No reply 'Move out, Kelly Tell Watanabe no damage. Tell him I'll give a report on operational status myself later. 'Kelly nodded and disappeared through the useless magnetic-lock security door and into the storm beyond.
Markham started to make his way aft through his dark, dead multimillion dollar intelligence section. 'Anything?' he asked no one in particular. 'Battery backups?Printer buffers?
Anything?'
'I've got nothing,' one operator asked. 'That entire battery backup system we had installed is dead. It doesn't work for shit.'
'What the hell hit us?' someone else asked. 'All my sensors and screens flared, like a huge power surge.then-POOF.'
'All right, all right,' Markham said, pulling on an orange life vest.
'if you don't have anything recoverable, forget it.
Pair up and start collecting your hard copy printouts. You'll have to use the hand-crank shredders if Engineering can't get the power back on. If that doesn't work, or if you start to backlog, we'll bag the printouts and start a bonfire in the dumpster on deck. Masters, Lee, suit up and get that dumpster now. No sense in waiting until the Russians start boarding us.
The two men hurried off.
'Printer ribbons, handwritten notes, logbooks, memos, scribbles,' Markham recited as he began to pace the aisle, monitoring the destruction preparations. 'Astleman, goddamnit, put that life vest on!' Markham made his way over to Garrity's station and knelt down to face the veteran intelligence man.
'What was it, Garrity?'
Garrity ripped the cover off his computer printer's ribbon cartridge and wadded up the ribbon. When he turned toward Markham, there was genuine fear in his eyes.
'I could see it comin',' he whispered. 'It was like… like a wave of energy It kept on building up, then everything went dark.'
'Kavaznya?' Markham whispered. 'Did it come from Kavaznya?'
Garrity nodded, wiping a carbon-blackened hand across his sweating forehead. 'Whatever the Russians got out there, Commander, if it didn't blow us out of the Pacific, it at least tagged something' else for sure.
WASHINGTON, D.C
'Where the hell is he?' Curtis asked Jack Pledgeman, the President's press secretary, who was trying to ignore the four star general.
'He's late,' Curtis said, loud enough for everyone in the White House Conference Room to hear. Fortunately, the only ones who paid any attention were members of the President's immediate staff and Cabinet who were quite accustomed to Curtis' outbursts. The two dozen cameramen and technicians, Fill, putting in final touches to their extensive camera and lighting gear, were too intent on their work to notice. And the members of the White House press corps and other correspondents were outside, hoping to corral the President in the hallway for one on-one questions before the scheduled morning Cabinet photo session.
Curtis punched a palm in irritation. 'When he hears what-' 'Dammit, General, keep it down,' Pledgeman interrupted.
'Those tapes are rolling over there.'
'They won't be-' 'I asked you to-' Pledgemen didn't get to finish. At that instant, the President strode quickly into the room. The men and women at the large oblong conference table rose to their feet. The President was followed closely by a tight knot of reporters and correspondents. Cameras and lights clicked on and filled the room with a buzz.
The President brushed deep, thick brown hair from his forehead and waved toward the seats. 'Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, take your seats. 'Nobody sat down until the President had stepped over the yards of sound and light cables taped to the rich carpeting and reached his executive's chair.
A bright floodlight snapped on directly in front of the President, right over the Secretary of Health and Human Services' head. 'If you don't mind?' the President said, scowling at the light. 'You're going to fry one of my people.'
The light was immediately extinguished. The President nodded his thanks, removed his half-lens Ben Franklin glasses, and wiped them with a handkerchief. Pledgernan quietly admonished the photographer and pointed to a twelve-inchsquare opening in a distant corner where he could set up his camera.
'Quite a crowd today, eh, Jack?' the President said to his press secretary. Pledgeman nodded. The President replaced his glasses on his nose and looked over his agenda for the meeting, a shortened and mostly staged version of a formal Cabinet meeting.
A network television anchorwoman, microphone in hand, was stepping quickly into the place vacated by the cameraman.
General Curtis steered himself around her, maneuvered around the backs of the chairs occupied by the Secretary of State and the Secretary of Defense, and finally made his way to the President's side. He arrived just as the anchorwoman took one last glance at her notes and smiled at the President. She, not Curtis, had the President's full attention.
'Mr. President, before we get started, I'd like to ask you-' Simultaneously, Curtis bent down between the Secretary of Defense, Thomas Preston, and the President. He said in a halfwhisper, 'Mr. President, I have some important developments that can't wait.
The President, eyes drawn to the attractive Oriental newswoman, scarcely noticed Curtis. The general's deep voice interrupted the woman's question.
Pledgernan, on the alert for this sort of embarrassing scene, stepped between the newswoman and the Secretary of Agriculture at the conference table.
'Problem, General?' Pledgeman asked quietly.
General Curtis leaned closer to the President. 'Sir, I must speak with you immediately. There are new developments at that… power facility we talked about.
'After the Cabinet meeting,' Pledgeman said.
Curtis hesitated.
'Wilbur, it has to wait,' the President finally said.'is it an immediate emergency?'
Everyone watched Curtis. No one knew exactly what an 'immediate' emergency was, but it would be plastered all over page one of every newspaper in the country if he said yes. 'Coming directly from the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, the classification 'immediate emergency' ould mean only one thing. He'd have some tough explaining to do.
'It'll have to wait, General,' Pledgernan said, repeating the President's words. 'We must get started here.'
'I'll be in my office as soon as I'm through here, General,' the President said as Curtis was ushered out by one of Pledgeman's associates.
As the door to the conference room slammed behind him, Curtis turned on his aide.
'Colonel Wyatt, you will stand here and wait for the President. The instant he comes out of that room, you are to confront him and remind him that I am waiting for him in the Oval Office. Tell him that it is now a matter of national security. Don't speak with anyone else but the President. If Pledgeman or anyone else tells you differently, you have a direct order from me to bust him in the chops. All clear?'
Wyatt, amazed at his boss' behavior, nodded and watched as the general marched down the corridor.
'It's incredible. Absolutely incredible.'
The President of the United States stared out the window of the White House Oval Office, making the announcement to the gently falling flakes of snow outside. General Wilbur Curtis collected the sheaves of notes and computer printouts, glanced at the Secretary of Defense, Thomas Preston, and sat down.
Secretary of State Marshall Brent stood at the opposite side of the President's cherry desk, looking over copies of the intelligence analysis Kenneth Mitchell, the CIA director, had shown the President.
