The White House: A Flynn Carroll Thriller

by Whitley Strieber

  “We’ve been buried in work, we didn’t know.”

  “How the hell did you get in here, anyway?”

  “Somebody left a grate open.”

  The agent frowned.

  Flynn put his hand on the handle of the door. Diana braced the agent’s gun at him. Hands raised, he backed up a step. “Take it easy,” he said. “I know you people are on our side.”

  “Not him,” Flynn said, indicating the fallen agent with his chin. “He’s gonna wake up in three or four minutes and he’s gonna come after us. You stop him, do you understand?”

  “How can I stop a kid like that? Look at him.”

  He looked like a SEAL on steroids. Flynn could kill him easily. Break the neck right now. But he had no way to be certain of what he was, and he wasn’t willing to kill an innocent human being whose only mistake was to believe that he was doing his duty.

  “Get ready,” Flynn said to Diana. “All hell’s gonna break loose when we go in.”

  She came up beside him. She was silent.

  The PEOC is dominated by a long room centered on a conference table. On the walls around this table are a dozen flat-screen monitors. It is at this table that the National Security Council, the president’s Chief of Staff, and the Joint Chiefs sit during times of crisis, and it was here that they would be sitting now. Deeper in the facility is a communications area manned by specialists from the National Reconnaissance Office and the Joint Military Communications Command. Beyond these rooms, there is a presidential suite and a number of more spartan living facilities for aides. These, along with a communal dining area, a medical facility that is equipped with everything from Band-Aids to radiation monitoring equipment, and a wash-down decontamination unit, comprises the facility. If a nuclear warhead detonated two thousand feet over the White House, this bunker would take a severe shock, but it would survive, as would most of its inhabitants, give or take a few broken bones and shattered eardrums. Only a bunker buster, driving down through the fifty feet of concrete above it, would take it out.

  Flynn opened the door and stepped inside, Diana behind him. He then closed it and twisted the lock.

  Every head in the room turned toward them, but he was really only interested in one person. Lorna, who was sitting beside the president, started to leap to her feet, but then checked herself.

  A voice filled the room from over the telephone in the president’s hand. “We will launch in three minutes.”

  Flynn recognized that it was Benjamin Netanyahu.

  Lorna leaned close to Bill and whispered. Flynn heard enough to know that she had counseled him to let it happen.

  “Excuse me,” DCIA Boxleitner said. He backed away from the table, stood, and came striding up to Flynn. The president looked over, frowned, and went back to the call.

  “I want this man arrested,” Boxleitner shouted. “Where’s the Secret Service?” He came closer to Flynn and said more quietly, “What is this about?”

  Flynn pushed past him, walking deeper into the room. Seeing the bulge in Flynn’s pocket, Admiral Delaney of the Joint Chiefs came to his feet. “There’s a gun,” he said. His voice was shaking, but he kept his composure very well, Flynn thought. Tough guy.

  “Just sit back down. Everybody stay tight here. Bill, you’re going to listen to me now, not to Lorna.”

  The president muted the phone. “Flynn, what the hell are you doing this time?”

  “OK, Bill, everybody—there’s already been an alarm put in. The Secret Service is converging right now. They’re going to burst through that door in about a minute. Bill, if you do one single thing wrong, you will start a chain of events that will lead to a massive worldwide nuclear exchange and the death of the human species.”

  Netanyahu said, “We’re launching now.”

  “The missile will not create blast effect.”

  General Hamelin of the air force scoffed. “It’s a hydrogen bomb! It’s going to wreck the whole of Semnan Province.”

  “The weapon has been altered. They’ve all been altered. It is now something like a neutron bomb. It will emit a horrendous sheet of short half-life radiation and leave infrastructure mostly intact.”

  Lorna said, “All right, let it happen, then.”

  “The Russians will react,” Boxleitner yelled. “They’ll hit Israel.”

  “They won’t,” Flynn said. “This will defuse a situation that’s got to be terrifying Putin, because if he launches against Israel, he has to think we’ll launch against him.”

  “Which we will not,” Bill said. “I’m not starting World War Three.”

  “We’ll cross that bridge,” Lorna muttered.

  NRO Chief Henry Fielder said, “We have recon showing the Iranians are running out four more missiles.”

  The president said, “Get Putin on the line.” Then, into the phone, “Benjamin, we have no objection to your launching against Semnan.”

  Netanyahu’s voice boomed out into the room. “Mr. President, we launched already. We were watching them preparing four more missiles. We have also directed Speed Wind against them.”

  Flynn said, “Get it on satellite. Visual.”

  A moment later a satellite view of the Iranian missile complex appeared in detail and in color on four of the screens around the room.

  Fielder said, “Russian missile silos opening. Thirty mobile units in motion.”

  “Bill,” Lorna said, “we have to preempt.”

  This was exactly what Flynn had expected her to say. This was the moment that Aeon had planned for. From here, the whole terrible chain of events was supposed to start.

  Homeland Security chief William Apel announced that they were moving to DEFCON 5 and warning the country.

  Flynn knew that for all but a tiny handful of people in the military and the intelligence communities, the country and the world would be taken by surprise.

  “Sir, prime ministers and presidents are lined up on the horn.”

  “Britain, France, Germany, Italy, three minutes each. The rest in a conference call,” Secretary of Defense Cornyn said.

  Bill Greene’s cell phone began buzzing. Cissy, who was sitting behind him in the advisory line, took it. Flynn heard her talking to Bob Doxy, her voice quiet and intense. He was getting a blow-by-blow from her, one of the perks of being an eight-figure contributor.

  Boxleitner said, “We have reports from the Kremlin that Putin will hit Israel.”

  “We must preempt,” Lorna said, her voice startlingly calm and even reassuring, rich with authority.

  Events were about to outrun Flynn. Lorna was winning, but if he killed her right now, he would lose anyway. He had to get them to listen to his argument, and that depended on what happened to the Israeli missile that had just launched.

  “Two minutes to impact,” Fielder said.

  “Sir, we have the Russian president.”

  “Vladimir, we must be very careful here,” Bill said.

  Flynn was amazed at how presidential he was sounding. Was the office transforming him? The beer-and-joke guy was not present in this room, and neither was the scared, confused amateur way out of his depth. Harry Truman had risen to the challenge of the office. So had Gerald Ford and Ronald Reagan, both men seemingly poorly prepared for challenges that they turned out to handle well.

  Putin’s translator’s voice filled the room. “We will respond carefully. The Iranians have fired first, therefore we will not fire unless the Israelis do more than destroy the missile base.”

  “You’re running out your missiles.”

  “As you know, many of ours are liquid-fueled. We cannot prepare as quickly as you can.”

  “Run them in. This gives you a preemptive capability that we cannot tolerate.”

  Lorna said, “For the love of God, preempt now! He’s going to hit us!”

  “Vladimir, please respond to me.”

  Greene was pouring with sweat, his forehead gleaming, his whole face pulsing red. Would he have a stroke? A heart attack? Flynn thought
that the pressure was literally unimaginable.

  “We will remain in static defense,” Putin said at last. “You must not fire, William.”

  “He’s lying,” Lorna practically screeched.

  An enormous flash filled the room. The satellites trained on the Iranian missile site had just transmitted the explosion not of a neutron weapon, but of a conventional hydrogen bomb.

  “See,” Lorna said, “get that crazy man out of here!”

  Bill looked toward Flynn. “I’ve got ten Secret Service agents on the other side of the door, Flynn. I think you and Diana had better go.”

  Cissy leaned forward. “Dad, she’s not loyal. She’s trying to start a war. Everything she says points to it.”

  Lorna turned around and slapped her hard, the smack of it like a shot, giving back ten times over what she’d gotten a few hours before.

  Silence fell.

  “How dare you,” she said into it. “We are trying to save the United States of America and you side with this nut job and his crazy lady!” She looked around the room. “You heard the president. Get them out of here.”

  “I’m assuring you,” Flynn said, “the other bombs will destroy infrastructure. They will not emit blast effect.”

  “Missile rising from Iranian region Noje.”

  “What in hell! Vladimir, are you seeing this?”

  “We have it.”

  Netanyahu came back on the line. “There’s a launch from outside of the Speed Wind umbrella. Unknown launch.” There was a pause. “It will impact fifty miles north of Tel Aviv. We’re tracking it with Iron Dome, but interception is unlikely.”

  “Vladimir, are you hearing this?”

  “If they launch against Iran, we launch against them.”

  Flynn said, “This missile is off its programmed course, which was Tel Aviv. It is intended to devastate Galilee. It will NOT—I repeat, NOT—emit blast effect. There will be a short-term, extremely intense radiation emission.” He raised his voice. “Mr. Netanyahu, you get your citizens in basements, in whatever shelter they can find. Prepare radiation recovery teams.”

  “Who is that?”

  Lorna shrieked, “Somebody shoot that man!”

  “Gentlemen,” the president said, “if this—”

  “Iron Dome launches,” Fielder said. “Iron Dome detonates. No joy. Iron Dome—standby. Warhead … detonates. Blast effect estimate one tenth of a kiloton at altitude sixty-one thousand feet.”

  A voice from communications said, “Israel off-line.”

  “What’s going on?” the president pleaded. “Vladimir, are you still there?”

  “We’re evaluating,” he said.

  Lorna said, “He’s lying. They’re going to launch their mobiles, Bill. For the love of all that’s holy, fire Minuteman!”

  At that moment, the door burst open and Secret Service agents and White House police burst in, wearing full SWAT gear and carrying automatic rifles, stun grenades, gas, you name it.

  Diana, who had been standing near the door, ran to the far end of the room. Flynn took three quick shots at the upper shoulders of the three lead agents. This would graze their armor and dislocate their shoulders, but not kill them.

  Putin’s translator said, “We want to know what’s happening.”

  “It’s under control,” Greene shouted. Then, “Stand down! All of you, stand down!”

  They came on, and Flynn realized that they were not Secret Service at all, none of them. His next shot took off the head of the one nearest him. The thing reeled, then staggered forward, still alive, still attempting to manipulate its weapon.

  “Look at that,” Fielder yelled.

  Spurting blood from the ruins of its upper body, it turned toward Fielder and fired at him, missing but causing him to fly across the table. He took Secretary of Defense Cornyn to the floor.

  Total pandemonium. People fought each other to get under the table, to run deeper into the facility, to go past the attackers and out into the hall.

  “Flynn,” Bill shouted, “fix it, fix it!”

  Cissy and another backup Flynn did not know threw themselves onto the president. The three of them disappeared beneath the table edge.

  “What’s happening?” Putin’s translator said. “What is this, is that a coup there? President Greene, we must know.”

  “Military coup,” Lorna shouted.

  Even if Flynn had not been here, he realized, this would have happened. All along, the real plan had been to frighten Putin into firing first because he thought that the U.S. military had taken over. He would quickly see that the consequences of such a takeover would be impossible to predict, and he would launch.

  So this was why all the assassination attempts against Flynn. He was probably the only person alive who could restore order in this room fast enough to stop the Russian launch.

  He took out three more of the creatures with the last three bullets in the Secret Service agent’s gun, then vaulted the table amid a hail of bullets and got the assault rifle from the one that had fallen first. He pulled Fielder off Secretary Cornyn.

  He also knew that Lorna’s cry had been intended to frighten Putin into launching, and that she would do the same thing again any moment now.

  He used the weapon to clean up the rest of the intruders, who fell in a writhing heap. “They’re still dangerous,” he shouted. “They don’t die like we do. Stay away from them.” He turned to the spot where the president had been sitting. “Bill, you need to tell Putin there’s no problem here.”

  A voice from the communications center said, “Russian missiles preparing to launch. We have launches.”

  “How many?” Greene shouted.

  “Flight of six. Calculating impact points.”

  “Bill, launch Minuteman!” Lorna’s howl tore through the air.

  “Missile explodes.”

  The translator’s voice filled the room. “An unauthorized launch,” he said.

  Flynn saw Greene press the mute button on the phone. “Activate Sky Dragon.”

  “Dragon tracking three. Tracking four. Missile explodes.”

  “Vladimir, we’re back in the saddle,” Greene said.

  “Sir, I cannot understand,” the translator said.

  “Things are under control,” Cissy said.

  “Under control, yes,” Bill said.

  “Dragon intercepts two warheads. Detonations. Missiles neutralized.”

  “What do we have?”

  The translator said, “We have destroyed the two of our missiles you did not. Mr. Putin says please do not launch. We are standing down.”

  “Russian silos closing,” the NRO technician said over the intercom from the communications center.

  The secretary of defense, who was covered with the reeking “blood” of a biorobot, began having convulsions. Medical personnel appeared.

  “Don’t touch those bodies,” Flynn said. “They’re going to be booby-trapped. Also, they use reptile genes to give them durability. They won’t be entirely dead for hours.”

  The army chief of staff, who had been sitting like a stone, now came to his feet and shouted, “What is this? I want this explained! Now!”

  “In good time, General,” Diana said.

  “NORAD report commences,” the loudspeaker intoned. “This is Space Command. We have a missile warhead on track to impact due east of Minot, North Dakota. Direct hit on Malmstrom AFB.”

  “Get all personnel underground,” Flynn said. “There will be no blast effect.”

  “What in hell are these bombs about?” another member of the Joint Chiefs shouted.

  “They’re designed to eradicate life without destroying infrastructure.”

  “The Russians’—”

  “All of them. Ours. The Israelis’. Possibly some of the Iranians’.”

  “Pakistan missiles being run out. Indian missiles being run out.”

  “Get Islamabad on the line. Vladimir, can you hear me?”

  “We’re on.”

&
nbsp; “Call Delhi. Please try to spread calm.”

  “Yes, I will do it now.” It was Putin himself. He spoke good English. As a gesture of trust, he had dispensed with his translator.

  “Prime Minister Aman is on the line,” one of the young people in communications said.

  “Mr. Greene,” the Pakistani prime minister said, “why are they doing this to us?”

  “The Iranians fired a missile at Israel. I think the Indians are afraid that the conflict will widen. Mr. Putin is talking to them.”

  “We cannot risk this. We must destroy their missile delivery capability.”

  “If you fire, they fire. Your cities will be ruined.”

  “As will theirs! I cannot risk them firing first.”

  “You can respond after they fire.”

  “I’m not sure we will be fast enough. It’s only seven minutes.”

  Greene looked from face to face, his eyes stopping on Flynn for just an extra moment. “Mr. Prime Minister, I tell you this in confidence: If they fire, we will take them out. No warheads will reach you.”

  “What is this? I know nothing of this.”

  “A system we have in space. It is already set to target their missiles.”

  There was silence on the line, then a faint click.

  “He’s consulting his generals,” Secretary of State Costigan said.

  Greene looked to Boxleitner. “Background me.”

  “General Nazzimuda will recommend standing down.”

  “You’re certain?”

  He held up a phone. “He just texted me.”

  The line clicked. “If we stand down, we want access to this system. We want to understand it so that we know it works.”

  NRO director Fielder had gone as pale as dead smoke. “Sir—”

  “There will be time for that later,” Greene said smoothly. “Right now, you can take the word of the President of the United States for it.”

  “You guarantee that you will explain it to us?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Very well, then we wait. If they do not fire, we do not.”

  “You won’t regret this, Mr. Prime Minster. You’re now a national hero; you have saved millions of Pakistani lives.”

  “Or thrown them away.” He disconnected.