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  Corvan listened for a moment, then hung up the phone. “Mr. President,” he said, “that was Admiral Peters. He needs to brief you on an urgent national security problem.”

  “I see,” Taylor responded. “In that case, get the rest of the Cabinet in here. We may need their input.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Corvan left the room and came back a minute later, trailed by the Cabinet members who were on the plane. They were followed by Admiral Peters, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

  Taylor motioned with a hand. “Have a seat, ladies and gentlemen.”

  After the group had settled around the table, the president said, “I’ve just been informed that we have a grave national security threat. The Chairman needs to brief us on this urgent matter. Go ahead, Admiral.”

  Everyone turned to face Peters, whose hands were placed flat on the table in front of him. His white naval uniform was crisply starched and the commendation ribbons on his chest were perfectly aligned. Taylor noticed that Peters was wearing his Navy Cross medal today, the highest honor awarded to a member of the U.S. Navy, a subtle reminder that the admiral was a war hero.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Peters began, “as the President has just stated, we have a crisis on our hands.” His voice was steely and he enunciated every word carefully to underscore the gravity of the situation. “Ten minutes ago, our satellites picked up an unusually high rate of activity at all of mainland China’s ICBM complexes. Trucks and personnel were shuttled to all of their intercontinental ballistic missile silos.”

  A hushed silence fell over the group and the admiral paused for effect.

  “Five minutes ago,” Peters continued, “our satellites detected the opening of one-hundred and sixty-three missile silos. That’s their entire land-based ICBM capability. The destructive force of that many nuclear missiles is massive. It would obliterate most of the United States of America.”

  As the words sank in, the room erupted into boisterous shouting, as the various Cabinet members tried to talk over each other.

  Taylor stood. “Please, everyone! Settle down. We need to focus here and yelling isn’t going to help.” He sat down as the ruckus quieted.

  “Admiral,” the president asked, “How sure are you about these satellite transmissions? Could they be wrong?”

  “Mr. President,” Peters replied, “We have multiple satellites covering the same areas. There’s a triple redundancy of the images and they all show the same thing. The silo doors are open.”

  “I see,” Taylor said, his voice grave. “Could they be doing some kind of test?”

  “Sir, we’ve been monitoring the Chinese for decades, just like we monitor the Russians, Iranians and North Koreans. The Chinese have never before opened all the silo doors at all of their complexes. If it were a test, or a repair issue, they would open a few at a time, just like we would.” He paused a moment, then added. “And there’s another ominous sign, sir. In the last few minutes, we’ve been able to decipher several of their coded transmissions – their military forces around the world have been placed on the highest alert. One transmission even included a list of American cities. I would say that is a smoking gun, Mr. President.”

  Taylor leaned forward in his seat. “Is it your judgment, Admiral, that the missiles are targeting the United States?”

  “Yes, sir. I believe the Chinese are poised to launch a massive nuclear first strike against our country.”

  “My God!” the president exclaimed, his face scrunched in a deep frown. He turned to Corvan. “What do you think, General?”

  “Mr. President,” Corvan replied, “the Chinese assassinated President Wilson. I believe that was just the beginning. This pending nuclear attack is a continuation of their plan. I think they intend to wipe us off the face of the planet.”

  Taylor nodded, then turned to the Defense Secretary, who was seated to his left. “What do you think, Stan?”

  The Secretary of Defense was an affable but meek man. He’d only gotten the job because he had been a popular congressman from Florida, an important swing state in elections. “I’m not sure what to think,” the secretary said. “I’ll support whatever you decide.”

  The president looked around at the others in the room. “Does anyone else have something they want to add?”

  The Commerce Secretary raised a hand and Taylor said, “Go ahead.”

  “Sir,” the secretary said, “perhaps we should call the Chinese and ask for an explanation.”

  “So the bastards can lie to us?” Taylor shot back, his voice dripping with venom. “Hell, no! They killed Wilson, an American icon, for God’s sake. And now they’re getting ready to nuke us back to the Stone Age.”

  The Commerce Secretary flinched back and quickly said, “You’re right, Mr. President.”

  Taylor turned back to the admiral. “How much time do we have, Peters?”

  The admiral looked at his watch. “Five minutes. Maybe less.”

  The president shook his head slowly. “Jesus. What are my options, Admiral?”

  “You have no choice, sir. We have to nuke them first.”

  Taylor steepled his hands on the table in front of him. “You’re recommending we launch a pre-emptive first strike on the Chinese?”

  “Yes, sir. It’s the only way to prevent them from wiping us out.”

  Corvan raised a hand. “I concur, Mr. President. You have no choice. Our country’s future is at stake.”

  “What are the logistics, Admiral?” Taylor asked.

  “Our Pacific Ocean Trident submarine fleet is stationed underwater, in the Yellow Sea,” Peters replied. “That’s east of the Chinese mainland. They’re fairly close to Beijing and Shanghai. The fleet is composed of sixty Trident D5 SLBM subs. They have the latest in advanced ‘Whisper’ technology, which make them almost undetectable. Each of the subs carries a payload of twenty-four, multi-warhead nuclear missiles. That’s a total of 1,440 missiles. The missiles are SLBMs – submarine launched ballistic missiles, which are smaller than land-based ICBMs, but still pack a hell of a punch. I recommend we use the Trident fleet. They’re the closest to China and their missiles would reach them the fastest. They would deliver a massive strike on the Chinese. Even if only half of our missiles reach their destination, they would still take out all of their ICBM complexes and many of their major cities.”

  The Labor Secretary spoke up. “I thought the Line of Demarcation, the treaty that President Wilson agreed to, kept our naval vessels close to the U.S.?”

  Taylor nodded. “I secretly rescinded that for our subs. After the assassination, I didn’t think the Chinese could be trusted.”

  “Good thinking, sir,” the secretary replied.

  The president rubbed his jaw. “So, we hit them with the Tridents. Corvan, do you agree?”

  “Absolutely, sir.”

  “Stan, what about you?”

  The Defense Secretary nodded. “Yes, Mr. President. I agree.”

  Taylor glanced around the room one last time. “I have no choice, ladies and gentlemen. I have a sworn duty to protect the lives of over 320 million Americans. And I intend to do just that.” There was a chorus of agreement from the group and the president added solemnly, “God help us all.”

  Taylor turned to Peters. “It’s a go, Admiral.”

  “Yes, Mr. President.” The naval officer stood and stepped out of the room for a moment. He came back, followed by an Army major who was carrying a large, black briefcase. Taylor recalled the nickname for the briefcase – it was referred to as the nuclear ‘football’. Using the case, the president of the United States, along with the senior military officer, keyed in the sequence codes that authorized a nuclear attack.

  The Army major laid the case on the table in front of the president and opened it. Taylor, when he had assumed the presidency, had been briefed on the procedure. But he had never seen the case open before. The inside contained a computer screen and a keyboard. But it appeared much more durable than a typical c
omputer – it was constructed with heavy-gauge black metal.

  The gravity of the situation suddenly hit Taylor and beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He had prepared for and visualized this very moment for a long time, but he never thought he would be nervous when it actually took place. A cold chill went down his spine as Admiral Peters tapped in his own sequence numbers on the keypad.

  “It’s your turn, Mr. President,” the man said when he was done.

  His hands slightly shaking, Taylor tapped in his numbers.

  When he was done, Peters said, “Thank you, Mr. President.”

  The major closed the case and the admiral said, “I’m going to the Com room, sir. I need to transmit the final instructions to the subs and put all of our military forces on DEFCON 1.” He looked at his watch. “Our attack will begin in approximately three minutes.”

  Taylor nodded and the admiral and major left the room.

  The president turned to Corvan. “Get the Chaplain in here. I’d like him to lead us in a prayer.”

  ***

  Command & Control Center

  Chinese Military

  Beijing, China

  General Wu Chang stood by the bank of small monitors at the left of the room, watching silently as the latest satellite feed from Germany streamed on one of the monitors. NATO was conducting a military exercise outside of Berlin and the general was studying the NATO tank formations. He liked the approach they were using and had decided to copy it for his own tank battalions on the Chinese-Russian border.

  Just then Colonel Zhu walked up to him, a worried look on his face.

  “General,” Zhu said, “one of our naval vessels patrolling the Yellow Sea, the destroyer Nanchang, has picked up an undersea sonar signature. From the shape of the undersea vessel, it appears to be a submarine. The Nanchang’s commander believes it is an American sub.”

  Chang grimaced. “That’s impossible, Colonel. That area is off-limits to all American warships. Have the commander check again. He must have made a mistake.”

  “I personally talked with him, sir. He’s double checked the readings. And another of our warships, the cruiser Qingdao has verified it with their sonar. There is a U.S. submarine there.”

  Chang’s heart began to pound. What the hell is going on? he thought. Why would the Americans station a sub so close to China? Are they spying on us? Or maybe it’s having navigation problems and went off-course? Whatever the reason, he had to find out.

  The general picked up the phone on the desk in front of him and quickly punched in a number.

  “Captain Lin,” he said when she answered. “Call the American President. Now. I have to speak with him immediately. Tell his assistant it is urgent.”

  He hung up and waited by the phone.

  It rang a minute later and he picked up the receiver. “Mr. President?” he asked, but it was Lin who answered.

  “Sir,” she said, “I spoke with Alice Moore, President Taylor’s assistant. She says the president is traveling right now on Air Force One. He has received your message and will call you back in a few minutes. They have to set up the satellite connection. He apologizes for the delay.”

  Chang felt a bit better after hearing the apology. “Okay, Lin. Put the call through to here. I’ll stay at the Control Center until he calls.”

  He hung up the phone and sat down on the empty chair by the desk. Then he picked up the phone again and punched in another number – a moment later he was put through to the Chinese Premier.

  “Premier,” Chang said, “one of our ships picked up a sonar signal which appears to be an American submarine in the Yellow Sea.”

  “I see. What do you make of this, General? The Americans have been so cooperative of late.”

  “I agree, sir. Especially with the president’s invitation for us to visit Washington in the Fall. I believe this sub, if it is American, must be having technical problems and is off-course. I have called President Taylor and he is due to call me back in a few minutes. I don’t believe this is a serious situation, but nevertheless I wanted to inform you.”

  “Thank you, General. Do you think we should put our naval fleet on standby alert?”

  “I will talk to Taylor first and see what he has to say. If I am not satisfied, I will issue the alert. I will keep you informed, Premier.”

  The premier disconnected and the general hung up the phone.

  Just then the phone rang and Chang picked it up. “Yes?”

  “Sir,” Lin said, “I have the President on the line.”

  “Thank you, Lin.” There was a click on the line and Chang heard Taylor’s voice.

  “General,” the president said, his voice syrupy sweet. “Sorry for the delay in getting back to you. Your assistant said you had something urgent to discuss?”

  “Mr. President, our naval warships have detected what we believe is one of your submarines stationed underwater in the Yellow Sea.” Chang’s voice took on a hard edge. “That is a clear violation of the Demarcation Line.”

  There was a long pause on the other end. Then Taylor said, “I apologize, General. You are correct. One of our submarines is having computer problems and is way off course. This is terribly embarrassing. I apologize profusely for the error on our part. My Navy people are at this very moment working to fix the glitch. I can assure you that sub will be heading back to San Diego as soon as it is fixed. And do not worry, it is one of our training subs, which have no offensive weapons on-board. Please forgive us, General.”

  Chang was comforted by the president’s pleading, almost pathetic response. “No harm done, Mr. President. Remove the vessel and we will be satisfied.”

  “Do not worry, General. Rest assured – I personally guarantee its prompt removal. By the way, I hope you’re looking forward to your visit to the U.S. In addition to the State dinner, I have an extra surprise for you.”

  His interest peaked, Chang asked, “And what is that?”

  “I know that you are a married man, General, but I’m also guessing you appreciate female beauty of many forms. I have a friend I’d like you to meet. This beautiful young woman is curvaceous and alluring. A blue-eyed blonde, she is a personal favorite of mine. I have enjoyed her intimate company for years. I’ve already discussed it with her, and she would be honored to meet you and…satisfy your desires. And it would be strictly confidential. No one would find out. How does that sound, General?”

  Chang had always been an admirer from afar of exotic blondes, which were so rare in China. As he visualized the woman in his mind, he became aroused.

  “General? Are you still there?”

  “Yes, Mr. President.” Chang’s voice dropped, so that the others in the Center wouldn’t hear him. “Yes, during my visit, I would like to spend time with this person. I would not want to insult your generosity.”

  “Excellent. I’ll set it up. I’ve experienced her charms many times and I can assure you, you will not be disappointed.”

  “I’m looking forward to it, Mr. President.”

  “Very good, General. Is there anything else? If not, I’ll let you go. I know you’re a busy man.”

  “No, nothing else. You have been…very informative. Thank you.”

  ***

  Aboard Air Force One

  Flying at 41,000 feet over Missouri

  President Matt Taylor hung up the phone, feeling sick to his stomach. He hated groveling to the Chinese bastard, but knew it wouldn’t be for much longer. He was sitting by himself in the plane’s conference room – the Cabinet had cleared out minutes before.

  After taking a gulp from his cup of black coffee, he picked up the phone. “Get Corvan and Peters in here,” he barked.

  A moment later the two men came in the room and closed the door behind them.

  “Is the attack under way?” Taylor asked Peters.

  “Yes, Mr. President,” the admiral replied. “The Trident submarines fired their missiles a minute ago. They’re on their way. Our satellites are tracking the trajectorie
s – the first strikes will land shortly.”

  Taylor rubbed his jaw. “Good. Corvan, are the camera people ready?”

  Corvan nodded. “Yes, sir. As soon as you like, you can address the American people. I’ve contacted all of the networks – NBC, ABC, CBS, Fox and ZNN. They will pick up the feed and carry your address live.”

  “Excellent. Get the makeup girl and wardrobe person in here. I need to look dignified and commanding.”

  “Yes, sir,” Corvan replied.

  A few minutes later, Taylor sat behind his desk in his Air Force One office, staring at the TV camera which stood ten feet in front of him. The camera director counted down to zero with his fingers and the camera lens ready light changed from red to green.

  Corvan, who was standing to one side of the cameraman and director, nodded and Taylor began speaking.

  “My fellow Americans,” the president said, “I come to you with grave news. Earlier today I learned that the Chinese government was on the verge of a massive nuclear first strike against the United States.” He paused for effect. “This harkens back to two previous, heinous attacks in our country’s history – Pearl Harbor and September 11th. After much deliberation, and with the advice of my Cabinet and National Security team, I made a difficult decision. I made this decision in order to protect our country and you, my fellow citizens. To forestall this treacherous Chinese attack, I ordered a nuclear missile strike on China.”

  Taylor paused, then continued. “As you know, the Chinese government was responsible for the assassination of a great American, my predecessor President Wilson. So this latest deceitful act should not come as a complete surprise. Please be assured that I did not take this decision lightly. But I have a sworn duty to the Constitution and to the American people to preserve and protect this great land of ours.”

  Taylor leaned forward in his seat. “There will be difficult days ahead. But we will get through them. I strongly believe that we, as a nation, will come together and speak in one voice, much like we did after the attacks of September 11th. And rest assured that everything I do will be guided by the principle of ensuring the safety and security of every American. Good day and God bless our country.”