And they're all lies.'
'I'm certain of it,' Hood assured her.
'The problem is, I don't have hard evidence.'
'Then what makes you so sure they are lies?' the First Lady asked.
'I called Fenwick's bluff when we were alone in the Cabinet Room,' Hood said.
'I told him we had the terrorist who orchestrated the situation overseas. I told him the terrorist is going to tell us who he was working for. Meaning Fenwick. Fenwick told me I'll never get the information to the president.' They reached the elevator. Megan gently put her thumb on the screen. There was a faint hum behind it.
'Fenwick will deny he ever threatened you,' she pointed out.
'Of course he will,' Hood said.
'That's why I need you to get the president away from the meeting. Tell him you need to see him for five minutes. If I did that, Fenwick and his people would chew me up. But they'll be very reluctant to attack you. That would turn the president against them.'
'All right,' Megan replied. The door slid open. The First Lady and Hood stepped in. She pressed button Sl-- Sublevel One. The door closed, and the elevator began to move.
