nuclear weapon.”
“So what is this small portion of non-nuclear missiles capable of doing?”
“As I understand it,” the president said grimly, “they could take out about half of the population of the East Coast.” He paused. “Some of the most densely inhabited parts of the United States.”
Secretary Rybicki jumped in. “This is unacceptable.”
“I agree,” President Kyler said firmly. Ben admired his steady resolve in the face of a major crisis. He was the absolute antithesis of the man Ben had witnessed only a few minutes before, the one who’d been singing about a hole in a bucket. “We’re exploring all possible options. And our intelligence forces are attempting to find out who’s behind it. In the meantime—”
“Mr. President!”
Kyler jerked his head around, his eyes fierce. It was just possible he had been interrupted one time too often.
“My apologies,” Agent Zimmer said. “But I thought you’d want to know this.”
“Well, what is it, then?”
Zimmer cleared his throat. “We have Colonel Zuko on the phone.”
Kyler’s eyes widened. “Thank God. How did you track him down?”
“To tell you the truth, sir, he called you.”
“What? But how—why—”
“He says he wants to talk to you.” Zimmer paused. His voice deepened. “He also says he wants to know how you enjoyed the gift he sent you. The one he had delivered to the Potomac.”
Chapter
6
9:23 A.M.
Ben felt a thudding in the pit of his stomach. So it was true. Kuraq—and its military dictator—were behind the attack. How else could Colonel Zuko have known?
“How did he get this number?” President Kyler whispered. He looked as if he had had the wind knocked out of his sails.
“I don’t know, sir,” Zimmer replied. “But I imagine that would be substantially simpler than infiltrating our military defense computers.”
“Good point. Can I take it in the briefing room?”
“Sorry, sir. The only phones are here. At the communications station.”
Kyler grimaced. “Put it on speaker.”
Zimmer nodded and pushed a button.
Ben knew Zuko had been educated at Western universities, and the combination of the elevated British accent and the clipped Middle Eastern tones was unsettling, particularly coming from a voice that seemed permeated by false congeniality.
“Good morning!” the voice over the intercom boomed, with such ebullience you might have thought it was coming from one of the president’s long-lost friends. “How are you, my American counterpart? Are you enjoying your life underground? And did you like your present?”
In this instance, the president’s unflappability was perhaps the only thing that kept most of the people in the room from descending into total panic. “I take it that you are claiming credit for the firing of a short-range missile into the Potomac.”
“My dear Mr. President,” the dictator said, “I take credit because it was I who did it, with the assistance of my scholars and advisors. Isn’t it amazing, the technological advances that are coming from… what is it you like to call us? The third world? Maybe it is time we were promoted.” The colonel chuckled, a bone-chilling laugh that had no mirth in it. “Perhaps it is you who represents the third world. Or the fourth. Possibly the fifth.”
“Colonel Zuko,” the president responded, “we have reason to believe that you have knowingly and purposely interfered with our defense computer networks. I am formally demanding that you cease and desist all interference immediately.”
“But my dear Mr. President, you are not in any position to make demands. So long as we control your missile systems, we can send a weapon to destroy any target in the eastern United States within five minutes.” He paused, and when his voice returned, it was slower, heavier, and absent the false amiability. “From here on out, it is I who will be making the demands.”
“We’ll find your satellite
“So what is this small portion of non-nuclear missiles capable of doing?”
“As I understand it,” the president said grimly, “they could take out about half of the population of the East Coast.” He paused. “Some of the most densely inhabited parts of the United States.”
Secretary Rybicki jumped in. “This is unacceptable.”
“I agree,” President Kyler said firmly. Ben admired his steady resolve in the face of a major crisis. He was the absolute antithesis of the man Ben had witnessed only a few minutes before, the one who’d been singing about a hole in a bucket. “We’re exploring all possible options. And our intelligence forces are attempting to find out who’s behind it. In the meantime—”
“Mr. President!”
Kyler jerked his head around, his eyes fierce. It was just possible he had been interrupted one time too often.
“My apologies,” Agent Zimmer said. “But I thought you’d want to know this.”
“Well, what is it, then?”
Zimmer cleared his throat. “We have Colonel Zuko on the phone.”
Kyler’s eyes widened. “Thank God. How did you track him down?”
“To tell you the truth, sir, he called you.”
“What? But how—why—”
“He says he wants to talk to you.” Zimmer paused. His voice deepened. “He also says he wants to know how you enjoyed the gift he sent you. The one he had delivered to the Potomac.”
Chapter
6
9:23 A.M.
Ben felt a thudding in the pit of his stomach. So it was true. Kuraq—and its military dictator—were behind the attack. How else could Colonel Zuko have known?
“How did he get this number?” President Kyler whispered. He looked as if he had had the wind knocked out of his sails.
“I don’t know, sir,” Zimmer replied. “But I imagine that would be substantially simpler than infiltrating our military defense computers.”
“Good point. Can I take it in the briefing room?”
“Sorry, sir. The only phones are here. At the communications station.”
Kyler grimaced. “Put it on speaker.”
Zimmer nodded and pushed a button.
Ben knew Zuko had been educated at Western universities, and the combination of the elevated British accent and the clipped Middle Eastern tones was unsettling, particularly coming from a voice that seemed permeated by false congeniality.
“Good morning!” the voice over the intercom boomed, with such ebullience you might have thought it was coming from one of the president’s long-lost friends. “How are you, my American counterpart? Are you enjoying your life underground? And did you like your present?”
In this instance, the president’s unflappability was perhaps the only thing that kept most of the people in the room from descending into total panic. “I take it that you are claiming credit for the firing of a short-range missile into the Potomac.”
“My dear Mr. President,” the dictator said, “I take credit because it was I who did it, with the assistance of my scholars and advisors. Isn’t it amazing, the technological advances that are coming from… what is it you like to call us? The third world? Maybe it is time we were promoted.” The colonel chuckled, a bone-chilling laugh that had no mirth in it. “Perhaps it is you who represents the third world. Or the fourth. Possibly the fifth.”
“Colonel Zuko,” the president responded, “we have reason to believe that you have knowingly and purposely interfered with our defense computer networks. I am formally demanding that you cease and desist all interference immediately.”
“But my dear Mr. President, you are not in any position to make demands. So long as we control your missile systems, we can send a weapon to destroy any target in the eastern United States within five minutes.” He paused, and when his voice returned, it was slower, heavier, and absent the false amiability. “From here on out, it is I who will be making the demands.”
“We’ll find your satellite
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