CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
8:15 p.m.
Joint Interagency Task Force South, Naval Air Station Key West
Luke stepped out into a concrete yard between buildings and stared out at the sky. To the west, the sun was very low in the sky, a giant orange orb, heading to the water. The sky was pink, framed by the palm trees at the edge of the base. A hot breeze blew in from the Gulf of Mexico.
Five minutes ago, an admiral from the Joint Interagency Task Force, a logistics commander, had come into the command center with a phalanx of officers and four military policemen. He handed Luke his phone.
“Stone.”
“Stone, this is Richard Monk, Susan’s chief-of-staff.”
“Hi, Richard, I’m a little busy right now.”
“No, you’re not. You’re surrendering command to Admiral Van Horn. Right now. There are two ways to
