The Executive Order

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About the Author

Copyright Page

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It is with great pleasure that I dedicate this to the real Brian McLane, my friend, my teacher, and the most courageous person I have ever known. Few people have fought so hard and made an impact on so many lives for so long. Brother, brother.

Prologue

FRIDAY, JULY 11, 2026. PEARL HARBOR, HAWAII

It was twenty minutes after eight on the island of Oahu. The morning mist Hawaiians call Kupanaha was starting to lift over the waters of Pearl Harbor. According to legend, this was just the ghosts of the deepest waters cautioning all who traveled the seas to be wary.

The sky was the clear blue of an angel’s eyes. The first Navy-operated ferry from the beach had just arrived at the USS Arizona memorial, which gracefully spanned the remains of the battleship sunk by the Japanese on a cold December morning. The ferry carried 128 properly solemn visitors from numerous countries, including Japan, who had come to pay their respects to the 1,102 men entombed in the wreckage. Many of them were standing at the railing looking at the renowned “black tears,” the eerie drops of engine oil that had been bubbling up from the ship for more than eight decades. Some people referred to them as the last breath of the dead.

Without warning, the memorial shivered. The earth seemed to growl. The ocean bubbled. The six park rangers stationed at the memorial exchanged curious glances. The senior officer was reaching for the emergency phone when the first explosion erupted. It was followed an instant later by two more massive explosions.

The jagged remains of the great warship Arizona rose off the ocean floor. Shards of rusted metal ripped through the water and into the air, slicing into bodies in a rain of death. The massive concrete memorial lifted from its moorings as if being pushed upwards by Neptune’s hand. It flipped onto its side, and shattered.

Those visitors and rangers who survived the initial blast were tossed into the water. Several of them were crushed instantly by the debris.

Then the sea caught fire.

Thousands of gallons of released oil gushed to the surface. It ignited with the whoosh of a fire racing through dry forest, turning the harbor into a boiling cauldron. The screams, then the pleas of the victims ended quickly, and mercifully. Of the 128 visitors and six guides at the memorial that morning, eight survived. Even that number was considered a miracle.