CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
5:45 a.m. – Eastern Time
United States Naval Observatory – Washington, DC
“Is she here?” Brooklyn Bob said.
Kurt Kimball shook his head. “No.”
Susan sat in the Situation Room. Even at this late hour, the room was nearly full of people. Empty coffee cups littered the tables. The office-sized garbage cans overflowed with empty takeout food containers. A smell was beginning to permeate The Room, a smell of people who had gone a long time without showers.
Susan looked at Kurt Kimball. He was running this show. Kurt was Susan’s National Security Advisor. She didn’t even know what that meant anymore. There was no security. There was no advice worth taking. Everything was out of control.
She couldn’t bring herself to look at the computer screen with the live feed from
