Free Capitol Betrayal by William Bernhardt

see reason,” the president said. “Just get him back on the line.”
    “I’ll do my best, sir.” Zimmer sat and returned his attention to the screen.
    All at once, the lights and power began to flicker again. The lights shuddered on and off for several seconds, then actually went out altogether.
    “What the hell?”
    “What’s going on?”
    “Who’s in charge here? Is anyone in charge?”
    Ben recognized the last voice as Admiral Cartwright’s, but the panic and tumult were becoming so frenzied that after that it was hard to hear anything.
    Then the lights came back on. A few moments later, power returned to the communications station and the screens. Ben heard the familiar whirring sound that told him computers were rebooting.
    “What just happened?” the president said evenly.
    “I don’t know,” Agent Zimmer said, motioning to another agent. “I’m sending people topside to find out.” Two of the agents streamed out the door.
    “Aren’t all these power lines secure?”
    “They should be, sir. The bunker has its own power conduits, and like the bunker itself, they’re designed to withstand a nuclear blast. Even the EMP from a nearby missile detonation shouldn’t cause more than temporary interference.”
    “Find out what’s happening!”
    “Already on it.”
    “Good.” The president leaned forward, one hand squeezing the bridge of his nose.
    Cartwright saw his opening. “Mr. President—”
    President Kyler held up his hand, silencing him. “Just give me one damn moment.” He breathed in deeply, then released it, then did it again, then again, each time digging more desperately for air. He began to wheeze. “Doctor?”
    Dr. Albertson walked to his side and presented what appeared to be an asthma inhaler. Ben had had no idea the president suffered from asthma. That had never been mentioned during the campaign or, to his knowledge, afterward. How had they kept it a secret? Or was this a symptom that had developed more recently, perhaps another sign of the great strain of the presidency?
    President Kyler took two gigantic whiffs from the inhaler. A few moments later his breathing began to normalize.
    “Mr. President,” Cartwright launched again, but Kyler waved him away.
    “Zimmer,” he said, his voice subdued and remarkably calm, given the circumstances, “I want all the monuments on the National Mall closed. No, on second thought, make that all the monuments in Washington. Close them down and tell the folks to go home.”
    “But Mr. President,” Secretary Ruiz objected, “if you do that, it could cause a panic.”
    “I’d rather have panic than casualties. Colonel Zuko will be looking for symbolic targets. Dramatic demonstrations of his protest against our way of life. I think there are many in D.C. that would serve his purpose all too well. Close them down.”
    Zimmer nodded. “Will do, sir.”
    “Send a memo through military channels to other high-profile potential targets on the East Coast. Wall Street. The Statue of Liberty. Disney World. They need to know that today might be a good day to close up shop.”
    “If Wall Street shuts down early—”
    “They can come up with some explanation that doesn’t involve a terrorist threat. They’ve done it before.” The president turned toward the communications station, where Zimmer was already hard at work. “Can you get me an update on the people who went down in that helicopter behind the Kuraqi border? I’d like to know if they’ve already been captured. If they’re POWs.”
    “And if they are?” Secretary Rybicki asked.
    “Then we have an even better excuse to bring our troops across his border.”
    “Did you not listen to the man? He’s launching a missile in only a few minutes. If you invade, he’s likely to fire them all.”
    “I assure you, Mr. Secretary, that I heard every word Zuko said. And I don’t have time for a review. Ben?”
    Ben looked up abruptly. He had become so absorbed in the ongoing drama that