24. The Situation Room #4
After he was patted down, both were cleared to enter.
“Here we go,” Halston whispered as they were escorted into the historic building by the five agents.
It was 4:10 AM, but sleepy-faced employees bristled past. Days began early at the White House. The lead agent continued until he stopped in front of a closed door.
Knock-knock.
Seconds later, a different guard answered. The two spoke quietly, then the agent stepped away. The door opened wide and Gabriel waited for Halston to enter. She crossed the threshold and stifled a gasp as excitement rippled through her.
Ohmygod, this is it.
The White House Situation Room.
Gabriel stood by her side. Everyone in the room stopped talking, all eyes on the new arrivals. There had to be upwards of twenty people. Some represented the four branches of the US military—Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines. The rest were civilians.
As Halston eyed the personnel, she paused on her mom and dad.
Instead of being seated at the table, her mom was seated between Greystone and Z in a row of chairs lining the far wall.
Caroline and Sydney too. The only ones she recognized at the table were her Dad, Teddy… and the President of the United States.
A middle-aged woman with shoulder-length blonde hair bustled over. “Gabriel, Halston, I’m Evelyn Baker, the President’s Chief of Staff.”
They shook her hand.
“Do you have the timepiece?” Evelyn asked.
Gabriel pulled it from his pocket.
President Garrison made his way over.
“Mr. Santini, I hear you’re the man to call to get things done,” said the President. “A man of action.”
The two men shook hands.
“Thank you, Mr. President.”
The President extended his hand to Halston. “Ms. Devereux, you should be commended for your service to our country. I was briefed on your outstanding career.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said as she shook his hand.
“Let’s get started.” He gestured to two open seats at the table.
She and Gabriel eased down beside each other. To Halston’s right sat her father.
“Hi, Daddy,” she whispered. He offered a thin smile. She laid a comforting hand on his back. “We got this, Dad. I believe in us.”
“Any laptop we use will be displayed on the big screen,” explained the President. “Anything you do will be visible to everyone in this room.”
The President directed his attention to Evelyn Baker.
“No photography, no video recordings,” Evelyn said. “If a photo is taken, it will be at the instruction of the President. There can be no leaks. Place your phones face down on the table.”
Everyone sitting around the table set their phones face down. For the attendees sitting in the second row, they placed their phones on a nearby credenza.
“Cameras are built into the ceiling,” Evelyn continued. “Mr. Santini, there’s a camera directly over you. Please open the watch. Everything you do will be projected on the large screen mounted on the wall.”
Halston eyed the screen, which displayed an image of the closed watch.
Gabriel opened the timepiece.
She admired him so much. His hands were steady, his movements exacting.
He looked confident and in control. The minutes were ticking by, her guts were in knots.
If they couldn’t find the code, the EMPs would launch.
Bedlam would break out across the country, the impact would have a global reach, life as they knew it would come to a screeching and violent halt.
Is this the beginning of Armageddon? Please Lord, keep us safe. Help us figure this out.
She looked at Gabriel, then directed her attention to the timepiece. It was an ordinary pocket watch from another era. A white face, black Roman numerals, with small, round diamonds set below the I, the III, and the VII.
The black and white photo had yellowed with age.
Two small boys dressed in clothing from a different time.
Two older Russians stood behind them. Stout and stern, they looked like a stoic group.
One edge of the tiny picture had peeled away, so Halston slid her long fingernail under the photo and tugged, just a little.
The photo gave away, revealing a tiny piece of paper taped to the inside of the locket with a string of digits.
She and Gabriel exchanged glances.
“Here we go,” Gabriel said.
“Dr. Devereux, plug that code into the ‘Abort’ pop-up window,” instructed the President.
Halston called out the twelve numbers, her dad typed them in. Then, he confirmed what he’d typed.
“Confirmed,” Halston echoed.
Dustin Devereux hit the return key.
Another window popped open in Russian. Последовательность активации не прервана.
Halston translated, “Activation sequence not aborted.”
Groans filled the room.
She’d been confident this code would deactivate the detonator.
“Twelve minutes until EMPs are launched,” Gabriel said.
“I’m calling the Kremlin,” President Garrison announced, the bite in his voice not lost on her.
The code had not worked, and their situation had gone from bad to worse. With twelve minutes left and no solution in sight, Halston’s confidence was starting to wane.