Standing Before Hell's Gate

by William Alan Webb

  Overtime Prime

  0619 hours, April 29

  The first thing Tom Steeple did on the first morning he awoke as commander of Operation Overtime was to order everything cleared from Nick Angriff’s office except for the furniture. He wanted a Spartan office in which to begin his tenure at the helm of the Seventh Cavalry, and he wanted it by precisely 0800 hours, by which time the work had better be finished so he could broadcast to the brigade.

  Sergeant Major Schiller directed the activities, but most of the actual work was done by Corporal Diaz with help from a few technicians in the Clam Shell. Rather than carry everything down the long ramp to the ground floor, they piled it on the back side of the platform that encircled the Crystal Palace, near the coffee setup. Mostly it was files and papers and computer equipment, but there were a few personal photos and Angriff’s most prized possession: his humidor. That Schiller directed Diaz to carry downstairs and hide in a closet.

  Steeple still had only the uniform he’d worn when he’d arrived at Overtime and found himself under arrest, and at first no one even knew where it was stored. A frantic search two days before had turned it up in a little-used storeroom, crumpled and wrinkled, under his shoes. Fortunately McComb had had it cleaned and pressed before he was released from the stockade, but he was still angered at what he considered disrespect. Schiller also found him an ACU uniform to get by with, but Steeple ordered his personal uniform cleaned a second time and delivered to his quarters by 0530 that morning. The laundry took longer than expected and when it arrived at 0537, he chewed out the hapless private who’d brought it. Steeple never shied away from shooting the messenger. He believed it increased efficiency.

  Steeple was not a man to make impulsive decisions, so when, while shaving, he decided to leave a small mustache on his upper lip, it surprised him more than those who saw it. Tilting his head this way and that when viewing it in the bathroom mirror, he thought it lent him a certain joie de vivre in the mold of Errol Flynn.

  Four Chinese MPs accompanied him on the short walk from his quarters, right next to the Angriffs’ apartment, to the elevators and up to the Clam Shell. All eyes turned to him and conversation stopped as he walked up the ramp to the Crystal Palace. He felt their animosity like a fog hanging over the headquarters, but it didn’t worry him; Steeple was used to being hated. As long as they obeyed his orders, they could hate him all they wanted.

  Once all of Angriff’s things had been removed, Steeple felt calmer, more in control, and more ready for the busy and important day to come.

  #

  Operation Comeback

  0724 hours, April 29

  When Corporal Duglach put through a call from the commanding general at Overtime Prime, Major General Schiller expected the slightly hoarse and Virginia-accented voice of Nick Angriff. What he had not expected was the smooth but nasal Midwestern voice of Tom Steeple.

  “Good morning, Colonel, how are you on such a fine morning? General Steeple here.”

  Schiller paused in confusion. “My current rank is major general, not colonel, and may I ask why you have been released from confinement? General Angriff must have had a good reason.”

  “I admit to being surprised, Bill. I would have thought someone from inside Prime would have alerted you to the new situation by now. Yesterday I took back the command that is legally mine, although I have no intention of bringing General Angriff up on charges. He was given a spurious document that misled him about the true nature of his position within my command. I still intend for him to be the commanding officer of Operation Overtime, and my second in command. And just as we originally planned, you will remain as the S-4, a job you are more qualified for than anyone else alive today.”

  “You did not answer my question.”

  “Did I not? What question was that?”

  “How did you escape confinement?”

  “I must tell you that I do not appreciate being interrogated by my staff, Bill. I will answer this one question for you, but never again treat me as anything except your commanding officer. I was released from my illegal imprisonment by some loyal patriots whose only desire was the good of the brigade moving forward.”

  As Steeple spoke, Schiller took the time to analyze his situation, which on the surface appeared to be serious. If Steeple had truly taken command of Overtime, then he commanded an overwhelming volume of firepower which the forces at Comeback couldn’t possibly oppose. After all, Operation Overtime and the Seventh Cavalry was the combat arm of American forces, while Comeback was the administrative portion. Making things worse, Schiller knew he couldn’t count on the loyalty of his own command, most of whom owed their position to General Steeple personally.

  On the reverse side of the problem, his orders from General Angriff said that only he, Angriff, or his designated successor could remove Schiller, and Steeple was not in that line. As far as Schiller could tell, Steeple had illegally seized control, thereby invalidating any and all orders given by him. So it boiled down to whether Schiller would fight for the command he’d been given, defending it from an illicit coup.

  “You have no authority whatsoever, General Steeple. You are under arrest awaiting a court-martial. I do not know what you have done with General Angriff, but your orders are invalid as far as I am concerned.”

  Steeple’s voice changed in an instant, from the collegial tone of a friendly fellow officer to that of an angry serpent, complete with sibilance. It struck Schiller that Steeple must practiced that very change for it to be so perfectly pitched.

  “It is a dangerous game you are playing, Colonel.”

  “I am not a colonel. I am a major general. I am also the commanding general of Operation Comeback until it pleases General Angriff or his legal successor to withdraw or make permanent those designations. Heretofore you will address me as such.”

  “I am very sorry you have made this decision, Bill. I genuinely liked you.”

  #

  0746 hours

  “Corporal Duglach, get Glide and Frosty up here on the double.”

  A minute or so later, Astrid Naidoo came in holding a squeezer of coffee, her eyes streaked with red. Even against her dark skin, the blue-black circles around her eyes were visible from across the room. “I’m sorry that I’m late, Bill.”

  Standing with arms folded, scowling in thought, he waved a hand to dismiss her concerns. “I just received a call from Tom Steeple. He has taken control of Overtime Prime.”

  “What?”

  “It is true. He ordered me back to Prime to act as Brigade S-4.”

  “What’d you tell him?”

  “I informed him that I would not be doing that unless ordered to do so by General Angriff.”

  She smiled at him.

  “Is that amusing?” Schiller said in confusion.

  “Yes, Bill, it is. In your own way, you told him to fuck off.”

  #

  Overtime Prime

  0800 hours, April 29

  Adder leaned back on the couch, reading the Congressional proclamation that promoted Nick Angriff to general of the army. He flipped it over, then felt the paper and sniffed it. “Seems legit,” he said at length. “Although it’s impossible to know for sure. But I get where Schiller is coming from. If he believes this is real, then it puts Angriff in charge.”

  “That is not my concern,” Tom Steeple said. “I reject any legitimacy from such a document out of hand. What I need to know is how such a thing got in here in the first place. If the timeline of events that we think we know hold, true, that paper was signed two years after the Collapse.”

  “Which makes no sense.”

  “Correct, which is why we are having this discussion. Unlike our friend Nick Angriff, I am not so sanguine about latent threats from within this organization. But whoever injected this spurious item into the situation needs to be ferreted out and their motives discerned. You have authorization to do whatever is necessary to accomplish this mission. Are we clear about what you are to do?”


  “Very.”

  Steeple nodded. Seconds later, a knock at the door was followed by him calling out, “Enter!”

  Sergeant Major Schiller stepped into the office and stood at attention. “Colonel Santorio says everything is set up and ready, General Steeple.”

  “Simultaneous broadcast to Overtime, Comeback, and all units in the field?”

  “As you ordered, sir.”

  “Very well.” The general looked back at Adder. “Are you ready?”

  The big former Zombie stood and hefted his rifle. “Ready for anything.” He stepped onto the platform and took up position atop the ramp, beside the four Chinese guards.

  “Colonel Santorio will make the introduction from her post in the Comm. Center, then you push in on that big white button and you’ll be patched in.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant Major. You wait outside.”

  Steeple pulled the microphone closer and cleared his throat. A squeezer of water sat near his left elbow and a mug of tea to his right. This was it, the moment his entire professional life had been building to, and for one of the few times he could recall, Steeple was nervous.

  #

  “Hey, Toy, hand me those vise grips.”

  Joe Ootoi started to jump off the rear of Joe’s Junk to fetch the requested tool, but stopped when Morgan Randall appeared from the door leading into the base interior. She’d heard the request from her mechanic inside her tank, found the vise grips among a table full of other greasy tools, and passed it up to Toy, who handed it down into the interior of the tank.

  “What’d the doctor say?” Joe asked.

  Randall shook her head. “He said I’m pregnant.”

  The sweaty face of the mechanic they’d nicknamed Oscar popped up from inside. “I told you that before anybody else. Does that make me a doctor, too?”

  “Oscar, that makes you—”

  The conversation stopped when a voice rang through the complex through the overhead loudspeakers. “Attention all ranks, this is Colonel Santorio. Stand by for the commanding officer.”

  Toy and Randall looked at each other. “Your dad’s back already?”

  She shrugged. “No idea.”

  The mike keyed on again, and it was still Santorio’s voice. “General Thomas F. Steeple.”

  Randall’s face whitened. Without knowing it, she bit the knuckle of her left index finger.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of Operation Overtime, Operation Comeback, deployed members of the Seventh Cavalry Brigade, both civilians and military, and all of our esteemed countrymen wherever they may be, in accordance with long-standing plans made before the calamity which temporarily interrupted the proper governance of our beloved republic, known to us all as the Collapse, as of this day I have officially taken control of all United States military operations worldwide.

  “I am forever indebted to General Nicholas T. Angriff and have nothing but the highest respect for this outstanding officer. General Angriff has done a remarkable job in my absence and your record in combat is in the finest tradition of the American armed forces. I assure you that under my command, risking your lives in furtherance of our mission will never be done without grave consideration. To that end, moving forward I hope to have more allies in our mission to rebuild the United States and fewer enemies. We have, therefore, opened negotiations with the Chinese government in place in California, to find mutual ground for the resolution of our differences. In furtherance of that goal, I have invited them to send representatives to our forces in the field, to Operation Comeback, and here, to Operation Overtime. If you encounter them, you are expected to show them the courtesy due to a potential valued ally.

  “I demand and expect the same loyalty that you have so far given General Angriff as together we march confidently into the future, a future that will see the rebirth of a new and better United States of America. I know that I can count on all of you to help me fulfill this sacred task.”

  #

  The mechanics’ station was at the far end of Motor Bay B. As soon as the announcement ended, voices echoed through the vast chamber as people tried to make sense of what they’d just heard. Ootoi and Oscar exchanged the universal look for what the hell? Morgan Randall stood like a wax statue, barely breathing as she tried to register the words. Then she took off running for the elevators.

  #

  Nikki Bauer looked up from the couch where she sat with Janine and Cynthia Angriff as her sister Morgan almost ran into the room.

  Hands on knees and panting, Morgan looked up. “I’m sure Daddy’s all right, Mom,” she said.

  “Yes,” her mother said with the smile she always wore in times of trouble. She was pale, with dark circles under her eyes. “I’m sure that he is. General Steeple was good enough to send word that he is in good health and still with his men, although being detained until his exact status can be worked out.”

  “What does that mean, Momma?” Cynthia said in a voice that sounded surprisingly young. At that moment, Nikki realized how much of an age gap existed between them. On impulse, she put her right arm around her youngest sister and hugged her.

  It was all surreal to Nikki. Nipple wouldn’t have sat there empathizing with and comforting others. Nipple would have sprung into action and probably shot her way into the Crystal Palace, either to die herself or kill Steeple, Adder, and their entire cabal. But Nipple wasn’t there. Nikki was. She was angry. She could feel something she knew to be anger, but it was different from the rage she had lived with all of her life.

  “It means he’s a prisoner,” Morgan said. The matter-of-fact tone of her voice left no room for argument.

  “What do you think they will do with him now, Morgan?” Janine said. Sitting beside her, Nikki felt strength emanating from the woman she desperately wanted to mother her as she did her own children. The modulation of her voice gave the impression of implacable strength, but up close Nikki saw the slightest quaver in her chin.

  “I don’t think they’ll hurt him, Momma. Dad’s very popular with the troops and General Steeple has to know that. I suspect they’ll bring him here and try to make a deal with him to serve under Steeple in some capacity.”

  The crow’s feet around her eyes deepened as Janine smiled. “Thank you, sweetie. I believe everything will be just fine. Is there any word on Joseph?”

  “No. He and his co-pilot just vanished. Searches have turned up nothing.”

  “I would not worry about him, either. I do not know your chosen man well, Morgan, but I do know you, and you would not choose someone who was unable to take care of himself. He will return, you mark my word.”

  “Thank you, Momma. You’ve never been wrong about things like that.”

  “And I’m not wrong now.”

  #

  In the hallway outside, Morgan waited for Nikki to leave. Two sentries flanked the next door down, the apartment that Steeple had appropriated for himself, and they wore plain khaki uniforms with no insignia or names. Both eyed her like she was a butter-basted T-bone steak hot off the grill, behavior which the Army found unacceptable and cause for discipline.

  When Nikki stepped out, both men turned for a better look at both of them. “Who are those creeps?” Nikki said.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never seen them before, but that’s where Steeple lives now.”

  “Oh…”

  “Let’s move down the hall.”

  The corridor curved and they stopped when out of eyesight from the guards. Both women knew that cameras still watched them, but that was different from enduring leers at close range. They kept their voices down anyway.

  “What have you heard about all this?” Morgan asked.

  “I was in the weapons room a little while ago when Steeple’s new head of security showed up, gloating about how things were going to be different from now on. I knew this guy from TFZ. He was leader of Third Squad for a while. His name is Adder… he and Nick hate each other.”

  “Green Ghost Nick or Dad Nick?”

 
“Brother Nick, but I don’t think Dad liked him much, either. He’s a whole new level of asshole.”

  “This is bad, really bad. I wish Joe was here. Or Uncle Norm… General Fleming. They’d know what to do.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “I can’t think of anything we can do, except stay alert. Once Dad gets back, we can try and come up with a plan. But they’ll be watching us, so be careful.”

  “All right.”

  “Are you gonna be okay?”

  “I don’t know. I think so, but… I don’t know.”

  Morgan noticed that Nikki’s whole demeanor had changed when she’d met Joe Ootoi. There was now a softness in her sister’s face that hadn’t been there before and just seemed out of place. The blue of her eyes was also paler somehow, as if they’d been backlit before and that light was now extinguished. Instinctively Morgan knew that Nipple would have sprung into action, reckless, violent action, but Nikki had no clue of what to do. For the first time, she found herself missing the psychopath a little bit.

  #

  Chapter 56

  Neither a wise man nor a brave man lies down on the tracks of history to wait for the train of the future to run over him.

  General Dwight D. Eisenhower

  Operation Comeback

  0919 hours, April 29

  “Did the entire base hear that?”

  “Yes, General, they did,” Astrid Naidoo said. “The officer on watch in the communications room said he didn’t realize he needed to clear an announcement from Prime before patching it into our system.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  “I don’t know, sir. He seemed sincere enough, but I don’t know any of these people. He may have done it from loyalty to General Steeple. I don’t think we could prove it, though.”

  “None of that matters now,” Glide said. “This office is a mousetrap. If that long hallway leading here is blocked, we cannot escape. We must evacuate to a more defensible location.”

  “Does anyone have any suggestions?” Schiller said.