“No doubt we will be receiving more detailed reports shortly, but at this time I can tell you that the team attempted to apprehend the Agent as she departed a Z Berth shed in King’s Bay submarine base just under an hour ago.” There were several gasps and a couple of whispered expletives as the location sunk in. “Details are sketchy but it is clear that only one of the thirty-person team survived. The rear comms man contacted me from a car on a highway, heading north. He had been in charge of comms relay and thus had not been part of the actual team that engaged Ms. Wilson. From his report, the team was actually partially successful in suppressing the woman, but …” he paused, obviously emotional, then pulled himself together and continued, “but as they closed in to engage her at close range she apparently somehow managed to set off some kind of explosion aboard one of the Ohio Class submarines docked at the base.”

Several people spoke at once, but the president’s voice soon trumped them and he asked the question everyone was trying to vocalize: “What kind of explosion, Admiral? Those ships carry … Jesus, Tim, they carry enough firepower to destroy half of Florida.”

The admiral looked at the president. As they both well knew, each and every Ohio Class submarine carried twenty-four ballistic missiles, each of which was armed with a 475-kiloton warhead. By comparison, the missile that destroyed Hiroshima was only 22 kilotons. But the admiral did not feel like correcting the president by saying that each Ohio Class submarine in fact carried enough firepower to destroy the Western Hemisphere, and instead set the room somewhat at ease by saying, “While my man reported that there was no thermo-nuclear detonation, an observation his survival definitely supports, it is clear at this point that the radioactive material aboard at least two Ohio Class submarines, including that in their onboard reactors, was compromised.”

The president found a nearby seat and lowered himself slowly into it, stunned into silence, trying to catch his breath as he stared at the floor, “Jesus h. fucking christ.” he whispered.

While the room considered the ramifications of the admiral’s comments, Neal glanced at the colonel, and then spoke to the room as whole, “OK, ladies, gentlemen, may I suggest we reconvene this meeting immediately? Let’s take our seats and get some more information in front of us. We have a lot to discuss.”

The room responded instantly, protocols kicking in as well-rehearsed roles came in to play. Reports had already started to come through and for a couple of minutes no one spoke as aides shuffled and copied briefs, and superiors got updates and prepared to answer questions. The president stayed in the chair he had collapsed into and the room arranged itself around him, setting the scene for the second part of the most extraordinary meeting of the United States joint chiefs in history.