CHAPTER NINE
4:45 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time
The Situation Room
The White House, Washington, DC
“I was told to get those men out,” Don Morris said.
He looked around the packed conference room. The place was a forest of eyes, all of them staring right at him. Eyes, eyes, everywhere he looked.
“And the men are out. I was told to scuttle that submersible. It’s been destroyed.”
Standing along the walls were the young people, the aides, the assistants, their eyes open and staring and concerned, but also serious, ready to punch numbers into their BlackBerries or scribble down notes. Those folks were of no concern to him.
Sitting with him at the oval table in the center were the bigwigs and heavy hitters, several of them military men who had once outranked him, his superior officers, many
