Resurrection Day (46 page)

The night was cloudless, the stars out, the rain gone. In the Rose Garden it was eerily quiet. The President wore an overcoat to keep out the chill, his face gaunt, his body plagued by fatigue. The confines of the situation room had proved too much to bear — in over twenty hours he hadn't slept or left the White House, and he desperately needed air, sucked in a deep, chilled lungful. 'What do you think, Bob?'

Bob Rapp, the man who had tried to act as his mediator, stood beside him. The President's advisers, the same five men and women who had joined him in the situation room when Hasim warned of an imminent attack, huddled around.

'There's no question he's going to hit. We can absolutely bet on it. But if he uses the nerve gas, we're fucked. No way can we keep a chemical attack from the press. Every reporter and news station will get to hear about it. Straight away, there're going to be banner headlines across the country, flash news reports, chaos on the streets.'

'Dick, what do you think the chances are he'll use the gas?' The President, his face growing more pallid, his mood depressingly sombre, addressed the CIA Director.

'Knowing the kind of warped mind Hasim has, I think it's possible. Maybe he's decided to use a small quantity, to raise the stakes. He also seemed anxious to stress the word martyr, sir. That suggests to me some kind of suicide attack. It can go either of two ways. He hits somewhere out of town, somewhere reasonably remote, with few casualties, to simply make a point. Or he hits a major target, with lots of casualties, to make a bigger point. Either way, I think we can count on serious damage, most likely with a bigger number of deaths than we witnessed on his tape. He's going to try to escalate this, make us see he's not bluffing. That he's capable of carrying out his ultimate threat.'

'My God, the man's a crazed lunatic. Damn him to hell!' The President's voice rose in frustration. Ten minutes ago, seconds after Hasim had cut the transmission, he had alerted the FBI Director and army chiefs of staff. A dozen chemical weapons teams were being deployed immediately to strategic locations in Washington, made up of FBI and army units. Everyone present was acutely aware of the seconds ticking by. That at any moment the attack could happen, killing unknown numbers of innocent civilians, not necessarily in the capital, but in any city or town in the US. To counter that possibility, army WMD units had been put on alert in every major city.

But it was crushingly obvious that the enemy had the advantage of surprise — the attack would come at a time and place of his choosing. Everyone with the President was conscious of their impotence: all they could do was wait, like sitting ducks, for it to happen.

'If he goes that far, how the hell are we supposed to keep this thing a secret? This city's going to go nuts. People are going to evacuate. And then where are we? Or Hasim? His threat's less effective. It doesn't make sense.'

'He's no fool, sir,' Rapp suggested. 'He's got to have figured out a way to carry out his attack in a way that fits in with his strategy. He's not going to blow this, not when he's got more than a glimmer of hope that we'll meet his demands.'

'Perverse as it sounds, I just hope to God you're right. Not that it's any consolation to the helpless victims that butcher's going to kill tonight. Jesus, I can't believe I'm saying that. I can't believe there's nothing we can do to prevent this attack ... '

'There's not much, sir, except keep our people on alert and wait.'

The President took several deep breaths to calm himself, tried to marshal his thoughts. 'OK, two things we must do. First, I'll need to get on to President Kuzmin. We've got to be able to release all the prisoners. We're going to have to give Hasim something substantial, and quick.'

'But Kuzmin was adamant he's not going to agree to that, sir.'

'He'll damned well have to. We're caught between the Devil and the deep blue sea here.'

'We've got no leverage, sir.'

'Then we better think of some, and fast. The second thing, in case this all goes wrong, is that I want a doomsday study done immediately on how we're going to cope with the massive numbers of deaths and casualties that will result if Hasim's device goes off.'

'It's already being worked on, sir, by our military planners and FEMA. They promise me they'll have their strategies prepared in full by eight a.m.'

'I want a plan, gentlemen — no, not just a plan, but the plan — of how we're gong to deal with over a quarter of a million corpses and the hundreds of thousands of injured if the worst happens and this city's turned into a battle zone. And that's a very real possibility the way things are going. Let's make no mistake about it.'

The brutality of the President's chilling words sent a shiver down the spines of those around him. Just then a commotion erupted over by the West Wing's colonnaded walkway. Paul Burton burst through the French doors. He brushed past the Secret Service agents and rushed up to the President, breathless. 'It's happened, sir. Less than ten minutes ago ... downtown.' Burton's face was a mask of alarm. 'There's been a massive blast.'

The President was ashen. 'Where, for God's sake?'

'FBI Headquarters.'

'How bad is it, Paul? How many casualties?'

Back in the Oval Office the President was behind his desk. His advisers had crowded into the room. An air of panic gripped them all, but in the midst of their alarm their attention was still on the FBI Director, who had moved over to a corner, frantically talking on his cellphone to one of his senior agents in the Hoover building as he urgently sought information.

'We don't know yet, sir,' Burton replied. 'The FBI's sealed off the area. The first indications are there's been a suicide bombing, but the details are sketchy.'

'Was nerve gas dispersed?'

'We still don't know that yet. It's pretty crazy down there. No one seems to know exactly what's happening. All I got was that a truck exploded outside the Tenth Street entrance to the Hoover building.'

'
Jesus Christ!
'

When the FBI Director switched off his cellphone all eyes fastened on him as he came towards the President.

'Doug?'

'It's pretty bad, Mr President.' The Director's expression was bleak. 'A huge explosion. It's too early to give an exact estimate of casualties, but it appears that there may be dozens of dead, and many more serious casualties.'

The President's face was etched with concern. 'Was gas dispersed?'

'The first indications are no. But I can't be certain.'

'Then be certain. Get a chemical team in there, fast.'

'They're already on the scene, sir.'

'Then I want an answer, the second they've got one.' The President was pale as he turned to Paul Burton. 'And find out what's happening with our doomsday plan. Speed things up if you can. If this attack's anything to go by, it's damned likely we're going to need it.'

The President gritted his teeth, ran a hand over his face. His control over his anger was slipping away again, evidence of his frustration, his fury at being trapped in a seemingly hopeless dilemma. For a couple of moments, to those present, he seemed to be losing it, his hand trembling as it lingered on his face, as if he was close to breaking down, but when he took his hand away the trembling was gone, and there was a sudden steel in his voice.

'Bob, as soon as we get the answer from the chemical team, I want you to contact Abu Hasim again.'

'But he said midnight, sir.'

'I know what he damned well said.' The President slammed his fist on the desk. 'Just do as I say. I want to talk to that sonofabitch.'

Washington, DC 9.59 p.m.

Eight blocks from the White House, near the Potomac shore, Mohamed Rashid had heard the deafening explosion that ripped through 10th Street. He pulled into the kerb, rolled down his window, listened to the booming echoes of the blast as they raged through Washington's night-time streets like colossal claps of thunder. He saw cars pull in and puzzled pedestrians halt on the pavement look skyward.

Two minutes later, Rashid heard the first shriek of sirens, but by then he was already heading safely towards the Eisenhower Freeway and Chesapeake.

The White House 10.50 p.m.

The President switched on the microphone. He was back in the situation room. A flush of red seeped over his face, evidence of his anger. 'Mr Hasim, this is President Booth. Can you hear me?'

Hasim spoke, and the translator relayed the reply. Again, his tone was calm, almost courteous. 'Yes, Mr President, I can hear you.'

'Mr Hasim, what you have done tonight — murder yet more innocent Americans — is a barbaric act of terrorism that you shall one day pay dearly for. I want to assure you that this terrible crime you have committed will not go unpunished. No matter how long it takes, no matter what forces of law and order I have to muster to ensure that justice is done, no matter what the costs, financial or otherwise, I make you this solemn promise. That the perpetrators of this heinous act — you and your supporters — will pay for your callous actions.

'You have enraged me, Mr Hasim. You have awoken an anger in me I never thought possible. I want you to be fully aware of that, and that my resolve to punish those guilty of this outrage will not falter no matter how long it takes, no matter what effort it requires. Make no mistake, as sure as night follows day, you and they shall face American justice.' The President glared at the translator. 'Translate that, word for damned word. Leave nothing out.'

When the translator had finished, the President promptly carried on, unwilling to let Hasim reply until he had finished. 'I'm going to be honest with you, Mr Hasim. You may get what you want. You may have all your demands satisfied — our troops withdrawn from the Gulf, your prisoners released — but after this night you will not get away with the murderous atrocities you have inflicted on this nation, be they in the present or the past. Be clear about that. I will not be bowed or cowered by your threats, nor will the American people. You claim to be a soldier, Mr Hasim, so you must know that every battle has a price, both for the victor and for the vanquished. In that respect, whether you are victor or not, and no matter what power lies behind your threats, I have no doubt that the price of this battle will be your life.'

Again the translator interpreted the words, and again the President promptly carried on. 'I can be honest with you about something else, too. This evening, before we first spoke, I enlisted the help and advice of a number of experts, people who have an insight into your warped terrorist mind. They advised me on how to approach you, how to understand your psyche, how to use strategy to manoeuvre you into a dialogue. Their advice has been valuable, their insights, for the most part, correct.

'But from this moment on, Mr Hasim, I will have no use for their advice. From this moment on, I can see that any strategy I or my advisers might devise is pointless, and that the only way I might communicate with you is by employing the absolute truth. Whether you accept it or not is up to you. But for my part, there will be no tricks, no guile, no posturing. Precious lives are at stake here. The innocent lives of hundreds of thousands of unknowing Americans — men, women and children — who sleep in their beds tonight unaware of this conversation, or of the real and terrifying threat that now hangs over them. Their lives are of paramount importance to me.

'For that reason, I want to assure you of my absolute candour in any dialogue we engage in. So, Mr Hasim, let us get down to business. The demands that you have set out are impossible for me to achieve within the time remaining. You of all people must know that. To withdraw all US forces from the Gulf in such a short time is a logistic impossibility. But tonight, the moment this transmission ends, I shall give the order to withdraw all American forces from the Gulf. Every prisoner you have asked to be released from American soil will be released, and transported to a country of your choosing. As to the remainder on the lists, you must understand that their fate is in the hands of other nations, and outside my control. Of course, I shall do my utmost to press for their release within the allotted timeframe. To convey to the foreign leaders involved how imperative it is they be handed over into your charge. If I fail, it will not be for want of trying, Mr Hasim. And that is as honest a response as I can give you.'

When the translator had finished, the situation room fell totally still. There was a long, worrying silence, filled only by the faint hum from the speakerphone. Those around the table looked at each other, wondering whether the transmission was still live, wondering whether Hasim had cut them off again after the President's enraged but honest comments, but then the Arab's voice finally came back, jolting them. Even before the translator had relayed his words, Hasim's fury was obvious, his tone agitated.

'You have spoken your piece, Mr American President. Now I will speak mine. When we communicated last, I made it clear that you will not threaten me. Yet you did so. You do it now again. Despite my warnings, despite my telling you that you no longer have that right. Yes, you are correct that many thousands of Americans may die. Yet you still risk their lives by your very arrogance, by your conviction that America is always right What gives you this right, Mr President? What gives you the right to threaten me, as you have threatened thousands of Arabs in the past? You have no right, no right whatsoever.'

There was a brief pause, as if Hasim was trying to control his emotions, and then he carried on, his voice more subdued 'Tonight in Washington you saw an example of my followers' martyrdom. Saw that they are willing to sacrifice their lives for a sacred cause. Those martyrs who are in your city right now will gladly meet the same fate if need be, will give up their lives without a moment's thought. Just as I am willing to die for the same cause, Mr President. But are you? Are the people around you? And even if you are, would countless numbers of your citizens be willing to die alongside you? The deaths inflicted tonight have been caused by you. By your lying, your intransigence, your vain attempts to trick and deceive me. I could have used my chemical weapon as an example to repay that deception, to show you and your government yet again the power that I possess. But no, I did not. Instead, I chose a less harmful way, and showed your citizens compassion, a compassion not merited by their president's deceitful words and actions '

The President, his face crimson, was unable to contain his fury.

'Mr Hasim, you have murdered dozens of Americans this night and yet you have the audacity to say you showed compassion? How dare you! There were innocent people in the street when your bomb exploded ... '

Hasim's voice cut in harshly before the translator finished. 'You will be silent, Mr President! You will listen or I will cease this dialogue immediately!'

The moment he heard the translator's words the President's face turned crimson and his fists clenched.

'Mr President I chose my weapon. I chose also to give you a way to explain the explosion. You speak of your nation as if it were a unified people, but your nation is coming apart at the seams. There are many disaffected groups who could have been responsible for the explosion. Militia and patriot groups who have motive enough to attack your FBI. If you are wise, you will put the blame on them.'

There was a delay while the translator spoke, and then Hasim resumed. 'But enough, let us get down to business, as you say. You have said the prisoners in your hands will be released and my instruction in that regard is this — they will be all be flown by commercial airliner to an airport of my choosing somewhere in Afghanistan, and before my deadline expires. The details of the airport's location will be passed on to you by Samar Mehmet no later than two hours before the planes are due to land. As to the other prisoners, you say you have no control over their fate. That is untrue, Mr President. You have enormous power at your disposal, both military and financial, to influence these other states. I have no doubt you can use that power to its ultimate to ensure that all the remaining prisoners are released. Again, you will arrange that they are flown to Afghanistan in the same manner, and to an airport that will be disclosed to you two hours before the aircraft are due to land. Do you understand?'

'I told you, that's outside my control, Mr Hasim,' the President replied once the translator had finished. 'It's impossible for me to comply with that demand, at least for now. But my government is already conducting vigorous negotiations to have them released. This will take time and enormous effort. Already I have spoken with President Kuzmin about the release of those in Russian prisons, and I can assure you his initial reaction is very favourable. But I need more time.'

'You are lying!' Hasim's reply was instant and barbed. 'President Kuzmin is intent on keeping the prisoners. Furthermore, he has tried to destroy me by sending his bombers to attack my bases. Only by the grace of God, and your intervention, had he the sense to turn them back before it was too late. To prevent this from happening again, therefore, I wish you to make President Kuzmin aware that if he attempts to destroy me once more, not only will Washington be destroyed, but I shall immediately order my followers to attack Moscow with the very same weapon. His capital city and its population will suffer the same fate.'

The President listened, stunned, to Hasim's translated answer.

'You see, Mr President, again you lie! You promised honesty, but you are not a man to keep your word. I can see now that any further dialogue between us is useless. From this moment on, I will not speak with you or your advisers again, not until all my terms have been fully complied with. And you will not make any attempt to contact me. To do so will be fatal.'

'Mr Hasim, you have my solemn word I will do my utmost to have the remaining prisoners released. But I need more than the five days remaining ... I need extra time.'

'Your word is meaningless. Only actions count. You have no option but to surrender, Mr President. When will you realise that? And since you have broken your word, I now feel free to break mine. As of this moment, you no longer have five days.' Hasim paused. Everyone in the situation room waited, fearful of what he would say next. When he did speak his words chilled them all.

'From midnight you have thirty-six hours. Thirty-six hours in which to fulfil all of my demands or the device will explode.'

PART SIX

13 November

'Abu Hasim has won ... '

Washington, DC 13 November 3.02 a.m.