Colonel North looked at the two of us, and then stepped towards an intercom. He grabbed it and spoke into it. "Bo, change of plans. Head it towards the barn and put the pedal down."
"Andrews?", came the tinny response.
"Affirmative. Log it as my order."
"Roger!" Almost immediately the plane began a steep bank to the right. The pitch of the engines began spooling up, too.
North braced himself against the wall. To nobody in particular he said, "Oh, shit!"
"Yeah! Now, I need to get into the commo section. Who are we in contact with?" I stood up and this time wasn't grabbed by the Secret Service.
"Who do you want, sir? We can talk to everybody from here, even SAC if you want to start a war."
I was about to make a reply, when I looked around. "Where's the football?", I asked.
Everybody looked at each other. The 'nuclear football' was a briefcase carried around by an officer, a major or lieutenant commander or higher, with a Yankee White clearance, just about the highest security clearance possible. The briefcase, occasionally handcuffed to his arm, contained the nuclear launch codes. By law they were always supposed to be only a few feet from me. There was a football with the President, one with me, and a spare in the White House.
One of the Secret Service agents said, "We must have left him back in Sarasota!"
I looked at the pilot. "Great! Get this bird moving!"
"Yeah!", he turned and trotted back to the front office. I went to the communications section.
I wasn't interested so much in giving any orders, but in hearing the latest news. It was fragmented and chaotic but coming in fast. The National Communications System had been activated, the Capitol and the White House had been evacuated, fighter planes, some armed and some unarmed, had been launched to search for airliners not responding to orders, and the FAA had shut down all air traffic in the nation, ordering all flights to land at the nearest airports or risk being shot down.
It was the South Tower which had collapsed. There were helicopters buzzing around the North Tower trying to figure out a way to winch George Bush to safety, one New York City Police chopper had already crashed after getting caught in the smoke and turbulence surrounding the fires. Half an hour after the South Tower collapsed the North Tower went down. The President was still inside.
I only gave one order. All cabinet members possible were to gather at the 'bunker', the bombproof Presidential Emergency Operations Center located under the lawn at the White House. When we landed, Marine Two was to transport me immediately to the White House grounds. Marilyn and the twins had already been grabbed and flown by helicopter to Fort Meade, where they had been stashed at the bottom of one of the secure intelligence and command bunkers.
It was almost noon by the time I made it to the White House. By then everything was pretty much over. The fourth plane, United Airlines Flight 93, had been discovered to have gone down in a field in Pennsylvania. I had been following all the latest news from the commo section of Air Force Two. When we landed, the pushy Secret Service agent tried to order me around some more, so I fired him on the spot. The other two agents took one look at me and turned their backs on him and we left him standing on the tarmac at Andrews. Ten minutes later we landed on the lawn at the White House. I was to later learn that this was the first and only time that Marine Two had landed at the White House. Another agent was there and directed me to the bunker.
The bunker is buried fairly deep, but I don't know if it is really nuclear bomb proof or just nuclear bomb resistant. Either way, I'd much rather be at my home in the Bahamas if somebody wants to find out for sure. I had been there once before, on an orientation tour in January. The conference room is a bit cramped, but nobody minded. There was a loud buzz that silenced when I came through the door. I glanced around and found most of the Cabinet already present, with two seats conspicuously empty, mine and the President's.
Dick Cheney was sitting in a spot next to George Bush's empty seat. "Mister Vice President?", he said, with a trace of hostility.
I looked around the room and saw a few faces missing. "Who's not here?"
Colin Powell replied, "Ann Veneman is in Iowa and Tommy Thompson is in Minnesota."
"Can we talk to them? Are they on the phone?"
A pair of voices came from speakers on the table. "I'm here, sir.", came from both a male and female voice, overlapping each other.
Ann was Agriculture and Tommy was Health and Human Services. "Can you hear us clearly?", I asked.
"Yes, very clear!", answered Ann.
"Same here, Carl ... Mister Vice President! Sorry about that."
"Don't sweat it, Tommy.", I told him.
"Okay, let's get started." I looked at the others, most of whom had a look of disbelief and shock on their faces. "I just flew in from Andrews, so I've been out of touch for a few minutes." I looked around and found Norm Mineta, the Secretary of Transportation. "Norm, you ordered the planes landed?"
He nodded. "Yes, sir, right after the second one hit the Towers. They should all be down by now, even if they have to land at divert fields. International flights have been diverted as well, some to strips in Canada."
"You did this on your own authority?", I asked.
"Yes, Mister Vice President, I did.", he answered, sitting up straight.
I smiled. "Very good, Secretary Mineta. Thank you." I looked around the others and said, "This is a most extraordinary occasion, and we will be taking extraordinary measures. Every one of us will need to do more than what we originally signed up for." I looked back at Norm. "Thank you, sir."
I looked over at Colin Powell. "Colin, what readiness state are we at?"
"When this started we were at DEFCON 5. After the second tower was hit, I got a call from Secretary Cheney and we took it to DEFCON 3."
I nodded. The DEFCONs were Defense Conditions, with 5 being the lowest level – peace and quiet – and 1 being thermonuclear war. To the best of my knowledge, DEFCON 2 was the highest we had ever actually been, and that was during the Cuban Missile Crisis. "Now that the planes are grounded, shouldn't we be lowering that?", I asked.
"We don't know if this is the start of something else, maybe some other form of attack.", he answered, holding his ground.
I nodded again. "Okay, that makes sense. I would think we'll know for sure by noon tomorrow. If nothing happens by then, let's drop it to DEFCON 4."
"Agreed."
"Wouldn't that be a call for President Bush to make, Mister Vice President?", asked Dick Cheney. He had a belligerent look on his face.
There it was, out in the open. Heads swiveled to face us both. I ignored Cheney for a moment and looked around until I found a Secret Service agent. I motioned him over. "Special Agent, your name please?"
He looked startled at this, since normally they just stand out of sight. "Special Agent Patrick Duvall, sir."
"Thank you, Special Agent Duvall. Are we in contact with either President Bush or any of the agents assigned to him this morning?"
"No, sir. They all went off the air when the North Tower went down, about 10:28", he answered.
"And they had not managed to get the President out yet?"