Rescind Order Page 4

  It’s not working.

  Every time she thought about it, her stomach churned and sizzled. Despite a thorough autopsy, medical examiners remained stumped; a man in his late fifties considered to be in pristine health shouldn’t keel over dead from a heart attack during a light round of golf. Of course, Morgan had learned all the shocking details a few moments after they occurred, including some that may never see the light of day. Jack Shaw, Morgan’s uncle and the president’s chief of staff, had been by his side during his last moments and called her shortly after his collapse.

  Harrison was a long-time friend of the Shaw family, but Morgan never felt close to him personally. Her uncle, father, mother, and even her cousin had sacrificed a great deal to get him elected. But the road to the presidency had been a messy one for her family; since Harrison had won the election, no one would speak of what it had taken to get there.

  Before he died, the president kept muttering over and over, “They’re coming for us, they’re coming for us.”

  No one on the scene could make any sense of it. But his words had alarmed Uncle Jack so deeply, he’d called Morgan to get her take—as if she could somehow read the president’s mind and decode the strange words.

  “What do you suppose that means?” he asked her. “You don’t think they would dare return to the U.S. after what they’ve done, do you?”

  I sure hope not.

  If law enforcement authorities discovered the events that had led to the Nightfall Incident—the dark secrets harbored by everyone Morgan cared for—if these ever came to light, her entire family, Luis, their relationship, and her career would be destroyed forever. And without the most powerful man on earth to help maintain the cover story, the truth might get out.

  What if Tolley already knows?

  Morgan wanted desperately to talk to Luis about her deep-seated fear since he would know what to do, or at least be able to calm her down. But Luis preferred to pretend as if it all had never happened. Every time she danced around the topic, he’d change the subject.

  To get over his own guilt, Luis justified his actions leading up to the election and the Nightfall Incident as defending U.S. national security interests. Afterward, he’d pushed everyone to come clean with the authorities. He backed down when he realized the truth would ruin them all and ultimately change nothing. Morgan knew keeping the secret weighed heavily on his conscience.

  “I’m sure you’ll do just fine,” Luis said.

  “At what?” Morgan looked up at him with a confused expression. She’d retreated to her innermost thoughts and couldn’t remember what they had been talking about before.

  “I mean at work today,” Luis said, smiling at her. “Handling all the questions about the legislation.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  Just then, the server placed a Western omelet with three slices of crispy bacon in front of Luis. Morgan licked her lips as the server set down a stack of fresh blueberry hotcakes and two sausage patties in front of her. With a big grin on his face, Luis grabbed the Tabasco pepper sauce and drizzled it all over his breakfast.

  Morgan pulled up her nose. “I’d be careful if I were you. Last time, you used so much hot sauce, you nearly ruined your breakfast.”

  And your breath.

  “Well, I like everything hot and spicy,” Luis said with a mischievous grin. “Just like my woman.”

  Morgan flushed. Then she took the first bite of her pancake. Her mouth watered at the combination of maple syrup, salty butter, and a tart blueberry. When she looked up, Luis had stopped chewing, and his face had gone slack. He stared at the screen of his smartphone, and a deep frown formed.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  His forehead creased. “I’m afraid I have to get going.” Raising his hand in the air, Luis signaled the server for a carryout box.

  “You’re not even going to eat your food?” Morgan asked, pointing at his plate and failing to hide her disappointment.

  Luis gave her an apologetic look. “Babe, I’m really sorry. I have to take it to-go this time. The test and evaluation for the Department of Defense’s Autonomous Retaliatory Capability kicks off at 1:30 this afternoon, and I just got an email from Major Lim, ARC’s lead data scientist, about some new issues with the algorithm after the last batch of data. Before the test takes place, we have to pre-brief the chairman this morning.”

  Morgan raised her eyebrow. “Major Lim. Wait, is that my friend, Grace?”

  She’s working on the ARC system these days? That could explain why I saw her at the meeting yesterday.

  Luis nodded. “Yeah, she was recently assigned to be the lead data scientist on ARC at the Pentagon. She didn’t tell you about it?”

  Whoops.

  Biting her lip, Morgan shook her head. She hadn’t returned Grace’s calls in months. And then Morgan spotted her in the room attending the same meeting at the White House. A feeling of guilt rose in her stomach. She’d noticed that Grace wanted to come speak to her, but she had another meeting to get to and ran off, not giving her friend the chance. She gulped.

  “What? Why?” Luis asked, but then waved his hand back and forth.

  Morgan shrugged like she didn’t know why Grace hadn’t told her.

  “Never mind. We can talk about it later,” he said. “I may need to make some last-minute changes to the read-ahead for the chairman before the pre-brief, so I’d better get going.”

  “Isn’t this the fifth test and evaluation for ARC?” Morgan asked in an attempt to delay his departure.

  Luis sighed heavily. “Yep, we’re on the hook, per congressional order in the 2032 National Defense Authorization Act, to conduct a monthly simulation and test the impact of the new data inputs based on the current threat environment. This is supposed to keep ARC up to date with the latest technological developments and ensure the system continues to function as expected. It’s a big ordeal, costing the taxpayers tons of money. We get the National Military Command Center all spun up, with senior-level Pentagon officials in attendance and the commander of U.S. Strategic Command beaming in from Omaha over the secure video teleconference.”

  “Continues to function as expected?” Morgan asked, her brow furrowed. “It had better function as expected. The system has the capability to give the launch order for U.S. nuclear weapons. How could its functioning even be up for discussion?”

  Luis winced. “Yeah, I’m not thrilled about the notion either. It has something to do with the data that’s fed into the algorithm and how it changes the outcomes.” He scratched his head. “Or it changes the algorithms. I dunno. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the complexities, but the ARC system is pretty much a black box for me. I have no idea what’s going on inside ARC’s deep neural net—”

  “You’re responsible for briefing the chairman on its functioning this morning, and you don’t understand how it works?” As soon as Morgan asked the question, she regretted it.

  Luis clenched his jaw. “Well, it’s not really my fault. I do whatever I can, but understanding ARC requires specialized expertise. There are complex mathematical calculations that take place within the deep neural network. Even the mathematicians and data scientists can’t always explain why or how the system learns from the data.” He paused for a moment and studied Morgan’s face. “If you want to know more, you should really ask Grace about it when you get a chance.” Luis pointed at his watch, stood up, and gave her an apologetic look.

  Okay, I got the hint. I’ll call Grace.

  “Go,” Morgan said, waving him off. “I don’t want you to be late. We’ll catch up later. Maybe after the ARC test?”

  Nodding, Luis leaned over to kiss her. A strong whiff of tomato and pepper made her pull away just in time to avoid him. She narrowed her eyes, and he gave her a knowing smirk, settling for a kiss on her cheek. Then he hurried out of the diner.

  Morgan watched him go when her smartphone buzzed with a text from her boss:

  You might want to get to the of
fice early this morning

  Great. Morgan sighed and looked down at her half-eaten pancakes. No breakfast for the wicked, I guess.

  6

  Chukchi Sea

  SUSAN

  0540

  Situation Room

  The White House

  Susan looked from Grayson to the other intelligence analysts with a blank expression on her face. They’d all sunk deep into the cushions of their seats, none of them wanting to explain further how the U.S. Navy could have lost two of China’s subs. She was about to speak when a brave, middle-aged, black DIA analyst finally piped up with more information.

  “Ma’am, we’ve been tracking the submarines with our swarm of underwater drones,” he said. “These drones use undersea GPS technology and relay location coordinates back to our own submarines in the region. As expected, China’s flotilla of submarines passed by our underwater sensors off the coast of Wales, Alaska yesterday. Then earlier this morning, the flotilla traveled near some Russian submarines, making it hard to keep track of them with absolute certainty. We assumed all five Chinese submarines would take the Northern Sea Route to the Northeast Passage and then travel along the Russian coast for their role in tomorrow’s war game. The three diesel-electric powered submarines took the route we expected. But when the two nuclear-powered submarines reached the open waters in the Chukchi Sea, we lost any sign of them.”

  “How did we lose them?” Susan asked.

  Grayson nodded at her as if he’d expected the question. “Ma’am, although the waters are quite shallow there, the high level of background noise prevented us from picking up a signal.”

  Suppressing a wince, Susan recalled the argument she’d gotten into with Dr. Morgan Shaw in the Oval Office.

  Was I dead wrong last week?

  She’d shut Morgan down in front of the president in an after-hours discussion about the forward deployment of China’s submarines. Susan had disagreed with Morgan’s views, but she mostly resented feeling undermined by another woman, especially one fifteen years younger than her. Although Morgan’s expertise on nuclear weapons was invaluable, it was her healthy dose of arrogance Susan didn’t like. Morgan often behaved as if she was aware of her superior ability for navigating complex issues and powerful players inside the Beltway.

  She doesn’t need to flaunt it so much.

  Harrison had hired Morgan as Director for Defense Issues on the National Security Council staff as a favor to Jack Shaw, his chief of staff and Morgan’s uncle. Despite her high-level connections, Morgan exhibited a razor-sharp intellect, and her knowledge of U.S. nuclear weapons policy was unrivaled within the White House. Even though the young woman deserved to work on the National Security Council staff, Susan found her unbearably obstinate and difficult to work with.

  But I’m the president now. Maybe she’ll be more respectful.

  If Morgan failed to behave according to Susan’s preferences, she could always fire the woman.

  But she’s really good at her job.

  It might be a better idea for Susan to use Morgan somehow toward achieving her own ends. The last thing she needed was another enemy inside the Beltway. And definitely not one as well-connected as Dr. Shaw.

  I already have to contend with the likes of Burke.

  “Should we raise this issue with the Chinese and see what they have to say about it?” Susan asked, wishing for a moment that Elizabeth Whitaker, her close friend and the secretary of state, was in the room to offer some diplomatic advice.

  Grayson cleared his throat. “Ma’am, I’d expect the Chinese to blame us. They might suggest they’re merely mimicking the U.S. Navy’s strategy of engaging China as far forward as possible as a means to strengthen nuclear deterrence. The Chinese would claim that since we’re closely monitoring their submarines in the South China Sea, they have the right to do the same in our coastal waters. However, the Chinese typically defend their submarines with a highly visible fleet of naval forces. That’s what makes this operation different.”

  “Where do we suspect the submarines are located now?” Susan asked.

  With a curt nod, Grayson said, “We think they might have taken the Northwest Passage off the coast of Alaska and Canada. If they did, they are probably somewhere in the Beaufort Sea by now. This would be a pretty significant development. In the past, no sane submarine commander would go near that place since it used to be covered in ice most of the year. But with all the ice melt from years of climate change, the route has become passable.”

  And that means…

  Susan hesitated to ask the question on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to kick herself for not paying closer attention to nuclear weapons issues over the past six months, but she never thought she’d have to deal with them.

  This was Harrison’s job.

  As if sensing her question, Grayson leaned forward and said, “Ma’am, there are two Chinese nuclear-armed submarines located somewhere in the Western hemisphere. That means China can reach almost any target within the continental United States with its nuclear weapons.”

  Taking a few short breaths, Susan did her best to hide her lack of specific knowledge and kept her face slack. But the room had gone silent in anticipation of her response, and all eyes were on her. Every moment that passed by felt like an eternity.

  Her mind raced through the implications. She knew it would only take one submarine to cause massive devastation on U.S. soil--even if the ballistic missile defense system were successful in taking out a missile or two. For this reason, the White House would need to take the incursion seriously, possibly issuing a strong condemnation of Chinese aggression. However, her senior military advisors would likely caution against a military conflict with China and dissuade her from taking tangible actions that would lead to escalation.

  But would the Chinese even believe our threats?

  Susan considered what might happen if the Chinese called her bluff. As the new commander in chief, the Chinese government might consider her weak and perceive an opportunity for taking offensive action. The United States was still trying to regain its national security footing since the Nightfall Incident. Things were just returning to a new normal when Harrison died suddenly.

  Susan doubted the Chinese would make a reckless offensive move. Even so, she felt compelled to ask the next question. “Are the Chinese using the war game as a pretense for putting their military assets into place?”

  “Perhaps,” Grayson said. “We have to consider all possible scenarios. As you know, it would not be the first time the Chinese have made a major move while we were distracted with other issues.”

  Susan nodded, gazing at the table in front of her as if it might provide her answers to the many questions in her mind. During the weeklong communications blackout after Nightfall, the White House had been so consumed with rebooting large portions of the electrical grid, acquiring new communications equipment, and restoring law and order, the Monroe administration hadn’t seen the Hong Kong takeover coming.

  After several moments of silence, Susan looked up at the room of expectant faces. “Thanks everyone for the briefing. I’d like to reconvene this discussion in a meeting of the National Security Council later this morning. In the meantime, Bill, please have your team try to confirm the source of the tweets and gather as much information as you can on Chinese plans for that war game. And find those submarines.”

  Susan stood up from the conference table, and the others followed suit.

  Elise tugged her arm. “Ma’am, see you back in the Oval?”

  Susan nodded, and Elise departed the room.

  As the team of intelligence analysts filed out of the room, Grayson motioned for her to join him in the corner. When they were close enough to whisper, she waited for him to say something. For a moment, his wrinkled face looked manic. That’s when she noticed his bloodshot eyes and detected a whiff of bourbon on his breath.

  Has he been drinking?

  Susan wouldn’t blame him for burying his sorrows in a
bottle of whiskey. But she couldn’t afford to get distracted by her pain. Unlike Grayson, she’d inherited a vast array of enemies within her own administration. They were like vicious sharks swimming in circles, waiting for a sniff of blood before attacking.

  Grayson ran his hand through his thinning gray hair. “Do you think the Russians had anything to do with President Monroe’s death?”

  What does Russia have to do with any of this?

  Taking a step back, Susan gave him an incredulous stare. “Do you know something I don’t?” Her eyes wide, she waited for an answer, but none came.

  Grayson stood there, wobbling slightly as if he were shell-shocked that he’d even uttered the words in the first place.

  Susan lowered her voice. “You do realize you’re suggesting the president died of something other than natural causes. We don’t even know the autopsy results. Shouldn’t we wait on making crazy allegations until we have a reason? We’ve got plenty to worry about as it is.”

  Grayson dropped his chin to his chest and sighed. “Ma’am, you’re right. It was a careless remark, and I apologize. The president’s sudden death has me on edge. I’m still reeling from the shock of it and am not myself lately.”

  “It’s okay,” Susan said, squeezing his arm.

  Grayson shook his head. “No, it’s not okay. We’re in the middle of the biggest crisis since the Nightfall Incident. I have to get it together, if not for myself… then for you, ma’am.” A tear rolled down his cheek, and he sniffed. “I just miss him terribly.”

  “I can’t believe he’s gone either,” Susan said, her voice wavering. “When I actually stop to think about it, I can barely hold it together.”

  Grayson leaned in closer to her, crowding her personal space again. “Ma’am, I’m worried about much more than the president’s death. I don’t know how to tell you this…” He lowered his voice, his lip quivering. “The FBI director called me this morning with some troubling new information about the Nightfall Incident.” He studied her face as if waiting for a response.