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Washington. Lunch break ought to be over for the duty staff in the NSC office. He pushed aside the mess on Ave's desk and picked up the telephone to dial the unlisted number. It was answered immediately. He recognized the voice of Hardy Miller, a GS-14 security man moved over by Kellner from Foggy Bottom. A man in his late fifties, and near retirement. |
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"Hardy, this is John Morgan," he said. "Scramble." |
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"Morgan, Jesus Christ, where have you been? What's happening out there?" |
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"Scramble, Hardy. Or I'm hanging up." Hardy was burdened with the State Department's oddly confused sense of what "security" meant. |
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"Oh, very well, Colonel." Whenever Hardy grew miffed, he tended to use titles rather than names. The shrill series of tones indicated that the White House scrambling system was now operating. It actually did little more than mask voices. As a security measure it was years out of date, but Cole Caidin would not request funds to improve the White House security technology. |
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"Is that better, Colonel?" Miller's voice was heavy with sarcasm. |
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"You know the regulations, Hardy," Morgan said. "Is Dr. Kellner there? Or Camilla Varig?" |
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"He's with the President at Camp David. I'm the only one here." |
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"Camilla? Is she with Dr. Kellner?" |
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"No, she's off somewhere, on her own. I told you I'm the only one on line. Now, will you please be so kind as to tell me where you are and when you plan" |
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"Shut up and listen to me, Hardy. I'm returning to Washington tonight by charter. I have Anna Neville with me." |
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"Why by charter? The GAO will have a stroke." |
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Morgan tried to rein in his sudden anger. "Fuck the GAO. Listen. I don't have an ETA yet, but I'll try to notify you as soon as we're airborne. We land at National. I want transport standing by. Someone reliable, do you read me? And I mean |
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