“Honestly?” Savich replied. “We see how good our team is.”

53

KING TO H2

The White House

The power went out without so much as a whisper. Callan was reading an up-to-the-minute brief on the Geneva talks. “They’re falling apart,” she said aloud. “Not a surprise now we think Iran and Hezbollah were trying to undermine the talks.”

Quinn rushed into her office, hair flying. “Secret Service are coming to move you to the bunker.”

“Because the power’s out? Isn’t that a bit of an overreaction?”

“The Richmond power grid’s been attacked, and there’s a rolling blackout making its way up the eastern seaboard. The FBI feels an attack on you could be imminent and this could be the start. We’ve got to go.”

Damari, Callan thought, her heart leaping into her throat. Ari, you were right. Thank you, thank you.

Her heart was kettledrumming in her chest, but she wasn’t about to freak Quinn out.

Callan was well trained in the emergency protocols; they’d been drummed into her from the moment she accepted the nomination of vice president and was suddenly surrounded by men bristling with weapons concerned solely for her safety. She’d also helped improve them when she’d been in the CIA. She grabbed her jacket from the chair back, got her heels on. Quinn had her secure laptop and her briefcase.

Callan’s lead Secret Service agent, Tony Scarlatti, appeared in the doorway. “Good, you’re all packed up. Ready, ma’am?”

“Yes, I am.” As they walked briskly toward the West Wing, Tony said into his wrist mike, “Cardinal’s on the move.” He gave Callan a big smile. “You’re going to be just fine, ma’am. No worries.”

And she no longer wanted to break into a run. If Tony wasn’t concerned, then she wouldn’t be, either.

He said very matter-of-factly, his voice as comforting as warm syrup, “Ma’am, we’ve got planes in the skies and no good way to track them, except the old-fashioned way, by hand. Any one of them could deviate off course and try to fly into us. Communications and transportation are down all over the city, the Capitol is being evacuated. We aren’t going to take any chances with you.”

Is that all? How about a meteor heading our way? “What else do you know, Tony?”

“Just a moment, ma’am,” he said, and turned away to speak into his comms. When he turned back, his voice remained calm and reassuring. “I’m to bring you to the Situation Room. I don’t know what’s happening.”

The stairwell in the West Wing was lit in ghostly green. Down one level was the Situation Room, and Callan saw a flurry of activity inside.

Callan pushed into the room, Tony and Quinn on her heels.

Several military staffers stood in the center of the small space, watching huge monitors, above which time clocks from all over the world ran. They stood at attention when she entered.

“Madam Vice President, we’re relieved you’re here.”

“Commander Zarvick, tell me what’s happening.”

Commander Zarvick was the senior staffer attached to the JSOC—Joint Special Operations Command. “Ma’am, we have eyes on a nuclear facility in Iran that’s gone live. One of the ones they’re refusing to let the UN inspectors near.”

Her blood chilled. “Tell me what you mean—it’s gone live?”

“We’re not entirely sure exactly what they’re doing. Thirty minutes ago, activity started at the Bushehr facility. The heat signatures showed multiple forces moving into a defensive position, and their medium-range ballistic missile batteries are lit up, too.”

“Which missiles?”

“Sejjls and Ashouras. Two-thousand-kilometer range. They may only be executing maneuvers, that would be par for the course, their ritual thumbing their noses at us, just to rile everyone, the good Lord knows they’ve done it enough in the past. But this time, I’ve got to admit it surprises me that they’d do it now, what with the president and all their leaders at the table supposedly talking peace. And that’s why I wanted you to know, ma’am.”

Commander Zarvick was perfectly right. The Iranians loved to shove provocative behavior in their faces, then claim only testing, but now? Callan clicked off in her head: Bayway blowing up, the electrical grid attacked, Zahir Damari gunning for her, and now Iran pulling their usual crap, using the exact methods they were pledging to stop in order to cooperate. Well, nothing new.

Was this not simple saber rattling? Was this show the ultimate screw-you? The Iranians using the peace talks as a cover, knowing the United States wouldn’t take their actions seriously? Did they want an all-out war? Well, of course some of them did, but they had to know they’d be wiped off the face of the earth. What was going on here?

Callan said, “Do we have anyone on the ground who can confirm the movements, or are we relying on the drones?”

Zarvick held up a finger. “One moment, ma’am.” He picked up the phone, and she heard him asking the question, assumed he was talking to the regional team leader at JSOC command. He hung up. “Ma’am, there is a SEAL recon team two hours away. We’d have to give them a mission parameter and get them humping asap.”

“Covert assets?”

He shook his head. “It will take a day to get word to this area. I can’t simply send an e-mail, you understand.”

She did. The men and women on the ground in Iran and other Middle East hot spots weren’t tied into the system. They had prearranged meetings and movements already being coordinated. Operating in the Middle East was difficult enough, operating in Iran’s backyard was more than dangerous.

This is too well-coordinated to be anything but the precursor to a legitimate attack.

“Get the president on the line immediately. Pull him out of his meetings. Now, Commander. He needs to know the Iranians are talking out both sides of their mouths—again—but this time, they’ve got their reactors all lit up and glowing. Get Mossad on the phone—Ari Mizrahi. If these idiots are about to attack Israel, we need to let them know. What am I thinking? Of course they already know. Ari might be in a better position to give us some information.”

The air was electric, but everyone knew what to do and they did it, calmly and efficiently. She watched views of the screens constantly changing, calls being made, computer keys typing fast and furious. Commander Zarvick handed her a secure phone. “Ma’am, here is President Bradley’s secure phone.”

“Callan? What is this? What is going on?”

“Iran’s facility in Bushehr is lit up like a Christmas tree. I know, I know, it could be that Iran’s simply saber-rattling again, but this time I’ve got to think they’re gearing up for something.” And she updated him about Bayway, told him about the power grids just going down, and the threat from COE to take out all the lights on the eastern seaboard. “Sir, I really don’t like the feel of this.”

Commander Zarvick said, “Arak is online now, too, ma’am.”

“Did you hear that, sir? Two facilities online now. They’re moving missile batteries. No troop movement as yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t happen soon.”

The president sounded impatient. “Of course they’re putting on their usual dog and pony show, for their own people, for their enemies and neighbors, to show they’re not being ground under by the U.S. It doesn’t mean anything. We’re close, only inches from a comprehensive nuclear deal, Callan. Inspections and total cooperation with the UN.”

“And what do we give in return?”

He paused a moment, then: “We lift all sanctions. Acknowledge them as a player.”

She sat down hard. “As a nuclear state? Sir, have you lost your mind?”

“We’re talking a historic moment in time, but you won’t accept that, will you? Don’t you see? We could put our differences aside, become allies. They want to be a part of the world stage. They’re not about to compromise this opportunity; it’s all simple face-saving.”