The First Casualty

62

Colonel Wild Bill Hasty tapped gently on the door before a muffled “Come in.”

The “White House” part of the aircraft — the presidential suite, office, and conference room — was located along the starboard of the 747, leaving a hallway along the portside wide enough to accommodate two Secret Service members who were posted there from the time the president entered the plane until the time he left it.

Hasty entered the office section. With its solid wooden desk and heavy leather chairs, there was little to suggest the room was not a normal suite in any office building in the world. Only the muted hum of four General Electric CF6 engines and an occasional tremor of light turbulence suggested otherwise.

As pilot-in-command as well as commanding officer, protocol required that Hasty, not a subordinate, deliver any significant news of the flight.

The president looked up from some papers on the desk, a question on his face. “Yes, Colonel?”

“Looks like we’ll be about forty minutes ahead of schedule, sir.”

The president smiled, always amused at the precision with which things were done aboard this aircraft. “About forty minutes?”

“I’ll have the exact time as soon as the flight engineer completes her recalculations of anticipated ground speed, sir.”

“You have notified the Egyptians of an early arrival?”

“We have, sir. They acknowledged receipt.”

“Sounds as though you and your flight crew have it all under control, Colonel.”

“I believe so.”

The president gave a dismissive nod as he returned to the papers on the desk before him. “Carry on, then.”

Hasty silently slipped back into the hallway.