“Third, the president will address the nation sometime later today, once we have had a chance to better assess this situation.
“Fourth, until we can assess the full extent of the damage and threat, instruct the American public to please cooperate fully with all local, state, and federal authorities. Let the people know that these officers’ main concern during the next few hours and days to come will be their safety.
“Finally, I am declaring that this day shall be a day of prayer, and for the next seven days want to ask that Americans be in fervent prayer for me, for the armed forces, for the congress, and for all national leadership. Tell them we seek to provide protection for the American people, and will seek to bring justice to the perpetrator of this crime.” He looked back at the plasma screen. “That should do it. Get it out to all major media outlets. Now.”
He nodded at one of the Secret Service agents. “Barry, mute that. We’ve got work to do.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Admiral Jones.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I need a quick briefing on the Pentagon’s contingency plans in the event of a nuclear attack on an American city. Stat.”
“Sir, I can do that. We have contingency plans for almost every scenario, from a suitcase nuclear bomb, which this appears to be, to an allout ICBM attack. But may I make a suggestion, sir?”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Sir, we need to mobilize the National Guard immediately into Philadelphia to maintain order and evacuate the population.”
“Evacuate? Where to?”
“New York. Northern Virginia. Baltimore. And pray that none of those areas gets hit.”
“Okay,” Mack said. “Order full mobilization of all National Guard units. And I want all available naval and marine forces in the Western Pacific and the Eastern Indian Ocean bearing down on Indonesia-”
“But, Mr. President,” the secretary of state tried interrupting.
Mack raised his hand. The secretary of state shut up. “Now. My gut tells me that we know who’s behind this. And we’re gonna find him, and we’re gonna take him out.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. President.”
Residence of General Perkasa
Jakarta, Indonesia
8:55 p.m.
Cheers erupted at the sight pouring onto the plasma screen from half a world away.
“We have done it! We have done it!” Colonel Croon was saying, as the officers were pouring themselves drinks, whooping it up, and clanging their glasses in ecstasy.
“You are a genius, General!”
“America has never been hit like this! We shall control the world!” another officer shouted. “No one has ever so devastated America!”
The general himself was standing in front of his desk, laughing with glee and accepting hugs, handshakes, and congratulations from the whiskey-swilling officers.
Captain Taplus, who had just arrived from Gag Island, stood in the corner of the room and forced a smile on his face.
Indeed, Taplus thought, it was a remarkable sight. But up until just a little while ago, the shot shown on television sets all over the world had surely been the mushroom cloud rising over Gag Island. His baby.
Couldn’t they have waited just a few more days? Why not at least let the effect of Gag Island set in more?
“Can you believe this, Taplus?” One of them slapped him on the back.
“Taplus, my boy. Have a drink,” said another officer, thrusting a glass of liquor into his hand.
This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. Not this soon. Not this fast. The test bomb at Gag was his. Gag Island was his operation. He had overseen it and he had brought Indonesia into the nuclear age. They were supposed to have promoted him at the airport.
Why had the general acted so impetuously?
Now it was as if Gag Island was of no consequence, as if they were clouding out his rightful place as a founding father of the new Islamic Republic.
This could not stand. He had to do something. He had to think of something.
“General,” he said. No response. The general’s guffawing with Colonel Croon drowned everything else out. “General!”
Perkasa looked over. “Taplus. You wanted to say something.”
“It seems to me, sir, respectfully, that if we are to fully capitalize on the events of Gag Island and Philadelphia, that another statement to the world, and particularly to the Americans, would be in order almost immediately.”
The general raised an eyebrow, almost curiously. “Captain, I have already made a live international television address while you were in transit back here. We laid out our demands for the withdrawal of international recognition of the Jewish state. And we showed video clips of the explosion at Gag Island. But Gag Island was only the beginning of this. Gag Island is over now, and we’ve quickly moved on to more advanced stages of the operation.”
The words were a punch to Hassan’s stomach. “But…”
“But what are you suggesting, Captain?” The general took a sip of whiskey. “That I show the video again of Gag Island?” Another sip of whiskey. “Excellent work out there, by the way.” He looked at Colonel Croon. “Colonel, do remind me to put Captain Taplus in for a promotion for his excellent work.”
“Yes, General.”
“But, General,” Hassan said. He could not leave it at that. “Based on what we accomplished at Gag Island, we have not brought America to her knees. Now that we have struck her, she is weak. Her people are weak anyway. America stands for nothing anymore. Her people are into their iPods and videogames and celebrity worship. They are becoming a weak, socialist, godless society like France. Perhaps you should go back on television now and demand capitulation on the issue of Israel. Strike now, General. Let them know that there will be more Philadelphias if the United Nations does not withdraw recognition of Israel.”
The look on the general’s face reflected a mood shift from celebratory to pensive. He took a sip of liquor and scratched his chin.
“You know, perhaps young Taplus is onto something,” he said. “I sort of like the idea of keeping up the pressure. Colonel Croon,” Perkasa looked at his chief of staff.
“Yes, sir.”
“How soon can we be back on the air?”
“A matter of minutes, sir.”
“Excellent. Let’s prepare a statement along the lines of what Taplus has suggested. Then let’s go back on the air immediately and keep the pressure up.”
“Yes, sir.”
“After that, let’s get Taplus promoted to major.”
Only major?
“The young man is showing some promise.”
St. Stephen’s Catholic Church
Jakarta, Indonesia
9:00 p.m.
She was trying to fight the tears. But somehow, the tears seemed to cleanse her soul. And the more she cried, the better she felt. “I’m sorry, Father,” Kristina said, “I just feel so dirty for what I did. But I was overcome by the power, by the trappings of it all. I feel like I sold myself.”
“It is all right, my daughter,” he said, passing her a box of tissues. “It is all right to cry. You know, God cries. And more importantly than that, Jesus died for the sinner. He is still in the business of redeeming sinners. He washes all our sins white as snow, if we repent from our sins and embrace him as our Lord, and go and sin no more.”
The priest’s words brought on another torrent of tears. “I do, Father, I do repent. I do accept Jesus.” Her words were cathartic. A warm sensation flooded her body. Somehow, Kristina knew she had been found.
A knock on the door. It was Sister Marguerita. A sudden terseness was in her voice. A look of anguish on her face. “Forgive me for interrupting, Father, but there is something I think you should know.”
“What is it, Marguerita?”
“The television is reporting that a nuclear bomb has exploded in America.”
“Oh, no!” Kristina’s heart sank again. “It’s part of their plan. It’s on the memory stick.”
“Where in America?” Father Ramon asked.