Takedown

“Of course. We’re already starting to plan the logistics.”

“I don’t think you understand. The president wants to go now. Tonight.”

Looking up, Secret Service Agent Carolyn Leonard saw the president’s face and realized he was serious. “I’m sorry, sir, but that’s not possible. Not just yet at least.”

“Why not?” demanded Rutledge.

“It’s a war zone. The fact that the terrorists have snipers with high-powered rifles and RPGs makes it an absolute no-go.”

“What do you want me to do, Carolyn? Sign a release absolving the Secret Service of any and all responsibility should something happen to me?”

“Of course not, sir. I just want you to understand that there’s no way we can guarantee your safety at this point. You’d make too attractive a target, and not only to the terrorists.”

“Are you suggesting there are Americans who would want to harm me?”

“I can’t say for sure, sir. All I know is that the situation on the ground is starting to heat up a bit.”

“Heat up how?” asked the president.

“There are reports that scattered looting and mob violence against immigrants and Arab-Americans has begun.”

Rutledge looked at his chief of staff.

“It’s in the next briefing. I didn’t think you’d want me bring you updates every three minutes. We want to nail down whether these are isolated incidents or if we’re seeing some sort of groundswell,” said Anderson.

Rutledge was not happy with that answer. “All the more reason I should make a direct appeal to the people of New York from New York.”

“Sir,” said Leonard as she tried to suggest a compromise, “we could arrange for you to be someplace, maybe upstate-maybe in the capital-and then take you in to Manhattan once things cool down.”

“Once things cool down? When’s that? A week from now? A month?”

Leonard understood the president’s anger. Everyone was angry right now. The hard thing was directing that anger in the appropriate direction. She knew the president didn’t mean to take it out on her, and she was enough of a professional to let it roll off her back. What she needed to do was to persuade him against making the trip-at least for the time being. “Sir, my job is to advise you of the risks and what course of action the Secret Service feels is best to assure your safety and well-being.”

“And if it were up to you, I’d be locked in a bunker someplace right now.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But it’s not up to you. It’s up to me.”

“That’s correct, sir.”

“Carolyn, my daughter is there.”

“I know, sir, but how do you think it would look to the people of New York if the president could get in to see his daughter when even the National Guard hadn’t been able to make it in yet to help assure order? It might not look like you were truly there for the people of New York City.”

She had a point, and Rutledge knew it. Frustrated, he quietly pounded his fist on top of his desk and then nodded his head. “You’re right.”

“Thank you, Carolyn,” said the chief of staff as he showed her back into the hallway.

Closing the door, Anderson looked at the president and said, “If you want another opinion, I’ll get General Currutt in here and let him give you the Joint Chiefs’ take on trying to get into New York at this point.”

The president sat down, exhausted, and replied, “That won’t be necessary. I’ll stay put. For now. But, Chuck?”

“Yes?” replied the chief of staff as he stopped, his hand on the door-knob.

“I want results, and I want them soon, or I am going to New York, even if I have to pilot my own plane to get there.”

Fifty-Four

NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY

FORT MEADE, MARYLAND

Mark Schreiber dropped the printout onto Joseph Stanton’s already overcrowded desk and said, “That makes three now:Transcon, Geneva Diamond, and the Strong Box beneath the Lincoln Tunnel. Are you still going to sit there and tell me we don’t have a problem on our hands?”

“Take it easy,” replied Stanton as he looked over the printout. “Even if we wanted to, there’s nobody we can call for help now anyway.”

“There’s got to be somebody.”

“There isn’t.”

“Are you serious? We don’t have a contingency for this?”

“For what, Mark? We still don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

Schreiber looked at his boss like he was nuts. “We’ve got three substations that are unresponsive.”

“Unresponsive, but still processing as far as we can tell,” clarified Stanton. “ New York has been overwhelmed. Give it a little more time.”

“That’s what you said the last time I came in here.”

“And as the director of this program that’s going to be my answer no matter how many times you come in here and ask.”

“What if the sites have been compromised?” ventured Schreiber.

“Then we wouldn’t be seeing any processing at all. You know how the systems work, Mark. You also know what the communication protocols are. Listen, we’re all angry with what’s happened today and we’re all concerned about the people we know and work with in New York, but I’m only going to tell you this one more time. Stay focused on your job.”

“But what if we-” began Schreiber, but he was cut off by the ringing of Stanton ’s phone.