A Heartbeat Away Read Online Free PDF Page B

Address, Paul Rappaport was the so-called designated survivor.
    No State of the Union Address, inauguration, or other momentous occasion occurred without there being a DS—referred to by some as the Doomsday Successor. The DS was the only one of the fifteen Cabinet members officially in line to succeed the president who was deliberately not in the vicinity of Washington, D.C. He or she was chosen for the job by the military through the President Emergency Operations Center, or PEOC—the same unit with operational control of the Hard Room.
    Given that every member of the Cabinet wanted to be near the POTUS during major events, the chosen DS, usually at or near the bottom of the chain, had no desire to be the one selected. Paul Rappaport’s appointment, however, was a logical one—one that the former governor had actually requested.
    Not only was the Homeland Security secretary a logical choice, being the most recently established Cabinet position, but just a week earlier, Rappaport’s daughter’s condo had been broken into and ransacked while she was in the shower. Stolen were her purse, wallet, laptop computer, iPad, cell phone, silverware, and jewelry. Even worse, the president had been informed, her underwear had been removed from her bureau drawer, cut up, and spread out on her bed. The daughter, Renee, had a history of profound anxiety and depression, and suffered a breakdown as a result of the invasion. She had just been discharged after several days in a psychiatric hospital, and was at her parents’ place.
    Allaire imagined that the flamboyant, furiously patriotic Rappaport, protected by a small detachment of Secret Service agents, was with his wife and only child at the moment, watching what had been the president’s address, and still unaware of how close he suddenly was to history.
    “Sir, I respectfully suggest we get on with this briefing,” said Gary Salitas, Allaire’s closest friend in Washington.
    Allaire perked up. He had been quiet too long, lost in thought as the weight of evolving events descended upon him.
    “Yes, of course, Gary. Thank you. Sean, can you give me an update on the mobile device roundup?”
    The Secret Service agent stepped away from his position against the Hard Room wall.
    “Agents are collecting them as you ordered, Mr. President. It’s a difficult assignment, though, as you can well imagine. Many of those out there aren’t used to being told what to do. I doubt the press people are being forthcoming in handing over all the phones they have. We may have to resort to searching them.”
    Allaire sighed. The most probable scenario, and an alarming one at that, had word already spreading to the outside world via text messages, phone calls, broadcasts from network and cable television operators’ mobile units from outside the Capitol, and transmissions via the Internet—all reporting something epic happening at the State of the Union, but nobody knowing exactly what. Speculation would spread quickly to every country in the world, from major cities to any remote village with even the slightest bit of communication technology.
    Crisis at the Capitol.
    It was likely that CNN’s producers had already ordered the graphics.
    The best Allaire could hope for would be to slow the spread of information and misinformation until he could work out a strategy as to how it should be presented and disseminated, and how to prevent the reaction that would ensue from any perceived lack of leadership.
    He looked over at Salitas for suggestions.
    “We need to think bigger, Mr. President,” Salitas, a graying MIT grad, said. “We should disrupt all communications—cellular, landline, Internet, TV broadcast, for say, a five-mile radius around the Capitol.”
    “Can we do that?”
    “We can try.”
    “And still allow me to broadcast to the people?”
    “With any luck.”
    “Do it.”
    Salitas crossed to the communications center at the far side of the room and began making calls.
    “Okay,