By Order of the President (Presidential Agent 1)

“I need the numbers, phone and fax, for Nebraska Avenue, ” he said.

By the time Isaacson had retrieved the numbers from his handheld computer, written them down, given them to Hall, and Hall went back into Cohen’s office, Miller had already fed the sheet of paper into the fax machine on the credenza behind Cohen’s desk.

He gave them to Miller, who immediately punched them into the fax machine. The machine began to feed itself the paper.

“Did you see that?” Hall asked Cohen.

She shook her head. “No need to,” she said.

Miller punched the numbers of the Nebraska Avenue of fice into his cellular.

“This is Major Miller. I just sent you a fax. Image it to General McNab—now. I’ll hold for confirmation of receipt. ”

The fax machine finished expelling the sheet of paper. Natalie Cohen took it, read it, and handed it Hall.

“Let Betty read that—she’s entitled—and then burn it,” Natalie Cohen said.

“Burn it?” Hall asked as he handed the sheet of paper to Betty Schneider.

“There’s no reason Fred has to know about this,” Natalie Cohen said.

Betty finished reading the message and handed it back to Hall, who read it again.

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

DR. NATALIE COHEN

NATIONAL SECURITY ADVISOR

Go all green now.

The president is trying to order Gen McNab to divert to Costa Rica

H. R Miller, Jr.

Maj, SF

“You don’t think Beiderman is entitled to know about this?” Hall asked.

“Entitled, maybe,” Natalie Cohen said. “Like the mayor of Philadelphia was entitled to know the CIA hasn’t really found the airplane. Did you tell him, Matt?”

He raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders, a confession that he hadn’t.

“Both of these young people had to make a tough choice between two correct loyalties,” Dr. Cohen said. “Betty, to come here with you without telling her superiors in the cops what she knew about the not-found airplane, which some people would consider disloyal; and Miller had to tell you about General McNab’s ‘selective’ communications setup. Which made him feel disloyal to McNab. Both made the right choice. There is not panic in the streets in Philadelphia, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Beiderman shortly can communicate with General McNab. So leave it there, Matt, please.”

She put out her hand.

“Anybody got a match?”

Secretary Hall laid a somewhat battered Zippo in Dr. Cohen’s palm.

[SIX]

Aboard USAF C-17 036788 17.210 degrees North Latitude 82.680 degrees West Longitude Above the Atlantic Ocean 1158 10 June 2005

“How very interesting,” Lieutenant General Bruce J. McNab said and handed the message back to the Sergeant Kensington, who was manning the control panel. “I think you better put this in there.”