Free The War Cloud by Thomas Greanias Page B

sink. There was a hole in the center of a spider-web crack.
    niper got Carla, she realized, feeling her heart pounding out of her chest as she gasped for air.
Somebody’s out there.
    She didn’t dare stand up again. Instead she crawled along the cabinetry and poked her head around to look outside the sliding glass door. A black Suburban suddenly hit its high-beams, blinding her. She recoiled and crouched back behind the counter.
    “No, no, no,” she moaned.
    She poked her head out again and saw the silhouettes of two shadowy figures with guns—M-16s from the profiles—walking toward the house.
    She ducked back out of sight, staring at Carla on the floor in front of her. Warm tears rolled down her frozen cheeks as she bit down hard on her lower lip.
    Her mom was right.

27

1431 Hours
Air Force One

    I nside the presidential bathroom of the Nightwatch plane, now officially Air Force One, Sachs wiped off the makeup Captain Li had applied for the swearing-in photo and looked at herself in the mirror. Other than the bruises on her forehead, she didn’t look too banged up. But she also didn’t look like an American president, she thought, and she certainly didn’t feel like one. As if to underscore her testosterone deficit, she caught a glimpse of the prominent urinal behind her in the mirror.
    She zipped up the flightsuit Captain Li had given her—presidential seal and all—and walked out into the presidential suite. It was a smaller compartment than she had imagined, dominated by a desk, an American flag, and a long gold couch from which a grim Colonel Kozlowski and Captain Li rose as she entered.
    Sachs said, “What’s FEMA doing for the victims and their families in Washington, D.C.?”
    “Everything humanly possible, Madame President,” said Captain Li. “First-response medical units from around the country are treating the wounded and tagging the dead. Communications command posts are being set up to handle family inquiries. And financial credits are being applied to all affected.”
    Sachs then looked at Koz and said simply, “Jennifer.”
    “Soon as we’ve located her, we’ll put you on with her, Madame President,” Kozlowski assured her. “Meanwhile, Captain Li has General Zhang on behalf of the People’s Republic of China on hold.”
    Sachs said, “What happened to Premier Peng Hu?”
    Kozlowski shook his head. “China has made it clear that Zhang is their point man with us.”
    Not a good sign at all,
Sachs thought.
    She looked at the phone on the desk in front of her, light blinking. She sat down behind the desk. There was a presidential seal on the bulkhead above her left shoulder.
    She swallowed hard and then nodded to Kozlowski, who pressed the speaker button.
    “General Zhang,” she said. “This is Deborah Sachs.”
    She heard a quick translation from Captain Li, then General Zhang’s voice and another translation.
    people of China wish to express our profound sorrow for your loss today, Madame President, and desire to offer any assistance the United States may require.”
    Sachs replied, “The only thing I require, General Zhang, is confirmation from your own lips that neither you nor any agent of the Chinese military was responsible for today’s attack on Washington, D.C.”
    “We are not responsible,” General Zhang said firmly. “But we will consider
    any retaliation directed at us an act of war. If so, I guarantee you that many other American cities shall suffer the same fate as Washington.”
    Before she could reply Zhang hung up, his transmission over. She looked at Kozlowski. “Now what?”
    Kozlowski said, “You’ll review your options. The National Command Authority is waiting on screen in the conference room for your first attack conference. That’s General Norman Block at Northern Command, General Duane Carver at Strategic Command, and General Brad Marshall aboard our Looking Glass plane.”
    “Looking Glass?” she asked. “What’s that?”
    “An airborne