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Blackmon took a moment. The room waited for her. She squared her shoulders and spoke.

“President Morozov feels compelled to retaliate. What will Russia’s likely target be?”

Vogel rubbed at his bald scalp, rubbed hard. “Probably a city comparable in size to Novosibirsk,” he said. He tapped at his keyboard, glanced at the main monitor as he did. “The closest Chinese city would probably be … Ürümqi.”

The image on the screen s.h.i.+fted, showing a city nested between three snowcapped mountain ranges. At the center, the word Ürümqi. If Murray hadn’t heard Vogel say it, he would have had no idea how to p.r.o.nounce it.

Blackmon nodded once, as if she knew the city of Ürümqi was the only obvious answer. “And that city has one-point-five million people?”

“Closer to two-point-five million,” Vogel said. “Three-point-five in the prefecture, so the death toll would depend on what weapon the Russians use.”

Murray shook his head in amazement. Three-point-five million: about the size of Los Angeles, America’s second-largest city.

Blackmon’s hands clenched together again. The world’s most-powerful human being had no power at all to stop a ma.s.sive slaughter.

“Admiral Porter, how would Russia strike that city?”

“Tupolev bomber,” Porter said. “Likely a Tu-160 flying out of the Engels-2 air base near Saratov. You can bet it’s already in the air. It will launch a Kh-55 cruise missile, probable warhead yield of 200 kilotons.”

A series of concentric circles appeared on the screen, overlaying the city. The center circle was a bright red, surrounded by one in red-orange, which in turn was surrounded by orange, and finally a ring of yellow. More words appeared on the screen, showing districts or suburbs, Murray wasn’t sure: Qidaowanxiang, Ergongxiang, Xins.h.i.+, Tianshan, Shayibak and more. The names all fell within the bands of color. Murray didn’t know those names, probably couldn’t even p.r.o.nounce them, but the names made everything more real.

People lived in Xins.h.i.+, people lived in Qidaowanxiang … people who were probably going to die.

Vogel turned to Admiral Porter, looked at all the Joint Chiefs.

“We have to do something,” Vogel said. “Do we have any resources in the area? A carrier, anything?”

The air force admiral started to speak, but Blackmon cut him off.

“We do nothing,” she said. Her voice was cold, unforgiving. If her heart felt anything, she refused to let those emotions reach her brain.

Vogel looked shocked. “But Madam President, a strike could kill millions of people! We have to try to stop it!”

Blackmon stared straight ahead. “Russia has been attacked and will retaliate. If we try to intervene, we …”

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