There was a silence as everyone present turned and looked at the President, then each other. Knowing that there would be those among his staff would do their best to dissuade him from doing so, the President stood and turned to face those assembled around him. “We have a chance,” he stated slowly, “to go out there with our hand outstretched in friendship, ready to accept Idaho and its people back into the fold without prejudice, without recrimination. A visit by me on this very day would go down in history as one of the bravest, most noble acts a serving president has ever made. Not since Lincoln traveled to Richmond days after its evacuation has an occupant of the White House had an opportunity to make a gesture like this.”

Again, there was silence as his advisors held their collective breath and stared at their commander in chief, watching and waiting for a brave soul to step forth and explain to him that such a move would be ill advised. Not even his most gifted spinmeisters, however, could find either the words or courage to do so. Without further ado, the President walked over to his desk, took his place behind it, and began to draft an announcement that would one day be the cornerstone of his Presidential legacy.

ACROSS FROM THE CAPITOL BUILDING, BOISE, IDAHO • 0510, NOVEMBER 12

The scene inside the Tac CP that the SWAT team had hastily set up across the way from the besieged capitol building was as chaotic as the streets outside when the Attorney General arrived. On one side of the room stood a group of senior militia leaders glaring at an equally hostile SWAT team and state troopers on the other side. Between these two groups was Lou Garvey. He was nose to nose with the head of the SWAT team. “You can yell and scream all you want, you brainless shit,” the SWAT officer growled, “but I am not going to throw my people out into the open in a half-assed attack. No one wearing a badge is going anywhere until we know exactly what we’re dealing with.”

Osborn cast a nervous eye toward the TV screen. Having finished his prepared speech, the governor was now talking with Sam Anderson. “Moron,” Osborn shouted as he turned his full attention to Garvey and the SWAT team leader. “We don’t have that kind of time. The enemy,” he stated, pointing toward the door, “is over there, not here.”

With his anger overriding his normally calm demeanor, the SWAT officer turned on Osborn. “When it comes to the lives of my people and the safety of the citizens of this city, your title and authority don’t mean squat to me.”

Enraged by this response, Osborn planted his hands on his hips and leaned toward the SWAT officer. “Just who in the hell do you think you’re talking to?” he bellowed.