Invasion: New York (Invasion America) (39 page)

“The GD will have cut off over one million men,” Norton said.

“That many?” the President asked in his strangely soft voice.

“We cannot allow the GD to land their soldiers, sir,” Max said. “I realize you have a reluctance to use nuclear weapons.”

“I… I…” the President seemed to grope for words. He seemed lost, dazed.

“I understand, sir,” Max said. His voice softened, too, almost as if he really did have compassion.

But Anna was not fooled.
They planned this. Norton and the director are working together. Maybe someone bribed the Marine guards by finding out how to get to each one
.

“This is a terrible moment in our history,” Max was saying. “The blows against our country have been staggering. You have staved off several grave defeats, sir. It would have drained anyone. Each time, you’ve summoned the resolve and refused to let our country’s enemies win. Unfortunately, the grim resolve needed to stave off these defeats has taken a grave toll of you, sir. I respect your service to our country. No one could have done more. However…maybe it is time for you to rest a while.”

The President blinked at Max, and a tired frown appeared on David’s face.

“Sir,” Max said. “I could order the nuclear strike for you, if you would give me the authority.”

“You would do this?” the President asked.

“We must stop them,” Max said. “We must use a number of our ICBMs while the enemy is still far enough away from our coast.”

“Uh…” General Norton said.

Max didn’t glance at the general, but he shook his head minutely.

The idea of their collusion and the possibility of corrupt Presidential Guards galvanized Anna. “Sir,” she said. “If you decide to launch nuclear weapons, I think
you
should give the orders and no one else.”

David moved his head on a seemingly rusty neck. He gave her a hurt look.

It stabbed her heart. He hated using nuclear weapons. It had grated on him giving such orders before, and it had caused him nightmares. Was she using him now because she didn’t like Max? Being President was a demanding job under ordinary circumstances. During war, it became much worse. Maybe the endlessly hard decision had rung David dry. Likely, no one in American history but for Jefferson Davis of the Confederacy had faced a moment like this. Costly, maybe even debilitating defeat stared them in the eyes.

Despite the hurt in her heart for him, Anna decided that she owed it to David to tell him the stakes.

“Mr. President,” Anna said.

“I think you should quit talking,” Max told her. “You’ve said enough.”

“Mr. President,” Anna said, ignoring the director.

Max made a small gesture with his left hand. The three bodyguards rose ominously from their chairs.

“You are the Commander-in-Chief,” Anna told David in a rush. “You should not relinquish your authority unless you’re willing to step down as President. Are you ready to do that, sir?”

David blinked at her.

“Ms. Chen,” Max said. “You are out of line.”

“This is the terrible crisis, sir,” Anna said. “You faced such a moment in Alaska when you fought in 2032. Do you remember that time?”

Ever so slowly, David nodded.

Max cleared his throat, and he looked angry.

Anna didn’t want to say her next words, but she forced them out of her mouth before it was too late. “Are you folding up under pressure, Mr. President? Is that’s what happening here?”

David stopped blinking, and he grew ashen.

“That is quite enough,” Max said. “In fact, I deem it as treasonous to try to break the President’s resolve at a time like this. I will not stand by and do nothing. Men,” he said, half turning to his bodyguards. “Would you please escort Ms. Chen from the chamber?”

The three big men in suits started toward her.

“Mr. President,” Anna said, speaking faster than ever. “I think you should summon your Marine guards.” If the Presidential Guards were corrupt, it was all over anyway. But if Max had barged his way past the door guard through force of will, then maybe David still had a chance.

The President watched her a moment longer. Then he seemed to notice the bodyguards advancing around the conference table. Something came over his features, a mulish stubbornness perhaps.

David Sims stood, and he rapped his knuckles against the table. “Sit down,” he told the three big men in suits.

It seemed as if they hadn’t heard or refused to hear the President.

It was then the Director of the CIA—Dr. Samuel Levin—scraped back his chair. He was Anna’s old boss, and Levin was a wizened figure, with uncombed, thick white hair jutting in disorder. He sat nearest the door to the chamber.

The bodyguards glanced at the CIA Director. With his hunched left shoulder held in its crooked way, Levin started for the door. His left foot slid a bit. Anna remembered hearing about a stroke some time back. It must have been worse than she’d realized.

The three bodyguards finally stopped. They stared at the President. Then they half turned and regarded Max.

They want a confirmation of the order
, Anna realized.

Levin didn’t stop his slow walk, and his right arm reached for the door handle.

It was a pregnant moment. Would Max order the bodyguards to draw their guns? If he did, the Director of Homeland Security would have to order them to fire and kill people, if he hoped to keep his position, perhaps even keep his life.

Before Levin turned the handle, Max asked the President, “Would you like Ms. Chen to stay, sir?”

Then Levin pushed open the door, and he stared into the outer room. Something in his eyes must have awoken the Marines there. Three of them wearing white gloves and holding rifles entered the inner chamber.

“Ms. Chen stays,” the President said, with his voice strengthening.

The director’s three bodyguards weren’t stupid. Likely, they were sensitive to leadership and the sway of the wind. Maybe they could sense it like dogs. They must realize what was at stake. Either they had to draw their guns and shoot, or they’d better back down. But if they were going to draw their guns, they should have already done so. A coup took decisiveness and a whole lot of stones. To Anna’s relief, the three bodyguards headed back for their chairs.

Without a word, wizened Dr. Levin headed back to his seat.

Seemingly on their own initiative, the Marines took up station near the door, and they watched the three bodyguards sitting down.

Anna found that her hands were shaking. She couldn’t believe what was happening. Had Max just attempted a soft coup, losing his nerve right at the end? If so, this didn’t seem like the time to push the issue. They needed to meet the GD emergency right now.

“General Norton,” the President said. “What do you think? What is your recommendation?”

“Sir?” Norton asked, in a scratchy voice.

“Concerning a nuclear attack?” the President asked.

It took two blinks before the confident General Norton returned. “We have no choice but to go nuclear, sir. We must launch the ASBMs. I mean ICBMs. We must annihilate the GD armada or we’ve lost this round to the enemy. And if we lose this round, this campaign…I’m not sure we can recover to win the war.”

The chamber grew still as those present absorbed his words.

Max sat down, and he avoided looking at Anna or Levin.

She wondered what went on behind Max’s skull. The man had asked to wield Presidential authority. Did he truly aim to take over? Then why hadn’t his men drawn their guns just now? Had she misjudged the situation? Or had Dr. Levin’s act saved David’s Presidency. Was history made through such chance decisions?

“I cannot let the enemy land those troops on our shores,” the President said. “You gentlemen are right. And you’re right, Anna. It is time to take the terrible step. We’ve lurched toward nuclear war on two separate occasions. But we managed to keep it small each time. This time we have to take out everything. Yes… How many ICBMs do you suggest, General?”

“Ten of the intercontinental ballistic missiles, sir,” Norton said. “They’re MIRVed, so that will be more than enough warheads. We also want to keep enough ICBMs in reserve, sir. As you know, we don’t have as many nuclear missiles as we used to.”

“I see,” the President said.

“We should also launch as many of the ASBMs as we can,” Norton said. “They’re conventionally armed, but the GD is said to have effective missile defenses. The ASBMs can act as decoys, if nothing else. I’ve read before one of their admirals boasting of their ability to withstand a nuclear assault.”

“Can they?” the President asked, with alarm.

“No, sir,” Norton said. “Not with ten ICBMs combined with our ASBMs. We’re going to take them out, sir, every last ship that they own.”

The President took a deep breath. He had a haunted, an almost guilty stare, but he squared his shoulders.

“This is the crisis we must overcome,” David said, in a less than confident voice. He took a breath, hesitated and finally said, “Launch the ICBMs and time them to strike as the ASBMs come down on the enemy fleet.”

MINOT, NORTH DAKOTA

Colonel Larry Marks couldn’t stop blinking, as he stood frozen in the bunker. He was a lean man, and he wore a large watch on his right wrist. It was waterproof, glowed in the dark and combined intricate timing devices. His wife had bought it for him last Christmas. She had been pregnant then. Now she was at home with their new baby girl.

Colonel Marks felt as if he was going to pass out. He kept telling himself to take deep breaths. Despite those mental commands to drink air, only his eyes moved. They kept twitching from the seconds-hand ticking along its path in the watch. The very end of the hand had a tiny luminous green bulb. He stared at that and then looked at the screen before him.

I’m launching ICBMs. It’s happening. It is really happening. We’re doing it and my baby isn’t even a year old yet.

Long ago with his grandfather, Colonel Marks had watched the movie
The Book of Eli
. Marks had been twelve at the time, and he’d never forgotten it. In the film, Denzel Washington had called the nuclear holocaust “the Flash.”

Am I about to unleash
the Flash
upon the Earth?

Klaxons rang in the bunker, but this wasn’t a test. This was for real, for real, for real. It felt as if he had echoes in his mind. He couldn’t believe he was going to do this.

On screen, Marks watched base silos open. They were like giant, metallic flowers moving with robotic hearts. His human heart sped up as he watched. The silos opened in order for them to spew forth their terrible thermonuclear cargoes.

How can I be doing this? I never thought it would happen. I’m unleashing
the Flash
.

He knew why he was doing this. They had discussed it among themselves here in the bunker. The German Dominion sailed toward America with a dagger, meaning to plunge the knife deep in his country’s heart. There was only one thing now that could stop these Krauts.

Colonel Marks would launch ten T Mod-5s. The “T” stood for Triton, the last new ICBM America had manufactured. “Mod-5”, of course, meant this was the fifth major modification to the Triton missile type.

There were no GPS satellites these days to watch the enemy. The Air Force had launched more high-flying drones to spy on the GD fleet. The ICBMs didn’t use radar or any other guidance. That was by design. They went up, took readings from the stars for perfect navigation and dropped their warheads at a programmed point on the Earth, or out a sea for this one. They would wreak thermonuclear havoc on the GD armada.

“Sir,” the operator said.

Colonel Marks lowered his precious watch. He knew his babies. He wanted to bray with laughter. Babies—he only had one baby now, and she was at home in the crib. Each missile weighed 192,000 pounds. Most of that was solid fuel to burn his baby thousands of miles if needed. He would reach out and touch the enemy with an extremely brutal and heavy hand. He would swat them out of existence with the Flash.

The operator turned around and looked up at him. “Sir,” he said, “we have a narrow launch window.”

Colonel Marks knew that. They were timing his babies to hit along with ASBMs using regular warheads. Those ship-killers would be the decoys. Could you imagine that?

Lean Larry Marks raised his hand and chopped it down decisively. He did it thinking,
I’m killing you because you went too far
.

The operator relayed the physically-given command.

In the command bunker, everything soon shook, even the screen. Colonel Marks stepped up behind the operator, putting his left hand—four lean fingers and a lean thumb—on the man’s shoulder. Wide-eyed, Marks watched the screen as he tightened his grip.

I hope I haven’t doomed the Earth to centuries of Dark Ages. I hope I haven’t doomed you, little Jewel
. That was the name of his baby daughter.

The first ICBM Triton roared into life. The massive death-machine rose from its silo as smoke billowed in a vast, chugging, churning cloud. Flames raged out of the back end as the Triton climbed slowly at first and then with greater speed.