“But that doesn’t make any sense.” The President was back in the U.S. Security Center in the U.N.’s basement. Hank was still at the table and General Rogers was still on the screen. The President was looking at the script John had just recorded and sent to the helicopters for playback.
“Trust me, Mr. President, it makes perfect sense. It’s at least a triple letter score, and I’m prayin’ plenty hard that it’s a triple word score.” Frank knew it would work. It just had to. If Beat Belfour was still alive in the city, she’d get there.
He just hoped to god she was still mobile. Because they had no way to go find her, she had to find them.
“Major Beale?”
“Here Frank.” The right-hand screen was now showing a four-segment feed from the DAP Hawk helicopter as she now circled over the city. The
