At five minutes of twelve the report went back to Maryland. The reporter, a young attractive blonde, was telling everyone she was at a position some miles away. "We seem so close," she was commenting, "because we're using telephoto lenses. Our sensitive microphones are picking up the loud speakers broadcasting the ultimatum
"You will surrender NOW! You will lay down your arms and come out with your hands on top of your heads, or we will open fire. Lay down your arms! Come out, NOW!" There's no movement. I can see nothing. The armor's moving closer. It's twelve o'clock. Everything's still quiet. Wait a minute! I hear something! It's bombs! I hear bombs! They must've been released from the planes that have been orbiting! I can see them hitting. They're going right into the entrances, exploding inside. There's more of them, coming from another direction and MORE! They're pounding them! This was no token show of force to get their attention, this is an all out bombing assault. They're sophisticated bombs. They seem to know exactly where they want to put them. Three just exploded one after another in the parking lot. Look! Look at that! A whole section of the parking lot is collapsing inward. There must've been some underground structure there, that the government knew about, and they've taken it out. The tanks are moving in. Whoa! One just blew up! The turret blew right off it! My God! There's people alive in there! They're fighting back. The tanks are pouring in fire. A helicopter's been hit! I saw something streak out of the rubble and hit it! Some of the soldiers have gone down, but they're continuing to advance. The soldiers are pouring into the rubble. This is carnage, it's just absolute carnage. Why in the hell is this happening? Why are these people fighting us? The soldiers are pouring into the rubble. It's crazy! I can't see any more. The soldiers are holding the perimeter. The tanks are standing by but now it's going to be a floor by floor search. Oh my God! Oh my God! They're bringing up body bags. They're putting the fallen soldiers in body bags. They weren't wounded they're dead! They're beginning to carry more bodies out of the rubble. Cranes are being brought up, and trucks are being readied to carry away the debris. The US Marshall in charge is coming out to the reporters below. I'll switch to our man down there."
"Marshall Harrison," someone was screaming, "have they found the deputy director?"
"Yes," the marshal answered. "He has been killed. The marshals tried to get him to surrender but he opened fire. The soldiers supporting him put him down. The building is now being combed. The rubble will be cleared. The operation will not end until all the bodies have been accounted for." "Do you have any idea, marshal," a reporter asked, "how many people were in the building?"
"We believe as many as 2,000," the marshal answered. "we have taken 50 prisoners and roughly counted 1,000 bodies. It's going to be a long night! If you'll excuse me I've got to get back."
"One more thing," a reporter screamed, "how many soldiers were killed?"
"I think about 30," the marshal answered. I'm not sure. But that's why we use so much fire power, to limit as many casualties as possible among those restoring order."
"I don't think there's much more here," the pretty blonde continued. "As the marshal said, it's going to take hours to clear the debris. There must be billions of dollars in damage here, BILLIONS!"
Victor turned off the television. "Sons of bitches!" he moaned. "They could've talked them out. They could've given them more time. What's the matter with that damned President?"
In The White House the President waited for his chief of staff. When he entered, he smiled. "They got them?" the President asked.
"All three of them!" the aide answered. "They're secure. They had been armed but they didn't have the right detonation codes."
"Thank God!" the President managed, "Thank God!"
Positively and absolutely no one is to know they had the devices, and that they are threatening to detonate. No matter how much I'm hated, no matter how much I'm despised, no one is to even know how close we came!"
"YES Mr. President!" the aide snapped. The President sat down. "Who's left to run the agency?" he asked.
"Pickett will run it," the aide answered, "'til you can find a replacement. But it must be quickly. He will not be running the agency when the new President takes office."
"Damnit!" the President screamed, "Doesn't ANYBODY believe our candidate has a chance?"
The aide shook his head. "The next eight years are going to be hell!" the President remarked.
"Well, let's see if we can soothe the public's nerves a little bit."
He began to go through some papers. The aide left. As soon as the door was shut the President leaned back in his chair and began to weep. He wept for some time muttering "Two thousand of America's sons! Two thousand of America's sons!"
Nobody could bring themselves to tell him that 312 were Americas's daughters. Nobody could bring themselves to tell the President, they simply couldn't.

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