The Threat

She immediately began telling them about the boat trip, inviting them along. This was disappointing. He’d conjured a picture of the two of them sharing memories and dreams out on the bay. But he put it aside. Just being in her life again was great.

Just then something like a trapped roach buzzed against his flank. He flinched before he remembered. He’d set the pager on vibrate. The White House number, but he didn’t recognize the extension. He excused himself and found a pay phone.

“Sit Room,” a voice said. Female. Businesslike.

“Lenson from counterdrug, returning a page.”

“Lenson? Jennifer Roald. I understand you’re the go-to guy on Tomahawk targeting.”

Captain Jennifer Roald was the director of the Situation Room. Dan said, “I’ve done some in the past, ma’am. It’s not my current assignment.”

“Firing? Or targeting?”

“Well … both. I was on the development team, and—”

“Can you come in? We need some in-house advice.”

He hung up and stood there for a moment. What the hell was going on?

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to go back to the office,” he told Nan, back at their table. He gave her friends a smile, patted her back, and said good-bye.

Walking back to the car he cupped his hand to his face, breathing in the scent of her hair. It smelled like the freshness from an opened window, when a room has been closed too long.

5

Full night. Outside the Sit Room windows, past the nodding petunias in their kitschy boxes, a salmon glare backlit the limos on West Executive. Columns of text scrolled down screens. The clatter of keys rose to a cicada drone as the duty officers processed another wave of messages. The phones were ringing. Illuminated numerals glowed the time in Tokyo, Baghdad, London. Dan hadn’t expected rosewood cabinetry in a watch center. He hoped his car would be okay. Sometimes they got broken into out on the Ellipse, tires slashed.

There didn’t seem to be any official nomenclature for having all hands on deck, like “general quarters” or “red alert.” But the analysts were at their desks, the call-ins were working in the executive secretariat area, the deputy and director were in their cubicles, and the coffee machine was doing a steady business. The mess had sent in trays of brownies and sandwiches. Now and then one of the watch staff would take a paper plate and eat quickly at the comm desk, or leave for a smoke under the awning outside. Five, six quick puffs, then he’d slide back into his seat, like a gamer addicted to the flickering screen.

* * *

Captain Jennifer Roald turned out to be small-boned, older than Dan, with a piquant face and a chin pointed as a McIntosh apple. She’d explained the situation while standing before a display. “The North Koreans have announced they’re abrogating the nonproliferation treaty. There’s a meeting at midnight in the videoteleconferencing room to prepare talking points for a 0300 call to South Korea.”

“De Bari will call from there?”

“No. That will be Mrs. Clayton to Mr. Kim, to set up for the president’s call. Which right now we think will be around 0900. We place the calls from here, then connect to the Oval Office.”

“Okay. What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to work problem number two. The joint task force in northern Eritrea. Providing security for civilian relief organizations after the earthquake and famine. Several of their helicopters have been shot down.”

“SA-7s?” The Russian version of the Stinger antiaircraft missile.

“Apparently not, but they’ve developed antihelo squads. A tactic of massed RPG fire to bring them down at low altitude.”

All he knew about Eritrea was what he’d gleaned from CNN and the Post. But this hadn’t been in any of the papers or on TV. “That’s not good,” he said, reflecting on how heavily U.S. forces relied on choppers for logistics, fire support, transport.

“The militias withdrew into the mountains under coalition pressure. The SecDef authorized the on-scene commander, an Army one-star, to send Special Forces teams and local allies in after them. Now that force has been ambushed at Kerkerbit, near the border. They’re getting Sudanese military aid and pushing south. This could be an attempt to destabilize the Eritrean government. Make it another terrorist enclave, like Afghanistan or Sudan.”

Above their heads Wolf Blitzer came on the screen, face grim. Behind him spread the South Lawn, the lit facade of the White House. Dan could just make out the West Wing over Blitzer’s shoulder. Was the reporter out there now?

“Government radio says the relief column has been ambushed. Heavy casualties are reported to American and allied troops. A portion of the city appears to be on fire.”