Sea of Shadows eBook - Navy Thriller.com

WASHINGTON, DC
MONDAY; 07 MAY
2:46 PM EDT
SEA OF SHADOWS 45
The president finished the article and dropped the newspaper on his
desk with a sigh. What did the Sirajis think they stood to gain by making
up stories like this? Did they think there was some political edge to be
had? Was it just the need to see their names in the paper? Or were they
just full of shit?
The door opened and Agent Allain LaBauve walked in. “Excuse me,
Mr. President, we have a Condition Firestorm.” LaBauve’s voice was cool
and professional. The two agents who had followed him into the room
stood behind him without speaking.
President Chandler glanced up at LaBauve. The Secret Service agent’s
poker face was firmly in place. His neutral expression gave no clue that he
had just barged into the Oval Office without knocking, dragging a pair of
agents in his wake. “Say again, Alan?”
LaBauve was the head of the President’s Personal Security Detail, his
so-called body man, because he was never more than an arm’s length away
when the president was in a non-secure location. The president called the
big Cajun man Alan, LaBauve’s preferred version of his first name.
LaBauve had a talent for languages; he spoke French, German, and
Russian—all with near-perfect accents. He had a master’s degree in
criminal justice from the University of Virginia, and double bachelors in
systems theory and political science. His speech was clipped, precise, and
bore no trace of his dirt-poor southern Louisiana upbringing. And still he
couldn’t escape nicknames like Swamp Thing and Gator. The last came
from a persistent rumor that LaBauve—in his young and wild days—had
once beaten an alligator to death with a half-empty jug of moonshine.
“Mr. President, we have a confirmed Condition Firestorm,” LaBauve
said again. “We need to evacuate you immediately, sir.”
The president pushed back his chair and stood up. “Evacuate? What’s
going on?”
LaBauve shook his head. “The British Embassy has been attacked,
sir.”
A surge of ice water rushed through the president’s veins. His mind
immediately started dreaming up worst-case scenarios. His brain was
suddenly flooded with images of burned and mutilated bodies. He shook
his head and blinked rapidly. “What? A bomb?”
“I don’t know, sir,” LaBauve said. “I don’t have any details.”