Free The Last Days by Joel C. Rosenberg Page A

second quake?”
    â€œIt happened in northwestern India, near Kashmir, about eighteen, maybe nineteen minutes ago. That one hit eight point one—casualties are mounting fast but we don’t have any solid numbers yet.”
    Kirkpatrick could hear the president gasp.
    â€œWe’ve just established an open line with our embassy,” she continued. “I haven’t had a moment to talk with Ambassador Koshy yet, but same drill as Turkey?”
    â€œAbsolutely. Get State involved right away, and get somebody on the horn with the Pakistanis. The last thing we need is a humanitarian rescue operation near Kashmir to be perceived as provocative by General Musharraf or the ISI.”
    â€œYou got it, sir. Anything else?”
    â€œJust tell me Bennett and McCoy are safe.”
    â€œI can’t, sir. Not yet.”
    Â 
    The president couldn’t get his mind off them.
    McCoy was practically a third daughter. MacPherson and his wife, Julie, had known her all her life. They’d known her father since Vietnam. He and Sean McCoy had been close friends. MacPherson was flying F4 Phantom fighter jets off the decks of aircraft carriers in the Sea of Japan. McCoy was a SEAL team commander, and one of the most decorated commandos in the navy. He’d eventually joined the CIA and worked his way up to the deputy director of operations.
    When Sean married Janet, the executive assistant to the Secretary of the Navy, MacPherson was the best man. When little Erin was born, he and Julie were at the hospital with flowers. When Sean was killed, it was MacPherson who’d given the eulogy. When Janet died of ovarian cancer in ’91, he’d done so again. Now, as he put his head down and clenched his fists, he prayed to God he wouldn’t have to do so for Erin, their only child.
    And Bennett? He was the son the MacPhersons never had. He was a little too old for the MacPherson twins—they were half his age—and that was too bad. But it felt like he’d been part of their family forever.
    Bennett was an only child, and his parents were always traveling. He rarely spent holidays with them and almost seemed without a family. So the MacPhersons took him under their wing, inviting him to birthday parties and cookouts and Christmas and political conventions. The girls loved him. Julie loved him. And why wouldn’t they? Bennett always seemed to have time for them. Or to make time. He brought them gifts, helped the girls with their homework. He teased them about their latest boyfriends, and always enjoyed playing basketball or volleyball. His favorite, of course, was Monopoly night, with pizza and popcorn and root beer floats. Every fourth Friday, for years, it had been a family tradition, until the MacPhersons moved into the White House and everything changed.
    Bennett’s first real job after Harvard was as MacPherson’s personal assistant. Along the way, he developed great sources and great instincts. His Rolodex was a who’s who of the wealthiest people on earth, and their personal secretaries, assistants, drivers, and caddies. He ran his network of corporate spooks with the zeal of the KGB. And he’d made MacPherson a very wealthy man.
    It was Bennett who’d insisted in 1998 that the tech-averse MacPherson take a major position in America Online at $7 a share. AOL had just shot past 15 million subscribers and was gobbling up CompuServe and ICQ, pioneers of instant messaging. Bennett’s sources told him this was just the beginning.
    At first, MacPherson resisted. He worried AOL was just a fad. CEO Steve Case was a new kid on the block. You’ve got mail? What kind of slogan was that? But Bennett practically begged him to take the company seriously. Then the stock shot past $10 a share. Suddenly MacPherson was ready to get in the game and play big. The Joshua Fund scooped up 50 million shares at an average of $11.47 a share.
    Bennett was terrified. It was one thing to