The War Cloud Read Free Page A

say?”
    “The Chinese say that if anybody’s planted a nuke in Washington, it’s the Russians.”
    “Goddammit,” groaned Rhinehart. “Every major elected official in America has got to be in Washington. How imminent is the threat?”
    As if on cue, a military aide burst through the door carrying a black briefcase — the “football” containing nuclear authorization codes. Rhinehart stared at the attaché, speechless.
    “I’ll brief you after you’re secure in the bunker,” Sherman pleaded with him on the phone. “Mr. President, we have no time.”
    Rhinehart hung up and walked out of the Oval Office, the football and military aide close behind. He brushed past the White House military operator at the switchboard on the way out.
    “The vice president just arrived,” the operator reported.
    “Tell him he’s leaving,” Rhinehart replied. “Get my chopper to airlift himndrews.”
    “Yes, Mr. President.”
    “Call Jack and Stan and have them meet me downstairs,” the President continued. “Alert conference.”
    “Situation Room?”
    “No. The bunker.”
    The military operator hit a button on his communications console, sounding an alarm.

5

1145 Hours
The Westchester School
Bedford, New York

    T he Westchester School in Bedford, New York, was a public charter school, one of America’s finest. Sachs sent Jennifer here because she didn’t want to compromise herself as a champion of public education by enrolling her daughter in a private school. But she couldn’t find an acceptable public school in Washington. So Aunt Dina and the Westchester Middle School seemed to be the answer, even if Jennifer called all public schools, local or charter, “government schools.” Only now, Sachs wondered if she had sacrificed her relationship with her daughter on the altar of her idealism.
    The verdict was waiting for inside. A sullen Jennifer, arms folded across her chest, sat in the office of Principal Mel Boyle. The school clock said 11:44, a few minutes faster than her own watch, so Sachs was running eight minutes late. Eight minutes of hell from the look on Jennifer’s face.
    “So why aren’t you in Washington, putting other children first?” Jennifer asked without looking up.
    “Shhh,” Sachs replied with a smile. “Mom’s playing hooky.”
    Principal Melanie Boyle, a Barbie blonde in slacks and heels, walked in. “Nice to see you again, Madame Secretary.”
    “Principal Boyle,” Sachs said, greeting her.
    “Doctor Boyle,” the principal corrected her. “Everybody’s gathering in the gymnasium. We so appreciate your visit, although I wish it were under better circumstances.”
    Sachs didn’t know if Boyle meant her impending job execution or if she was referring to Jennifer. “Is there a problem?”
    Boyle slid a file across her desk. Sachs could see the big fat “F” circled in red. “This is Jennifer’s U.S. Constitution final,” Boyle explained. “Not only could she not name all of the current members of the president’s Cabinet, she couldn’t even name one. Not even the Secretary of Education.”
    Boyle raised a perfectly waxed eyebrow.
    Sachs studied the exam for a minute and then put it down.
    “Well, I’d probably miss that one, too, if the answer wasn’t me,” she said. “But you know all the rest, Jennifer. What’s going on?”
    “Globalization,” Jennifer said with all seriousness. “The U.S. Constitution is obsolete. To quote Socrates, I’m not a New Yorker or an American, but a citizen of the world.”
    If Principal Boyle wasn’t just as serious as Jennifer, Sachs would have burst out laughing. But she kept a straight face and addressed her daughter. “Maybe, darling. But most of the world’s democracies have constitutions based on oursunless you want to live in a police state, and condemn the rest of humanity to the same fate, you’d better learn which way is up.”
    “What planet are you from, Mom?” Jennifer made a dramatic, sweeping gesture with her