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terrorists! But because of some stupid mistake—some flaw in our communications—the president was dead.
    “All this time and effort on homeland security, and they can’t make a simple phone call!” George said in exasperation.
    “Sir, in all fairness, I worked as a liaison to the Homeland Security Department for the last two years. There are a lot of fine people in that organization, and they have been working as fast as possible to plug every hole in our security net. There were just too many holes.”
    Regaining his composure, somewhat, George turned to the young army lieutenant. “I know, Lieutenant. I’m just frustrated. I could make similar statements about our submarine force failing to make a difference, but what’s the use?”
    “The job was just too big, sir. From the time we got the wakeup call on 9/11, we just didn’t have enough time to fix every security problem.”
    George shook his head again. “You’re right. We lived as a free and open society for so long…there were probably hundreds of holes al-Qaeda could have taken advantage of.”
    “A few more years, and we would have plugged those holes, sir.”
    “Yeah, maybe so. But at the same time, we tend to do a lot of stupid things that make it easier for terrorists to kill us.”
    “How’s that?”
    “Well, for instance, we allow people to post information on Web sites showing how to construct a nuke. And then we allow them to post information showing the effects of a nuclear blast in any city you want to pick. A terrorist could pick a location in any major city, pick a warhead size, and see what the effect would be if that warhead detonated in that location.”
    “I’ve seen one of those sites.”
    “Well, no doubt, they were very useful to al-Qaeda in planning the size of their weapon and its placement. You think they found such a perfect location by accident?”
    “No, sir.”
    George struck the top of the console with his fist. “We are so stupid! We know they’re out to kill us, and we give them every tool they need to maximize the body count! When will we ever learn?”
    George got up from the console and made his way through the crowded control van to the door. “I’m stepping outside for a minute,” he called to the lieutenant.
    George found himself alone outside, where the air was warmer but fresher than the conditioned air inside the stuffy, crowded van. George took a deep, long breath, exhaling slowly to calm himself. The control van was positioned next to the base operations building at Langley Air Force Base in Virginia. It was a beautiful area, with lots of tall trees and lush green vegetation. Birds sang nearby, and cars quietly made their way past the base operations building on their way to and from hangars and various administration buildings.
    It all seems so peaceful. But in the back of George’s mind, he knew why Langley had been chosen as their operations site. Its proximity to Washington meant the Predator drones could quickly reach the target area surrounding ground zero. On the other hand, it was far enough away to have escaped any damage and was out of the fallout area, which tended to extend east and west from the most radioactive area.
    Thoughts of the hundreds of thousands of dead and injured and the loss of the nation’s beautiful capital flooded through George’s mind. Leaning against a tree for support, overcome with grief and sorrow, he cried uncontrollably. He knelt to the ground to pray, but knew it was also to keep himself from falling over as he suddenly lost all his strength.
    “Lord, give me strength. Give us all strength. And give us wisdom…wisdom to react to this crisis responsibly…wisdom to prevent more killing.”
    As he prayed, an inkling of a thought began to form in the deep recesses of his mind. It seeped in from somewhere—from God—from his soul—or from his subconscious mind. George couldn’t tell where it came from; it was just there. It was an answer to his prayer. He