Extinction Machine

Chapter One Hundred Eighteen

The White House

Monday, October 21, 8:12 a.m.

“Did you get all that?” asked Joe Ledger, his voice mildly distorted by static.

“Every word,” answered Mr. Church. His voice was clear as a bell.

President William Collins glared at the open laptop on his desk. He felt the stares of the two men standing in front of his desk. Attorney General Mark Eppenfeld and Secret Service Director Linden Brierly.

Collins licked his lips.

“It could be faked,” he said. “Deacon and Ledger could be faking this whole thing.”

“Bill,” said Eppenfeld gently, “for god’s sake…”

Bill Collins got up and turned to the big windows. Few things were more beautiful than the Rose Garden seen by dawn’s light. The other men stood there, watching him, saying nothing.

“What do you want me to do?” asked Collins.