FORTY-FIVE
U.S. Secretary of Defense Roland Allenworth had traveled to the White House to discuss the Joshua Jordan hostage situation. He had been unable to meet with President Corland, so he was led to the Situation Room. When he walked in, the only people there were Vice President Tulrude and Corland’s chief of staff, Hank Strand.
Allenworth was not pleased. “Where’s the president?”
“There’s been an incident,” Tulrude said. Then she nodded to Strand.
The chief of staff said, “As you know, the president has been in poor health …”
“That’s nothing new. Where is he? When can I talk to him? This can’t wait.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Strand said. “He’s in a coma. It happened very suddenly. He passed out again. This time he didn’t wake up.”
The look on Allenworth’s face said it all. He never liked Tulrude, but she’d been a nonissue at first, particularly because Allenworth worked directly with Corland as a member of his cabinet. He had wondered, sometimes, why Corland had picked him. In the beginning Allenworth had been a staunch advocate for the Pentagon, and many of his positions diverged from Corland’s internationalist tendencies. But things had changed over the last year. Corland and he had begun to work well together.
Allenworth had always feared Tulrude’s politics, her lust for power, and her constant deference to the “international community of nations.” Now his worst fears were being realized.
Allenworth asked the obvious question. “Do I call you Madam President?”
Tulrude said, “We will be executing the constitutional transfer of power shortly.”
“Excuse my bluntness, but this needs to be done quickly … if what you are telling me is true.”
Tulrude’s eyes glinted with an inner explosion. “Are you questioning my honesty, Mr. Secretary of Defense?”
“No, only the medical judgment of those who say the president is unable to execute the duties of the presidency.”
“Well,” she snapped back, “that’s not your call to make, is it?”
“I suppose not — ”
“What is your question, Roland?”
“It’s about Joshua Jordan. The Israeli government has indicated that during a test run of the RTS missile-defense system, Jordan was taken hostage and is presently inside Iran. I don’t have to tell you how sensitive this situation is. Jordan possesses vital American-defense information.”
“You mean vital if we continue to use his RTS technology?”
“Of course.”
“But not vital if we discontinue using the RTS?”
“That would be a reversal of policy — ”
“Maybe yes, maybe no, but that is my call to make now that I will be assuming executive powers.”
“But if our enemies acquire the RTS design, they could create their own Return-to-Sender laser shields.”
“Well, if we don’t lob missiles at them, then the RTS formula won’t do them much good.”
“If you’ll excuse me for saying so, that would represent a preposterous approach to national defense — ”
“Well,” Tulrude blew back, “to answer your first point, no, I won’t excuse you, and secondly, I will not authorize any participation in any attempt to rescue Mr. Jordan. At least not at present. Things are much too delicate in our negotiations with Iran and Iran’s partners among the Arab League to jeopardize things with some harebrained scheme to try to get Jordan out.”
“What about Israel’s interests?”
“What about America’s interests? We both know about that Israel air strike against Iran’s installations. Iran fended them off. The entire Middle East is destabilized thanks to the decisions made in Tel Aviv. And you want me to worry about Israel?” She picked up a stack of news releases. “You see what the Internet dailies are saying? ‘Israel Provokes Mid-East War’ … ‘Naked Israeli Aggression — Massive Strike against Iran.’ You want more?”
After that, Allenworth had stormed out of the White House. Now he was back at his office. He assigned his assistant secretary the distasteful task of advising the Israeli government that the United States would be unable “at present” to participate in any “direct action to accomplish the immediate rescue of Joshua Jordan. However, the United States will work through the Department of State to open up a dialogue with Iran and hopefully effect his release in the future …”
In Tel Aviv, General Shapiro received the message from the U.S. Defense Department. He could only shake his head in disgust.
Israel was in a state of high alert. The mission to proactively prevent Iran from launching a nuclear attack against Israel had been a disastrous failure. Now Israel had only one option: to brace for Iran’s brutal counterattack on the Israeli homeland. Israel was busy marshaling all of its military assets in hopes of stopping the inevitable.
Shapiro delivered the news to the chief of staff for the Israeli Defense Forces. The chief, in turn, pulled together his strategic team for an emergency briefing.
“It appears,” the chief announced, “that the Return-to-Sender system may now have an even greater significance for the defense of Israel. Which is interesting, considering the fact that its designer is now being held hostage in a jail cell somewhere in Tehran, according to our intelligence. Should we divert our attention from the task at hand, which is the defense of our very lives, homes, and families, to rescue him? What information will he be forced to divulge if we do not? And yet, even now, the Iranians may have already extracted strategic design plans from Jordan, including the details of Israel’s own version of RTS — ”
“Don’t bank on that, General,” a voice came from the speakerphone. It was Clinton Kinney, from his hospital bed, recuperating from the two bullets that had pierced his chest, one lodging in a rib and another in his lung. “Jordan’s only been in custody for a day and a half. I don’t care what they’ve done to him up to now …”
The group around the table at IDF command considered what they just heard.
Then Kinney added, “The plain fact is that Joshua Jordan hasn’t spilled his guts to the Iranians. At least not yet. I’d bet my life on it.”
The last thing Abigail asked Victoria at Hawk’s Nest was to relay a desperate request to her husband, Pack, to get a group of trained men to New York City to stop the portable nuke attack.
Victoria had called Abigail back to relay her husband’s response: “Abby, it’s in the works. Pack has deployed a small force of operatives to New York State as we speak. We received the expense money wired to the operations account. Thanks for that. One thing you need to know. Pack will not be considered a part of this. The Patriots are not part of this. Our men on the ground know only that you, as de facto leader of the Roundtable, are the one directing and authorizing this offensive. If things go bad …”
Victoria didn’t have to finish the sentence. Abigail knew only too well the nightmare in store for her if this privately funded strike force of paramilitary agents was unsuccessful, or if innocent lives were lost in the attempt, or if they were just plain wrong about the threat to begin with. She was walking the outer line of treason in a desperate attempt to save her country.
Now Abigail was on the phone with retired Army general Rocky Bridger. She had explained Josh’s desperate situation as a captive of the Iranians. She knew this wasn’t the first hostage situation Bridger had encountered.
“Abigail, have you tried to reach your friend in the Patriot’s group about Joshua being captured?”
“Yes, and I can’t get through.”
Abigail knew, of course, that Pack McHenry was at some unnamed location in Paris, knee-deep in surveillance of the Russian offensive.
When Abigail told Rocky Bridger that the Patriots were out of the mix, Bridger had only one plan for the rescue of Joshua.
“Abby, I’m going to call together some special-ops guys I know. They’re all out of active service now, but well trained. Good men. If I ask them, they might just lend a hand. But I need some pretty powerful intel about where they’re keeping Joshua — maps of the area, scouting reports, structural details about the building itself …”
Abigail understood. “I’m going to give you General Shapiro’s international number in Israel. He’s my contact. If anyone would know that information, it would be him.”
Cal had been sitting next to his mother during the call. When she clicked off the phone, he opened up. “Okay, Mom. First things first. We need to pray.”