"Sir, two days isn't enough time."
"It has to be, Governor."
"Mr. President. You give me no choice. I will do as you say. But if you burn, I believe you will seal your defeat in the upcoming election."
"That is a risk I must take."
"Very well, sir. May God help you."
"May God help all of us, Governor."
She hung up.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Harker's office felt oppressive. No one smiled. Stephanie was at home. The others were there, along with Lucas.
"Things are getting out of hand," Elizabeth said. "Rice has declared an emergency and is evacuating thousands of people in Nebraska. He's had to institute martial law. There's looting in the evacuated areas. The FEMA centers are getting crowded."
"What's he going to do?" Nick tugged on his ear.
"He intends to burn everything that's been affected."
"Burn it? The farms, everything?"
"Everything. It will cost him the election."
"How's he going to do it?" Lamont asked.
"Napalm."
"I thought all of it had been destroyed."
"Not quite. It seems we kept some back, just in case."
"Jesus. They never learn." Nick shook his head.
"It's called Operation Cleaner. The Air Force begins bombing tomorrow. They're coordinating with the various fire departments. Rice intends to go beyond the affected area in an effort to keep it from spreading any further. The media and the opposition are having a field day."
"What if it doesn't work?"
"Then the country is in big trouble. But there may be a way out. Dansinger must have figured out how to stop it once he got what he wanted. I've talked with Rice. Special Forces units should be hitting Dansinger's Utah research facility right about now. If there's an antidote it's probably there."
"So there might be time to stop this without burning everything up."
"If it exists and if it's there. If it's up and running before the bombers lift off."
"Where's Dansinger now?"
"Here in Washington to present his case for genetically engineered crops at a USDA conference. He just came back from Utah. Rice is giving us a free hand with him." She paused, thinking. "Lucas, is there anything Langley knows that would help?"
"I'm not sure what I can say. No offense, Korov. I appreciate what you did at the house."
"None is taken."
Harker picked up her pen. "Major Korov has a personal investment in our success for the sake of his nation. That's why he's here. No one's asking you to reveal classified information. If you know something, now's the time."
Nick watched Lucas struggle with something. "I can say this much. Hood is worried. Something a lot bigger than Lodge or Dansinger is going on. We're not sure what it is. We think Demeter may be part of it. Hood suspects a conspiracy that goes beyond our borders."
"An international conspiracy? To what end?"
"We don't know. Money, power, dominance, any or all of those things. That would fit with a desire to attack Russia. Any organization that would unleash something like Demeter has got to be uncovered and stopped. We have no real leads."
"I have an idea," Nick said. "Why don't we ask Dansinger about it?"
"Grab him?" Selena said.
"Turn about is fair play."
Korov was puzzled. "An idiom? Turn about?"
"They grabbed Steph. We return the favor."
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
Harold Dansinger looked at the papers displayed in the hotel lobby and smiled. Every paper carried a variation of the same story.
Nebraska In Flames
Thousands Evacuated
Air force bombers today began carpeting the farmlands of Nebraska with napalm in an effort to halt the spread of a destructive virus threatening America's crops. At an extraordinary press conference this morning, Press Secretary Ryan Atkinson announced that President Rice had ordered the destruction by fire of the infected areas.
"I just can't believe it," said Mary-Anne Carson, whose family has been farming for four generations in America's heartland. "They're going to burn everything. Our home, the barns, the crops, everything. Why is the President doing this to us? There must be a better way."
Critics called Rice's decision a blatant misuse of Presidential power without political or historical precedent…
One popular daily featured full color aerial shots of homes and cropland in flames. There were pictures of confused and angry people herded together at the FEMA shelters. Armed soldiers kept a watchful eye on the crowds. Martial law was in effect for the entire state.
Rice is finished, Dansinger thought.
He stepped from the entrance to his hotel and adjusted his famous Stetson. It was early evening in Washington, still light. He was mildly annoyed. His car wasn't here yet and for some reason he hadn't been able to reach Utah.
While he waited he thought about Nebraska. He planned to let the virus spread for a few more days. Then he would announce the discovery of an airborne antidote. He still didn't know how the virus had gotten loose, but it didn't matter. He'd be seen as a savior by the American people.
By then at least a million acres or more of prime American farmland would be a blackened waste. Studying the spread of the virus on a larger scale would allow him to refine the attack on Russia. That was a bonus. Also there would be profit opportunities for his genetic crops right here at home. So, perhaps it wasn't all bad.
The front of the hotel was graced by a high, sweeping portico. His car would be here at any moment. The afternoon was pleasant. Dansinger stepped toward the curb, looking for his driver. He saw two men coming toward him. Both had a military look. They were about the same size. One was blond, the other dark haired. Both wore suits. Both were armed, he could see the bulges under their jackets. The blond man seemed vaguely foreign.
"Harold Dansinger. Stop where you are." One of the men held up a credential holder with a picture and a gold badge.
Where was his car? He turned to look for it. There was a distant sound like a dull pop and that was when the bullet took him. The white Stetson turned red. His skull exploded like a melon. He slammed backward onto the pavement. People began screaming.
"Sniper," Nick yelled to Korov. They ducked behind a fat, round pillar holding up the portico. Chaos erupted in front of the hotel
They both had their guns out. Korov risked a glance. No one shot at him. They waited. There were no more shots.
Nick holstered his pistol. "He's gone. He wasn't after us."
Dansinger lay on his back in a spreading pool of blood. His head was oddly flat against the pavement.
Nick looked at the blood stained white Stetson. "Wrong color. It should have been black."
"What?"
"Never mind. Guess someone didn't want him answering any questions."
"This is something I would expect in Chechnya. I thought Washington was different."
"I guess not."
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
Dansinger's murder didn't make it past the second page. The front page was devoted to the disaster in Nebraska. 200,000 acres of prime farmland and hundreds of buildings had gone up in flames before the antidote had been found and applied. It looked like the virus had been stopped.
Rice was attacked from all sides. Congress was united in expressing righteous indignation that Rice had not consulted them before acting. There were threats of impeachment. The left screamed about napalm. The right wailed about the expense to taxpayers. Op Ed pundits posed pseudo-profound questions about morality, ethics and the Constitution, while the environmentalists made grave predictions of damage from the spraying. Lawsuits against the government appeared like mushrooms after rain.