The Olympus Device: Book Three

by Joe Nobody

  The convoy continued to motor on, the president’s closest advisor letting his commander steam in silence.

  Noah Rhodes hadn’t anticipated his boss having such a strong reaction, nor did he predict the seething rage against the Texan. From his assessment of the situation, the entire country owed Mr. Weathers a debt of gratitude. The fact that the POTUS didn’t see it in the same light was troubling.

  Noah had mentally prepared the president’s agenda for the next few days, but the anger and resentment resonating off the chief executive didn’t fit the plan. He doesn’t realize what the rest of the country is experiencing, Rhodes thought. He’s caught up in the bubble that always seems to isolate the Oval Office.

  “Sir, there are a few items that we need to address as soon as you’re feeling up to it. When we get to Bethesda, we need to meet….”

  The president flashed an irate look, stopping the conversation cold. “There’s only one task on my agenda, Noah. Bring in Durham Weathers, dead or alive, and capture that rail gun. Other than that, I don’t give a shit about anything else.”

  Upon arrival, the president was rushed inside, immediately taken to the private floor reserved for the Commander in Chief and his always-present entourage.

  A few hours later the president’s personal doctor exited the private suite, nodding to Rhodes as he entered the hall. “He's all right,” the sawbones announced to the anxious aide. “He needs to catch up on his sleep and chill out a little, but physically he’s in good shape.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Noah responded. “Can I see him now?”

  “Sure,” nodded the physician. “But I’ve got to warn you, he’s pretty grumpy… about the worst I’ve encountered in the 21 years I’ve known the man.”

  Rhodes nodded, “I hear you, sir. And I’m afraid I’m about to dump more rain on his parade.”

  Noah turned to two men sitting patiently nearby, “Ready?”

  Both nodded, standing to follow the chief of staff into the president’s room.

  The president actually smiled when Noah entered, sitting at a small table and drinking a glass of orange juice. That friendly reaction was soon overtaken by a look of puzzlement when the two strangers entered the room.

  “Mr. President, these two citizens are here representing a group of our leading corporations. May I introduce Mr. Tomkins and Miss Kingsley? I felt it urgent that we have a conversation with them as soon as possible.”

  Despite his polite smile and nod at the guests, Noah could tell his boss was simmering mad and near exploding. He’s not seen the half of it yet, Rhodes thought.

  “How can I help you?” the president asked, managing a neutral tone.

  “Sir, we represent a consortium of 48 of the Forbes top 50 companies in America. We have a letter for you, signed by all of our chief executive officers or chairmen.”

  Tomkins reached inside his jacket, producing the two-page document, and handed it to the clearly annoyed president.

  “Folks, I don’t mean to be insensitive, but can’t this wait?” the Commander in Chief asked without looking at the document.

  Tomkins stepped forward and replied bluntly. “No, Mr. President, it can’t wait. Please read the letter, sir.”

  Noah thought for a moment his boss was going to toss the two lobbyists out on their ears, or at least try to. He was greatly relieved when the president reached for his reading glasses.

  The letter was a single paragraph, the remaining paper occupied by dozens of signatures. As expected, the politician flushed cherry-red halfway through the text.

  When the most powerful man in the world slams a document down on a tabletop, most people jump, or at least become apprehensive. Neither of the president’s visitors flinched.

  “This is preposterous!” the president shouted. “This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve seen in my entire political career!”

  Standing abruptly, the chief executive pointed a finger at the two visitors and continued his rant. “You can go back and tell your illustrious superiors that the office of the president of the United States cannot be bought, bribed, threatened, or blackmailed.”

  Again, neither of the two lobbyists reacted, not so much as a blink. “You’re wrong, sir,” Tomkins responded calmly. “Your office can be bought in the next election. If you want your party to ever raise another nickel of campaign contributions, you’ll hear us out. If you want Congress to cooperate in the slightest, you’ll listen to what we have to say.”

  More than the words, it was the man’s steadfast attitude that prompted the president to hesitate. “All right, young man, I’ll hear you out before I have the Secret Service toss you out of here.”

  “This business with the Olympus Device must stop, and it must stop now. Consumers haven’t been buying anything since all of the violence began. The car dealerships are empty; Amazon isn’t seeing any customers online; Google reports the lowest volume of internet traffic in 10 years. The malls, movie theatres, restaurants, and shops are completely void of customers. The markets have crashed. Mines and factories are closing. And unless you want to preside over the greatest economic catastrophe in the history of mankind, you’ll settle this matter and get back to a nice, steady-as-she-goes governance.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Then my clients will tear your administration and party to shreds. You will have hundreds of the wealthiest, most influential men in the world united and aligned against you. So be smart, Mr. President. Implement our plan and take credit for it. We don’t care how you frame it, or who gets the recognition. We want the American economy back where it was before all this rail gun nonsense began.”

  “I could turn the IRS loose on you people… I could fight fire with fire,” the president mumbled. But there was no conviction in the threat, and everyone in the room knew it.

  “Yes, yes you could, sir,” Evan came back. “But it wouldn’t change a thing. If you send us away without an agreement, there will be no less than five Congressional investigations initiated in the next 48 hours. We can promise that at least two of those will result in impeachment proceedings against you. Furthermore, four of my clients are global defense contractors, any of whom can give the Pentagon severe political headaches by hinting at graft and corruption. We will move every job, plant, and administration facility out of this troubled country. We will cease our support of universities and research labs. And that’s just the beginning, sir. My clients will not be denied.”

  The president shook his head as if he didn’t believe the words being spoken. “You would destroy this great nation over something as simple as a criminal matter? A terrorist?”

  “I will turn that question back around, sir. You would destroy America over an invention that holds such great promise? Let us solve your Durham Weathers problem. Let’s get this country back to work again. Everybody wins with our solution.”

  Noah watched his superior carefully, praying the man would listen to reason. As a political advisor and close friend, he’d worked with the president since his days as a state representative. He’d watched the rising political star make the right decisions in campaigns, relationships, and when dealing with belligerent political opponents. Can you pull yourself together and do it again? Rhodes wondered.

  They didn’t have to wait long for the president’s response. “All right, gentlemen. Let’s hear this stroke of genius that will solve the world’s issues, or at least those concerning my wayward countryman from the Lone Star State.”

  Agent Monroe drank from the cold cup of coffee more from habit than any need for caffeine. He’d managed one shower and a single meal that wasn’t from a bag.

  Glancing around at the small groups of FBI and police huddled here and there, the senior FBI agent had to wonder where it was all going to end. He knew nothing of the events in the District of Columbia, other than what the other men guarding the perimeter had passed along, and a few quick glimpses of the newscast while visiting the restaurant.

  “At least we’
re no longer the top story in the nation,” he said to Shultz. “The news hounds have bigger birds to flush, and that’s just fine with me.”

  Shultz nodded, “Yeah, that’s a positive, I suppose. There are a lot fewer civilians around, too.”

  Monroe scanned the area where dozens of locals had been gathering, the police roadblocks and barricades big news in this sleepy part of Texas. There were definitely fewer gawkers. “Probably all at home watching Washington burn on their flat screens,” the agent grunted.

  His half-hearted glance at the bystanders stopped, one woman’s face looking vaguely familiar. His heart froze when he realized he was looking at Grace Kennedy.

  “Shultz, with me,” Monroe barked, motioning with his head toward the woman outside the police ropes. “Do you know who that is?”

  It took the junior man a moment, but his head bobbing north and south signaled he did.

  “Miss Kennedy,” Monroe greeted, “how nice to see you again.”

  “Fuck you, Agent Monroe,” Grace hissed, remembering the days in the FBI man’s jail. “I’m not here on a social call. I’m here on business.”

  “Go on.”

  “Mr. Weathers is here… with his device. He wants to speak with the kidnappers, privately.”

  “What?” Monroe’s eyes opened wide. “There’s no way…. This is a federal crime scene. We can’t….”

  Grace didn’t let the man rant. “I’m asking nicely, Agent Monroe… a courtesy if you will. But, if you refuse, I can promise you Mr. Weathers will make it through to that house, even if he has to vaporize you and your men to get there. Is that clear?”

  “Are you threatening a federal officer, ma’am?” Monroe began ranting, his temper obviously taking control. “Because if you are, let me tell you one thing, I will not be bullied by…”

  This time it was Shultz who cut off his superior. “What does he plan on doing if we do let him through?”

  Grace met the gaze of the more sensible agent, “He plans to gain the release of his son.”

  “But how?” Monroe came back with a dissenting tone. “We can’t let him swap that damned device of his for the kid. Do you know how many people those guys in that house will massacre if they get their hands on that weapon?”

  Grace was icy cold in her response, her resolve unquestionable. “Mr. Weathers is well aware of that, gentlemen, and has no intention of turning over his property to those… those… criminals. Other than that, I’m not at liberty to divulge my client’s plans. Besides, from what I can tell, you’re in a standoff, Agent Monroe, and have been for over 24 hours. It doesn’t seem like you have any workable solution. Why not let Mr. Weathers try?”

  “Because if he fucks up, a lot of people could die, or those men holding his son might end up with the Olympus Device. That’s why.”

  “He’s going in, sir. One way or the other. That’s his son in there, and he isn’t going to be denied.”

  “Then he’ll have to murder a lot of law enforcement personnel. I’m not letting him in,” Monroe responded steadfastly.

  “It’s your ass. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Grace replied, and then pivoted, marching off without a second glance.

  Monroe was furious, turning to Shultz and snapping, “Arrest that bitch… threatening a peace officer, interfering with a police investigation, and….”

  “Sir,” Shultz replied calmly. “Are you sure you want to do that? From what I’ve been hearing, the word out of Washington is that Weathers actually stopped the coup attempt. Do we really want to arrest the lawyer whose client might be a national hero?”

  Monroe didn’t answer for a moment, so Shultz continued, “Besides, sir, don’t we have enough on our plate at the moment without worrying about pissing off Weathers even more? Let it go, sir. Seriously. It’s not the right time or place.”

  Grace did indeed glance over her shoulder on the way back to the SUV, wondering if a dozen FBI agents were preparing to arrest her on the spot. It was with no small amount of relief that she drove off, still a free woman.

  They had checked into a hotel some 30 minutes away – it having taken all of her persuasive powers to convince Dusty to remain behind and chill while she went to see how the FBI negotiations were developing. It had been quite the surprise to run into Shultz and Monroe.

  As she drove, Grace tried to figure out how she was going to handle Dusty’s response. Given his mood, she half expected him to rush off, rail gun in hand, and blow a hole through the law enforcement lines. She couldn’t let that happen.

  Deciding to take an enormous gamble, she inserted the battery in her cell phone and booted up the device. A few minutes later, taking a deep breath to calm her voice, she dialed Noah Rhodes’ phone number.

  Given the damage inflicted on the White House, it was a bit of a surprise when the same female voice answered. “Mr. Rhodes’s office.”

  “This is Grace Kennedy. I need to speak to Mr. Rhodes most urgently.”

  “He’s not here at the moment, Miss Kennedy, although I’m sure he’ll want to speak with you. Is there a number where he can call you back?”

  Again, Grace hesitated. Was this a trap? Would the White House immediately try to trace her whereabouts via her cell? She decided to chance it. “Yes. He knows my cell number. I’ll wait 15 minutes for his return call.”

  Her phone rang in less than 11 minutes.

  “Miss Kennedy, I’m so glad you called. We have a lot to talk about. The president is getting ready to go on television and explain to the nation the service Mr. Weathers performed for his country last night.”

  “That’s fantastic news, Mr. Rhodes,” she said, genuinely surprised at the report. “But before we go into all of that, I think there is a more urgent issue that you can help me address.”

  “There is?”

  Grace went on to explain the situation in Austin, the president’s chief of staff listening without comment.

  “So you want the Commander in Chief to order the FBI to allow Mr. Weathers through?”

  “Yes. It will save a lot of lives.”

  “And if the men holding Andrew get the better of his father? If they get their hands on the Olympus Device?”

  “Then I suggest you bomb Lake Travis… a lot of bombs… just like the hit on the airport outside of St. Louis.”

  “Can you give me 10 minutes, Miss Kennedy? I need to speak with the president about all this.”

  “Yes, I can hold him off that long.”

  In reality, Grace didn’t do anything but take the long route back toward the hotel. Rhodes, good to his word, dialed back.

  “Mr. Weathers will be allowed to pass through the law enforcement lines in 30 minutes. Now, ma’am, could we talk a little bit about our new national hero? The president is getting ready to address the nation.”

  The spicy aroma of Chinese take-out filled the hotel room, Mitch and Dusty dipping into the cardboard containers with white plastic forks.

  The younger Weathers started to comment on the noodles, only to be hushed by his older brother. “The president’s coming out. Shhhhh… I want to hear this.”

  The news cameras switched to an image of a doorway, several serious looking men with sunglasses on both sides of the opening. The bottom of the screen informed the viewers they were looking at Bethesda Naval Hospital.

  “We’re expecting the president to emerge from the hospital at any moment. Aides have informed the press corps that the chief executive will be making a few, brief comments regarding the events of the last few days,” the announcer’s voice explained.

  There was a bustle of motion around the entrance, and then four more men came hustling out, followed by the president of the United States.

  The Commander in Chief waved to the cheering crowd, smiling as if nothing had happened. “He’s trying to reassure the public,” Mitch snapped. “Probably going to take credit for defending the Constitution and saving our democracy.”

  After greeting a few of the press corps, the politician stepp
ed closer to the gaggle of microphones being thrust in his direction. Two dozen voices pelted the man with questions, all shouted at once.

  Waving down the throng’s inquiries, the president announced, “First of all, the excellent doctors here at Bethesda have pronounced me fit as a fiddle. Secondly, I want to express my condolences to the families of the brave men and women who made the ultimate sacrifice in defense of the White House two nights ago. They will not be forgotten.”

  The president paused to show remorse, but the press wouldn’t let the moment play. Again, a chorus of questions flew through the air, none of them intelligible.

  The president held up his hands, quieting the mob of reporters with a stern look. “And finally, in a few minutes, I’ll be signing a full presidential pardon for Mr. Durham Weathers.”