Pandemic Page 107

“We’re not sure,” Vogel said. “A staffer got a call out that they were under attack and that the amba.s.sador was dead, then the signal cut off. We’re unable to reach anyone at the emba.s.sy.”

Blackmon stood. “Attacked by who?”

“A mob of civilians,” Vogel said. “Enough to overpower the Chinese guards and our emba.s.sy security forces. That’s all the intel we have at the moment.”

Blackmon spread her hands, palms up: are you kidding me?

“Then get me more intel, Director Vogel,” she said. “I have to know what happened.”

Vogel took the cell phone off his shoulder, pressed it to his ear. He held up a finger to Blackmon — one moment — then spoke quietly. He nodded, put the cell phone in his pocket.

“I wanted to confirm it before I told you,” he said. “We can’t reach representatives of the Chinese government. And I mean we can’t reach anyone. China’s communications grid is offline. Broadcast, telecom, satellite — nothing is going in or coming out. They’ve even shut down their part of the Internet.”

Murray had lost his appet.i.te. The world’s only other nuclear-armed superpower had just gone dark. He waited for the president’s response.

“There has to be something,” Blackmon said. “I need to speak with them.”

Vogel nodded. “Of course, Madam President. The NSA is working on it, highest priority, but as of this moment, we have no way of communicating with the Chinese government.”

Blackmon sat back down. She picked up a french fry, stared at it. She took a bite. Everyone waited as she chewed and thought.

“Director Longworth,” she said, “tell me again where you think our patient zero traveled to when he left Chicago.”

Murray pushed his sandwich away. “a.n.a.lysis shows the carrier was likely in O’Hare four days ago. London is reporting an outbreak, which means the carrier probably stopped there. The itinerary that best fits the outbreak pattern is Delta Flight 305, which flew from O’Hare to LaGuardia, then to Heathrow, then to Beijing.”

Blackmon turned in her chair, stared at Vogel.

“You said no foreign power could get to the Los Angeles, Director. Yet here we are with an infection pattern that points straight to Beijing, and that government has just shut off all communication. If an operative got the artifact and took it back to China, and if he showed his new prize to high-level officials, then we could be looking at infected government leaders.”

Vogel started to sweat.

“Madam President, as I said, it would be virtually impossible for anyone to reach that artifact, let alone take it out of the country. A more likely scenario is that Chinese leadership sees a spreading, global infection and they’re nailing their windows shut. They want to stop any other carriers from getting in, or make sure the world can’t watch how they choose to handle any localized infection. Probably both.”

Admiral Porter politely cleared his throat.

Blackmon spoke to him without taking her eyes off Vogel. “What is it, Admiral?”

“Madam President, if the infection has somehow taken over the Chinese leadership, we obviously have to prepare for that. However, if Director Vogel is right and the Chinese are isolating themselves for their own protection, they may decide to take preemptive measures.”

Blackmon spun her chair back around: the admiral had her full attention.

“What kind of preemptive measures?”

Porter pointed to the monitor showing the map of America, with its red and yellow major cities.

“We’re already significantly infected,” he said. “If I were the Chinese, I’m not sure I’d wait for the infection to rage across Europe and America until it eventually reaches my borders. I’d consider surgical strikes to eliminate infected populations while I still could, before the disease spread so far it can’t be stopped.”

The way Porter delivered it, it made perfect sense. Murray felt a chill in his chest — with the fate of the world on the line, Porter’s take actually sounded like a logical strategy, an almost inevitable one.

Blackmon laced her fingers together. “Admiral, do you really think the Chinese would nuke us to mitigate this disease?”

Porter nodded. “I do, Madam President. After all, we nuked ourselves to accomplish the same goal.”

The chill spread to Murray’s stomach, to his throat.

Porter stood. “Madam President, we have to a.s.sume this is a genuine threat. Whether we’re facing an isolationist China or one now controlled by rogue elements, we have to show that we’re ready to defend ourselves. I recommend we immediately move to DEFCON 3.”

DEFCON stood for Defense Readiness Condition. The system had been in place since 1959, implemented as America adjusted to the threat of nuclear war.

DEFCON 5 was the normal level, the lowest state of war readiness.

With a change to DEFCON 3, the mobilization and response times for select air force units were shortened, often quite significantly. Some combat missions could be launched on fifteen minutes’ notice. Since the end of the Cold War, America had only reached that level on September 11, 2001.

DEFCON 2 was the step just below nuclear war. All armed forces were ready to deploy and engage on six hours’ notice. The nation had reached DEFCON 2 just one time: during the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962.

And then the real troublemaker: DEFCON 1, also known as “c.o.c.ked Pistol.” It meant nuclear war was imminent, that the end of the world was just a presidential order away.