Executive Orders by Tom Clancy

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and children, while the officers and senior non-coms met in conference rooms to find out what the hell was going on. They emerged from those brief meetings angry, confused, and for the better informed of them, frightened. Outside the armories, vehicles were fired up. Inside, TV sets were switched on.

IN ATLANTA, THE special agent in charge of the FBI’s Atlanta Field Division drove with sirens screaming to CDC, followed by ten more agents. In Washington, a number of CIA and other intelligence officers drove more sedately” to the Hoover Building to set up a joint task force. In both cases, the job was to figure out how the epidemic had started and from that to try to determine its point of origin. These people were not all civilians. The Defense Intelligence Agency and National Security Agency were mainly uniformed organizations, and among that grouping grim-faced officers let everyone know that something new in American history had taken place. If this truly were a deliberate attack against the United States of America, then a nation-state had made use of what was delicately termed a “weapon of mass destruction.” Then they explained to their civilian counterparts what had been U.S. policy for two generations for responding to such an eventuality.

IT WAS ALL happening too fast, of course, since emergencies are by definition things for which one cannot plan terribly well. That extended to the President himself, who walked into the White House press room, accompanied by General Pickett of USAMRIID. Only thirty minutes earlier the White House had told the major networks that the President had an announcement to make, and that on this occasion, the government would exercise its option to demand airtime instead of requesting it–since the 1920s, the government had adopted the position that it owned the airwaves–thus supplanting all the talk shows and other programming which preceded the evening news. Lead-in

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commentary told viewers that nobody knew what this was about, but that there had been an emergency Cabinet meeting only minutes before.

“My fellow Americans,” President Ryan began, his face in most American homes, and his voice in every car on the road. Those who had become accustomed to their new President took note of the pale face (Mrs. Abbot hadn’t had time to do his makeup) and grim voice. The message was grimmer still.

Tb+E CEMENT TRUCK had a radio, of course. It even had a tape and CD player, since, work-vehicle or not, it had been designed for the use of an American citizen. They were in Indiana now, having crossed both the Mississippi River and Illinois earlier in the day on their trek to their nation’s capital. Holbrook, who had no use for the words of any President, hit the scan button, only to find that the same voice was on all the stations. That was sufficiently unusual that he stayed with one of them. Brown, driving the truck, saw that cars and trucks were pulling over–not many at first, but more and more as the speech progressed, their drivers, like himself, leaning down to listen to the radio.

“ACCORDINGLY, BY order of the President, your government is taking the following actions:

“One, until further notice, all schools and colleges in the country will be closed.

“Two, all businesses except for those providing essential services–the media, health care, food, law-enforcement, and fire protection–will also be closed until further notice.

“Three, all places of public assembly, theaters, restaurants, bars and the like, will be closed.

“Fourth, all interstate travel is suspended until further notice. This means all commercial air travel, interstate trains and buses, and private-passenger automobiles. Trucks carrying foodstuffs will be allowed to travel under

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military escort. The same is true of essential supplies, phar-maceuticals and the like.

“Fifth, I have activated the National Guard in all the fifty states and placed it under federal control to maintain public order. A state of martial law is now in force throughout the country.

“We urge our citizens–no, let me speak more informally. Ladies and gentlemen, all that is required for us to weather this crisis is a little common sense. We do not yet know how dangerous this disease is. The measures I have ordered today are precautionary in nature. They seem, and indeed they are, extreme measures. The reason for that, as I have told you, is that this virus is potentially the most deadly organism on the planet, but we do not yet know how dangerous it is. We do know that a few simple measures can limit its spread, no matter how deadly it is, and in the interest of public safety, I have ordered those measures. This action is being taken on the best scientific advice available. To protect yourselves, remember how the disease is spread. I have General John Pickett, a senior Army physician and an expert in the field of infectious diseases, to provide medical advice to all of us. General?” Ryan stepped away from the microphone.

“WHAT THE FUCK'” Holbrook shouted. “He can’t do that!”

“Think so?” Brown followed an eighteen-wheeler onto the shoulder. They were a hundred miles from the Indiana-Ohio border. About two hours driving this pig, he thought. No way he’d get there before the local Guard closed the road.

“I think we better find a motel, Pete.”

“SO WHAT DO I do?” the FBI agent asked in Chicago.

“Strip. Hang your clothes on the door.” There was no time and little spare room for the niceties, and he was, after all, a physician. His guest didn’t blush. Dr. Klein decided, on full surgical garb, long-sleeve greens instead of the

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more popular sort. There were not enough of the plastic space suits to go around, and his staff would use all of those. They had to. They got closer. They handled liquids. They touched the patients. His medical center now had nine symptomatic patients who tested positive. Six of those were married, and of the spouses, four tested positive for Ebola antibodies. The test gave an occasional false-positive reading; even so it was not the least bit pleasant to tell someone–well, he did that often enough with AIDS patients. They were testing children now. That really hurt.

The protective outfit he gave the agent was made of the usual cotton, but the hospital had taken a number of sets and sprayed them with disinfectant, especially the masks. The agent also was given a pair of laboratory glasses, the broad plastic ones known to chemistry students.

“Okay,” Klein told the agent. “Don’t get close. No closer than six feet, and you should be completely safe. If she vomits or coughs, if she has a convulsion, stay clear. Dealing with that sort of thing is our job, not yours. Even if she dies right in front of you, don’t touch anything.”

“I understand. You going to lock the office up?” She pointed to the gun hanging with her clothes.

“Yes, I will. And when you’re done, give me your notes. I’ll run them through the copying machine.”

“How come?”

“It uses a very bright light to make copies. The ultraviolet will almost certainly kill any virus particle that might find its way to the paper,” Professor Klein explained. Even now in Atlanta, rapid experiments were under way to determine just how robust the Ebola particles were. That would help define the level of precaution that was necessary in hospitals first of all, and perhaps also provide useful guidance for the general population.

“Uh, Doc, why not just let me make the copies?”

“Oh.” Klein shook his head. “Yes, I suppose that will work, too, won’t it?”

“MR. PRESIDENT.” IT was Barry of CNN. “These steps you’re taking, sir, are they legal?”

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“Barry, I do not have the answer to that,” Ryan said, his face tired and drawn. “Whether they’re legal or not, I am convinced that they are necessary.” As he spoke, a White House staffer was passing out surgical masks for the assembled reporters. That was Arnie’s idea. They’d been procured from the nearby George Washington University Hospital.

“But, Mr. President, you can’t break the law. What if you’re wrong?”

“Barry, there’s a fundamental difference between what I do in my job and what you do in yours. If you make a mistake, you can make a retraction. We just saw that, only yesterday, with one of your colleagues, didn’t we? But, Barry, if I make a mistake in a situation like this, how do I retract a death? How do I retract thousands of deaths? I don’t have that luxury, Barry,” the President said. “If it turns out that what I am doing is wrong, then you can have at me all you want. That’s part of my job, too, and I’m getting used to that. Maybe I’m a coward. Maybe I’m just afraid of letting people die for no good reason when I have the power to prevent it.”

“But you don’t really know, do you?”

“No,” Jack admitted, “none of us really knows. This is one of those times when you have to go with your best guess. I wish I could sound more confident, but I can’t, and I won’t lie about it.”