Chapter Eighty-Eight

R IGHT AROUND THE time Joseph was thinking about leaving his office to try and get a bit of sleep, knowing he wouldn't get even the tiniest amount with the prospect of the apocalypse breathing down his neck, someone hammered at the outer office door.

He walked out to the reception area, leaving his suit coat behind, and opened the door to a suited man with the telltale spiral coming down behind his ear. Secret Service.

"You're to come with me," the man said.

Given little choice, Joseph was whisked across D.C. and escorted into the Oval Office.

The president walked into the room wearing a tuxedo, which was just a bit askew. His face was flush and his breath high-proof. Joseph knew this wasn't going to be a good conversation.

"What happened in New York?" the president asked.

Joseph took a deep breath, and considered a lie.

"I wouldn't go so far as to say we experienced total failure."

"That doesn't inspire confidence in the BEA, Mr. Goldman," the president said, sitting down behind his desk.

Joseph got up from the couch and walked over to take one of the seats in front of the desk of the president, not bothering to wait for any sort of invitation.

"The thing is, Mr. President," Joseph said, "we were fooled. Whoever is on the other side of this thing is smarter than we gave him, or them, credit for. He's played us from the beginning, and he's been able to do that because we've got no veteran agents in the field. We're hamstrung on so many sides—"

"I gave you everything you wanted—" the president yelled.

"And I appreciate it, Mr. President, but there are things we need that you cannot sign an authorization form for."

"So what? What happens now?"

"We continue the fight," Joseph said. "We look for this man, the one we believe is at the head of the snake. We find him and capture him."

"And who is this man?"

"We don't know for sure."

"Tell me you have some sort of idea."

"We do. His name is Jack Batten."

"And where is he?"

"We don't know."

"Goldman, you're killing me here. Legitimately killing the president of the United States of America. This man is capable of destroying the country, or the world. It's the world, right?"

"Yes."

"Destroying the world, and you have no idea where he is."

"Not really, no. We know where his house is, and we know where he was last night."

"Which was?"

"Brooklyn. He hosted a performance art piece that was the actual ritual."

"And he was successful."

"It appears that way, yes."

"And so is there anything standing in between him and the next ritual?"

"No. I mean, there's only one ritual left."

"Which is?"

"The specifics of the ritual?"

"Yes."

"I can't tell you that."

"Can you tell me if it's difficult?"

"From what I understand, it is not."

"So we're just banking on this Jack Batten being lazy and not pulling the ritual right now."

"I don't think I'd put it like that."

"How, exactly would you put it?"

"That he's got one ritual left to do and he's probably waiting for the right moment to attempt it."

"And when would that right moment be?"

"I'm not sure."

"Jesus Goldman. Can you give me one reason to not nuke New York City right now?"

Joseph's mouth immediately dried out. The president was being serious. There wasn't any attempt at levity or sarcasm, but there also wasn't a threat hidden in that statement. It was a simple truth. Nuke New York and save the world. Trade 20 million lives for 7 billion. Was it fair? Was it right? Could Joseph sit there and tell the president to make that trade?

"I'm waiting for an answer, Goldman. I need you to tell me if I should get the young marine captain on the other side of that door to bring the football in here so I can launch nuclear weapons at our own city."

"No."

"No what?"

"Don't call him in."

"Why?"

"Because we still have time to stop this man."

The president glared at Joseph, anger radiating outward.

"You can't nuke New York," Joseph said.

"I can. I'm the president. Now I have to make that choice. A choice I wouldn't wish on anyone. Do I kill those people to save the rest of us? I have to do that. Because of you."

"Don't. Don't do it," Joseph said. "We'll get him."

"I can't go on your word."

"Give me a day."

"No."

"Mr. President—"

"You've got until sunrise."

"I, uh, I mean, that seems rather arbitrary."

The President shrugged. "If I was going to enact some stupid ritual and end the world, I'd do it at sunrise."

"And you need time to get out of the blast radius and into NORAD."

"There's that as well. Just so you know, Joseph Goldman, you're not invited onto Air Force One."

"Noted."

"If I don't hear that you've succeeded by the time the sun is on the horizon, I am launching. I won't allow the planet, the species, to end because of this."

"I won't let you down, Mr. President."

"Your track record isn't so good on that promise, Goldman."