William Bernhardt - Capitol Betrayal

“His computer geeks came up with something before our geeks did?”

“It’s looking that way.”

Seamus took a deep breath. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

“You’ll be putting in overtime.”

“More than that. Think about it. Someone robs a highly secret and heavily guarded nuclear armory. Someone hacks into our computers and seizes control of our missiles. Both on the same day? You got to think it’s the same people, executing some well-planned and highly coordinated attack against the United States. And there’s only one way that would be possible.”

“Do enlighten me, Seamus.”

He hesitated several beats before he could make himself say it. “We’ve got a mole.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am. It’s the only possible explanation. Zuko shouldn’t even know about the Arlington facility. Most people don’t. And I don’t care how good his hacking program is-I don’t believe he could get into the military defense system without inside help. Someone passed him some back doors to ease his entry.”

He was gratified to hear that, for once, Zira didn’t immediately snap back with a response. “That is a singularly disturbing possibility.”

“And a very real one. You need to start running the A-Alpha Shadow protocols. Find the mole. Look for someone on the inside who has been making unexplained phone calls to unlisted numbers. Especially foreign numbers. Find out if anyone has recently had a significant unexplained cash infusion to their bank account.”

“I know how to find a mole, Mr. McKay, thank you very much.”

Seamus smiled. It gave him pleasure to think he had gotten that officious bureaucrat’s goat.

“And what will you be doing, if I may ask?”

“I’m not sure,” Seamus replied. “I guess I’ll consult my computer expert. Find out how this might have been done. Who could have engineered it. If you really think this takes priority over the nuclear suitcase.”

“It does. We have no direct evidence-other than your unsubstantiated suggestion that they were going to detonate it in the monument-that the suitcase will be used anytime soon. But we have a direct threat from Zuko that a missile will be launched shortly. If you can figure out how to get him out of our computers, we need that intel immediately.”

“Then that’s what I’ll do.”

“Good. Get to it.” She paused. “Don’t bother calling in to the president. He’s in the bunker. You can’t get through. I can contact him via his Secret Service detail. I’ll pass along what you’ve learned.”

“Okay.” Seamus swerved his car around into the opposite lane and headed back the way he came. This new assignment called for a course correction.

“Call me the moment you learn anything.”

“I will.”

“And Seamus.” The edge fell out of her voice, but it was replaced by something darker and more urgent. “Understand that this is not just another assignment. You may have done decent reconnaissance work in the Middle East, but this isn’t contingent or theoretical. Those missiles are pointed right down our throats. This threat could bring down the presidency. This threat could take hundreds of thousands of lives and revert the East Coast to the Stone Age.” Her voice dropped another notch. “This could be the end of the United States as you and I know it.”

Agent Zimmer rose to his feet, one hand pressed against his left earpiece. “We’ve lost the connection, sir.”

“Get Zuko back!” the president snapped.

“We didn’t lose him.” After a moment Zimmer added quietly, “He hung up.”

A brief silence ensued as Ben and everyone else in the bunker contemplated the confidence of a man who felt sufficiently secure to hang up on the president of the United States.

“I want him back on the line as soon as possible,” the president said firmly.

“Yes, sir. But Mr. President…” Zimmer pointed toward a screen at the top of the communications station.

They were marking the colonel’s countdown. Time was slipping away, all too fast.

“I know I can make the man see reason,” the president said. “Just get him back on the line.”

“I’ll do my best, sir.” Zimmer sat and returned his attention to the screen.

All at once, the lights and power began to flicker again. The lights shuddered on and off for several seconds, then actually went out altogether.

“What the hell?”

“What’s going on?”

“Who’s in charge here? Is anyone in charge?”

Ben recognized the last voice as Admiral Cartwright’s, but the panic and tumult were becoming so frenzied that after that it was hard to hear anything.

Then the lights came back on. A few moments later, power returned to the communications station and the screens. Ben heard the familiar whirring sound that told him computers were rebooting.

“What just happened?” the president said evenly.

“I don’t know,” Agent Zimmer said, motioning to another agent. “I’m sending people topside to find out.” Two of the agents streamed out the door.

“Aren’t all these power lines secure?”

“They should be, sir. The bunker has its own power conduits, and like the bunker itself, they’re designed to withstand a nuclear blast. Even the EMP from a nearby missile detonation shouldn’t cause more than temporary interference.”

“Find out what’s happening!”

“Already on it.”

“Good.” The president leaned forward, one hand squeezing the bridge of his nose.

Cartwright saw his opening. “Mr. President-”

President Kyler held up his hand, silencing him. “Just give me one damn moment.” He breathed in deeply, then released it, then did it again, then again, each time digging more desperately for air. He began to wheeze. “Doctor?”

Dr. Albertson walked to his side and presented what appeared to be an asthma inhaler. Ben had had no idea the president suffered from asthma. That had never been mentioned during the campaign or, to his knowledge, afterward. How had they kept it a secret? Or was this a symptom that had developed more recently, perhaps another sign of the great strain of the presidency?

President Kyler took two gigantic whiffs from the inhaler. A few moments later his breathing began to normalize.

“Mr. President,” Cartwright launched again, but Kyler waved him away.

“Zimmer,” he said, his voice subdued and remarkably calm, given the circumstances, “I want all the monuments on the National Mall closed. No, on second thought, make that all the monuments in Washington. Close them down and tell the folks to go home.”

“But Mr. President,” Secretary Ruiz objected, “if you do that, it could cause a panic.”

“I’d rather have panic than casualties. Colonel Zuko will be looking for symbolic targets. Dramatic demonstrations of his protest against our way of life. I think there are many in D.C. that would serve his purpose all too well. Close them down.”

Zimmer nodded. “Will do, sir.”

“Send a memo through military channels to other high-profile potential targets on the East Coast. Wall Street. The Statue of Liberty. Disney World. They need to know that today might be a good day to close up shop.”

“ If Wall Street shuts down early-”

“They can come up with some explanation that doesn’t involve a terrorist threat. They’ve done it before.” The president turned toward the communications station, where Zimmer was already hard at work. “Can you get me an update on the people who went down in that helicopter behind the Kuraqi border? I’d like to know if they’ve already been captured. If they’re POWs.”

“And if they are?” Secretary Rybicki asked.