the world who are racing for a vaccine or a cure or anything that could diminish the power of the disease. We’ve got to buy time, that’s all we can do.”
As he spoke, Henry could clearly envision the full catastrophe spreading out before him. “I’m not just talking about containing a pandemic,” he said in a low, even voice. “I’m talking about saving civilization.”
Another alarm went off, shattering the stunned silence. Dr. Ahmed walked over and turned off the monitor on the latest dead patient.
14
Jesus Fucking Christ
Members of the Deputies Committee were grumpy at being roused so early on a Saturday morning. It was an hour before dawn. A young public health officer in service dress blues was busy setting up her PowerPoint as they drifted in, grabbing coffee from the samovar that the White House mess had hastily sent up. The limos were lined up on Executive Alley, their exhaust curling in the chill night air.
“We have a situation,” Tildy said as the deputies found their chairs. “Actually, two. A potential influenza pandemic in Saudi Arabia and a Russian defense agreement with Iran.”
Defense spoke up. “Russia moved their latest air-defense system into Bandar Abbas, in support of the Iranian naval base in the Strait of Hormuz. It’s a pinch point on the Persian Gulf, one of the most critical geographical points on the globe.”
“Why?” Tildy asked. “And why now?”
“They are consolidating their hold on the Levant, giving them control of the oil lanes in the Gulf and the Med,” said State. “They’re doing it now because they watched the Saudis bulking up on our weapons and saw an opportunity to make a big sale to Iran.”
Even here in the Situation Room, Tildy had to be careful talking about Russia. People got fired for being too frank on the subject, but Defense was throwing caution aside. “This is a big problem for our strategists,” he said. “The new Russian air-defense system is the S-500. They call it ‘the Triumfator.’ It’s designed to bring down the F-35, our most sophisticated stealth aircraft.”
“So we’re compromised in the region,” Tildy said.
Defense nodded glumly.
“I’m sure you have plans for this contingency,” Tildy said to Joint Chiefs.
“We have gamed this from every conceivable angle. Broadly speaking, we’ve come up with two responses: the bloody kind and the other kind.”
“Let’s hear the bloody one.”
“We take out Iranian air defenses right now, before they’ve got it all set up. We sink their warships in the harbors. We mine the Strait. We bomb the nuclear sites. We demand regime change or else.”
“It sounds like the prelude to a war with Russia,” Tildy said. The thought did not unsettle her. In her opinion, Russia was the main source of evil in the world. She had seen the war plans. She knew the dangers. But there was no other way of dealing with Putin. One had to be resolute and maybe even a little crazy.
“That brings up the other response,” said Joint Chiefs, “which is that we live with it. This is not the Cuban missile crisis.”
“The Israelis won’t sit still for it,” Defense said.
“Meaning that they will bomb Iran by themselves?” Tildy asked. “Nobody believes that.”
“We can’t fight everybody’s war for them,” said State. “There’s only one real option, and that’s diplomacy.”
“So we simply talk Putin into withdrawing his assets?” said Defense. “I’d love to hear the argument you make.”
“You all think that Putin controls Russia,” the agency man said dismissively. “A million bureaucrats really run the place, and they pay minimal attention to the Great Leader. It’s a third-rate country masquerading as a superpower with an economy about the size of South Korea. We give it far more credit than it deserves. On this subject, we’re in agreement with State.”
Buoyed by this, State continued: “And then there’s the Mad Prince. Saudi and Iran have been straining at the leash to go to war. Everybody knows that the Saudis are overmatched. The only card they hold is American power. They’re totally convinced that if the Mad Prince lands the first punch, Sugar Daddy will be there to finish the fight.”
“May I just say something?” All eyes turned to the young woman in the back of the room.
“Remind me of your name,” Tildy asked.
“Lieutenant Commander Bartlett, ma’am. Public Health Service.” She was standing in for Health and Human Services.
“You’re here to speak about the flu, I believe.”
“Yes, ma’am. The surgeon general asked me to brief the deputies. He’s sorry he couldn’t be here himself, he was—”
“We’re not finished talking about