“Well, we’d prefer trained dolphins, but we may not have enough,” shot back President Bedford. “I have asked you not to interrupt me, particularly if you can only shed a glaring light on the obvious.” This was the sharp, sardonic turn of mind that would make the press more wary of this new President than they had initially expected to be.
“In any event,” Paul Bedford continued, “this defensive operation is 100 percent military. And I have appointed the former National Security Adviser Admiral Arnold Morgan to head up both the search-and-kill submarine operation and the evacuation program. He has the total support of the most Senior Commanders in the U.S. Armed Forces, who are standing behind me.
“That’s all I have to say right now, but I hope you will urge your readers and viewers to cooperate fully at this most difficult time. There is enough time for everyone to leave, but we have to remain calm and organized. Naturally, you will be informed of the day-to-day operations in the cities, and everyone is advised to move west to higher ground, to camp out with relatives and friends. If this tidal wave, or tsunami, hits, there will be no survivors. Everyone must leave the East Coast, under the guidance of the military…Thank you.”
President Bedford turned and walked out of the room, accompanied by Generals Clark and Boyce. Admiral Dickson remained with the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, who now stepped up to the dais.
“For anyone who does not know, I’m Gen. Tim Scannell, and I’m here to support the President. Right now I will be happy to answer five or six questions regarding the military, so make them pertinent, since we are very busy, as you may well imagine.”
“Sir, will there be wholesale changes in key White House positions, Secretary of State, et cetera…?”
“That’s not military, but I do understand President Bedford will appoint a new Secretary of Defense tomorrow.”
“Can you describe the scale of the search in the Atlantic for the submarine?”
“Not really. But we have decided that a wide search area of maybe a thousand miles out from the Canaries would be unlikely to succeed. Admiral Dickson, right here, believes a well-handled nuclear submarine might evade even a hundred U.S. pursuers on an indefinite basis.”
“How do you know it’s nuclear?”
“That’s our appreciation of the situation.”
“If so, how did the terrorists get it?”
“I cannot answer that. But I will say, if it’s not nuclear we would have caught it by now, and will almost certainly catch it in the next ten days.”
“Can’t the sonars pick it up? We’re always hearing how technically advanced the U.S. Navy thinks it is.”
“A modern nuclear submarine is just about silent under 8 knots. And if he’s running deep, over 500 feet below the surface, he’s dead silent…Anyone wants to ask more about the submarine, Admiral Dickson will answer.”
“Sir, how will this tsunami develop if the volcano erupts?”
“We’re looking at a rock face maybe six cubic miles in volume, crashing hundreds of feet down into the ocean. It will hit the floor, maybe 2,000 feet below the surface, and roll westerwards, building to speeds of over 400 mph, like the ripples on a pond if you drop a big rock into it.”
“How long to hit New York?”
“According to the scientists—all of the scientists, that is — around nine hours from impact.”
“Can the terrorists be stopped?”
“Maybe.”
“Can you outline your plan to find and destroy the submarine?”
“No.”
“Does that mean you do not have a plan yet?”
“No. It does not. But to tell you is to tell the submarine and its masters.”
“Will you be providing us with details of the evacuation plans?”
“Absolutely. We will be on air again shortly to inform the public of evacuation measures and procedures. Thank you for your time. No more questions.”
General Scannell and Admiral Dickson left the dais and headed back to the Oval Office, leaving the Fourth Estate to tackle one of the biggest political and military stories of modern times.
They were accompanied by four Marine guards, and on the way, fell into step with Henry Wolfson, press officer to Charles McBride, and one of many senior staffers who would retain their positions in the new Administration.
He offered a handshake to the two officers and introduced himself. “Guess our paths have never crossed before,” he said. “But I have a feeling that that’s liable to change as from this moment.”
“Correct, Henry,” replied General Scannell. “We’re counting on you to try and keep this situation under control. The object is to prevent an outbreak of public panic without concealing the seriousness of the situation. We’ll do a more detailed briefing on this later, but one thing’s for certain. Hamas did slam a broadside of big cruise missiles into both Mount St. Helens last May and Montserrat last night.
“It would take something larger to blow the volcano in the Canaries apart. But a nuclear warhead on a medium-range cruise would probably do it. The bastards are firing from a submarine, submerged-launch, and that’s real hard to locate. You coming to see the President?”
“Yes, sir. And Admiral Morgan. And that scares the hell out of me.”
“Don’t worry. His bite’s worse than his bark. And he scares the hell out of all of us at times. But I’m glad he’s on board for this one.”
“That seems to be the general opinion around here, sir,” said Henry Wolfson. “Makes everyone feel a little more confident.”
“We’re supposed to be apolitical in the military,” said the CJC. “But things are usually easier for us when the GOP are at the helm.”
They reached the Oval Office. Generals Boyce and Clark were just leaving, and General Scannell joined them for the return journey to the Pentagon. Meanwhile, Arnold Morgan had turned the most hallowed room in Western government into a Naval strategy room. He had charts of the Atlantic Ocean all over a central table that he had ordered to be brought up especially from the office of the National Security Adviser. It had a dark polished teak surface and had been in the same place since Admiral Morgan’s own years in that office
Cyrus Romney, the Liberal Arts Professor from Berkeley, had been somewhat irritated by the sudden appearance of White House removal staff and had demanded to know where his table was going.
“Oval Office, orders of Admiral Morgan,” was the reply.
Cyrus Romney, who had heard the rumors around the offices, had decided wisely not to pursue the matter on the basis of being certain that he too, in the next couple of hours, would be making a similar, but equally sudden, exit from his office.
In the next thirty minutes, the table became a far busier place than it had been for many months. It now displayed charts of the western Atlantic and the approaches into the Leeward Islands and of the central Atlantic above the Mid-Atlantic Ridge.
There were maps of the western approaches to the Canary Islands, and three different charts of the Canaries themselves — one showing all five islands from Grand Canaria to Hierro, including Tenerife, Gomera, and La Palma; another showing the other two big islands of Lanzarote and Fuerteventura much farther to the east, the latter only 60 nautical miles off Morocco’s northwest headland.
The entire seven-island archipelago stretched east to west for 250 miles, and Arnold Morgan had made but one mark on the entire nautical layout — a small circle located at 28.37N 17.50W, the main crater of the great Cumbre Vieja fault line.