A Heartbeat Away - Michael Palmer [8]
People in the upper gallery sections, however—those now-unlucky souls who had scored a coveted ticket to the State of the Union Address, as well as members of the press and broadcast network teams—were less compliant. Not a mass exodus, Allaire observed, but enough people to draw his attention decided to head toward the exits. The president watched with irritation and immense sadness as people were forcibly turned back by the guards stationed at all the doors. One particularly aggressive man, clawing at a uniformed security officer, was whipped into submission by the butt of a pistol.
Allaire gripped Sean O’Neil by the shoulder.
“Sean, please clear the area around us.”
O’Neil engaged three agents to back people away from the group. Then he quickly returned to the POTUS’s side.
“We’ve got to make sure nobody leaves the House chamber,” Allaire said urgently.
“We’re doing that, sir.”
“No, I mean make absolutely sure.”
“Sir?”
“Dammit, Sean—” The president quickly composed himself and leaned forward to whisper, “This virus is viciously contagious. If it gets out of here, there’s no telling what might happen. Have your people and the other guards immobilize anybody who tries to force their way to the outside. Use whatever restraints and force are necessary.”
“Yes, sir.”
O’Neil, tall and lean, and emotionless in every way except for the alertness in his dark eyes, delivered the president’s directive via secure radio. Allaire returned to the lectern. He leaned forward until his lips brushed against the metal mesh of the microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen. Please settle down. Please. Quiet down this instant!”
It took several additional calls for quiet before the room settled into an uneasy silence. All eyes were now directed upon him. Allaire made a furtive glance toward his wife and daughter. In seconds, the concern etched across their faces forced him to look away.
“I must be very clear,” he said. “Until we know more about what we may have been exposed to, I cannot allow anybody to exit the House Chamber. I promise to share what information I have as it becomes available. For now, I’m requesting your cooperation.”
“And what if we don’t!”
The unidentified man shouted his thinly veiled threat from somewhere in the upper gallery.
“What we’ve been exposed to could be highly contagious,” Allaire’s amplified voice boomed out. “Until we have more information, I cannot risk a public health crisis. To ensure public safety, I’ve authorized the use of extreme measures against anyone who attempts to exit the building. That is a nonnegotiable order from your president. Now, please, you must excuse me. I’ll return shortly with additional information and our proposed next steps after I speak with my staff.”
Once more the room erupted into chaotic chatter. White House chief of staff, intense, intellectual Megan McAndrews, was the first to approach.
“Mr. President,” she whispered, “you neglected to include the speaker of the house.”
McAndrews tilted her head in a nearly imperceptible gesture toward Ursula Ellis, in her seat atop the tribune.
“If I didn’t call somebody,” Allaire said, with an edge, “either I don’t need them, or I don’t trust them.”
CHAPTER 4
DAY 1
9:45 P.M. (EST)
Ursula Ellis assumed Allaire had included her among the high-ranking officials he had summoned to meet with him. It took some time for her to realize he had not. Perhaps she had misheard over all the commotion, she wondered—either that, or the president’s gunshots had temporarily impaired her hearing.
Vice President Henry Tilden sat beside Ellis on the rostrum. He was a tall, gangly oaf of a man whom Ellis knew would never make anyone’s list of the most intellectual politicians in the land.
“Henry, did the president include me?” she leaned over and asked.
“I don’t think so, Ursula,” Tilden said, pushing himself up