“Enough,” said Todd. “We will say that we conducted a series of covert operations using technology that was designed to minimize casualties. I believe that’s bland enough to get the job done without going into details. And there will be no details.”
She looked at the Secretary of Defense, whose staff she was certain was just dying to go off the record to polish their boss’s image. He was sure to be one of the candidates to succeed her.
He was as vain as he was indecisive. He would make a particularly lousy President. She had to keep him from that.
“Is that understood?” Todd said pointedly.
“I have an informational question,” said the Secretary of State. “Are our people safe?”
Todd realized that Newhaven was actually asking whether the Iranians might capture the team and use them for their own propaganda purposes.
“I’m told that all efforts to recover them are proceeding,” said Todd, keeping to herself for now the fact that only two were still alive. “Are you arguing that we wait until they are recovered?”
“No, it makes no sense to wait,” said Newhaven. “Not in the scheme of things. I’m just . . . concerned.”
It was amazing how many platitudes and clichés could be rolled out, Todd thought, when you were trying to justify sacrificing your people.
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER PRESIDENT TODD ENTERED the Oval Office. A pool camera had been manned after the news and cable networks were alerted that an important announcement was coming from the President. Reporters were waiting in the hallway to witness her statement. They’d been told it would be very brief and she would take no questions afterward.
David Greenwich, her chief of staff, was waiting near her desk.
“Mr. Reid and Ms. Stockard need to have a word,” he said.
“Good. I need to speak to them as well,” she said, sitting. Todd picked up the phone and told the operator to put the call from Whiplash through. “You have an update for me?” she asked.
“We still haven’t been able to contact Captain Mako,” said Breanna Stockard. “He’s moving.”
“I see. And Sergeant Ransom?”
“We have no other information.”
“Are they likely to be captured?” asked Todd.
Reid cut in. “As I said earlier, the odds on any of the team making it out alive are very long.”
“But Captain Mako is definitely alive?” asked Todd.
“He’s definitely moving,” answered Reid. “That’s as much as we can say. We’re reluctant to call him, since we don’t know the circumstances. It may give him away.”
“His capture would not be optimum,” said Todd.
“Absolutely not. We are pursuing our final alternative.”
“I would certainly prefer that he escapes alive,” said the President. There was no need to continue. Todd drew a deep breath. “Let me reiterate—job well done. Both of you.”
“Chris, I assume you’ve decided to announce that we were responsible,” said Reid. Even if he hadn’t used her first name—a severe break in protocol—she would have known from the shift in his tone that he was making a plea based on their long friendship. “I— It would be better for our people if there was no announcement yet.”
“I understand. Unfortunately, if we let the Iranians announce the attack, there will be other repercussions. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you, Madam President,” said Reid stiffly.
Todd hung up the phone and looked up at David Greenwich, near the door. “Ready?”
“That’s your call, ma’am.”
Todd took the paper with her statement from the folder and looked at it. There hadn’t been time to put it on the teleprompter, but that was just as well—better, she thought, to do this the old fashioned way. It would give things a formal feel.
She reached into her bag and took out her reading glasses. She didn’t actually need them to see the statement, but they were a useful prop.
“You can let them in,” she told Greenwich. Then she leaned back in the seat, folding her hands together in her lap. She gave a smile to the technicians and the press corps as they entered—her “schoolmarm smile,” as her husband put it.
The reporters and technical people came in and began milling around, checking equipment and taking their places. Finally, all was ready.
“The light will come on, and we’ll be live,” said the technical director. He was actually a White House employee who worked for the communications staff. He pulled the headset on, adjusted the microphone, and told the man coordinating the network connections that they were ready to go.
“My fellow Americans, I come to you tonight with important and serious news.” Todd felt the slightest tickle in her throat as she started, but pressed on. “As you are aware by now, Iran has moved forward with its program to develop nuclear weapons, despite sanctions and universal disapproval from the international community.”
Todd paused. She was looking straight into the camera—the statement was brief, and she knew it by heart, not least of all because she had written it herself.
“What you don’t know,” she continued, “is that the Iranian program was much further along than most people have speculated publicly. A few days ago I learned definitively that the Iranians had constructed a small number of devices and were planning to make them operational.”
She paused again. There was no smile on her face now. Her mouth was set, her gaze determined.
“Realizing how grave the situation was, I authorized our military to conduct a measured attack to destroy the bombs in their bunkers. Those operations have now been carried out. I am sure that you will understand if I do not give the exact details of those military operations, but let me assure you, and the world, that we did not ourselves use nuclear weapons in the process.”
Todd took off her glasses.
“The fruits of the Iranian program have been destroyed. Rest assured that we will continue to monitor the Iranian government’s actions, and take whatever corrective or punitive measures are necessary. We have no argument or dispute with the Iranian people themselves, as I hope they will realize from the pinpoint precision and limits of our action. But we will not allow nations to violate international law or go against the wishes for peace by the world at large.”
Todd, face still stern, practically glared into the camera.
“We’re off,” said the director.
As she rose, the press corps began asking questions.
“We’ll have a full statement in an hour at the regular briefing,” she told them. “Until then, I’m afraid I have quite a bit to do, and there will be no further statement from myself or my staff.”
2
Over India
MARK STONER LISTENED TO THE SILENCE OF THE MACHINE. It was not like a human silence, nor was it an absolute absence of sound. It was more a very soft hum, filtered through wires and circuit boards.
He heard the same silence in his head sometimes.
“Download is complete,” said the machine. “Awaiting instructions.”
“Proceed with separation sequence as preprogrammed,” said Stoner. “Prepare to launch.”
“Affirmative. Proceeding.”
Six and a half minutes passed. Stoner watched them drain off the counter in his visor. He could tap into any number of different sensors, displaying them on his screen in dozens of preconfigured combinations. But he preferred not to. He preferred the gray blankness of the screen. And so the only thing he saw were numbers, draining slowly in the left-hand corner of his vision.
The computer announced that they were reaching the final launch checkpoint. Stoner had not received an order to abort, and so he told the computer to proceed. He was past the point of no return for this orbit. If he didn’t go, he’d have to wait roughly two hours before being in position again. And there was no sense in that.