WASHINGTON, D.C.
President Vaccaro stared at the main screen in silence, where the closest Predator feed depicted the carnage in high resolution. The bastards had ambushed the convoy and were now systematically shooting anyone who had survived. Some of them were on fire, crawling out of their vehicles before getting shot like animals amidst columns of smoke billowing skyward. And the dead included most of the contingent of GAFE soldiers, except for those in the second SUV. They were joined by at least two dozen armed men exiting buildings or climbing out of trucks and sedans reaching the scene.
“Where the hell is Stark?” she asked Wright.
“The airport, Madam President. Getting in their Humvee.”
Vaccaro shook her head as the street executions continued. “Might as well be on the damn moon. Did you get ahold of Gutierrez?”
Wright shook his head. “He’s traveling to … Acapulco, but his aide said they are contacting the bases right now.”
Acapulco?
Vaccaro pinched the bridge of her nose, took a deep breath, and said, “Get those damn troops off their damn ass this minute! I don’t care what you have to do!”