Sally took a deep breath and closed her eyes. While blind enthusiasm was Todd’s greatest weakness, his instincts as a reporter were some of the best she’d seen. The problem here was the magnitude of the story he was proposing to write. The natural extension of the piece was widespread panic, so the penalty for getting this wrong was enormous.

“Wait a second,” she said, snapping her eyes open. “The submarines. You’re right. They’re parked off the shores of the U.S., just outside our territorial waters. There is, in fact, no way for this evacuation to succeed—if that’s really what it is.” She glared at Todd. “Unless America is planning a first strike somewhere.”

Todd’s eyes and mouth formed near perfect circles. “Or if we knew someone else was,” he said. “All that stuff between Israel and Iran, maybe.”

“Or India and Pakistan,” Sally said. “God, there are all kinds of possibilities there.” She leaned back in the sofa. “Or it could be some kind of drill.”

“My piece allows for that possibility,” Todd said.

“We have to know,” Sally declared, and she shot to her feet. “I have an idea.” She hurried across the living room to the rectangular section of floor that she euphemistically called her dining room and turned on the light over the 1970s-era glass-topped dining table. She pulled open the oversize yellow purse that carried pretty much everything she needed in life, extracted her laptop and returned to the sofa.

“You look like you have a plan,” Todd said.

“It’s not much of one. We’re going to make some phone calls.” She opened the computer, pulled up her contacts list and double-clicked on a file labeled Pentagon Sources. “It seems to me that if we’re going to war, senior military officials will be the first to know.”

“They won’t talk to you about that.”

“I don’t imagine they will,” Sally agreed, “but look at the clock. At this hour, they’ll be righteously pissed about being awakened by a reporter.”

“I’m missing your point.”

“If your guess is right, they won’t be home to be pissed.” She pivoted her screen so Todd could see it. “Every name on this list is an O-Six or higher. If we’re about to go to war, none of these guys will be home.”

“O-Six?”

“Captain in the Navy, colonel in most other branches. I’ll start with the A’s, and you start with the L’s. Let’s see what we see.”

In the end, they only made a total of seven calls between them. Not a single senior officer was home.

Todd beamed. “Are you convinced now? Will you post the story?”

“Post it,” she said. “But there’s nothing here to smile about.”

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FOUR