Final Strike--A Sean Falcone Novel

by William S. Cohen

  “Thank you,” Oxley said. He could not see Zhang’s face. “President Zhang. Are you ready for a three-way Skype?”

  From a stream of interpreters’ chatter in Chinese, Russian, and English there finally came a Chinese voice relaying Zhang’s words, followed by an American voice: “Your call came at an inconvenient time.… I don’t understand the … hasty need.”

  “Because of the nature of my country, President Zhang,” Oxley said patiently, “it is imperative—greatly important—for me to speak as quickly as possible.”

  Again a chattering, followed by a long pause. Then Zhang’s interpreter spoke: “I am consulting my advisers.” Another pause.

  Finally, Zhang, on Skype, agreed to time his statement so that he would speak to his people simultaneously with Lebed and Oxley. The three leaders had laid out the ground rules the day before—Lebed and Oxley directly, Zhang through two interpreters and an unnamed principal adviser who spoke English. Each leader said he would reveal the asteroid threat to his nation simultaneously with the other two. They also firmly agreed, in a discussion of word meanings in three languages, that none would say nuclear weapon. Explosives was the only approved noun that could go with the adjective nuclear.

  While the Skype connection was still live, Oxley added, “One more matter. I depend upon both of you to get word to Kim Jong-un that if he takes advantage of this crisis by firing a missile or making empty threats, the United States will react with deadly force—massive deadly force.”

  Oxley then shut down Skype, took a moment to arrange himself at his desk, looked directly at a waiting camera, saw its red light go on, and spoke:

  “My fellow Americans, an asteroid of hazardous size is on a collision course with Earth. Unless it is intercepted in some way, it will strike in thirty-nine days. Fortunately, Earth’s principal spacefaring nations—the United States, Russia, and China—have enlisted their leading astrophysicists in a search for ways to defend Earth from the asteroid.

  “I have just spoken to President Lebed of Russia and President Zhang Xing of China. They are addressing their nations at this moment. We are in full agreement that the best way to defend Earth is by destroying the asteroid with nuclear explosives.

  “At this moment, preparations are being made to carry out this decision well before the day of the predicted impact.

  “We must, as a nation, join in defense of Earth by taking certain precautions. I am about to meet with my Cabinet and congressional leaders to discuss our future plans.

  “Throughout our history, Americans have always answered the call when their nation faced a crisis. United and confident, we will do so again. God bless America.”

  91

  Oxley returned to a tumultuous Cabinet Room. Only a few attendees were still seated. The rest were gathered in front of the television set watching a rerun of Oxley’s speech. This time the screen was divided into three vertical panels, showing the three leaders speaking, with only Oxley audible.

  Morris Bentley, a big man made bigger by a paunch, pushed up against Oxley, trying to go through the door. A Secret Service agent behind Oxley took a side step and shoved Bentley, who fell back into one of the chairs lining a wall.

  In a small screen at the lower right of the big screen was Ned Winslow, a handsome, white-haired man in his late fifties, often proclaimed by GNN as “the most trusted newsman in television.” He was speechless at his World Newsroom anchor desk, looking confused, not only because of what he had just heard but also because he wasn’t sure what expression he should put on his face. He finally chose self-assured as he said, “And there you have it. A threatening asteroid is going to be nuked.”

  The triple image faded and Jason Getchell reappeared at his White House observation post. The camera panned to the parked cars again.

  “Now, back to Jason and the beginning of this momentous story,” Winslow said. He was still in a corner of the screen.

  “So, Jason, do you believe that a declaration of war is likely?”

  “I believe the situation has become incredibly complex, Ned. ‘Nuclear explosives’? President Oxley was obviously avoiding the word ‘weapon’ so as to not alarm Kim Jong-un … and perhaps his political foes who are still meeting with him right here.” Jason pointed toward the White House.

  “As you know, Ned, GNN not long ago exclusively reported that Russia is about to unveil its mobile ICBM, which carries multiple warheads. My candidate for the asteroid shot is that missile.”

  “A Russian nuke? A Russian missile?” Speaker Cross shouted at the screen. “This cannot stand.”

  “And, Jason, about that unidentified man with General Amador,” Winslow said. “We have an ID. He’s Dr. Ben Taylor, the Your Universe TV show host. But we don’t know why he’s in the White House or why he left for the Pentagon with the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Keep checking on that one, Jason.”

  “Right, Ned.”

  A look of surprise crossed Winslow’s face. “This just in,” he said, improvising from whatever his producer had put on the teleprompter. “Secretary-General Thanasak Jayaraman has called an emergency meeting of the United Nations General Assembly to discuss the existential threat of an Earth-threatening asteroid.

  “Also, Reuters is reporting that Britain’s prime minister, Edna Barclay, is quote ‘infuriated by the arrogance of the leaders of America, Russia, and China who have assumed possession of a potential deadly asteroid’ unquote.”

  Margaret Edmonds elbowed her way to Oxley and shouted, “Homeland Security is ready, Mr. President.”

  “Thank you, Margaret. I’m sure it is.”

  Still at the door, Oxley cupped his hands around his mouth like a coach shouting on the sidelines: “Please, everybody! Please, in your seats!”

  Bentley chose a wall chair by the door, now guarded by the agent who had shoved him. They briefly glowered at each other.

  Oxley returned to his chair and said, “Turn that damned thing off.”

  Falcone slipped past the dwindling viewers and turned off the set, instantly shifting everyone’s attention back to Oxley.

  “I realize that every one of you has a question. But allow me to tell you what I intend to do. And then, I’m sure, you’ll have even more questions.” He managed a quick smile.

  “I know you’ll agree that this is a unique moment. There are absolutely no precedents. We, the executive and legislative leaders, are dealing with a state of emergency beyond any conception of that phrase. And so, after much thought, I have decided that I must declare martial law.”

  Ignoring the gasp and scattered babble around the table, Oxley continued. “Martial law, as all the lawyers in the room know, may be invoked when the President, as commander-in-chief, contemplates some vitally needed use of military resources. We need martial law as the legal authority for carrying out a massive evacuation of people living in coastal areas of the United States.”

  “Impossible! Impossible!” shouted Cook, whose congressional district included a gerrymandered stretch of the Washington State coast.

  “Please, Mr. Speaker—and every one of you who wants to comment—please wait until you hear my other major concern: continuity of government.

  “Most of you,” Oxley continued, “have participated in computer simulations or actual drills that instruct governmental leaders in what might happen in the event of a nuclear war or catastrophic terrorist attack. Now, bracing for another kind of catastrophe, we must consider Washington as much imperiled as are all the other cities on Earth.

  “So, before the attempt is made to destroy the asteroid, I will send a continuity-of-government team, headed by Vice President Reese, to the emergency underground Command Center in Raven Rock Mountain, Pennsylvania, which as you know, is a secret three-story underground facility about sixty-five miles north of Washington.”

  Oxley went on to say, “By Executive Order, I am changing the line of succession, which has the president pro tempore of the Senate follow the Vice President and the Speaker of
the House. Because of the chronic illness of the president pro tempore, I have made the majority leader the third in succession.”

  Bentley looked as if he was going to speak, but an inner vision put him in the Oval Office, and he decided to remain silent.

  “Military helicopters,” Oxley continued, “will transport the continuity team to Raven Rock. The team will include the officials in the succession line down to the secretary of the Treasury, and the attorney general. I shall also ask the chief archivist of the United States to deliver our most sacred documents—the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and the Bill of Rights—to Raven Rock.

  “Although Secretary Winthrop is in the line of succession, he will be my principal military adviser and will remain in the Pentagon. I will remain in the White House. The National Gallery of Art, the National Museum of History, and other Smithsonian facilities will follow their standard plans for the preservation of their iconic holdings. Members of the U.S. Marshals Service, which is responsible for protection of the Supreme Court, will transport the justices to Raven Rock.

  “Members of the House and Senate will have access to the High Point Special Facility in Mount Weather, Virginia. As many of you know, High Point is a large underground bunker like Raven Rock. The House and Senate leadership will determine how many lawmakers can safely occupy High Point and who they will be.

  “As I told you in presenting Dr. Taylor’s report, the odds are that the impact site will be an ocean, and the result will almost certainly be monstrous tsunamis that will wipe out coastal areas. The evacuation of coastal areas and the continuity of government operation provide insurance policies in case the plan to destroy the asteroid fails completely or partially.

  “As for the continuation of government plan, we must guarantee that the nation lives on, even if some of us do not.”

  Oxley’s pause was solemn enough to inspire a silence—and the first question. It came from Margaret Edmonds, secretary of Homeland Security, the head of the third-largest department in the federal government. She was a tall, full-figured woman in a blue slacks suit. On Capitol Hill, she had the reputation of being the toughest bureaucrat in Washington.

  “Mr. President,” she said, “regarding continuity of government, I call your attention to National Security Presidential Directive number fifty-one, which stipulates that the secretary of Homeland Security shall serve as the President’s lead agent for coordinating overall continuity operations. And so, Mr. President, it is I who should be your field director, not Secretary Winthrop.”

  “I’m aware of that directive, which was proclaimed by one of my predecessors, Margaret. But ‘continuity of operations’ is not continuity of government—or continuity of the nation itself. As I said, we face an emergency unlike any ever seen. For that reason, I will produce my own continuity of government executive order, which will establish martial law not only for mass evacuations but also to serve and protect our people.”

  He pointed to Winthrop, who sat closer to him than Edmonds did, a subtle reminder that, under the law of presidential succession, Winthrop was sixth in line and she sixteenth. “Secretary of Defense Winthrop will be running the overall military aspect of this emergency, calling upon you, Margaret, to provide him with whatever Homeland Security equipment, personnel, and expertise he requests. Next question?”

  It was from Attorney General Malcomson: “Mr. President, I’m concerned about the imposing of martial law—or your personal version of martial law—in anticipation of need. After all, Mr. President, there may not even be an asteroid and, if there is, it may be destroyed before it reaches Earth.”

  “I can understand your concern, Madam Attorney General,” Oxley said. “And I am sure there are many people in this room with questions about preparing for something we cannot see. Let me say this: I have less than a year to go as President. Thirty-nine days of that year are asteroid days. I intend to handle those thirty-nine days by working with you all. But somebody has to be the commander-in-chief, and the Constitution says it’s the President.”

  In the sudden hush that followed, Speaker Cross stood and said, in his most oratorical cadence, “The Constitution also says the President may be impeached. What you have done is a High Crime! You have turned the security of America over to the Russians! To the goddamn Russians! As soon as I am released from this locked room, I shall go to the House of the People and present to the House Judiciary Committee a resolution of impeachment.”

  “This meeting is over,” Oxley said, starting to walk out of the room.

  Cristina Gonzales, the House minority leader, touched Oxley’s coat sleeve. “One moment, please, Mr. President,” she said. “What was Ben Taylor doing with General Amador?”

  “Why not ask him, Cristina?” Oxley replied, nodding to Taylor, who was near enough to hear the question.

  “The general wanted me to brief the Joint Chiefs,” Taylor said, turning to face Gonzales. “It’s an interesting place. I’d never been in the Pentagon.”

  “How did they react?” Gonzales asked.

  “They seemed to me to be highly competent men who are never surprised.”

  92

  By the time Secretary Winthrop reached his Pentagon office, people all over the world were beginning to realize they and their planet were in grave danger. GNN was still running rebroadcasts of its discovery of the White House meeting. But reactions to the asteroid revelation from the three leaders quickly eclipsed a report on a mere closed-door meeting. Even before the fleet of SUVs returned their passengers to their offices, word of potential martial law flashed around official Washington.

  Asteroid became Google’s most-used query word, and the leading response was from Professor Martin Bristol of Rice University in Houston, Texas. He had been introduced to the GNN audience as a specialist in disaster studies. Asked what to expect if a medium-sized asteroid hit in an urban area, Bristol said on GNN, “Knowing only what we know now, this is what that kind of enormous power means if it strikes a city: Highway girder bridges will collapse. Cars and trucks will be overturned. Highway truss bridges will collapse. Multi-story buildings will collapse. Combustible materials will be ignited by the tremendous heat. People caught outside will suffer third-degree burns or worse.” Each sentence was accompanied by a horrific image.

  “An electromagnet pulse, created by the asteroid,” Bristol continued, “will knock out electric grids and disable all entities—from cell phones to nuclear power plants—that depend upon digital circuitry.” Accompanying those words was a full-screen image of New York City spangled with lights and then suddenly blacked out. The professor’s litany of catastrophe was repeated on GNN again and again, day after day.

  One of Ned Winslow’s researchers tracked down a video of An Asteroid Closely Watched, Ben Taylor’s unseen TV show that was to have been on public television. The GNN researcher reached the show’s producer. He was still outraged that the show had been shelved, due to pressure on public television from Robert Wentworth Hamilton. Without permission from Taylor, the producer handed over the video to GNN.

  GNN news producers edited the hour-long show down to two video segments. In the first segment, Taylor stands before a sky full of stars in the Air and Space Museum planetarium. He is saying, “Our lack of understanding about asteroids is amazing—and dangerous. Remember that fireball that lit up the skies of Russia a while back? It was called a comet, a meteorite.… Well, now we know that it was a tiny asteroid, only about fifteen feet long! That’s right. Tiny, but able to scare us—and explode with a shockwave that shattered windows, loosened bricks, and injured twelve hundred people.”

  In the second segment, Taylor stands before a huge photograph of felled and blackened trees—a Siberian forest leveled by an asteroid in 1908. “It weighed 220 million pounds and entered Earth’s atmosphere at a speed of about 33,500 miles per hour,” Taylor says. “The air around it heated to a temperature of 44,500 degrees Fahrenheit, releasing energy equivalent to about 185 Hiroshima-size nuclea
r bombs.”

  To those snippets of Taylor’s banned show, Winslow’s producer added a Discovery Channel simulation of a flaming asteroid striking the Earth and turning it into smoldering cinders. GNN also slipped in a snip of a scene showing Taylor walking with General Amador as a grim narrative voice says, “Astrophysicist Taylor briefs the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff on war against an asteroid.”

  All networks had covered Oxley’s address, but GNN went into full disaster-story mode, constantly showing nonstop loops of Professor Bristol’s damage assessment and the flaming-asteroid image wrongly associated with Taylor’s show.

  GNN correspondents from Montana to Maine interviewed “preppers,” people who had been preparing for the collapse of civilization. “I knew it was coming. I knew it was coming,” said an Oklahoma man who did not allow his face to be shown. He seemed to be ecstatic over the potential end of the world. According to a California psychiatrist interviewed by GNN, “There are three million preppers in the United States. ‘Prepping’ has become a multibillion-dollar industry. The electromagnetic pulse—no electricity, no Internet, no email, no gas pumps—has been an invisible demon of the preppers. Now it’s the asteroid.”

  “Survival real estate” boomed, with offerings of confidential, high-priced refuges from Idaho to New Mexico. “Your loved ones are counting on you to lead them to a place of safety,” said a gun-toting Realtor in a commercial shown frequently on GNN. In Tennessee, a mountaintop farmhouse became a million-dollar property. A “private cave” in West Virginia offered “refuge from electromagnetic pulses.”

  The owner of a New Jersey gun shop told a GNN interviewer that sales of firearms had already increased so much that manufacturers were struggling to keep up with the demand. Ammunition was also vanishing. Pointing to nearly empty shelves, he said, “I predict that if this thing really happens, those bullets will be the coin of the realm.”

  A woman in South Carolina showed her thousand tilapia fish in the deep end of her swimming pool—a source of protein to augment her shelves full of cans and canisters. A Florida man, standing proudly alongside his wife and three young children, pointed to their handguns, assault rifles, and hundred of boxes of ammunition.