Paul Bedford nodded as firmly as he was able to. Right now, in his own mind, he was not so much President of the United States as a Naval Lieutenant receiving a briefing of the most staggering importance from one of the most senior Admirals ever to serve his country.
Arnold ripped the page off the writing pad and handed it to the new Chief Executive. He had printed everything in bold capitals, including the first two sentences, then a clear synopsis of the rest.
“Is that it?” asked President Bedford.
“As best as we can do,” said Arnold agreeably. “You’re on parade in fifteen minutes, and I’m out of here with Frank, right now.”
“Okay, sir,” said Paul. “I can follow this.”
“You can call me anything you like in this room,” replied Arnold. “But for Christ’s sake don’t call me ‘sir’ in public!”
“No, sir,” said Paul Bedford, laughing, despite the gravity of the situation.
“And, Mr. President…” said Arnold, as he headed for the door. “Remember one other thing…when Sir Winston Churchill demanded an entire reorganization of the Navy fleets in the North Atlantic…he told his First Sea Lord if it wouldn’t fit on one side of one sheet of paper, it hadn’t been properly thought out.”
And with that, he was gone, the Commander in Chief of the Atlantic Fleet, with Admiral Frank Doran somewhere in his wake.
“Jesus,” President Bedford said to himself. “Is he something, or what?”
And then, to everyone’s surprise, Admiral Morgan’s head popped back around the door. “Oh, Paul, I forgot. You’d better fire Defense Secretary Schlemmer and NSA Romney right now, and then Hatchard, right after he’s released from my briefing. Handwritten notes thanking them for all they have done. One side of one sheet, right?”
“Okay, Arnie, you got it,” replied the President of the United States, slipping into the easy informality enjoyed by men under severe stress. “Is it okay if I borrow your desk?”
Still chuckling, Admiral Morgan headed for the West Wing basement, where he found a scene of extraordinary restlessness. The heads of White House Departments had mostly arrived. Protocol, Secret Service, Communications, Catering, the chief Butler, Security, Transportation, the Press Office, the State Department, Speech Writers, Bill Hatchard, and indeed the former President’s secretary were crowding into the room. All requesting information, yearning to know what was going on. The four Marine guards had taken up positions outside the door, and two more guarded the exit from the elevator. With the correct credentials, they would let you in, but no one was leaving. Not until the Presidential Address was completed and on television. A small pile of surrendered cell phones occupied a desk behind the principal Marine detail.
Arnold Morgan and Admiral Doran made their way into the soundproof teak-paneled conference room that, aside from its central table, was filled with secretarial desks, computers, and video-conferencing telephones. None of this was currently active, though staff members were hurriedly claiming the desks, since the packed gathering could plainly not fit around the main table.
Admiral Morgan moved into the big chair once occupied by President Reagan. He dragged another seat next to him for the C in C Atlantic Fleet and called the meeting to order by banging his open palm down on the polished surface of the conference table.
“For a very few of you, this may seem a bit like old times. For the rest of you, my name is Arnold Morgan, former Admiral in the United States Navy, former Director of the National Security Agency, former National Security Adviser to the President.
“I’m not precisely sure how fast rumors move around here these days, but I would like you all to know that President Charles McBride resigned within the last hour for health reasons. According to the Constitution, the Vice President has instantly assumed the Oval Office, and he was sworn in by the man appointed to do so by the Supreme Court of the United States, Judge Moore. The ceremony took place in the Old Executive Building, and President Paul Bedford swore to uphold the Constitution of the United States.
“The witnesses present were Senator Edward Kennedy…the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, General Scannell…the Chief of Naval Operations, Adm. Alan Dickson…the Commander in Chief of the Atlantic Fleet, Adm. Frank Doran, who is seated here beside me…the Supreme Allied Commander of NATO, Gen. Bart Boyce…the Commandant of the United States Marine Corps, Gen. Kenneth Clark…and myself.
“The press will learn of the change in Government inside the next ten minutes, and you will all see President Bedford’s address on the screen in this room shortly.
“There will of course be changes in staff, but none where we are able to rely on the old order. The most important thing that I must tell you, though, is that the East Coast of this country is at present under the most terrible terrorist threat in U.S. history. Worse, immeasurably, than 9/11.
“It was this threat that caused Charles McBride to suffer what his doctors consider to be a nervous breakdown. He willingly and selflessly stepped aside as the pressures on him mounted, aware that he has no military experience and that his Vice President Paul Bedford, who served as a Navigation Officer in a guided missile frigate during a five-year term in the United States Navy, might be a better leader for the U.S. in this time of crisis.
“The former President is resting under medical supervision at Camp David right now. The First Lady is with him and they will not be returning to the White House.
“As to the threat we face, in the simplest terms, there is a Russian-built nuclear submarine, loose in the North Atlantic crewed by a group of Hamas terrorists.”
The Situation Room was absolutely silent as Admiral Morgan briefly outlined the situation. He shook his head. “And we know from the events of the last few months,” he said, “that Hamas has this capability. They exploded Mount St. Helens, and last night they carried out their second threat, accurate to the minute, by exploding Montserrat down in the Caribbean. Their latest communiqué says they will hit La Palma on October 9.
“We need to find that submarine, most importantly, but we have already started the preliminary stages of an evacuation of the entire East Coast to high ground, just in case we don’t find it. By the end of the day, the U.S. Army, National Guard, and the various metropolitan police forces will unobtrusively control the streets to prevent a panic after the President’s TV address. From the moment the Cumbre Vieja erupts, it will take nine hours for the tsunami to hit New York Harbor. And those tidal waves don’t break…They’ll just keep rolling.
“Your new President has appointed me Supreme Commander of all the United States forces engaged in this operation for the next two weeks. During this time we will begin evacuating the nation’s treasures, its museums, its historic papers, its Stock Exchange in New York, and its schools. I shall be working closely with President Bedford, from the Oval Office, and with the five senior commanders who witnessed the inauguration ceremony an hour ago.
“Right now, I will not be taking questions, and I would like someone to turn on the television sets around the walls and tune in to one of the networks to hear the Presidential Address…Admiral Doran and I will remain here to listen with you.”
The “Sit Room” remained stunned. No one spoke, but people moved quietly, finding places in front of the television screens.
Meanwhile, upstairs in the Briefing Room, the fifty or sixty members of the White House Press Corps — the journalists Marlin Fitzwater referred to as “The Lions”—were growing more restless by the minute. None of them had a clue what was taking place, and although a few photographers were plainly bored senseless by the whole procedure, dozing in the fourth row, there was an unmistakable growling at the back of the room, where the wire service reporters operated.