A sudden rumble signaled the six-barreled cannon firing 20 mm shells at the rate of seventy-five rounds per second, sending a swarm of armor-piercing tungsten penetrator rounds directly at the C-46.
Precisely four seconds after the CWIS began firing, the C-46, still two miles away, burst into a massive fireball that was nothing short of spectacular, reaching almost three hundred feet high as burning debris fell into the river like a meteor shower. Two seconds later, the sonic boom of the explosion shook the carrier.
“Jesus!” Kohl said, jerking back in her chair. “What was in that thing?”
“Hell if I know, Ensign Kohl,” Weathers replied, staring at the dispersing smoke and the sizzling debris littering the waters. “Hell if I know.”
The Phalanx, detecting the threat gone, returned to tracking mode, searching for other targets within its range.
“Shut it down,” Weathers ordered, just as his CO, accompanied by a half dozen officers, stormed the bridge.
Ignoring them, Weathers added, “And call to get some boats out there ASAP. I want that entire crash site cordoned off. We’re going to have to secure everything until NCIS, ATF, NTSB, the Coast Guard, and every other agency in the alphabet gets here to investigate.”
Following the frantic report from the Norfolk control tower, the Air Traffic Control command center located near Washington Dulles International Airport became an angry beehive of activity. Orders had been received to ground all airliners, general aviation aircraft, and military aircraft not directly tasked with a mission related to the attacks. A combat air patrol of four F-16 fighters had already set up over Washington, DC, prepared to shoot down any other aircraft that appeared to be a threat to the White House or other federal buildings.
Nearly simultaneously with word of the attacks reaching the Pentagon and the White House, notification reached the North American Aerospace Defense Command and US Northern Command located on Peterson Air Force Base in Colorado Springs, Colorado. The personnel assigned to Northern Command’s Situational Awareness Center went on full alert.
The four-star general in charge of USNORTHCOM also served as Commander, North American Aerospace Defense Command, or NORAD, charged with preparing for threats against America, be it natural disasters or terrorism. It scrambled a multitude of jet fighters from various military installations scattered across the United States. In addition to the combat air patrol over Washington, DC, other fighter interceptors circled New York City, Chicago, Los Angeles, Houston, and a dozen other major cities. It was the largest deployment of military aircraft above the United States since the Cold War, exceeding even the response on 9/11.
The planes were a mix of F-15E Strike Eagles, F-16 Falcons, and F-22 Raptors from the 1st Fighter Wing at Langley AFB in Virginia, the 53d Wing at Tyndall AFB in Florida, the 57th Wing at Nellis AFB in Nevada, and the 3d Wing at Elmendorf AFB in Alaska. In addition, Marine Corps and Navy F/A-18E Super Hornets complemented the Air Force assets. Within the hour, the Pacific and Atlantic coastlines, the Gulf of Mexico, and the border with Canada had aircraft patrolling them, with US Air Force KC-10 and KC-135 refueling aircraft, along with Marine Corps KC-130J Super Hercules aerial tankers, flying ongoing refueling operations to keep the birds in the air.
Additional airborne assets, including E-3B Sentry AWACS aircraft from the 552d Air Control Wing at Tinker Air Force Base in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, patrolled critical infrastructure and high-value military installations.
More than two dozen F-16 fighters were dispatched to shadow international and domestic flights approaching all major US airports. Planes en route to US airports would be downed if they deviated from their filed flight plans. And international flights that could be turned back to their departure points were instructed to do so or to land at the closest airport large enough for their aircraft.
Over the next two hours, hundreds of airliners and corporate jets, plus thousands of civilian aircraft, vanished from the radar as they landed at the closest suitable airports. For the first time since 9/11, the skies over America were empty of all but military aircraft.
— 2 —
An edgy, quiet frustration filled the crowded Situation Room. The faces of senior civilian and military officials were uniformly grim. The combination of fluorescent lighting and the glare from the flat-panel televisions streaming the harrowing aftermath from Naval Station Norfolk in ultra-high definition gave them a sickly hue that only emphasized the dour mood of the room. It had been less than twelve hours since the attack and the number of casualties had already topped one thousand.
President Cord Macklin sat quietly at the head of the thirty-foot-long conference table looking every bit the quietly aging fighter jock. He wore a fitted white dress shirt and a Hart Schaffner Marx two-piece suit, a longtime favorite among American presidents. His steely blue eyes studied his audience.
He lifted his gaze briefly to scan the video feeds, then took a deep breath. Even with the sound muted, the images from multiple networks were hard to watch.
Slowly he put on his reading glasses to look at a note handed to him by Director of National Intelligence Hartwell Prost, who sat to his immediate right.
The president looked up from the note, gave him a half nod, and surveyed the room again. Next to Prost sat Secretary of State Brad Austin, Secretary of Defense Peter Adair, his vice president, the secretary of Homeland Security, and the directors of the FBI and the CIA. The Joint Chiefs of Staff monopolized the left side of the room, forming a unified wall of crisp uniforms, ribbons, and poker faces.
Though he seethed with anger and felt nearly overwhelmed with grief for the crew of Truman and their families and friends, outwardly Macklin kept his emotions in check, appearing businesslike and in charge.
A former US Air Force fighter pilot during the Vietnam War, Macklin had been to hell and back during his years of military service — some of them alongside a handful of the characters at this table. He had given and suffered violence while flying F-105 Thunderchiefs in the skies of Southeast Asia — and had the scars to prove it, earned a lifetime ago, along with a Silver Star and a Purple Heart.
And now someone had brought that violence to American soil at a level unseen since September 11.
Staring at the piece of paper again, Macklin read, “More than six hundred civilian casualties, two-thirds of them women and children, plus at least four hundred military personnel. And then we have the wounded… What are we up to now, Hart?”
“Three thousand two hundred and fifty-three at the last count, Mr. President,” Prost replied, reading from a tablet computer.
“Three thousand two hundred and fifty-three,” Macklin repeated. “God Almighty.”
Removing his glasses and folding them, he used them as a pointing device, which he directed at the Pentagon brass. “Before we get to how we allowed some bastards with obsolete planes to kill at least a thousand people and put a $6.2 billion aircraft carrier out of commission, I’d like to hear what we have learned about who is responsible.”
Directing the glasses at his DNI, Macklin added, “That’d be your cue, Hart.”
Prost took a breath to consider his words. He had had a long career in the CIA, joining it after graduating with honors from Harvard Law, a decision that had upset his parents, who had expected him to take over their family-owned investment business. But Prost had heard another call and went on to rise through the ranks at Langley to become its director of operations, before retiring from the agency and becoming Macklin’s national security adviser, until the president tapped him to fill the DNI chair. In his current role, Prost was responsible for the effective integration of all foreign, military, and domestic intelligence in defense of the United States of America. As such, the directors of the FBI, the CIA, as well as the Defense Intelligence Agency, answered to him.