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“Get me in touch with someone who can make decisions in China,” she said. “And get Morozov on the line. Right now.”

Bodies scurried into motion, hands picked up phones — at least four people jumped on the task of trying to reach Stepan Morozov, the president of Russia.

Paris, a cinder. London in chaos. Gun battles in the streets of Berlin. Reports of Converted wreaking havoc in South America, Northern Africa, India and Pakistan. Every continent felt the effects. All except for Australia, the leaders of which had been smart enough to shut down all travel three days earlier.

Blackmon turned to Porter. “Admiral, what’s the condition of the Seventh Fleet?”

Maybe Murray wasn’t up on his Russian geography, but he — like everyone else in the room — knew exactly what Blackmon was asking. The Seventh Fleet operated as a forward force near j.a.pan, a constant presence of power some sixty s.h.i.+ps and three hundred aircraft strong. The Seventh was America’s sheathed saber in that region.

“Seventh fleet is at REDCON-1,” Porter said. “They are prepared to defend any hostile action and are available for offensive operations.”

Blackmon nodded her approval. “Make sure fleet command knows they have clearance to shoot down anything that comes near them. From here on out, we err on the side of an international incident as opposed to losing even a single s.h.i.+p.”

“Yes, Madam President,” the admiral said. He turned to his a.s.sistants, setting in motion another miniflurry of activity.

Vogel looked off, put his hand to his earpiece. He turned to Blackmon.

“Madam President, we have President Morozov on the line. He called us.”

An a.s.sistant placed a red phone on the table in front of Blackmon. It was an old-fas.h.i.+oned thing, a handset connected to the main phone by a curly cable: the “hotline,” a piece of equipment that for five decades had served as a last resort to stop nuclear war.

Blackmon took a deep breath. She picked up the handset.

“President Morozov, America expresses its deepest condolences at this tragedy.”

She paused, listening. Her eyes widened.

“Stepan, don’t do this,” she said. “That attack probably wasn’t ordered by the government. China is dealing with the same problems you are — you know they wouldn’t risk a war with Russia. If you retaliate, all you’ll do is kill innocent people.”

She listened. Her eyes closed. That was it, just her eyelids closing, and everyone in the room knew Morozov’s answer.

Blackmon opened her eyes. They burned with anger and frustration.

“The United States objects in the strongest possible terms,” she said. “The world is on the edge of collapse. This will push us even closer.”

There was a pause, then she hung up the phone.