Joe had called her at 1:43 AM.
His voice had been rough, strained, like he'd been shouting or breathing dust. He'd given her names. Vehicle descriptions. Locations. Timing. Everything Kinsman's people were planning. Everything he'd pulled from the mine before it came down.
She'd relayed it all to Jenkins within minutes.
Jenkins had made one phone call.
And now they were here.
"Echo Team, this is Overwatch. Confirm your position."
The voice came from a communications officer seated at a console in the center of the room, a young woman with a headset and a screen full of tactical data.
"Overwatch, Echo Team. We are in position, southwest perimeter of Offutt AFB, approximately two hundred meters from the suspected vehicle. No visual on the package yet. Standby."
Ivy's eyes flicked to the rightmost screen. Offutt Air Force Base, Nebraska. Home of Strategic Command. The heart of America's nuclear arsenal. An RA-115 device detonated there wouldn't just kill people. It would decapitate the command structure that controlled the country's ability to respond.
On the screen, she could see the grainy green-and-black feed from a night vision camera. A parking lot. Rows of vehicles. Shadows moving between them.
"Echo Team, Overwatch. NEST is standing by. You are cleared to approach. Rules of engagement are weapons-free if the package is armed."
"Copy, Overwatch. Moving now."
Ivy watched the screen. The camera feed shifted as the team moved forward, low and fast, their shapes barely visible in the darkness. She could hear their breathing over the comms, steady and controlled.
Beside her, Jenkins stood with his hands in his pockets, his face unreadable. He'd been here the whole time, watching, saying nothing. He looked older than he had yesterday. Tired. Worn down by the weight of what they were dealing with.
"Alpha Team, Overwatch. Status?"
A different voice, male, older, with a Southern accent. "Overwatch, Alpha Team. We have eyes on the vehicle. White panel van, Virginia plates, parked on Constitution Avenue, northwest side of the Capitol Building. Two occupants visible in the front seats. No movement. NEST is deploying the scanner now."
The second screen from the left showed the Capitol, its dome lit up against the night sky, beautiful and fragile. The van was a white rectangle in the lower corner of the frame, parked along the street like it belonged there.
A man in a dark suit stepped up beside Jenkins. She recognized him—Deputy Director Carver, FBI. He'd been in and out of the room all night, taking calls, coordinating with Washington field offices, his face a mask of controlled tension.
"How confident are we in the intel?" Carver asked.
Jenkins didn't look at him. "Bulletproof."
"Bravo Team, Overwatch. Confirm your position."
"Overwatch, Bravo. We are in position, east entrance of the New York Stock Exchange. The vehicle is a black SUV, New York plates, parked in the loading zone on Broad Street. We have one occupant visible, male, mid-thirties, sitting in the driver's seat. NEST is moving in now."
The center screen showed lower Manhattan, the narrow streets packed with buildings, the Stock Exchange a fortress of stone and steel. The SUV was barely visible, tucked into a loading zone, hazard lights blinking.
Ivy thought about the casualty estimates in the Cold Target documents. TARGET CHARLIE: New York Stock Exchange. Immediate deaths: 8,000-12,000. Economic impact: incalculable. Global market collapse probable.
She thought about Joe, alone in the snow, pulling those documents out of a dead man's hands.
"Delta Team, Overwatch. Status?"
"Overwatch, Delta. We are in position, northwest gate of the White House complex. The vehicle is a gray sedan, DC plates, parked on Pennsylvania Avenue. Two occupants, both male, both in the front seats. NEST is deploying now. Standby."
The second screen from the right showed the White House, lit up like a postcard, the most recognizable building in the world. The sedan was a gray smudge on the street, anonymous, unremarkable.
"Charlie Team, Overwatch. Confirm your position."
"Overwatch, Charlie. We are in position, south parking lot of the Pentagon. The vehicle is a blue pickup truck, Virginia plates, parked in the visitor lot near the Metro entrance. One occupant visible, male, forties, sitting in the truck bed. He appears to be... Overwatch, he's got something in his hands."
