Crockerman was obviously irritated by this, but kept his calm. "Ormandy does not expect the accolade of scientists. He—and I—believe affairs have passed out of the control of our particular witch doctors. Not to show disrespect for your hard work and expertise. He and I realized there was a job to do here, and that we are the only ones capable of doing it."

"What exactly will your job be, Mr. President?" Arthur asked.

"Not an easy one, I assure you. Our country doesn't believe in giving up without a fight. I acknowledge that much. But we cannot fight this. Nor can we go to our fate ignorant of what is happening. We have to face the music courageously. That's my job—to help my country face the end bravely."

Crockerman's face was pale and his hands, still pushing on the edge of the desk, trembled slightly. He might have been close to tears.

Nothing was said for several long seconds. Arthur felt a blanket of shock closing around him. Microcosm of what the country will feel. The world. Not a message we want to hear.

"There are alternatives, Mr. President. We can take action against the bogeys, both in Australia and Death Valley," Harry said.

"They're isolated," Schwartz said. "The political repercussions . . . almost nil. Even if we fail."

"We can't simply do nothing," Arthur said.

"We can do nothing effective, truly," Crockerman said. "I think it would be cruel to raise false hopes."

"More cruel to dash all hope, Mr. President," Schwartz said. "Are you going to close the banks and stock exchanges?"

"It's being seriously considered."

"Why? To preserve the economy? With the end of the world in sight?"

"To keep calm, to maintain dignity. To keep people at their jobs and in their homes."

Hicks's face was flushed now. "This is insanity, Mr. President," he said. "I am not a citizen of the United States, but I cannot imagine a man in your office . . . with your power and responsibility . . ."He waved his hands helplessly and stood. "I can assure you the British will not react so mildly."

Ganging up on him, Arthur thought. Still can't see her face.

Crockerman opened the folder marked DIRNSA. He pulled out a group of photographs in Mylar envelopes and spread them on the table. "I don't think you've seen the latest from the Puzzle Palace," he said. "Our NSA people have been very busy. The National Reconnaissance Office has compared Earth satellite photographs from the last eighteen months for almost all areas of the globe. I believe you initiated this search, Arthur."

"Yes, sir."