“There,” the man said, swinging the Gremlin onto the approaching airplane. He sighted the missile, laying the crosshairs on the nose.
“Wait,” his partner said. “He’s low and slow. Take an aft shot.”
“He’ll be over the approach lights,” the shooter replied.
“He may crash,” his partner said. “Better for us.”
The flight controls were heavy as Bender crossed the approached lights, still thirty feet in the air. He fought for directional control but the stricken airplane yawed into the dead left engine. He stomped the right rudder, hard. Slowly, the aircraft responded and straightened out as he lined up for touchdown.
He never saw the missile streaking after the aircraft, homing on its one good engine.
“Madame President.” The woman’s voice was not loud but urgent. Maddy Turner fought against it, not wanting to wake up. “Madame President, we have a situation that needs your attention.”
She came awake. It was Laura, her maid. “What time is it?”
“Just after four in the morning.”
Turner sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on a robe. “Why are you here so early?”
“I have the morning shift this week,” Laura said. “A message came in. The night duty officer is outside and Mr. Parrish is on his way. He should be here in ten or twelve minutes.”
Still groggy, Turner stepped into her slippers. Laura handed her a hairbrush and she brushed her hair back with a few quick strokes. She stood and walked into her private office in the residence. The duty officer was standing, a worried look on his face as he nervously fingered a message. “The president of Poland was killed early this morning,” he said.
“Adam Lezno is dead?” Turner said, coming fully awake.
“Yes, ma’am. His plane crashed while attempting an emergency landing at Gdańsk.” Turner took a deep breath and gave a little nod. The duty officer plunged ahead. “Madame President, apparently Ambassador Bender was at the controls.” Turner stared at him. “Everyone perished in the crash.”
Madeline O’Keith Turner folded her arms around herself and hung her head as she rocked back and forth. For a moment, the duty officer was afraid she would collapse. But her head came up and her voice was icy calm as tears streaked her face. “What happened?”
“The details are still coming in, but apparently President Lezno’s aircraft was hit with two missiles. The pilots were killed and General Bender tried to save the aircraft. They crashed on landing.”
“Has Mrs. Bender been told?”
“I don’t know, ma’am. I’ll have an answer in a few minutes.”
The president’s words were cold steel and the orders came fast. “Tell Richard to meet me in my study. Activate the situation room, and call Mrs. Hazelton. I want to meet with the National Security Advisory Group and anyone else she deems necessary.” She walked to her bedroom door and stopped. Without looking at him, she asked, “Do they know what kind of missiles?”
“No, ma’am. Not yet.”
“Thank you, Den…” She almost said Dennis.
“It’s William, ma’am.”
“Thank you, William.” She walked through the door, her eyes dry and the tears góne.
The president of the United States walked into her private study next to the Oval Office twenty-five minutes later. She was dressed in a charcoal-gray business suit, her hair pulled back. Richard Parrish was waiting for her as Felipe, her favorite steward, hovered in the background. “Coffee and toast will be fine, Felipe.” She sat down behind her desk. “Any more news?”
“Yes, ma’am. CNN, Fox, and CNC-TV have video coverage.” He turned on the TV and selected CNC-TV News.
They watched in silence as Liz Gordon’s face appeared on the screen. Her voice was solemn as she related what was known about the crash. She turned to the screen behind her. “This footage was shot from the control tower as President Lezno’s plane attempted to land.” Turner’s face was frozen as the scene unfolded. The jet was touching down as it fireballed, cartwheeling down the runway, strewing wreckage in its path. Finally, it came to rest upside down as crash trucks converged on it. Men reached the fuselage but flames drove them back. The scene ended as the plane exploded, sending a pillar of smoke and fire into the clear morning air. “No one,” Gordon concluded, “survived the holocaust.”
“My God,” Parrish whispered. “He almost made it.”
Felipe entered with a tray and served coffee. “Madame President,” Parrish said, “I know General Bender was a good friend, maybe you should…”
She interrupted him. “He was more than a friend, Richard.” Her mind cast a long look into the recent past. “During the Okinawan crisis, he stood by me. When we were on the brink, he was a rock. I sent him into China and would have sacrificed him…” Her voice cracked. Then she was back in control.
“Madame President, I was going to suggest that you mention him in the State of the Union tonight.”
Turner looked at her best advisor. “Were you afraid I would postpone it?”
“The thought had crossed my mind.” The phone rang and he answered. “It’s Mrs. Bender.”
Madeline Turner picked up the phone. “Nancy, I’m so sorry, so sorry.”
Parrish heard the anguish in her voice and left, closing the door behind him. Mazie Hazelton was waiting for him in his office. “How’s she doing?” the national security advisor asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen her like this.”
Madeline Turner hated the situation room with its austere walls and military atmosphere. She preferred the light and openness of the West Wing with its bustling activity and often joked that she was going to turn the situation room into an arboretum. But on this day, Wednesday, the twenty-second of January, less than twelve hours before her State of the Union Address, the situation room was a perfect reflection of her will and determination.
Mazie Hazelton entered the room ahead of the president. “Gentlemen, the president.” The seven men were already standing and came to attention as Turner took her seat.
“Please be seated,” Turner said. All but one sat down. She leaned back in her chair and nodded at the director of central intelligence who was still standing. He pressed a button and the large video screen opposite Turner came to life as he recounted in measured tones the assassination of the president of Poland and all on board his aircraft.
“We now have a copy of the audiotape recorded by Gdańsk Approach and the control tower,” the DCI said. He jabbed at a button and they heard Bender’s voice declare a Mayday and describe the emergency.
“He’s a cool one,” Gen. Wayne Charles, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, murmured. He allowed a slight grimace when Bender shouted the grandfather of obscenities at the controller when he was told not to land.
The door opened and a man in a wheelchair was wheeled in. The DCI stopped the audio playback and said, “Madame President, I don’t believe you’ve ever met Nelson Durant. Mr. Durant is leading the investigation into the attempted assassination on your life.”
“Please forgive me for being late,” Durant said. “But sometimes this gets in the way.” His reference to the wheelchair was a cover for his poor state of health.
“I’m glad you could make it,” Turner replied.
The DCI restarted the audiotape and they heard Bender tell the tower he was experiencing control problems and might have to land short of the field. His words were still measured but the strain was obvious. “That was the last transmission,” the DCI said. “However, we have recovered the crash recorder and it is being flown to the States for analysis.”