as soon as such can be arranged will be taken care of, as will accommodations for you in the Phoenix area. The reason behind this rerouting, as best as we can determine, is a currently unsubstantiated report that the Soviet Union and the United States, fifteen minutes ago, officially broke off diplomatic relations.'
'What the hell is going on?' Rourke said, his voice low. His right hand stretched across the florid-faced businessman beside him and held onto the arm of a stewardess.
'Sir, I really can't add anymore to what the captain has said.' Her well practiced airline hostess smile had vanished. He looked at her, released her arm, and turned back toward the window.
The captain's voice came on the speaker again. 'Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Stewart again. I'm picking up something cutting across our frequency with Atlanta tower. It indicates that Civil Defense is alerting the Atlanta area that approximately fifteen minutes ago satellites indicated a massive Soviet Intercontinental Ballistic Missile launch against the U.S. mainland and western Europe.'
The intercom system was still on-Rourke could hear it humming. But beyond that and the engine vibration noise as the aircraft climbed into the higher, thinner air-the lights of Atlanta vanishing in the distance below-all was silent.
Then he heard a scream. The woman sitting across the aisle screamed again, grasping at her throat with both hands. Rourke ripped open his seat belt, pushed rudely past the man in the seat beside him.
Other passengers started screaming. In the aisle now, Rourke shouted, 'Quiet down! This woman is having a heart attack-what's your excuse?'
He bent over her and loosened the tight pearl choker at her throat. The old woman was starting to gag. Forcing her mouth open, Rourke reached two fingers inside and got her tongue back up out of her throat. A stewardess was at his elbow. 'Are you a doctor?' she said.
'I trained as one. See if there's another doctor aboard. Hurry!'
As Rourke started to bend toward the old woman to give her resuscitation, he stopped. The fluttering of the pulse at her neck had stopped. She was no longer breathing, and her eyes were fixed and staring. Leaning over her Rourke hammered his fists down over her chest. He could hear the stewardess's voice behind him, 'What are you doing?'
Without looking at her, Rourke rasped, 'I'm trying to get her heart started again.'
He kept at it for several seconds-and nothing happened. 'Stewardess!' he shouted.
'Yes, sir. There wasn't another doctor aboard. Can I help?'
Rourke glanced at the young woman over his shoulder. 'Yeah. Find me a hair dryer and something to plug it into-hurry.'
'A hair dryer?'
'Yeah,' he rasped. 'A hair dryer, electric razor-something like that.'
In a moment, the stewardess was back beside him, a gun-shaped hair dryer in her hands.
Snatching the appliance, Rourke ripped out the cord, then using a small pocket knife, split the cord and stripped away the insulation, exposing an inch of wire. 'Plug this in when I tell you to-but don't touch these ends or let them drag against anything.'
Putting both hands on the neck of the older woman's dress, he ripped the garment down the front. 'Okay-plug it in,' he said. Then, turning to the stewardess, he took the electrical cord and gingerly touched both exposed ends together until they sparked.
'Now,' he whispered, 'don't let anybody touch her.' He touched both ends to the woman's chest. Her body bounced half off the seat. Leaning forward, he listened for her heart. Taking the electrical cord again, he touched the ends once more to the woman's still chest. Her body lurched up, then back down into the seat.
'She's breathing!' the stewardess cried.
Rourke wrapped the electrical cord around his fingers and yanked it from the socket. 'Try to make her comfortable,' he said, leaning down and listening to the woman's heart, then holding her wrist for the pulse. 'Keep her mouth clear. Have one of the passengers watch her to make sure her chest is rising and failing. And you better go tell the captain to set us down as soon as he can. This lady here needs a hospital.'
'I can give her oxygen.'
'Save that for when she needs it-she's breathing okay for the moment,' Rourke said.
He pushed his way through the passengers who had crowded around them and walked toward the center cabin bathroom and let himself inside. He stared at his face in the mirror a moment, catching himself against the small sink there for support as the plane suddenly lurched downward.
***
The president and Thurston Potter raced across the White House lawn toward the special short takeoff and landing plane which the president had ridden only once before during a Civil Defense exercise. It was called the 'Doomsday Plane,' and aside from the president and his advisor there was room for only the pilot and a copilot and one more passenger-the Air Force sergeant who accompanied the president everywhere he went. A small black rectangular case was in the sergeant's hand, and, as always, handcuffed to his wrist. Inside the case was a small radio telephone unit; its battery was charged once a day and the leads checked at least that often. Using the communications device, the president could give the coded verbal attack order for a massive nuclear launch.
The president-his advisors had told him the Soviets had undertaken their own massive launch-had not used the box yet.
When they were all aboard the Doomsday Plane, Potter shouted, 'Are you going to use the box, Mr. President?'
The president strapped himself in. The Air Force sergeant was beside him. The plane had already started to lift off The president shouted over the engine noise, 'Not yet! There's still a chance. Not yet.' As the plane angled upward and cleared the White House grounds and the tops of the buildings, there was a sudden shudder and the plane raced forward. 'We'll be at the mountain in less than ten minutes,' the president shouted. 'I've got a call going out to the Soviet premier.'
