The Camel Club

“So that’s how it’s going to be from now on? We hit them; they hit us. What? Until we’re all gone?”

“With all due respect, sir, we have far more to hit them with than they do us. And I have every confidence that we will win in the end.”

Hamilton glanced up to see all gazes in the room upon him. May God have mercy on me. He said, “Get in touch with the Syrians first. Give them one last chance.” He put his head in his hands as everyone in the room looked down.

Suddenly, Andrea Mayes jumped up. “Wait! Please. Sir, why wouldn’t they give him back if they had him? Why would they let millions of their own people die?”

Decker snapped, “Because they’re terrorists. That’s how they think. And according to their faith, all those people will go right to paradise. And let’s not forget that they attacked us. They took our president. And right now he’s almost certainly dead. We have no choice. We have to strike back in a way that will leave no doubt as to this country’s resolve. Anything less will give them courage to escalate their attacks on us. And there’s no better way to do that than with a nuclear weapon. Japan only surrendered after we dropped two on them. It ended up saving millions of lives.”

He failed to mention that the atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki had also killed and maimed hundreds of thousands of Japanese civilians and left both cities radioactive for decades.

Hamilton looked away, and the secretary of state slumped back in her chair.

Decker grabbed a secure phone and ordered the final demand be made to the Syrians and Sharia immediately. A few minutes later he had his answer.

Hamilton looked up. “Well?”

“The sanitized version is that God will strike us down for the evil we’re about to do,” Decker replied. “So am I authorized to contact Command Authority, sir?”

Hamilton suddenly looked indecisive. Mayes seized on this to say, “Mr. President, please think about what you’re about to do. If we annihilate Damascus there will never be peace. Never.”

Decker moved in front of her. “Mr. President, we don’t have peace now. And if you fail to carry through on your demand America will be robbed of all its power. To the world we will become a laughingstock, inept and emasculated. I know that you are not that kind of leader.” He paused and added firmly, “We have to do this.”

Hamilton rubbed his eyes, glanced at Mayes and then nodded at Decker. “Make the call.”

Hamilton stood and gazed out the window while Decker picked up another phone and gave the order to the National Command Authority, which instantly relayed it to the Tennessee. The mighty Trident missile would launch shortly thereafter, accelerating out of the water’s depths with such incomprehensible speed and force that a protective wall of gas would enclose it. As it passed through hundreds of feet of ocean depths, not even a single drop of water would touch its metal hide. At a cruising speed of fourteen thousand miles an hour, the Trident missile would hit Damascus less than thirty minutes after launch with the force of a thousand category 5 hurricanes all rolled into one. There would be nothing left.

At first the ringing phone didn’t register. Then slowly, Hamilton looked up. It was that phone. He raced over and snatched it up.

“Yes?”

His face paled and he grabbed at his side. Most in the room thought he was about to have some sort of attack.

“They have him,” he screamed to the room. “They have Brennan.” He whirled on Decker. “Call off the launch. Call it off!”

Decker quickly spoke into the other phone and ordered the Tennessee to stand down. However, the secretary of defense suddenly paled. “What? That can’t be.”

Everyone’s gaze was riveted on him.

Decker looked ashen-faced as he said, “The atmospheric conditions over the Atlantic have started disrupting satellite communications. The Tennessee acknowledged and confirmed the order to launch, but now Command Authority is having trouble contacting the sub again.”

Hamilton shouted at Decker, “I knew we should have waited the full eight hours. You idiot!”

Andrea Mayes said shakily, “Oh, my God.”

Hamilton grabbed the phone from Decker and roughly pushed the man out of the way. Into the phone he said, “This is Acting President Hamilton. You have to get in touch with that damn sub and tell them not to launch. I don’t care how you do it, just do it.” He held on to the edge of the Resolute Desk for support as his knees started to buckle and sweat glistened his brow.

A stricken-looking Decker stood holding his shoulder from where Hamilton had shoved him against the wall.

Hamilton yelled into the phone again, “Blow the goddamn sub out of the water if you have to.” He shrieked, “Just stop it! Stop it!”

Seconds ticked by, and not one breath could be heard in the Oval Office, because every last person was holding theirs. Finally, Hamilton replaced the phone receiver in its cradle and sank to his knees. He looked very close to passing out now.

Hamilton slowly looked up at his subordinates. “They stopped the launch,” he managed to say before staring directly at Decker. “With . . . one . . . damn . . . second to spare.”

There were no cheers in the Oval Office; all of them were frozen.

However, somewhere underneath the Atlantic Ocean 155 American sailors screamed in relieved joy.

The safe return of President James Brennan at an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Medina, Ohio, rocked the world yet again. The more than fourteen thousand American military and special operatives deployed to Medina in Saudi Arabia slipped away as quietly as possible. In the president’s pocket had been found a typed note that read simply: “From great sacrifice comes great opportunity.”

Franklin Hemingway had penned those words thirty years earlier, and his son could think of no better message to leave with the leader of the free world.

Carter Gray was hailed as a national hero for figuring out where Brennan was going to be released. While somewhat vague on the details, Gray explained that it was a combination of hard work, reliable informants and a lot of luck. “However, the kidnappers were true to their word,” he said. “Because the president was in Medina, only about seven thousand miles away from the one we thought it was.”

Gray had spent an emotional night with Senator Simpson and his wife, comforting them on the loss of their only child. The official version of what had happened, and the only one her parents had received as well, was that Jackie was the victim of a deadly carjacking while driving along Interstate 81 very late at night. There were no suspects, and Gray knew there would never be an arrest. The only other development was the unexplained disappearance of three NIC agents. Gray would take care of that too.

On a positive note Captain Jack had talked. And talked and talked. Carter Gray now had quite a lot of ammo to use against North Korea.

James Brennan triumphantly returned to the White House as huge crowds surrounding the area cheered. He gave televised remarks to the nation, thanking Carter Gray for his exemplary work, having no idea that the man had seriously contemplated killing him and blaming it on the Syrians. Brennan also thanked his beleaguered vice president for a job well done. Finally, he expressed his gratitude to the American people for being stalwart and true throughout the crisis.

They would never know that a mere second had been the margin of error in the commencement of a worldwide apocalypse. His chief of staff stood by beaming. With the crisis over, her attention had returned fully to the election. The latest polls showed Brennan with a historically high eighty-six percent approval rating. Barring something catastrophic her candidate would easily win the election and have four more years to build his legacy.

Brennan received a full briefing on all that had happened, but no one could shed light on who’d kidnapped