Code Word: Paternity, A Presidential Thriller by Doug Norton Read Free Book Online Page A

chin kept him from
looking like an aging movie star and seemed to connect him to ordinary folks,
saying, “my life hasn’t been all roses either.”
    “I also want to say that, as horrible as
this is, it offers opportunities,” continued Martin. “We need to keep them in
mind, and I see that as one of my own key contributions going forward. Maybe,
just maybe, other countries will be frightened enough for themselves to get
behind a U.S.
initiative to really, finally, end the spread of nuclear weapons.”
    The president gestured to National
Security Advisor John Dorn, who nodded to Secretary of Homeland Security Sara
Zimmer, whose face sagged with fatigue.
    Zimmer’s brownish hair, flecked with
grey, hung barely to her shoulders and was tucked behind her ears, revealing
high, flat cheekbones and chiseled jaw muscles beneath pale skin. She was just
short of gaunt, no fat on a frame that, though normally wheelchair-bound,
remained athletic from daily swims. Recalling her army service as pilot of an
Apache helicopter gunship, cabinet colleagues readily imagined her swooping low
over panicked infantry, cutting them down with efficient, well-aimed bursts of
fire.
    “Mr. President, medical personnel and
other first responders are still trying to stabilize the situation. It’s
chaotic. There was an initial surge of thousands out of the no-go zone into the
triage points at the edge of it. We decontaminate them, triage them, move them
to temporary shelter, and as soon as possible evacuate those expected to
survive. None of that is as orderly as it sounds, as we’ve all seen on TV and
YouTube. But that’s our process, and as we get more resources and more
experience, it will get better.
      “In addition to police and firefighters we
have help from a lot of Eric’s people—paratroopers, medics, engineers, military
police, plus helos and transport planes. You want to speak to that, Eric?”
    Secretary of Defense Eric Easterly was a
compact man whose broad, flat nose dominated his creased and battered face. The
dark pupils of his eyes contrasted sharply with their whites, which in turn
contrasted with his mahogany skin. Something hard lurked beneath his polished
manner, something that was almost visible every year when he ran in the Marine
Corps marathon.
      “Sure, Sara. As you know, Mr. President, we
deployed the ready battalion of the Eighty-second Airborne about twelve hours
after the attack. They were prepared to jump in, but the C-17s were able to
land about thirty-five miles away at Creech Air Force Base. Most of the
Seventeenth Airborne Corps is now on-scene, or on the way, to patrol the no-go
perimeter and help out with decontamination, first aid, meals—anything they can
do. The Transportation Command has already made a few relocation flights
getting survivors out.”
    Rubbing her eyes, Zimmer resumed. “I’d
like to bring in the surgeon general to give us the medical and public health
picture.”
    The surgeon general, in a chair wedged
against the wall, attempted to stand in the space between it and Zimmer’s
wheelchair. There wasn’t room. With a shrug, he dropped back into his chair,
peering around Zimmer until he made eye contact with Martin.
    “Mr. President, it’s a grim picture. We
have tens of thousands of dead and even more injured. Needless to say, we need
more medical people and more treatment facilities! Right now, most of the dead
are in the no-go zone, but within a few days to a few weeks large numbers of those
who were able to reach the perimeter will die, mostly from radiation sickness.
    “That’s a big issue we need to face.
Thousands of survivors are going to die. There’s no way to prevent that; all we
can do is keep them comfortable.” He sketched quotation marks in the air.
    “While it might seem that the best for
them would be to die in a hospital, any hospital, evacuating them will mean the
majority will die among strangers. Most families won’t be able to be with them.
It’ll