Chapter 63
Five o’clock in the morning, north of Taiwan, was four p.m. in Washington, D.C. Things were winding down in the city. Half of Congress had already left for the weekend, while staff members of every agency were getting ready to wrap things up.
At the White House it was a different story, a strange message relayed through the National Underwater and Marine Agency had created a sense of confusion. The President was now in the Situation Room along with Vice President Sandecker, the chief of staff, and a dozen members of the military.
They sat dumbfounded, listening in shock as Rudi Gunn, NUMA’s second-in-command, read the message aloud over a video link.
“This is astonishing,” the chief of staff said.
“I know,” Gunn said. “Austin and Zavala—”
“Are out of control,” the chief said, cutting him off. “What kind of nonsense are they trying to pass off here?”
“This message is deadly serious,” Rudi insisted. “They’re obviously embedded in Ahab’s operation somehow, but are unable to act until after this first attack. We need to give them the benefit of the doubt.”
The President was incredulous. “You want the Air Force to have one of their crews abandon a fifty-million-dollar airplane mid-flight because of a text message? How do we even know this is authentic?”
“The message was sent using a code that only Kurt knows. It identifies him as the sender.”
“Unless someone has captured him and is forcing him to transmit this false message,” a member of the National Security Council suggested.
“There are red-word protocols in place for that,” Rudi explained. “If Kurt was under duress he would have worked those words into the message.”
The President turned to the ranking member of the Air Force, a three-star who was assigned to the general staff in D.C. only this week. “Is there a tanker flying the route this message suggests?”
“Condor One Five,” the general said. “Part of the training exercise. My information shows it on station now.”
The President ran his hands through his hair. The strands that weren’t ash gray were tuning white. He admired Austin and Zavala. Hell, he admired the entire NUMA crew, but this…
“Do it,” he said finally. “Give the order.”
“Mr. President—”
“Give the order,” the President snapped. “Get those men out of that plane.”