“Plausible? I just lost a great American city and you expect me to go before the American people and tell them I didn’t get warned about what destroyed it so I could claim plausible denial? If you knew one single thing about this prior to this morning, ole buddy, ole pal, I want your resignation on my desk in an hour.” The president looked around the room. “That goes for all of you. Anybody who was keeping this from me, get the hell out of here!”

Thankfully, Secretary O’Neill spoke, his voice, as always, firm and calm. “The Hybrid Project was terminated by the Senate Intelligence Committee in 2002.”

“I’m so glad. And clearly that was effective. And there were aliens here and you never told me this? Me?” The president looked around the room. “Who knew? Which of you knew?”

Dick said, “By the time the project was terminated, the aliens had already left. Before we got into office, Ritchie.”

“Does high office make people stupid? Because you people are just being damned stupid, here. First, you bring me this incredible mess. Then it’s aliens but they left, and instead some mad scientist nobody can apparently produce for me is responsible for lairs full of crazed fucking motherfuckers, and we don’t know what the fuck they are and, my God, I have lost a city!” The president’s face colored. “I will fight!” He paced. “Dick, you find out who in hell in CIA or DIA or NSA or NRO or NICS or wherever has information for us. Get that person or persons in here pronto. Meanwhile, I want reports from around the world. Is anybody else seeing these things?”

Dick stood silent, his throat working.

The president shouted, “I’m talking to you, asshole!”

“Yessir,” Dick said.

“Spit it out!”

“We have information from Hong Kong. There’s one in Hong Kong.”

“How hard is this information?”

“Well, actually, it’s on YouTube.”

The president’s eyes widened, his face went from red almost to full purple. “Ten billion dollars a year and you give me YouTube! Jesus Christ, man, have you no damn shame!”

Dick worked frantically with his BlackBerry, his fat fingers flying. “It’s not a crisis in Hong Kong, sir. There are no injuries. Nothing like that. The thing drifted low across the city and then out to sea.”

“Where is it now?”

“I, ah, I’m afraid…”

“You don’t know. Has it occurred to you to pick up the telephone and ask the station chief to look out his window?”

“Sir, I’ve done that and it’s definitely gone. In Hong Kong, it is gone at this time. As we speak. Where, we don’t know. It’s not visible on satellite.”

“So, Hong Kong gets spared and San Fran gets walloped. Chinese involvement, Dick?”

“Here,” he said. “I’ve got it. The man who keeps tabs on this sort of thing is called George Hammond.”