Flood Tide

Gu

Sandecker shook his head. “From what I'm told, he has no use for NUMA.”

The limousine driver turned off Pe

A uniformed member of the Secret Service checked San-decker's and Gu

ROBIN CARR.

“Admiral Sandecker, Commander Gu

“You work long hours,” said Sandecker.

“Fortunately, my time clock ticks in unison with the President's.”

“Any chance for a cup of coffee?” asked Gu

The smile faded. “I'm sorry, but I'm afraid there isn't time.” She quickly sat down, picked up a phone and simply said, “The Admiral is here.”

Within ten seconds, the new President's chief of staff, Morton Laird, who had replaced the hospitalized former president's right-hand man, Wilbur Hutton, appeared and shook hands. “Thank you for coming, gentlemen. The President will be pleased to see you.”

Laird came from the old school. He was the only chief of staff in recent history who wore three-piece suits with vests that sported a large gold chain attached to a pocket watch. And unlike most of his predecessors, who came out of Ivy League schools, Laird was a former professor of communications from Stanford University* A tall, balding man with rimless spectaclesr he peered through glistening fox-brown eyes beneath heavily thicketed eyebrows. He oozed charm and was one of the few men in the executive office whom everyone genuinely liked. He turned and motioned for Sandecker and Gu

The famous room, whose walls had witnessed a thousand crises, the lonely burdens of power and agonized decisions that affected the lives of billions of people, was empty.

Before either Sandecker or Gu

“I venture to say that in all my years of service to my government, I've learned and kept more secrets than you have, Mr. Laird,” said Sandecker with total conviction. “I will vouch for Commander Gu

“Forgive me, Admiral,” said Laird. “It comes with the territory.” Laird walked over to one wall and tapped a concealed switch on the baseboard. A section of the wall slid aside, revealing the interior of an elevator. He bowed and extended his hand. “After you.”

The elevator was small and could hold no more than four people. The walls were finished in a polished cedar. There were only two buttons on the control panel, one up, one down. Laird pressed DOWN. The false wall inside the Oval Office silently returned to its place as the elevator doors met and sealed. There was no sensation of speed, but Sandecker knew they were dropping at a rapid pace from the falling sensation in his stomach. In less than a minute the elevator slowed and came to a soft stop.

“We're not meeting the President in the situation room,” said Sandecker, more as a statement than a question.

Laird looked at nun questioningly. “You guessed?”

“No guess. I've been there on several occasions. The situation room sits much deeper than we've traveled.”

“You're very astute, Admiral,” replied Laird. “This elevator goes less than half the distance.”

The doors smoothly parted, and Laird stepped out into a brightly lit, immaculately maintained tu

“Swordfish is my code name with the Secret Service,” Laird explained almost sheepishly.

“Electric motor,” commented Sandecker on the silent ru

“More efficient than building a complicated ventilation system to draw off the exhaust fumes of gas engines,” explained Laird.

Sandecker stared at the side entrances leading off from the main tu

“The system of passages and thoroughfares beneath the city form an intricate maze well over a thousand miles in length. Not exactly public knowledge, of course, except for tu

“Something like the catacombs of Paris,” said Gu

“The Paris catacombs pale in comparison to Washington's underground web,” said Laird. “May I offer you gentlemen a drink?”

Sandecker shook his head. “I'll pass.”

“Not for me, thank you,” answered Gu

“Mr. Laird forgets that I've been a Washington insider for many years. I've traveled a few of the tu

“With so many intruders wandering in and out, how can they be controlled?”

“The main arteries crucial for government operations are guarded by a special security force which monitors them by video and infrared sensors,” Laird said by way of explanation. “Penetration into critical areas is next to impossible.”

Gu

Sandecker smiled enigmatically. “The President's chief of staff neglected to mention the escape tubes.”

Laird covered his surprise by pouring himself a small glass of vodka. “You're extraordinarily well informed, Admiral.”

“Escape tubes?” Gu

“Shall I?” Sandecker asked almost apologetically.

Laird nodded and sighed. “It seems government secrets have a short life.”

“A script straight out of science-fiction movies,” Sandecker continued. “Until now, saving the President, his Cabinet and the military Chiefs of Staff during a nuclear strike by whisking them away by helicopter to an airfield or an underground operations center was a fallacy almost from the begi

“There had to be another way,” added Laird. “And there is,” Sandecker went on. “Underground tubes leading out of the city were constructed using electromagnetic technology that can hurl a convoy of canisters containing high-ranking people from the White House and classified material from the Pentagon to Andrews Air Force Base and into the basement of a hangar where an air-command-transport version of the B-2 bomber is prepared to take off within seconds of their arrival.”