Charlotte Kramer: Madam President Part 15

"Events are too fluid right now, Madam President, but as soon as the public is able to see the scenes of devastation, they're going to start wondering where their president is. They will need to be rea.s.sured that their government is working to protect them, and they're going to want to know that someone knows what the h.e.l.l is going on."

"I'm sorry to put you on the spot, but I think everyone here needs to work against a deadline. How much time until I need to make a statement, Melanie?"

"Madam President, we need to move you into the PEOC right now," Craig repeated.

"Melanie?" Charlotte asked.

"Considering the attacks seem to be ongoing, I'd say you have until dinnertime," Melanie responded.

"Thank you. Let's plan on an address to the public at six P.M. We'll rejoin you all from the PEOC in twenty minutes."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE.

Melanie Melanie muted her line and calculated how far from Washington she would be at six P.M. She'd still be at least three hours away, and she'd still be monitoring the videoconference that had been convened so that the various government agencies tasked with responding to the attacks could share information in real time. One of the failures of the response to the attacks of September 11 was the government's limited capacity for coordination and communication during the first few hours after the attacks. What that meant for Melanie was that she would be partic.i.p.ating in the videoconference until the moment she landed at Andrews Air Force Base.

"What time do we land, exactly?" Melanie asked.

"Around nine-fifteen this evening."

"I a.s.sume that's the fastest we can get there?"

"We're pushing it at that."

She unmuted the line. "Who is taking the lead on the president's remarks?" she asked the group a.s.sembled in the Situation Room.

"Melanie, we're going to have the speechwriters take the first stab, but we'll circulate the remarks as soon as there's a working draft. Dale will take the point on getting the remarks around to everyone in here," Craig said.

"Madam Secretary, if you'd like for me to send the speechwriters any guidance from your office, I'm happy to do so," Dale offered.

"I'll wait until remarks are circulated," Melanie replied curtly. She would have to find a way to get her guidance for the president's remarks directly to the president.

The deputy national security advisor addressed the group next: "Folks, if you need to be in touch with your agencies, please use the next fifteen minutes to do so. The line will remain open, and most of us are going to be a.s.sembled in here until the Secret Service advises against it. The Cabinet secretaries who are here will relocate down to the PEOC with the president and vice president. As the president indicated, we'll do a formal update in twenty minutes."

Melanie directed her aide to monitor the videoconference. She moved out of the camera shot and called Brian. He picked up immediately.

"I can't believe this is happening again," he said.

"I know."

"Are you feeling OK?"

"I'm fine. We're going to try to get back by nine. I a.s.sume I'll go straight to the Pentagon. Where are you?"

"I'm stuck at the Women's Museum. All of the networks have gone to wall-to-wall live coverage, so I haven't been able to get off the air for long enough to move back to the White House. Everyone seems to have been left here."

"The press office should be moving you all back."

"They're working on it. There's an unconfirmed report of an attack on the Mall, so I'm not sure we'll be moving anytime soon."

"I think that report is real."

"Do you have anything on it that I can use?"

"No, but between us, they just moved Charlotte down to the PEOC."

"Jesus. They haven't done that since September eleventh, right?"

"Not that I can recall."

"Listen, they're coming back to me in about thirty seconds, and now I have no idea what I'm going to say."

"Don't report anything I just told you."

"I never do, Mel."

Next, Melanie dialed Annie to ask her to place a call to her parents. She didn't really have time to talk to them, but one call would spare them a day of anxiety. Her dad picked up on the first ring.

"Are you and Mom watching the news?" She knew they were. Her father slept with the remote in one hand and usually turned on Fox News before his eyes opened. He was on a first-name basis with all of the anchors, and one of his favorite conversation starters was to quiz Melanie about the college education of the various female Fox News anchors and pundits. Melanie always failed his quizzes.

"Where are you, Mel? Are you safe? Did you get out of that G.o.dforsaken country?" Her father's politics were an odd mix of libertarian isolationism and right-wing lunacy, but he was staunchly opposed to any war that would place his daughter in harm's way.

"Yes, Dad. I'm fine. I'm on my way back to Washington."

"Thank G.o.d. Marion, she's on her way back to D.C.," he yelled to her mom.

"Is Mom there?"

"She's just getting out of the shower."

"Tell her I'm fine and that I'll call her later."

"Do we know who the sons of b.i.t.c.hes are who did this?"

"Not yet, Dad. We're working on it."

"Tell the president to bomb the entire Middle East to pieces."

"I'm pretty sure that isn't on her menu of options, but I will pa.s.s it along."

"It's the only way to protect ourselves at this point."

"Dad, I want you and Mom to stay home today."

"Mom just canceled her book club, and I canceled my golf game. Those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds targeted innocent families and children. When are we going to realize that they exist on this planet for the sole purpose of doing us harm? It doesn't matter what we do. We should stop trying to rebuild their G.o.dd.a.m.ned schools, and we should stop pouring money we don't have into their corrupt economies. Do you think it's done us any good? All the money we spend?"

"Listen, I've got to go, but if you need to reach me, you can call Annie."

"What am I going to call Annie for? Fox News knows what's happening before the G.o.dd.a.m.ned government."

"Just tell Mom that she can call Annie if she needs anything or if she wants to talk to me."

"Darren, stop hara.s.sing your daughter." Melanie could hear her mother yelling.

"Tell your mother that you are safe." Her father handed the phone to Melanie's mother.

"Where are you, honey?"

"I'm on my way back. I'm fine, Mom. Don't worry."

Melanie had waved in her press aide while she was talking to her parents.

"How's our press?" she asked him as soon as she hung up.

"They want to file from the plane about your meetings and calls. Can I read out anything from your videoconference?"

"Only read out the call if the White House is doing the same thing. It's easy to get ahead of the White House on a day like this. Be sure that Dale is reading out the same meetings to her press, so that it doesn't feel like we're all on different pages."

"Got it."

"And tell the press to thank you for insisting that the plane has Wi-Fi. You should sit in for the next videoconference and make sure you and Dale are talking to all of your counterparts at CIA, FBI, State, and DOJ. Tell Dale she needs to set up an hourly interagency press call."

He took down Melanie's orders and excused himself.

Next, Melanie placed a call to the chairman of the joint chiefs and confirmed that NORAD had taken over North American air s.p.a.ce as they had done on September 11. Then she pulled out her laptop and started typing a few notes for the president's speech. She knew exactly what Charlotte would need to communicate that night.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX.

Dale Should I stay here, or do you need me in the PEOC?" Dale asked.

"You are going to have to read out the president's meetings and phone calls to our press," Craig noted.

"I know, but I figured you'd want to keep it very small in the PEOC."

"I have room for you. Come on," Craig urged.

Dale wished she'd attended one of the half dozen emergency drills that had taken place since she'd joined the White House staff. She didn't even know where the PEOC was. She always sent Marguerite to the Sat.u.r.day disaster drills. She never thought she would witness something so dire that it required the Secret Service to evacuate the president to the PEOC. Dale followed Craig up the stairs from the Situation Room. He stopped in his office and told his a.s.sistant to heed the evacuation orders.

"Yes, sir," his a.s.sistant, Ben, replied nervously. Half a dozen executive a.s.sistants from the West Wing were hovering around the television on Ben's desk, which was normally on mute if it was on at all.

"There's a rumor that the State Department was attacked. Is that true?" Ben asked.

Dale glanced at the TV. They were airing a shot of the street that ran alongside the Old Executive Office Building. The OEOB was the largest building in the White House complex. It housed all but the most senior presidential advisors and their staffs. Smoke was billowing up the street from the direction of the Washington Monument.

"As far as we know, the explosion was down on the Mall. We're not hearing anything about an attack or evacuation at the State Department," Craig rea.s.sured him.

The administrative a.s.sistants were mesmerized by the coverage.

"Do you know that people are jumping off the burning ships in Miami and into the water?" one of them remarked.

Craig was quiet for a second and then nodded. Dale couldn't tell if any of them had even looked away from the TV for long enough to notice.

Dale moved closer and stared at the image of the black cloud moving toward the White House complex. The day had taken a surreal turn. When they were dealing with attacks in New York, Miami, L.A., and Chicago, they were doing what they always did: managing a crisis. Once the report had come in about an explosion in D.C., the sense of security that Dale had always felt as a senior staffer with a hard pin and easy access to armed Secret Service agents evaporated. She was on her way to an underground bunker, but she still felt vulnerable.

"Where does everyone else go if the entire White House gets evacuated? Is there an office building or a safe house downtown or something?" Dale asked Craig.

Craig shook his head and picked up the phone on Ben's desk. He punched in a number that Dale didn't recognize.

"Hey, listen, I'm going to give your address to my a.s.sistant and some of his colleagues. If they evacuate the West Wing, I'm going to send them to your offices to work. You'll set them up with phones and computers and some lunch, right? Thanks, man. I'll call when I can." He hung up. "Listen up, everyone. If you get evacuated, I want you to head to Main Street Strategies. Ben has the address," Craig ordered.

"Yes, sir."

As Craig started to move toward the door, Dale wondered how her own staff was faring. Dale and Craig hadn't taken two steps toward the East Wing when they encountered the CBS crew that was supposed to be embedded with Dale all day. The light on the camera was on, and Dale recognized the a.s.sociate producer who had driven in with her that morning.

"Here we are with the White House press secretary and chief of staff. What can you tell us about what's happening? Can you confirm the D.C. attack? Has the president been relocated to an undisclosed location, or is she still on the premises? When will she address the nation?"

The producer was holding a microphone two inches from Dale's face. She held her arm out to push the microphone a little farther away, and then she stood squarely in front of the camera and tried to project calm.

"We'll have a statement for you shortly. We appreciate all of your questions, and we're working on answers. Obviously, there are things we can't share with you for security reasons, but we'll get you all of the information we can. Now, can you guys please wait in the briefing room with the rest of the press?"

"We were supposed to be embedded with you all day, ma'am."

"That was before the country was attacked, and you're going to have to stop calling me ma'am."

The camera was about ten inches from Dale's face, and she was certain that her "ma'am" comment was snippy enough to make the highlight reel. She silently cursed herself for losing her cool. There was no news that spread faster than a sense of panic exhibited by a senior White House official, and there was no mission more critical for someone in Dale's position than exhibiting otherworldly tranquillity in the midst of a national security event.

"I'm sorry about that, guys. It's a tense time. As I said, the nation has been attacked."

"A terrorist attack?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Is there a reason no one in the government has called it a terrorist attack yet?"