The Third Trumpet

by Anthony R. DiVerniero

  Chapter 46

  The speakerphone crackled as the five men and five women waited for the conversation to begin. Three fiddled with their expensive pens. Another tapped his finger. Two of the women examined their manicures as if unconcerned about the thousands of Americans who had died over the past couple of days. Their arrogant attitudes outweighed any beliefs they were wrong in their actions. They said nothing to one another. A beep followed by another echoed through the room. Two more individuals joined the conference. One of the callers cleared their throat.

  “Our idea of a new America has been destroyed. We knew this could happen, and another contingency will be discussed later. We must place the blame on DeLaurentis and Waldron.” The caller signaled to the other man to end the call. Dean Essex promptly disconnected the transmission. A dial tone crackled over the speaker.

  One of the women picked up her pocketbook as she stood and crossed her spindly arms. “Let’s start the impeachment process.”

  “Esther, do you think that’s a good idea?”

  With contempt in her eyes, Senator Boyle admonished the woman. “How can you be so stupid as to speak my name?” She walked over to the congresswoman and slapped her face.

  * * *

  Vatican City

  Giacomo smiled at the mention of Boyle’s name. “I got you now, you bitch.” He adjusted his seat at the piloting station. His drone had been aloft for thirty-three hours. He was exhausted as he stood and repeated, “I got you now, bitch.” The facial recognition software had tracked Esther Boyle as she entered the Eisenhower Executive Office Building through a side entrance. The electronic array housed within the RPV—remote pilotless vehicle—streamed digital signals to and from her person. The encrypted frequency hacked her cell phone—or, in the case of the senator, the three that she carried. Through a series of software commands, the phones became eavesdropping devices.

  The first twenty-four hours that Boyle had been under surveillance yielded no information. His conversations with Waldron were tense—he needed answers; they both did. Fighting had ceased except in a few outlying areas of Wyoming, but the country was in a panic. The commander in chief needed to capture and bring to justice everyone who had betrayed the land of the free.

  “Arthur, we have her. I’m sending the information to Jason, who will hand-deliver it to you. Be prepared.”

  “Oh, I will. Word is I will be impeached.”

  “I heard the same. Boyle is pushing for it.”

  “I will publicly annihilate them.”

  “How?”

  Giacomo’s question was ignored.

  “Any other accomplices?”

  “We pinged the phone numbers and identified eight of them. The rest appear to be dead.”

  “Giacomo, can you manipulate those remaining phones?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Be ready.” The president ended the call.

  Giacomo sat back. “What the hell does that mean?” He put the computer in sleep mode. He left the building to go visit his sister and wished that he could tell her he had proof that she was not involved. Will she recover? If she does, she will be one pissed-off lady when she hears about this.

  Chapter 47

  September 31, Two Weeks after the Attack on the United States

  The Swiss Guard exited the Vatican administrative building after delivering Giacomo a diplomatic pouch from the White House. Inside was a single sheet of paper with Arthur’s handwritten words: Congress meeting today. I hope you’re ready—let’s catch these bastards. Giacomo expected the communiqué. It was the seventh in a week. Waldron refused to speak via phone; he had become paranoid that factions in the government were listening in on his conversations. The general tried to ease his concerns, but the president rejected his arguments.

  Giacomo was prepared. The idea in theory was simple. He had instructed his software engineers to develop a program that bypassed the failsafe circuitry of cell phone batteries. The result was a thermal runaway that caused the lithium-ion battery to smoke, catch fire, and explode.

  Giacomo turned on the TV and punched a series of commands on the keyboard. A black, blue, and green test pattern appeared on the screen. Two seconds passed, and then an image of the House of Representatives chamber flashed on the monitor. He looked up when his office door swung open. It was Sergio, carrying two cups of coffee that he placed on the conference table.

  “Thanks, Sergio. Can you double-check the satellite relays? I ran the diagnostics on the drone—all systems good.”

  “Will do.”

  “I inputted the latitudinal and longitudinal coordinates in the flight management system as well. We need to be airborne in five.”

  Sergio acknowledged Giacomo. Four minutes later, the drone was aloft. The aircraft ascended to four hundred feet and hovered. The surveillance camera showed Washington, DC, in organized confusion. Helicopters patrolled the skies; the National Guard guarded the streets with M16 rifles across their chests; army tanks surrounded the White House and the Capitol. Giacomo reached for the remote control and increased the volume on the TV.

  The House of Representatives and the Senate sat in emergency session. Reporters flooded the Capitol. Speaker of the House Arnold Belmont was handed a note as a congresswoman from Alabama finished her statement in support of the president. Applause and jeers erupted as she returned to her seat. Belmont grabbed the wooden gavel. With three quick bangs, the opponents fell silent.

  “The chair recognizes the senator from Texas, Esther Boyle.”

  Protests erupted from both sides of the aisle. The Lone Star State politician approached the microphone to address her fellow politicians. She wasn’t afraid of being obnoxious; she’d dictate and cajole until she got what she wanted.

  “I apologize for my intrusion. I thank you, Mr. Speaker, for allowing me to express the Senate’s opinion on this sad day.” She paused, looking left, then right, to gather the attention of the audience. “My friends, what’s happened to our country? Our government almost overthrown because of our inadequate, ineffective President Arthur Waldron. The loss of countless lives in my great state of Texas is sickening.” She bowed her head for a moment and continued to play the crowd. “We have a commander in chief who under his own authority attacked our country, with catastrophic results. Without congressional approval, he recalled our troops from the European theater, leaving our allies to defend themselves. He provided no proof other than the writings of a dead man who’s purported to have had the ability to know the future. Now, one of his trusted advisers is the brother of Rio DeLaurentis, who financed the FFB.” She paused for dramatic effect as her dark brown eyes penetrated the tension-filled room.

  “It is time we demand the resignation of the so-called commander in chief. Should he not resign, I call on my colleagues in the House of Representatives to impeach Arthur Waldron so he may stand trial before the Senate. The charge? Treason. Our nation is on the precipice of collapse. We do not have the time or the luxury to be complacent. I ask you, my compatriots in the House, to indict Arthur Waldron today.”

  The Speaker pounded the gavel over the applause and boos of the congressional body as he called for order. “Thank you, Senator.” He glanced at his watch. “We will take a thirty-minute recess.”

  The partisan arguments would lay the foundation for the case of impeachment. The best-case scenario: a vote to oust Arthur later that day. In private meetings, Boyle incited party members. Her premise: immediate action would ward off their own losses in the election six weeks away. Would the party be able to put forth another viable candidate in the time remaining?

  * * *

  Giacomo muted the television. “The day is full of surprises.”

  “Why?”

  He rose from the console. The drone hovered on autopilot. “From what I understand, the protocol for impeachment excludes the Senate during the congressional vote
.”

  “I thought I would never see the day that the US government would collapse.”

  “Believe me, Sergio, the United States will not collapse. We won’t allow traitors to steal our freedom.” Giacomo pointed to the monitor. “Showtime.”

  The camera on the PRV zoomed in on Waldron’s armed motorcade as it drove down Pennsylvania Avenue. Meanwhile, inside the Capitol, Senator Boyle emerged from the south chamber to face a storm of reporters’ questions.

  “Senator Boyle, what prompted you to address the House of Representatives?”

  “It’s my duty as an American citizen to bring the facts to the House members. Waldron has got to go . . .” Her aide tapped her on the shoulder. Esther ignored the poke. The aide whispered in her ear. Surprised, she exclaimed, “What the hell is he . . .” The politician composed herself and then spoke into the assorted microphones. “Well, ladies and gentlemen, our president is on his way to the Capitol. Maybe he’ll resign.” The arrogant senator turned her back, walking away from the media as they scrambled to greet Arthur Waldron.

  Chapter 48

  Two hours later, the sergeant at arms made the announcement. “Ladies and gentlemen, the commander in chief, the president of these great United States . . . Arthur Waldron.”

  Cheers interspersed with hisses greeted the president. His head held high, he entered the room with authority. The vice president, who had arrived five minutes earlier, and the Speaker of the House leaned forward. Waldron shook their hands. The Joint Chiefs of Staff, Supreme Court justices, and all the members of the House were in attendance. In the visitors’ section sat Thomas Maro and, in an unusual precedent, the ambassadors from Russia, China, England, France, Italy, Germany, Saudi Arabia, Egypt, and the UN. Noticeably absent were the diplomats from Israel and Iran.

  Waldron was tired as he approached the podium. He perused the legislative body. A gavel sounded. The applause ceased, and the spectators settled into their seats.

  “Once again, we face what many would say is an insurmountable event in the history of our nation. Some of our own people—American citizens—have joined forces with the enemy to destroy the fabric of democracy. And we—you and I—allowed this to occur by not listening to the people.”

  His statement was met with boos from the floor.

  “The battle for our western states has ended. I’m proud to announce our military forces have captured the leaders of both the FFB and the Islamic fundamentalist group. Our swift action saved our democracy.”

  Applause surged, accompanied by a partial standing ovation. As the sergeant at arms banged his gavel, the president reached inside his jacket pocket. He pulled out a sheet of paper. His demeanor changed.

  “I have here,” he waved the paper violently at the group, “a report from the FBI and Homeland Security written twenty years ago, warning us of this threat. Against the wishes of the people, our Intelligence Oversight Committee, chaired by Senator Boyle, withdrew the funding for further investigation.”

  He had their attention. All eyes focused on the commander in chief. He rolled the paper into a ball and threw it at Congress. “This is what happens when we don’t listen to the people.” He shook his head, repeating, “We knew this twenty years ago, and we did nothing.”

  He again reached into his pocket. “This one? You know what this says?” His face ballooned to a bright red. His hands shook as he unfolded the sheet. “This is a list of names of those senators and congressmen who have committed treason against our country. In a few moments, those traitors will be identified.”

  The congressional body murmured.

  “It’s been claimed by Senator Esther Boyle that the late Rio DeLaurentis financed the FFB.” His eyes targeted Boyle. “I can tell you unequivocally that that claim is false.”

  The senior politician from Texas rose from her seat. “Mr. President, you are delusional.”

  Waldron said nothing as his eyes flashed to the ceiling. Five seconds later, several cell phones rang in different areas of the room, then ceased as suddenly as they began.

  * * *

  Vatican Conference Room, Moments Earlier

  Giacomo typed in the string of computer commands that would beam instructions to the synchronous satellite positioned overhead, which in turn would bounce the signal to the drone that hovered over the US Capitol. He knew he had just one chance to release the frequency to the cell phones of the traitors. The energy required would deplete the battery that kept the quadcopter aloft. In a controlled descent, the RPV would crash. One million dollars down the drain but a country saved.

  Giacomo hit enter. The rings of the traitors’ phones crackled through the speakers. A red warning sign illuminated the flight control panel.

  “Only 15 percent power left. We’re losing altitude,” Sergio reported.

  “Damn.” Giacomo typed in another command.

  * * *

  Inside the Capitol

  Waldron waited in anticipation as anxiety crept over his face. His fingers danced on the podium.

  “You’re nuts,” said the ex-governor of Connecticut, now a senator from New York. The president frowned at the man. The failed policies of the politician had caused his affluent state to declare bankruptcy. Waldron despised him and in his first presidential campaign had lobbied for the governor to be impeached. One of Waldron’s first acts in the Oval Office was to help restore Connecticut’s failed economy.

  The president’s nervousness showed. He glanced left, then right, several times at the assembled crowd. Then, the first traitor leaped from his seat: a congressman from Texas. Other conspirators jumped from their chairs. In an unusual sight, dense white smoke encircled the eight turncoats as an acrid smell pervaded the room. The legislator from Idaho’s pants erupted in flames. Boyle’s head swiveled. Giacomo’s plan had worked; the cell phones’ batteries had overheated.

  The commander in chief grinned. “I got you now, you bastards!” he yelled. Arms held wide, he pointed at the traitors. “My fellow legislators, these are the ones who have betrayed our democracy.”

  Confusion ensued. The representative from New York grabbed his phone as it smoldered. Hissing sounds emitted from the device. Too hot to hold, it dropped to the marble floor with a clatter. He tried to flee and was met with a blow to the face by the senator from Maine. With a thunderous clap, the doors to the room opened, and an array of military police charged in. The armed men flooded the aisle as a group of BOET surrounded the president, vice president, and Speaker of the House.

  Boyle tried to escape but tripped and fell on the floor. She struggled to stand, only to be stopped by a combat boot firmly pressed on her back. A soldier grabbed her arms and handcuffed her. Her last words before he forced her out the door were, “This is not the end. We will defeat you.”

  The remaining conspirators were apprehended under the protest of their innocence.

  Later That afternoon, the Speaker of the House, with the consensus of Congress, withdrew the call for the impeachment of President Arthur Waldron.

  Chapter 49

  Three Days after the Failed Impeachment Hearings

  President Waldron straightened his tie. Exhausted, he sat on a blue velvet couch in his residence. His wife, Amy, massaged his shoulders.

  “How are you doing?”

  “Better. At least I slept last night.” He placed his hand on hers.

  “Terrible news coming out of India.”

  “Yeah, I saw the photos . . . horrific destruction.” The president shook his head in dismay. “Our world is in a state of chaos waiting for the next catastrophe. Will we ever enjoy peace?”

  “Your press conference is in a few minutes.”

  “I can’t wait.” Waldron’s voice was heavy with sarcasm.

  “It won’t be that bad.”

  “I’ve heard that one before.”

  A Secret Service agent entered
the room. “Sir, time to go.”

  Waldron rose, gave his wife a kiss, and left.

  * * *

  Waldron’s face was drawn as he approached the podium that displayed the presidential seal. The White House pressroom overflowed, and with the air conditioner out of service, reporters fanned themselves with sheets of paper.

  “Mr. President, we’re happy you’re still in office, sir. How are you?”

  The commander in chief took a deep breath and answered the ABC reporter. “I’m tired, just like everyone, Henry. These last couple of weeks have taken a toll on us all.”

  “Mr. President?”

  “Yes, Marta.”

  “Senator Boyle and the other traitors—how soon will they be brought to trial?”

  “Not soon enough.” The anger on Waldron’s face began to surge. “With that said, I will allow our justice system to take the necessary steps to ensure they’re given a fair trial under the laws and provisions of our government. Yes, Louis?”

  The New York Times correspondent loosened his necktie. “Mr. President, has the Fighters for Freedom Brigade been destroyed?”

  “Yes. We captured the militant revolutionary leaders and destroyed their forty-two training camps.” Arthur reached for a glass of water.

  “What about the group MFP, sponsored by Tariq Kahn and ISIL?” The journalist scratched off the question on her pad.

  “The government of Pakistan captured and executed Kahn. The MFP is no longer a threat. However, we should always be aware there could be other attacks.” Waldron pointed to a man in the back of the room.

  “Mr. President, can you confirm for us how many Americans died?”

  Waldron took a deep breath. With a handkerchief, he wiped the sweat from his forehead. An aide offered him a statistics report; he waved him away.

  “Seventy thousand Americans died. Another forty thousand injured.” The numbers etched in his brain, never to disappear. He would be haunted until the day he died.