Out of the Ashes by William W. Johnstone

America’s borders, sir.”
    â€œI know, I know. President Fayers is quite ill. I have sent wishes for an early recovery.”
    â€œMore, sir. The vice president is missing, as is the president’s wife. Military chain of command is ... well... confused.”
    â€œConfused? What kind of briefing word is that—confused?”
    â€œI’m sorry, Premier. All outgoing traffic has gone to a new type of scramble system. We haven’t, as yet, broken it.”
    â€œKeep trying.” Su smiled. “Perseverance keeps honor bright.”
    The young colonel’s face brightened. “Confucius, sir?”
    â€œNo, Shakespeare.”
    Premier Su covered his mouth with his hand to hide his slight smile at the colonel’s crestfallen expression. “Oh,” the colonel said.
    Su said, “You and your people are certain the Russians will attack us—beyond any doubt?”
    â€œYes, Premier. We have broken several of their coded messages from the base at Zapovednyy. This one confirmed it.”
    Su looked at him, sighed, said, “I’m waiting, Colonel.”
    â€œSir?”
    â€œRead the message!”
    â€œYes, sir. ‘Operation Dragon-Die into effect at 2359 Monday. Wipe the yellow horde from the face of the earth.’ ”
    â€œDragon-Die.” Su shook his head in disgust. “How quaint. How like the Russians. Yellow horde. Barbarians! Four days,” he said softly.
    â€œTo hell,” the colonel added. “If there is one, I mean.”
    General Sun, commander of the Chinese Army, spoke for the first time during the meeting. “When do we strike, sir?”
    â€œTomorrow.” Premier Su glanced at him, then at the colonel. “Noon.” He smiled. “The early bird gets the worm, you know.”

    The White House resembled a besieged command post. Outside, the grounds were calm, but inside, controlled chaos. The press was screaming for information—receiving very little. Travee had received word that the Speaker of the House, upon hearing of the tragedy in America, had suffered a mild heart attack and relinquished his succession to the presidency to Secretary of State Rees.
    Secretary of State Rees, now Acting President Rees, was showing signs of coming unglued. The presidency was the last job in the world he wanted. He had been, prior to becoming secretary of state, president of a bank in Des Moines.
    Following the news that Ed Fayers had died on the operating table, after a massive cerebral hemorrhage, a message came in that the VP’s plane, and the press plane, had been shot down over the Mediterranean Sea. No survivors.
    Reports were conflicted as to just what had happened to the two planes. The Israeli Air Force spokeswoman said an American fighter-bomber had downed the planes.
    Where had the fighter-bomber come from?
    They didn’t know.
    The PLO screamed they didn’t do it. Libya said they were delighted it had happened. The rest of the Mideast countries said they certainly didn’t do it. Nothing was coming out of the Russian Embassy. The Chinese ambassador expressed profound regrets.
    â€œMr. President,” Sen. Hilton Logan said to the harried Rees, “I believe we should do something, immediately.”
    Hilton Logan had never been known for his grace under pressure—or under anything else, for that matter—especially water.
    Rees frosted him with a look. “Well, Senator . . . that is just brilliant. The UN is running around in circles, screaming threats at each other. The world situation is deteriorating hourly. I am anticipating panic in the streets of America once the press learns all that is happening—and will, in all probability, happen. About twenty percent of the military is unresponsive to General Travee’s commands; and mine, I might add. Now, Senator, with all that in mind, what would you have me do that is not already being done? Without your help, sir. And by the way,