Page 64 of Jonas

“Good afternoon.” A crisp, female voice came over the line. “May I announce who’s calling?”

“Zebra-six-five-eight-two-six-oxford. Nine-one-one-alpha,” Zane rattled off.

“Color and number please.”

“Purple. Six.”

“Thank you. Please hold.”

What in the world was happening?

I glanced around the table looking for clues about what was going on and who Zane was calling. When I got to Kira she jerked her chin up and mouthed, POTUS.

President Trent Graham came on the line. His greeting was harsh and impatient. “Mr. Lewis.”

“I can imagine with today’s attacks you’re busy⁠—”

“Attacks?” Graham’s question sounded evasive.

Zane gave a deep, frustrated exhale. I was sure that was meant to calm his irritation but it didn’t seem to loosen the tight clench of his jaw. So he growled his next words.

“I seem to remember you telling me you’re a politician but you don’t play games. Tell me, Graham, in the years since you’ve taken the Oval have you changed your mind?”

“Zane—”

“Answer me. Neither of us have time for games, Trent. But only one of us is marked for death.”

There was a pause before the president spoke again, and when he did it wasn’t to Zane. It was to whomever Trent Graham was meeting with.

There was an, ‘excuse me’ then doors opening and closing, then finally, “I have privacy. What’s going on?”

“Who was in the room with you when you said my name?” Another moment of silence. Zane didn’t let it go too long before he broke it to tell him, “Remember, it’s your life on the line, not mine. Was Senator Rutte in the room?”

“No. My national security team.”

Zane glanced at Kira. With a nod she focused on her laptop—my guess to find and vet the national security team.

“Do they know who’s behind the attacks in Baltimore and San Francisco?”

“Intel is pointing to the Houthis. Retaliation for the relief aid sent to Yemen.”

Holy shit on a brick, the president of the United States told Zane Lewis top-secret information.

“Your intel is wrong. Has anyone informed you the Pentagon is compromised?”

“Compromised?” Now the president was growling.

“The data center that stores our nation’s secrets has been infiltrated by the Chinese.”

“That’s impossible. No top-secret information is stored off-site.”

“Just like it’s impossible for the US to contract out the manufacturing of our power transformers to the Chinese, leaving us vulnerable for them to plant a backdoor in the hardware so they could turn the transformer off and leave fifty-thousand people in Arizona without power in the middle of summer? Just like they’d never hack into cargo ships that contain hardware out of China, take over the controls, and veer those ships into bridges and take them down?”

“Where does this leave us now?”

“Vulnerable as fuck,” Zane grunted. “I have a team headed to Phoenix. They will be at your disposal. Within the hour another team will be headed to Three Mile Island. And a third will head to Kemmerer, Wyoming.”

“Are you telling me the Chinese are going to nuke the US using our powerplants?”