In 2007, soon after the sixth anniversary of the September 11th attacks on America, Jihadists attack multiple targets in Saudi Arabia, destroying oil pumping equipment, crippling pipelines, and assassinating most of the royal family. In the U.S., gas prices soar to over $6 a gallon along with hyper–inflation across the world financial markets. "Non–business travel" in the U.S. is limited to no more than 500 miles per week. The men responsible for this outrage cannot be allowed to go unpunished. The UN Security Council authorizes an international intervention force, and in a closed session of Congress the "Assassination Bill" is introduced. General Peter Newman is assigned to head a new "Threat Mitigation Unit," and is given authority to recruit and train up to 100 specialists for the ominous task at hand––to assassinate terrorists. When it's discovered that the terrorists are threatening attacks on major US cities, Newman and his team are dispatched and begin a mad chase across Europe and international waters to stop the threat before violent tragedy strikes again. But the terrorists are determined to strike on US soil, and their target is Washington, D.C. Oliver North is a New York Times bestselling author, the host of "War Stories" on the FOX News Channel, and a war correspondent for the FOX News Network. His novels are stories of international intrigue, political espionage, and military adventure drawn from his own experiences as a combat-decorated Marine and the Counter-Terrorism Coordinator for the United States from 1983-1986. Joe Musser has authored or co-authored more than forty books and twenty screenplays. He is the co-author with Oliver North of Mission Compromised and The Jericho Sanction . The Assassins By Oliver North HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. Copyright © 2006 Oliver North All right reserved. ISBN: 0061137642 Chapter One Gathering Fury Situation Room The White House, Washington, DC Sunday, 14 October 2007 0846 Hours Local By the time the armored Cadillac entered the Southwest Gate, West Executive Avenue was already crowded with dark blue government sedans, glistening in the crisp, clear, early autumn air. As the car stopped next to the green awning, Army Staff Sgt. John Houston, jumped from the right front seat of the vehicle, opened the heavy right rear door and stood back. Dan Powers, the grim-faced Secretary of Defense, emerged first, said, "Thank you, John," and entered the West Wing. He was followed by Gen. George Grisham, USMC, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Immediately inside the door, a cheerless Secret Service agent placed their briefcases on the conveyor of an X-ray machine, and the two men were waved through an airport-type metal detector—despite the machine's muted electronic protest prompted by the ribbons and badges on the Chairman's chest and the four stars on each epaulet. Powers and Grisham were quickly ushered into the White House Situation Room by the Senior Watch Officer. They stepped down into the small executive conference enclosure just as the Vice President was taking his seat at the foot of the table. "Better get a cup of coffee," said the unsmiling Vice President. "It's going to be a long morning." But before Powers and Grisham could comply, the door they had just entered slid open again as the SWO announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, the President." Powers and Grisham stood when everyone else rose and the President entered the now hushed room. Powers noticed that his hair was still wet—as though he had just toweled it dry. As the President moved past him, Grisham glanced at the digital clock over the plasma screen mounted in the south wall and thought, It's only 0852 . . . We're going to start eight minutes early. Good thing we were here on time. This guy could have been a Marine he's so punctual. I wonder if he's ever late . . . Without preamble, the President removed his suit coat, draped it over the back of his chair, sat down, smoothed his tie, and said, "Thank you all for coming on such short notice. It doesn't look like any of us are going to get to church this morning so let's start with a word of prayer." Turning to the young man on his immediate right, he said, "Jeb, why don't you take this one?" "Jeb" Stuart, National Security Advisor to the most powerful man on the planet, had been up since the SWO first called him at 0415. He had hastily shaved, showered, dressed, and raced to the White House. For the past four hours he had been furiously trying to assess the magnitude of what had happened in Saudi Arabia. Right up until a few minutes before coming to the Sit Room he was still assembling information and recommendations from State, Defense, the Director of National Intelligence, FBI, DHS, and the Departments of Treasury and Energy. The National Security Advisor hadn't thought of starting the meeting with prayer, but with all that he'd seen since 0445 that morning, it seemed particularly appropriate.