The Mark of the Assassin

just entered the garden. Braxton
    jettisoned Ashley and floated through the guests toward his most
    lucrative client. For the next half hour, Ashley and Elizabeth discussed
    horses and the benefits of personal trainers. Elizabeth listened
    politely while she finished her first glass of wine and quickly drank
    another. Shortly before nine o'clock, Elliott asked for everyone's
    attention. "Ladies and gentlemen, the President is about to address the
    nation. Why don't we hear what he has to say before dinner."
    Elizabeth followed the crowd into the large living room. Two
    giant-screen television sets had been wheeled in. The dinner guests
    clustered around them. Tom Brokaw was chatting on one, Peter Jennings on
    the other. Finally, the shots dissolved and a grim-faced James Beckwith
    was staring into the camera.
    PAUL VANDENBERG DIDN'T BELIEVE in public displays of stress, but tonight
    he was nervous and it showed. This one had to be perfect. He sat with
    Beckwith in makeup and reviewed the address one last time. He stared at
    the television monitors to make sure the shot was perfect. He ordered a
    run-through on the Teleprompter to make sure it was working properly.
    The last thing he needed was a dead prompter and James Beckwith staring
    into the camera like a deer in the headlights. The speech was scheduled
    to begin at precisely 9:01:30 P.M. Eastern. That gave the networks
    ninety seconds to preview the speech with their White House
    correspondents. Vandenberg had carefully chummed the waters. He had told
    reporters--on background, of course--that the President would discuss a
    military response to the attack on Flight 002 and a major new defense
    initiative. He did not go into specifics. As a result, a sense of
    urgency hung over Washington as the President strode into the Oval
    Office.
    It was two minutes to air, but Beckwith calmly shook hands with every
    member of the network pool crew, from the executive producer to the
    floor director. He finally sat down at his desk. A production assistant
    clipped the microphone to his crimson tie. The floor director shouted,
    "Thirty seconds." Beckwith adjusted his jacket and folded his hands on
    the desk. A look of determined composure settled over his handsome,
    restrained features. Vandenberg permitted himself a brief smile. The old
    man was going to be just fine. "Five seconds!" the floor director
    shouted. She silently pointed to James Beckwith, and the president began
    to speak.
    MICHAEL OSBOURNE INTENDED to watch the President's speech from his desk,
    but shortly before nine o'clock Adrian Carter came into the bull pen and
    gestured for Osbourne to follow him. Five minutes later they strode
    through the entrance of the Operations Center. DCI Ronald Clark reclined
    in a black leather executive chair, smoking a cigarette. Monica Tyler
    sat next to him. Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum drifted in an uneasy orbit.
    Beckwith's face appeared suddenly on a wall of television monitors: CNN,
    the broadcast networks, the BBC. Ghostly infrared images flickered on
    three larger monitors, live satellite images of the Sword of Gaza
    training camps in Libya, Syria, and Iran. Carter said, "Welcome to the
    best seat in town, Michael."
    "GOOD EVENING, my fellow Americans," Beckwith began, pausing a beat for
    dramatic effect. "Two nights ago Transatlantic Airlines Flight
    Double-oh-two was shot down off Long Island by a terrorist armed with a
    stolen Stinger missile, killing every one on board. It was an act of
    cowardice and barbarism with no possible justification. The animals that
    carried it out apparently believed there would be no consequences for
    their action. They were wrong."
    Again, the President paused, allowing the line to sink in. Vandenberg
    had gone down the hall to his office to watch the address on television.
    A chill ran down the back of his neck as Beckwith delivered the line
    perfectly. "The law enforcement and intelligence agencies of this nation
    have concluded that the Palestinian terror group known as the Sword of
    Gaza is responsible for the attack. They will now pay the price. At this
    moment, the men and women of the U.S. armed forces are launching a
    careful and measured strike against Sword of Gaza training camps in
    several countries in the Middle East. This is not about vengeance. This
    is about justice."
    Beckwith paused, breaking script. The Teleprompter operator stayed with
    him. "Let me repeat that: This is not about vengeance. This is about
    justice.