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picture of the White House.
    “… don’t have the details, but we are told that the terrorist alert warning is at its highest and that there is a concern that we may be facing an imminent threat. Inside sources say that the president and everyone else in the White House have been evacuated to an undisclosed safe location. Repeated rumors are circulating that the White House itself may be in danger and…”
    Christina stared at the screen, her face turning ashen. “Ben!”
     
     
     

Chapter

5
     
     
9:02 A.M.
     
     
    The president and Agent Zimmer continued to exchange words while moving, but the whole evacuation procedure became so frenzied Ben could no longer hear what was being said. He felt as if he were a cow in a slaughterhouse. The Secret Service agents didn’t quite use a prod on him, but almost. If he delayed or hesitated, his personal shepherd pushed up against him, nudging him along.
    They quickly passed through Cross Hall, which connected the State Dining Hall and the East Room. A few seconds later they were in the East Wing, where the First Lady and the White House social secretary kept their offices. Where were they going?
    As they entered the corridor, they encountered another squadron of agents with two political heavy hitters of their own: Michael Ruiz, the nation’s first Hispanic to fill the office of secretary of state, and secretary of defense, Albert Rybicki. Just before they turned the corner, Ben thought he caught a glimpse of another platoon of agents whisking someone in the opposite direction—someone who looked like the vice president of the United States. Could that be? Why wasn’t he coming with them?
    But once he thought for a moment, he realized that made perfect sense. Even if there wasn’t time to transport everyone else, they would take the VP to another location. They didn’t want the president and his immediate replacement in the same place. Just in case those missiles made contact.
    After they had traveled about halfway into the East Wing, the Secret Service agents herded them into a large elevator. It had the spacious, no-frills appearance of a freight or cargo elevator, but given how many of them there were, Ben was grateful for the extra space. Agent Zimmer pressed a button and the elevator descended. In the small and relatively quiet space, Ben was able to pick up more of their conversation.
    “I’m confused,” the president said. “I thought that in the event of an imminent air strike, the plan was to put me on Air Force One and get me the hell out of Dodge.”
    “Based on our current intel,” Zimmer explained, “we’re not sure there’s time.” Zimmer was dark-skinned and the black suit and tie made him seem even darker. His clipped manner of speaking and emotionless delivery might make him seem cold to some, but Ben had learned to appreciate his rare ability to remain totally cool in a crisis. “At any rate, we’re not taking the risk. We’re taking you to the PEOC. We’re sending the vice president off in the plane.”
    “But if there’s not enough time for me…” The president didn’t finish his question. He figured it out for himself. “Oh.”
    If someone had to be at risk, it wasn’t going to be the president. It would be the man chosen as his running mate.
    “Thank heaven the First Lady is in California. How can we be under attack from one of our own missiles?” the president asked.
    “We’re not sure yet, sir. But a missile has been fired.”
    “How close?”
    “The missile has already entered P-fifty-six airspace.” Ben had been around long enough to know that was a reference to the zone of restricted air traffic surrounding the White House.
    “Can’t we bring it back?”
    “We cannot, sir.”
    “Divert it?”
    “No.”
    “I specifically recall being advised that our computer guidance systems had the capability to—”
    “Sir, we’ve lost control of the guidance systems.” Zimmer probably didn’t intend to raise his voice,