“Me too, Lori,” he responded, bending slightly to give her a kiss on the cheek.

Charley looked at his watch. It was 7:00 P.M. mountain time, and 6:00 P.M. Pacific time—which meant they still had one hour before impact. Charley picked up the empty coffee cups and took them out to the kitchen, and one by one the four of them returned to the den to see what they could learn from the TV news.

CHAPTER SIX

THE CABINET WAS ASSEMBLED in the long White House Cabinet Room. An air of impending disaster hung in the atmosphere. As they realized the magnitude of the tragedy about to strike California, the nation, and the entire world, the members of the cabinet and the presidential staff could only think about the betrayal that they had allowed to be perpetrated on the American people.

“The people will never trust us again,” the secretary of housing and urban development said.

“I don’t see how a cover-up like this was possible,” the secretary of energy added.

“If we had known in time,” said the secretary of transportation, “we could have launched a mass evacuation, but—the president just didn’t give us any time to warn the people. It was—it was criminal!”

“I think we’re all jumping to conclusions,” the secretary of state said in defense of the late president. “I honestly don’t think he had enough advance warning either. I truly believe that. By the time the White House learned about it, and by the time all the fluff was blown off this thing, it was just too late to say or do anything, or to warn anybody. You all remember what was going on around here. The president feared, and I think legitimately, that if he spoke prematurely he would start a panic!”

There was polite debate and conversation as the speaker defended his statements.

When President Ted Rust entered the Cabinet Room from the Oval Office, the group rose formally, and each offered congratulations prefaced with the deferential “Mr. President.” Rust walked around the massive table and shook the hand of each cabinet member, beginning with the secretary of state and moving completely around the room.

For a moment he seemed genuinely warm and human, but as he sat down in his own leather chair he reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a stack of note cards. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he read stiffly from the three-by-five cards in his hand, “our country is facing a grave national crisis. In just one hour, a tragedy of unimaginable proportions will be inflicted upon southern California and the entire Pacific Basin. In order to deal with this crisis and to administer emergency procedures from this office, I am asking each of you to remain on board as members of my cabinet. And I would also ask of you the same dedicated loyalty and professional service that you gave to my predecessor.”

This statement was greeted with mild applause and a variety of comments and modest acknowledgments around the room. “We’re with you, Mr. President,” said one man. “You can count on us,” said another.