THE WHITE HOUSE

The president had been upstairs with the First Lady, awaiting any word from Nevada, when the national security advisor called. The president went downstairs in his white shirt and went directly to Ambrose’s office in the West Wing, but was met by him in the hallway before he could reach the office.

“Mr. President, maybe you’d better inform me what operation is running in Brazil, since it seems to no longer be a secret.”

“What do you mean?” he asked as he took a piece of paper from Ambrose.

“The Brazilian Air Force has scrambled two Mirage fighters, and they are heading in a westerly direction. Fort Huachuca in Arizona has picked up radio chatter that says they have orders to shoot down a 747 overflying their airspace with hostile intent.”

The president read the handwritten note Ambrose had jotted down while talking with the intelligence-gathering station in Arizona. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Get me the secretary of state.”

“He’s already on the line, sir.”

The president walked past Ambrose and into his office. He picked up the receiver and the secretary was waiting.

“Get to the presidential residence and get him to rescind that order, now!” the president said angrily, not bowing to diplomatic formality. His patience was starting to wear thin after hours of consoling his wife about their daughter.

“Mr. President, Brazil insists it has every right to down that aircraft, and will do so if it doesn’t turn away from their airspace.”

“To hell with it. Tell him that aircraft is there to suppost a rescue operation and has no intention of harming any Brazilian nationals. They are support only.”

“I will try once again to get through,” the secretary lied. He knew the president had ordered the fighter groups onboard Nimitz and John C. Stennis to stand down and and that they should in no way come to the aid of Proteus.

The president hung up the phone and addressed Ambrose. “How did the Brazilian Air Force get the information on Proteus?”

“The weapons platform?” Ambrose asked, acting innocent of the knowledge.

“Someone passed them information. Find out who, and do it yesterday! Also, get me a direct line to COMMSURPAC; I can’t leave them boys hanging out there with nothing to protect them.”

Ambrose had never seen the man lose his temper before. He watched as the president turned and walked quickly to the Oval Office. If he called in protection for Proteus, there would be hell to pay, and their tracks would be covered by an overt act of war.

Ambrose relaxed as he saw the secretary’s makeshift plan take shape.