“No,” the President snapped. “No one takes the heat for ‘mix-ups’ around here but me.”
Hale was flipping through a small stack of messages that had come in since the President’s address to the nation; he placed one on the desk in front of the President. “A thank-you note from President Lee of Taiwan,” he said. “He heard about the death of a crew member and wants your permission to thank the EB-52 bomber crews personally.”
“How in hell did the ROC find out about the Megafortresses?” the President asked incredulously. “That chance encounter outside the Oval Office? Had to be more than that.”
“We’ll find out, sir,” Freeman said. “It was obviously more than a leak — it was a direct exchange of classified information, a serious breach.”
“Just find out who did it and throw his ass in jail,” the President snapped. “Next, I want to know—”
“You better take a look at this, Mr. President,” Ricardo interrupted, pointing to one of the televisions. “It looks like Finegold’s giving a press conference inside the Capitol.”
The group listened with shocked expressions as Senator Majority Leader Barbara Finegold announced that the Senate Foreign Relations Committee and Senate Armed Services Committee would be holding joint hearings on the report that the President had sent long-range bombers to attack Chinese warships, and whether or not these attacks prompted the Chinese to launch and detonate nuclear weapons — or if the American bombers had been the ones that dropped the nuclear weapons. She quoted the official Chinese government news agency, Xinhua, as saying that B-52 Stratofortress bombers had been spotted in the area launching nuclear-tipped missiles just before the nuclear explosions occurred, and that they had gun camera video to support the claim. Sprinkled throughout the statements and Q&A afterward were words like “independent prosecutor,” “violation of the War Powers Act,” “breach of trust,” and “terrorist.”
“This is unbelievable! Who in hell does she think she is?” the President shouted. “How in hell did she find out?”
“It’s a guess, Mr. President, nothing more,” Ricardo said. “The Chinese news agency is putting their own spin on the skirmish, and Fine- gold is latching on to it. She’s been on the stealth bomber warpath ever since the Iran conflict. She’s slinging shit, looking to see what sticks, that’s all.”
“Terrorist,” Hale muttered bitterly, when he heard the word a third time. He had moved over beside the President so only he could hear his comment. “Sounds like Admiral Balboa put a bug in her ear. I’ll bet he’s talked to Finegold.”
“Don’t even think about shit like that unless you’ve got evidence, and I mean concrete evidence, that he’s done something wrong,” the President said. “Not one word, not even an angry glance in his direction.”
“Kevin, when are you going to stop coddling Balboa?” Hale asked the President in a low voice. Hale was probably the only man in America who could call the President by his first name, and even he rarely used the privilege — he was certainly mad enough to do so now. “He’s a selfserving snake. Force the bastard to retire, or fire his ass. He talked to Fine- gold, I know it.”
“Jerrod, you and your father taught me all I know about leadership,” the President said. “You taught me how to come from nowhere, come from defeat and divorce and obscurity, how to pull together a disorganized party and almost take back the White House and Congress all at once. We didn’t do it by eliminating anyone who ever disagreed with me.”
“What about loyalty, Kevin?” Hale asked. “You always demand absolute loyalty from your people.”
“Balboa is not just an appointee, Jerrod — he’s a soldier,” Martindale replied. “I’m the commander in chief. He either follows my orders, or he destroys his own reputation and honor.”
“What if he doesn’t give a shit about his reputation and honor, as long as he gets whatever the hell he wants?” Hale asked acidly. “Maybe Fine- gold promised him a job somewhere. What if he just decides, since he’s on his way out soon anyway, to destroy your reputation along with his own?”
“If his false accusations stick, then maybe I don’t deserve to be in the White House,” the President said.
Hale clenched his jaw in response. “That’s nonsense, and you know it, Kevin,” Hale said. “The people can be manipulated into thinking anything. There’s nothing noble in losing the White House because Balboa decided to betray your trust, or because the press latched on to a juicy story and let it blow all out of proportion.”
“Hey, Jer, let me remind you, in case you forgot — I did send a B-52 bomber over the Formosa Strait, and it probably did precipitate the Chinese attack on Quemoy,” the President said. “Balboa and Finegold aren’t lying — they’re just talking out of school.”
“But Balboa works for you, sir,” Hale said. “He knows better than to blab to anyone, especially the leadership of the opposition party. Balboa’s got to be stopped.”
“We can handle him, Jerrod, but not by cracking his skull open with a baseball bat,” the President said. “Keep your eyes and ears open, but take no direct action. Got it?” Hale nodded, but he was seething nonetheless. “Get Chastain and Balboa on the videophone.” The President turned to Philip Freeman. “What have you got for me, Philip?”
“Preliminary report from CINCPAC, Admiral Allen, says that either a Taiwanese SAM fired from one of their frigates, or an air-to-air missile fired by the EB-52 Megafortress stationed over the Formosa Strait, shot down a nuclear-tipped Chinese rocket or cruise missile, resulting in a partial nuclear yield,” Freeman said. “Had it not been for the EB-52, Quemoy would’ve been toast — or glass, depending on how powerful a full yield would’ve been. The Taiwanese frigate, identified by the EB-52 crew as the Kin Men, was destroyed by a nuclear-tipped cruise missile.”
“Looks like putting that EB-52 thing out there was a good idea after all,” the President said.
“Maybe not, sir,” Freeman said. “Good possibility that Taiwan could have fired first, followed closely by the Megafortress. Our side could’ve started the whole thing.”
“Shit,” the President muttered, shaking his head. “Who was flying the… ah, damn, never mind, don’t tell me, I know. Brad Elliott was flying the Megafortress, right?” Freeman nodded. “They all right? Elliott, McLanahan — he always flies with Elliott — and the rest of the Megafortress crew? They must’ve been close when the nukes went off.” “Substantial damage, one casualty on Elliott’s EB-52,” Freeman said. “The electronic warfare officer, a young lieutenant. Elliott was slightly injured. The plane’s on its way back, escorted by another Megafortress.” The President felt sorry for the dead crewman, but only because he had the bad luck of flying with Brad Elliott. “It was probably Elliott who spilled the beans to the ROC.” No one in the room offered to refute that theory. “Any chance whatsoever that the nukes came from one of the Megafortresses?”
Freeman paused — and that pause, the realization that he didn’t know, made little hairs on the back of the President’s neck stand up. “I’ll order the Defense Intelligence Agency to do a complete security audit and inspection of the Megafortress project office at Edwards, Sky Masters, Inc., and their facilities on Saipan and on Guam,” Freeman said grimly. “I would love to say that Brad Elliott would never do such a thing as launch a nuclear weapon without permission — and it hurts me to even think this — but I can’t. In fact, I would assume he could get his hands on whatever weapon, nuclear or otherwise, he desired, in fairly short order. ” _