The War Cloud

24

Three puzzled faces stared at Koz from their respective screens inside the Nightwatch conference compartment: General Block at Northern Command, General Carver at Strategic Command and General Marshall aboard the Looking Glass Airborne Command.

Carver in Omaha was the first to speak. “What the hell do you mean she’s incapacitated, Colonel?”

“Just that, sir,” Koz replied, learning forward in his seat at the end of the long, empty conference table. “She got pretty banged up when her chopper went down en route to the designated rendezvous.” Koz watched the generals closely for any reaction. “She said the Green Beret escort I sent tried to kill her.”

Block’s round face turned beet red. “Christ Almighty!” he said. “What did the Green Berets say?”

“Nothing, sir. They’re all dead.”

Koz thought he caught a tick at the corner of Block’s left eye, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Colonel, are you trying to tell us that this…woman…single-handedly took out an entire Green Beret escort in two choppers?”

It did sound unbelievable, Koz realized, the way Block put it. “She had the help of her Secret Service detail, none of whom survived.”

“How convenient,” Block muttered. “For all we know, Sachs is the one taking orders and the Chinese wanted her to be president.”

There was silence. Absolute silence. Koz stared at the screens, waiting for the first sign of an emotion to cross any one of the three faces. It was a ballsy, completely out-there accusation from Block, but something they had to chew on.

“We all know how the chain of command works in a situation like this,” Marshall explained, breaking the silence. “The National Command Authority is in charge of our nuclear forces. In peacetime, that’s usually the president and the secretary of Defense. In time of war, it’s their designated successors and us, the surviving commanders. As things now stand, the president is only one voice out of four. And in military matters, she’d obviously defer to us. But politically — constitutionally — we still need presidential authorization, and that requires a president. That president, for better or worse, is Deborah Sachs.”

More silence. Koz could sense both Carver and Block almost wishing Marshall to put up his hand for the job himself. He had earned it, Koz knew, that’s for sure. His deference to the Constitution only confirmed his leadership ability in time of war.

“Marshall’s right,” Carver concluded, his tone signaling that he was bringing the first attack conference to a close. “The last thing we need is a constitutional crisis. America can’t go into this war split. I think Sachs could work. She has to work. She will review the attack options while we move our forces into place. Then, when the time comes, Colonel Kozlowski can relay her strike authorization. If Marshall is right, she’ll play ball.”

“Play ball?” Block repeated incredulously. “How the hell do you expect her to play ball, boys, if she ain’t got none?”

Koz opened his mouth to offer his own observation when his comlink beeped. It was Captain Li. “Sir, we have an unauthorized, outbound transmission originating from the medical center,” she reported. “The officers on duty outside can’t break in. The door is jammed.”

Sachs.

Koz said, “I’ll be right there.”