Act One: Flight 120

Somehow, Toby Ziegler had fallen asleep on the couch in his office. He had felt tired after watching the convention and instead of driving home went to sleep in his office as Sam Seaborn had years earlier. Toby was so dead to the world that he didn't notice the two secret service agents who ran by the window next to him and the third who stood at his office door. But he did wake up when the door opened and the safety on the agent's gun clicked off. Toby jerked out of his sleep and stared down the barrel of a 9mm pistol and the woman who held it.

Stunned, Toby looked at the gun that was pointed just above the top of his nose and opened his jaw a little. "Is there a no sleeping policy I should know about?" Toby asked as he yawned and rubbed his sore eyes. The look on the woman's face changed slightly as he starred down the barrel.

"Are you Toby Ziegler?" The woman asked as she lowered the pistol a fraction of an inch. Toby nodded and the woman clicked the safety back on and returned it to its holster. She pulled up her left hand and spoke into the microphone that was there.

"Toscanohere. West Wing clear. Toby Ziegler's in his office." She said as she turned towards the door.

Toby reached down and picked up his suit jacket off the floor next to him. Toscano. Where had he heard that name before? Toby put on the jacket and turned back in the woman's direction. But she was gone. For a moment, Toby wondered if it had been an iluusion. But he dropped that thought when he watched a secret service agent walk trough the darkened communications bullpen.

Toby watched the agent and asked himself aloud, "What the hell is going on?"

Three floors below Toby, the White House situation room was abuzz. Kate Harper, the new national security advisor, sat with a phone to her ear. She hardly noticed the military officers who walked around the room and where talking on phone's. She was simply waiting for the President's voice to come over her phone so that she could put him on the speakerphone. When she heard Bartlet's voice, she pressed a button on the phone's base and hung the phone up. The room became silent as everyone turned towards the speakerphone. "We're here Mister President. Are you ready for your briefing?" Harper said loudly.

"Yeah. What's going on?" Bartlet said with the same serious tone he's used in this room many times before.

"Two hours ago, British airways 747 known as flight 120 left JFK international airport. It flew out for eighty minutes before it's radio and transponder went dead and the plane turned towards Washington." Harper explained in a calm voice.

Bartlet sighed and waited a moment before speaking. "Do we have anything that can intercept it before it reaches our airspace?" he asked.

General Alexander, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, looked towards the speaker and spoke. "The carrier battle group of the John F. Kennedy is on maneuvers sixty miles south of the plane's current position."

"Okay," Bartlet responded back. "How long will it take to get fighter's airborne, General?"

"There are F-14's on the deck waiting on your order to take off. They'll intercept the plane and try to contact visually." General Alexander said calmly.

"What if they don't respond, General?" Bartlet asked in a strained voice.

"We'll wait for your further orders." General Alexander responded back."There's also two squadrons of Air Force F-15's at Andrew's that will be airborne to patrol the city."

"Has anybody even thought of contacting the British ambassador or the prime minister?" Bartlet asked, expecting to hear a 'no'.

"Yes sir. The ambassador is on his on way and he'll phone the prime minister when he gets here." Harper responded back in the same calm tone she had been using.

"Get the fighters airborne off the Kennedy and get some fighters over Washington. Put the entire city on a terror alert. Is there anybody on my senior staff still there?" Bartlet asked.

The secret service agent standing in the back of the room came forward to answer. "Yes, Mister President. Toby Ziegler's in his office."

"Have him come down there. Call me when the ambassador gets there." Bartlet said just a moment before the phone clicked off.

Harper looked at the map on the wall and silently prayed that the plane wasn't hijacked and the President didn't have to give the order he would have to give.

On board Air Force One, Bartlet was presiding over an argument between Butterfield and C.J.

"Per standard procedure, we can't allow this plane to land." Butterfield nearly yelled at C.J.

"Why? You actually think an unarmed civilian airliner is going to get passed fully armed fighter planes?" C.J. responded back in the same harsh tone.

Butterfield was quick to respond back. "Until we know if it's hijacked or not, the White House is unsafe. We must stay airborne until we know about the plane's condition."

"There will be two dozen fighters flying around. I don't that plane has a chance in hell of making it." C.J. yelled back at Butterfield.

Bartlet smashed his cane up against his desk. Butterfield and C.J. turned their attention back to Bartlet. "Now, can we please shut up?" Bartlet asked in a harsh tone. "We have reporters who are going to want to know why we won't be landing in twenty minutes and their going to ask questions." He turned to C.J. "You're going to tell them that there's been a medical emergency and we are unable to land for an unknown period of time."

"Yes sir." C.J. responded back angrily. She was convinced she was right and that the President was trying to push the two of them away from him.

"Ron," Bartlet said as he turned to Butterfield. "Call your agents at the White House and make sure that ambassador Lord John Marbury makes it in the building."

"Yes sir." Butterfield responded back calmly. Both of them left the room and Bartlet was left alone in the office. His mind was on the decision he might have make in the a few minutes.

He was afraid of having to give the order to the F-14 pilot's to send everybody on the 747 to a watery grave.