Alexandria, Virginia, Monday, 3.20am
It began the night the President sought to bring about the end of the world.
The first Robert Kassian knew of it was when his phone started vibrating on the nightstand. He woke with a start, his heart thumping. It took him a second to understand where the sound was coming from: he wondered if he had dreamed it. He reached for the nightstand, fumbling to make the vibrations stop. The task was urgent: his wife was a light sleeper who, once stirred, stayed awake.
Only then did he realize this was no alarm, but an incoming call. He took in the next two facts at once: it was 3.20am and the call was from the White House switchboard.
‘Mr Kassian?’
‘Yes,’ he whispered, peeling the duvet back and moving towards the bathroom, the phone jammed against his ear. He had barely opened his eyes.
‘Please hold for the Situation Room.’
So it was happening. The three am call Washington folks always talked about. He’d only been Chief of Staff for four months and this was the first call of its kind. Sure, there had been late-night crises – plenty of those – and urgent meetings just after dawn. The pace had been relentless and round the clock since the inauguration in January. In the last week, that had only intensified. But a bona fide emergency in the middle of the night? This was the first.
A couple of clicks and he was put through. Instantly he could hear a commotion; there was a banging sound. A voice came on. A woman, young and nervous.
‘Mr Kassian. This is Lieutenant Mary Rajak. We have a situation, sir. I think you need to get down here right away.’
Now he could hear shouting. He wondered if this woman had been taken hostage. Maybe the White House was under siege. He blinked hard, his brain now revving.
‘What kind of situation?’
Kassian was sure he heard the woman dip her voice. ‘It involves the President.’
Jesus Christ. Had the President been taken hostage? How would anyone … ‘What’s happened?’
‘Please, sir. Just come.’
‘I’m on my way. But can you—’ He stopped himself. He could hear someone shouting. A man. It sounded as if his voice was coming from the next room.
‘Hold on, sir.’ He guessed she was putting her hand over the receiver. ‘Yes, I’m speaking to Mr Kassian right now. He’s on his way.’
In the second that followed, he could hear it clearly. It was unmistakable. There couldn’t be a soul on the planet who didn’t recognize it. Over the last two years, that voice had been heard every day, once at least, whether on the news or in a video that went viral, sometimes mocking an opponent or taunting a heckler at a rally, sometimes being impersonated by a TV comic or a precocious kid in a school playground. But no one had heard the voice like this, bellowing with rage – real, not confected. Get out of my way. I’m your Commander in fucking Chief and this is an order.
As he listened, Kassian grabbed a shirt and reached for the first suit his hand could find. ‘What the hell is going on there, lieutenant?’
‘It’s difficult to explain on the phone, sir.’
‘This is a secure line.’
‘I don’t think we have much time, sir.’ Her voice was trembling.
‘In a nutshell, lieutenant.’
She spoke quietly, as if fearful of being overheard. ‘North Korea, sir. The