9:04 A.M.
LOBBY
UNITED NATIONS SECRETARIAT BUILDING
FIRST AVENUE AND FORTY-SECOND STREET
NEW YORK CITY
Glass poured down from above following the missile strike. Bullets slammed into the windows in the lobby, shattering them.
The security design for that day was complicated and somewhat political. Five security groups had worked to reconcile and negotiate various rights and rules regarding how the president’s visit to the UN was to be handled. It was UN Security, Secret Service, NYPD, FBI, and DSS. Each had men at the UN. There had been twice-daily meetings for a week leading up to Dellenbaugh’s visit. It was the first time, however, that anything had disrupted what had been a cool but smooth interagency security protocol. Now that chaos had ensued, whatever existed before went out the window, especially in the lobby, where each agency had multiple gunmen.
It was UN Security who were supposed to take the lead in a hostile situation. But the head of UN Security was on the eighteenth floor, with the president and the secretary general.
It soon became about survival, and not who was in charge.
Steve Koch—a senior-level Secret Service agent—was dressed in a navy suit. He stepped behind a steel beam as he watched chaos descending. It may not have been protocol, but Koch decided to start giving orders.
“We need to hold the perimeter of the UN complex,” barked Koch. “Moriarty,” he said to the deputy director of UN Security, “tell your men to hold the line! Jack,” he pointed at one of the NYPD officers, “get men over here attacking the outer wall of gunmen from behind. Watch your field of fire.”
Meanwhile, bullets continued to shatter glass. Several men were caught in the fusillade. Koch removed his .45 and turned from behind the steel stanchion. He pumped bullets through the broken glass at gunmen attacking and now in the courtyard, like wolves.
Koch looked at a man holding a rifle. He was black, and wore a sharp-looking uniform. He was one of the NYPD officers detailed to the president’s trip. He clutched a rifle.
“Ricky, right?” said Koch.
“Yes.”
“Get up to the third floor,” said Koch. “Get a strategic advantage point. Shoot as many of them as you can. We’re buying time here. They’re trying to kill the president.” Koch pointed to a dead security man. “Grab his mags. We need to hold them off. Kill as many of these motherfuckers as you can. Got it?”
“Yeah.”
“Go.”