Shadow of Eden (58 page)

Resnick’s eyes were drawn to the large flat screen panels on the wall opposite her that displayed the position of each ship and aircraft in the theatre. It was a spectacle of the American technological capability but, ironically, the prominently exhibited US carrier fleet was in serious jeopardy from the less sophisticated Chinese.

Just before she had left her office for the White House, Ernie Whiteside had called to notify her of a pending story on CNN. She had quickly turned on her TV and watched an exclusive report about an intercepted conversation from a Colonel Tanggu Ye about General Yao. Citing unnamed sources, the report was faithful right down to the comment about Premier Chow not having the “male endowment” to stand up to General Yao. Resnick smiled. It was perfect. With luck, it would give some Chinese officials cover to bolt from Yao’s camp and support Chow. She wrote a quick analysis and arranged for it and a videotape of the story to go to each of the cabinet and National Security Council members.

The linchpin in the whole situation, however, was President Dixon. As long as he persisted in his support for Taiwan, there would be no stopping the attack.

Sullivan walked back in and caught her eye.

“Linda, let’s get the Cabinet into Conference Room C immediately.” He turned to Arthur Slywotsky the White House Counsel. “Art, I want you to come as well.”

Within minutes, the Cabinet members assembled around the conference table behind a closed door. Sullivan cleared his throat. “I just got a call from Dr. Thomas Green, the President’s physician. Art, I need you to review and advise us on Congressional Directive 112. Can you do that immediately?”

Resnick sucked in her breath. That was the directive that described the process by which two physicians evaluated the President for incompetency.

Chapter 127

R
obert Dixon paced in an empty Oval Office, his stomach churning in indecision and anxiety. Ever since the Security Council’s meeting, he had obsessed over their recommendation to change course on Taiwan. His face twitched and his dreaded vision crowded back in on him.
Wait
, what had he been thinking about? His continually wandering mind made it hard to concentrate.
Oh, yes
, should he back off supporting Taiwan’s independence? If he did, it would screw his Taiwan friends who were counting on United States’ support. But what if China actually invaded? Taiwan would lose everything. It was so hard to think clearly. He must pray.

As Dixon knelt, the curved walls played tricks on him, like they were closing in. Despite placing his trust in God, he felt his breathing getting shorter and his pulse rising in that panicked feeling he feared. He had to get some fresh air.

Outside in the colonnaded walkway overlooking the Rose Garden, Dixon felt the bracing coolness of the autumn air and his breathing slowed. He sat on the edge of a bench under the walkway and after another prayer, tried again to sort through his options.

Even with the new information about China, he had stayed with his earlier decision, relying on it because he had made it when his thoughts were clear. Dixon didn’t trust his own judgment now. What had happened to him? He felt his own incapacity, caused somehow by that China massacre. It embarrassed and frightened him to think he was unable to lead his country through a crisis. His predecessors had all seemed to come through somehow. Why not him? He must pray again.

“Good morning, sir.”

Startled, Dixon jerked in surprise. Turning around, he saw his personal White House aide, Wesley Rojas. “Oh, Wesley. I didn’t see you.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” He held up a small, white, paper pharmacy bag. “I just came on duty and I brought you another inhaler. I was on my way to put it into your desk when I saw you sitting here.”

“Oh, thanks. Sure, go ahead and put it in there.”

“Certainly, sir.” Rojas turned and walked into the Oval Office, leaving Dixon in the semi-darkness.

As Dixon sat, he became aware that the roof of the walkway overhead was closing in on him. He jumped to his feet, intending to walk out into the Rose Garden and get away from the building altogether. With the Chinese deadline looming, he had to think clearly now—there wasn’t much time left. Wesley came out of the Oval Office and turned back to the main house. Seeing Rojas triggered a thought. Of course! It would make everything all clear. He struggled briefly with his promise to Elise, but decided he had to take the risk just this once.

He called out to his aide. “Wesley?”

Rojas turned back around. “Yes, sir. What can I do for you?”

Dixon walked towards his aide. “Did you drive your car here?”

Chapter 128

T
hreading their way past teams of TV camera crews, Steve and Valenti walked towards the brightly lit north White House guardhouse. A figure in a tailored tan suit emerged from the guardhouse and walked out to meet them.

“Dr. Green?” Steve said extending his hand to the large-framed black man.

“Good to meet you, Dr. James.”

“Steve, please.”

Dr. Green’s face had laugh lines around his eyes, but tonight, in the harsh floodlights, his face was creased in worry. “I’m Tom.”

“Tom, my associate, Mr. Anthony Valenti.”

Dr. Green shook Valenti’s hand. “I called ahead. Vice President Sullivan and the cabinet are expecting us. When I told them who you were, the Secret Service insisted you turn yourselves in for the break-in at the museum.”

“They don’t trust us?” Valenti deadpanned.

Steve smiled despite the tension. Valenti had told Steve to expect an arrest. “I understand. But is everything else as we discussed on the phone?”

“Exactly. We’re both to examine the President. If he is mentally incompetent, the cabinet can decide to replace him with Vice President Sullivan.”

“And that’s why I’m here.”

“I need your help with your knowledge of this Eden’s disease.” Dr. Green rubbed his forehead. “I’ve known Robert since college. I can’t believe it’s come to this.” His shoulders drooped.

Steve watched the sadness wash over Dr. Green. “I didn’t realize you were friends. I’m really sorry.”

“The Vice President’s waiting. They’re in the situation room watching this thing unfold. I spoke with him in detail and he’s readied the cabinet.”

Steve looked at his watch. “We should go. We’ve got less than two hours.”

“Right.” Dr. Green led them to the guardhouse where a solid, square-shouldered man stepped out wearing the ubiquitous navy suit. A clear plastic tube coiled up the side of his neck.

“Agent Rhodes,” Dr. Green said, “this is Dr. James, and Mr. Valenti.”

“Gentlemen, I am with the Secret Service. You understand I must handcuff you before we enter.” He shook his head as if apologizing. “This whole situation is highly unusual.”

“You realize what’s at stake here?” Steve asked.

“Yes, sir. I have a nephew on a destroyer out there.” Rhodes cuffed Steve and Valenti, leaving their hands in front, and led them into the guardhouse to collect their visitor badges and then through and into the White House compound.

President Dixon walked rapidly alongside Wesley Rojas followed by an agitated Agent D’Agostino. “Come on, Wes,” Dixon said, “I’ve only got about an hour before I have to be back.” He was happy with his plan. He would only stay a few minutes and he would come back, but he had to hurry.

“Sir,” D’Agostino pleaded, not believing the President was doing this again. “Please wait for the escort. They’ll be here in just a few minutes.”

The President ignored him and slid into the front passenger seat of Wesley’s dark green Ford Taurus. D’Agostino scrambled into the back seat as the car started, noting, with some disgust, candy wrappers and children’s grunge on the seats. He radioed the security base not noticing the car doors automatically lock as Rojas shifted into drive. Within moments they passed through the tunnel and the guard gate and drove out into the dark Washington morning.

President Dixon eased back in the seat and settled in for the ride. He cracked open the window and took a deep breath of the cold fresh air. Morning produce and newspaper delivery trucks broke the pre-dawn silence with their early rounds. A few early risers were commuting in to work, the wet streets reflecting their car lights.

D’Agostino radioed their position, although the transponder the President carried with him would give the security base an exact fix of the President’s location. “Foxhound heading north on Connecticut Ave.”

He could see the President whispering to himself. D’Agostino leaned forward to see better. Was the President—praying? That must be it. He had been doing that frequently the last couple of weeks, every time there was an important decision, it seemed. What had gotten to the President? D’Agostino reflected on his private discussions with Rhodes. The ordinarily crisp and decisive President had let this China thing eat him alive to the point that his dress and mannerisms had become unprofessional.

“Wes, turn left here,” Dixon instructed.

“Sir,” D’Agostino asked, “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see in a few minutes.”

The agent’s eyes continually sweeping for threats called in another position report. “Foxhound just turned left onto Mass. Ave.”

“Roger,” base replied, “The escort just pulled out and should catch up with you in two minutes.”

“Roger. I could use the help.”

“Sorry, D. He caught us off guard this time. It’s been over a week since he pulled this.”

And this morning of all mornings
, thought D’Agostino. Soon, the escort would guide Wes’s car back to the White House and another nightmare would be over.

Chapter 129

S
teve, Dr. Green, and Valenti walked into a side entrance of the White House and down a flight of stairs. Within moments they entered a bare, white-walled waiting room with linoleum floors. “This is the security office,” Rhodes explained. “Wait here.” He entered an adjacent room through a swinging door. The door did not close entirely and through the opening, Steve could see it was crowded with people, many in front of electronic displays and monitors. A salt and pepper-haired man with a military bearing greeted Rhodes, but Steve couldn’t hear what they were saying. A moment later the man emerged and greeted them.