The War Cloud

4

U.S. President Peter Rhinehart paced beneath George Washington on the wall of the Oval Office. He had fifteen minutes before his final meeting with Deborah Sachs, and he still needed to work on his delivery of his State of the Union address.

“And let us not live in the past,” he recited, stressing the word “past” like it was bad. “But look forward to the future.”

Meaning his own political future, he thought, when the ivory desk phone rang. The LED display flashed: Chairman, JCS. Line Secure. Top Secret. It was General Robert Sherman, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, calling from the Pentagon.

Annoyed, Rhinehart picked up. “What is it, Bob?”

“Mr. President, we have a situation.”

Rhinehart’s morning intelligence briefing had spelled out a number of situations, so he could only guess.

“The SS-20?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m about to address the American people, dammit, and our friend General Marshall is breathing down my neck in the polls,” the President huffed. “I don’t have time for any false—”

“Mr. President, NEST teams have confirmed there is a stolen Soviet SS-20 nuclear warhead somewhere in Washington. Now the Russians say they have evidence that the Chinese planted it, and that it is set to detonate in five minutes.”

“Five minutes?” Rhinehart frowned. “What do the Chinese have to say?”

“The Chinese say that if anybody’s planted a nuke in Washington, it’s the Russians.”

“Goddammit,” groaned Rhinehart. “Every major elected official in America has got to be in Washington. How imminent is the threat?”

As if on cue, a military aide burst through the door carrying a black briefcase — the “football” containing nuclear authorization codes. Rhinehart stared at the attaché, speechless.

“I’ll brief you after you’re secure in the bunker,” Sherman pleaded with him on the phone. “Mr. President, we have no time.”

Rhinehart hung up and walked out of the Oval Office, the football and military aide close behind. He brushed past the White House military operator at the switchboard on the way out.

“The vice president just arrived,” the operator reported.

“Tell him he’s leaving,” Rhinehart replied. “Get my chopper to airlift himndrews.”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

“Call Jack and Stan and have them meet me downstairs,” the President continued. “Alert conference.”

“Situation Room?”

“No. The bunker.”

The military operator hit a button on his communications console, sounding an alarm.