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Director Hawke. What about France?"
    "France?
Well, we're great friends with France,"
Hawke said, "but outside of fashion...and food...nobody takes France
seriously. You know the saying, 'Don't buy anything with moving parts from France.' Since
the Great War, when Germany
grabbed off most of its industry, it's mostly been a stop on the European
tourist circuit. It isn't any more important than, well, Japan or Russia."
    "Now that you bring up those two..." Callaway promoted.
    "Yes, Japan and Russia. Might
as well throw China
in there as well," Hawke said. "The three sleeping giants. May they
continue to snooze.”
    Suddenly, large square red lights in all four corners of the room began
flashing almost stroboscopically. Moments later, a shrill warning siren sounded
three times. A score of well-armed marines poured into the room and set up
machine guns to guard the doors. Thick steel plates nosily slid down the walls
and thudded closed, turning the situation room into a huge steel box.
    Vice President Garvey leaped to his feet, opened his mouth and sat down again,
completely flummoxed. Ms. Tennenbaum just stared at the Marines, paralyzed.
General Hutchison folded his arms across his chest, and exchanged an calculatedly
bored glance with DCI Hawke.
    The President was not so patient. "What's going on?" he demanded,
confronting the nearest Marine, a grim-faced officer with his gun drawn.
    "Please come with me, Mr. President," the officer said, taking
Callaway by the arm and helping him to his feet. On the wall opposite the door,
two panels opened automatically, revealing a long, poorly-lit concrete tunnel
leading out of the situation room.
    The President went along with the officer, but continued to question him, in a
surprisingly steady voice. "What's happening? Has there been an attack of
some kind?"
    "We've had a main gate intrusion attempt," said the Marine. "An
SUV crashed into the wrought iron entrance, apparently with intent to gain
White House access."
    "But the intruder has been stopped and caught?"
    "I have no information about that. But, since the intruder could have
accomplices, standard drill is to get you to safe quarters
immediately."
    Callaway nodded, "Myself and the room's other occupants," he said.
    "That is correct, sir."
    Callaway found himself being hustled into the tunnel, the rest of the group
nervously following along behind him. A pair of Marines, weapons at the ready,
    brought up the rear. The President
and his aides had been here before, during the transition process, but the
sudden alarm caught them all off guard, raising fears, stripping away dignity.
Vice President Garvey seemed particularly dazed and confused.
    It took the little procession nearly two minutes to walk the length of the
tunnel, which ended in a smaller version of the Situation Room, equipped with
every communication device and life support system known to man. Adjoining it
were bathrooms, a kitchen, sleeping quarters, and a larder sufficiently
well-stocked to feed 100 people for six months.
    The President and his companions could have taken seats at the table in the
center of the room and continued their meeting, but instead, they milled about,
uncomfortably.
    "What's that noise?" asked Eric Wang, anxiously.
    "Noise?" asked the Vice President, eyes wide with fear, "What
noise?"
    "That hum—don't you hear it?"
"Ah," said General Hutchison. "That's the generators. This place
is totally-self sufficient. It even has an independent air-supply supply
system."
    "It still feels very stuffy," said Veronica Tennenbaum. "I'm
having a hard time catching my breath."
    "That's just surprise and tension," said DCI Hawke. "The feeling
will pass."
    Callaway's eyes were on the Marine officer, who was listening intently to his
earpiece. "What news?"
    "No sign of another attack," the officer said. "The intrusion
has been stopped."
    Callaway smiled tentatively. "What do they say about the intruder?"
    "Actually, there were two of them," the Marine officer