The 13: Fall

by ROBBIE CHEUVRONT

  “They’re saying no. The Chinese own them as much as they do us. Probably worse. They aren’t going to lift a finger to help us out. They don’t want to be next. And neither does anyone else. They’re all waiting to see if the world’s greatest superpower falls. Listen, I need to go. You two find Marianne Levy and bring her to me. And bring her alive. Don’t you two dare kill her before I do. You understand me?”

  “Understood,” Boz said.

  The line went silent.

  Ten minutes after the call, Boz and Taylor sped through the streets of Mumbai back to the plane. It was a short drive, but it felt like an eternity. Neither one said much on the drive.

  As they pulled up to the tarmac, the plane was already out of the hangar. They got out of the car and met the new flight crew. Boz handed Taylor her bag from the backseat and then grabbed his own. She was halfway up the stairs when he called to her.

  She turned around and stopped. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t go with you.”

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “I can’t go,” he said. “You heard Jennings. It’s going to take our Navy more than a week to get home. We need some help.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “England is the only country with a military that can help us right now.”

  “And Jennings said they’re leaving us high and dry. We’re on our own.”

  “Maybe not. I know some guys there. Maybe I can change their minds.”

  She walked back down the small set of steps and stood inches away from him. “Boz, this is crazy! Get on the plane. Marianne Levy is responsible for this. She needs to pay.”

  “And she will. You’re more than capable of finding her and bringing her back. I have a good shot at getting our boys some help quickly. I’m not going to sit back and do nothing.”

  She sighed and stepped back a few feet. “And how are you going to get there?”

  “Give me the sat-phone.”

  She stared him down for a few seconds, but he wasn’t budging. Finally she reached inside her bag and tossed him the phone. She watched him dial the number and wait for the call to be placed.

  “Mac, this is Boz…. Yeah…. You still in Surat?” He listened for a second then said, “Good. I need a pilot and a plane…. Mumbai….” Then, “London…. Great, I’ll be waiting for you.”

  He hung up the phone and looked at her. “Old friend who owes me a favor. He’s going to come get me. I can be in London by morning.”

  Megan threw her hands up in the air. “They’ve already said they’re not helping us!”

  “They may have said no.” He smiled. “But I know a guy who can change their mind.”

  “I can’t go chasing after Marianne by myself. I need your help.”

  “No you don’t,” he said. “I’ve watched how you handle yourself. Go get her. Bring her back. You’re right. She needs to pay for what she’s done.”

  He pointed for her to get on the plane. She realized she was on her own for this part. And a whole new set of emotions began to take hold. How was she going to bring Marianne in by herself?

  As if Boz were reading her mind, he reached up and squeezed her shoulders. “You’re not just a computer technician, Megan. You’re an FBI agent. And a very good one, at that.”

  Boz was right. Even though her time in the field had been minimal, she was more than capable of doing this. And if Boz could somehow get help, he had to do it. She couldn’t stop him.

  She set her jaw and nodded to him. She turned and walked up the small set of stairs to the plane. The flight attendant took her bag and closed the door behind her.

  She leaned into the cockpit and said, “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER 62

  Jennings rode inside the armored SUV with Director Preston and Bob Sykes, the secretary of the Navy. The other heads of the military, along with the Joint Chiefs and President Walker, were in cars behind him, along with half of the Cabinet. The Speaker of the House and the other half were two cars back and had two separate escorts. Somewhere in the midst of the convoy, an armored medical van carried the fragile body of President Grant and the First Lady. With the attack, it was decided that any type of air travel was too dangerous. Even for Marine One.

  With Vice President Walker having become President Walker, there was a vacancy in the office of vice president until Walker could appoint someone. Therefore, Speaker Cunningham was next in line for the presidency, should something happen to Walker. And so, as President Walker was being taken away to the presidential bunker in Virginia along with half of the Cabinet members and President Grant, Cunningham and the other half of the Cabinet were being moved to a secondary facility in northern Pennsylvania. As the convoy sped up the ramp onto the beltway, the two sets of cars split and went in their designated directions.

  Prior to leaving Washington, President Walker had gone on television and given a statement. The country was being attacked, and people were asked to take refuge wherever they could find it. It was suggested that people flee the major cities and prepare themselves for the worst. He made no attempt at reassuring the people that the United States would survive this attack. Jennings thought it was a cowardly act, but in all reality, he knew the president was right. No point in trying to sell false hope.

  As he suspected, people were panicking and trying to evacuate the city. Cars were jammed bumper to bumper in both directions. And that was the report coming in from around the entire country, as news came in of the advancing Chinese troops. The small number of US troops still in the States had already deployed and were being engaged. For the first time since the Civil War years, the United States was at war on its own soil.

  As the truck hugged the shoulder of the packed freeway, Jennings held the phone to his ear, listening to Keene’s warning.

  “Call them back right now! And get the Navy back here!”

  He hung up the phone, knowing that Keene was right. Sykes and the Joint Chiefs were adamant about running out to meet the Chinese. But the reality was, there was no great concentration of troops anywhere in the country. The 101st was running on a skeleton crew; Parris Island and Fort Benning were primarily training bases. And though they did house the majority of the remaining US troops, they could only cover so much territory. The entire country was a giant sitting duck. Sykes had been candid in telling him there was no chance of mounting an offensive against the Chinese army inside the US border.

  As of now, there was no sign of an immediate attack on the East Coast. But that wasn’t something the president, or any of them, were willing to take for granted. Walker had ordered every available ship and military personnel in the DC and Virginia area to set up a perimeter and stand watch over the East Coast from New York City to Norfolk. Those troops inland would try to hold off the Chinese until the Navy and the rest of the deployed troops overseas could return.

  In all actuality, their hands were tied. The idea of bombing the Chinese on American soil was not an option. There was no way the president was going to authorize the destruction of American cities or the death of its own citizens. And the Chinese knew that. A ground war was their only option. And that was bleak, at best. China had over three million foot soldiers. And word was coming in that at least three hundred thousand had already entered the country, either by land or air. It was also learned that a fleet of submarines had surfaced in the Gulf of Mexico and had laid cover for the arrival of an entire fleet of Chinese ships carrying more soldiers and military equipment. Pensacola, Mobile, and New Orleans had already been all but destroyed as the Chinese troops made ground and advanced north. Dallas, Kansas City, Chicago, and St. Louis had already seen air strikes from the FC-3 Chao Qi fighter jets, preparing the way for ground troops. The only hope for the United States was to establish a front that would keep them west of the Appalachian Mountains until they could figure out how to move forward.

  The lead vehicle swerved around the last few cars on the exit ramp and took off toward the secure bunker. Th
e convoy followed and sped ahead. Less than twenty minutes later, they arrived at the foot of the giant hill that housed the bunker. They radioed to the guard shack up ahead, so as to not be shot as they approached at such a high speed. They only slowed down briefly, long enough for the four armed sentries to identify the vehicles’ passengers. Once inside, they got right to work. Jennings spoke first.

  “Okay, people. Let’s hear it.”

  A first lieutenant approached and handed him a stack of printouts. “This is everything we have so far, sir.”

  Jennings took the copies and passed them around. The report was everything they already knew. The entire country was being invaded. They all took a seat around the giant conference table and looked to President Walker.

  “Sir?” Jennings said, trying to prompt a response.

  Walker just stared back, stone-faced.

  “Mr. President?” Bob Sykes said, raising his voice, obviously impatient with the president’s lack of decisiveness.

  “Yes, yes,” Walker said, rubbing his temples. “Okay. Obviously, no one saw this coming. So how do we fix it?”

  Jennings was instantly mad. Fix it? “Mr. President, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the Chinese have declared war on us, sir! You don’t just fix this!”

  “I wasn’t suggesting we could snap our fingers and make it go away, Director Jennings,” President Walker said.

  “Sir,” Sykes said, “our options are limited. Unless we are willing to literally level half of our country, the only thing we can do is engage them on the ground.”

  “Then let’s get to it!” Walker said.

  Sykes looked at Jennings with a contemptuous glance. No one had wanted to say it, but Jennings wasn’t about to play politics or exchange platitudes. Not when this was happening. He cleared his throat and started to speak. But Sykes beat him to it.

  “Mr. President, for the last twelve years, your predecessors have made it their life’s work to defund and dismantle this country’s defenses. President Grant has tried time and time again, since being in office, to reverse that. And I’m not sure what party you actually affiliate yourself with, sir, but you have done nothing to help him along the way. You people up on the Hill have acted like we’re invincible. You’ve been naive and ignorant. Everyone here knows that, as a senator, you sponsored or cosponsored at least four bills that reduced the size of our military. And now it’s come back to bite you. You’re no more fit to run this country than my niece! And if I and everyone else in this room had our way, you’d be charged with treason for what’s happening right now!”

  “You watch your mouth, Mr. Secretary!” Walker shouted and jabbed a finger at him. “I’m still the president!”

  “You’re an empty suit with a title!” Sykes yelled back. “You’re no president, sir.”

  Walker’s face began to redden, and his hands began to shake. He sat back down in his chair and buried his head in his hands. The room was silent for almost a full minute. Finally Jennings spoke up.

  “Look, Gray, we all know you didn’t ask for this. For goodness’ sake, man! None of us did. But, as you said, you are the president now.”

  Walker lifted his head and looked around. “Everyone, please leave the room. I need to speak with Secretary Sykes and Director Jennings.”

  Without a word, the room cleared, leaving only the three men. When they had all gone, Walker continued.

  “Kevin, Bob, you may not believe it, but I love this country. And yes, I may have been wrong on some policies, but I am willing to admit it. And I’m also willing to admit that I’m in over my head here.”

  Jennings looked at Sykes.

  “However,” Walker continued, “I will not stand for the two of you disrespecting this office. I am the commander in chief, and it is my responsibility to see that we do everything we can to stop these Chinese from taking over our country. So here’s what’s going to happen: I’m putting the two of you in charge. Jennings, you will directly oversee our entire operations. You will work with Bob and the Joint Chiefs. Bob, do you have a problem with that?”

  Sykes shook his head. “Not at all, sir. I think that is a great idea. We have the experience and the knowledge to get this done. Jennings is more than competent.”

  “Then that’ll be all. Please, if you would, leave me for a moment.”

  The two men nodded and turned to leave the room. As they made for the door, Walker called back, “Jennings. A moment please?”

  Jennings closed the door behind Sykes and waited.

  “You know,” Walker said, “I heard once that Grant actually wanted you to be his running mate. I would’ve thought he’d asked you.”

  “He did,” Jennings said. “I said no.”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” Jennings said, “I don’t do politics. Politics is what got us into this mess in the first place.”

  He closed the door behind him as he left.

  CHAPTER 63

  Keene continued to push the rented Taurus harder and harder, trying to make up time but to no avail. Ever since he’d left Houston, he’d been forced to try back roads, not knowing where he was going, relying on his own sense of direction. He only hoped he was still running parallel to the I-10.

  He pulled the little car over to the side of the road to think and try to get his bearings. He’d already passed Baton Rouge and was nearing the Mississippi border. With any luck, he’d be in Biloxi in a couple hours.

  He felt the rumble first. Then he heard it. Finally he saw the convoy cresting the small hill in front of him. Americans!

  Getting out of his car, he stood in the middle of the road, waving his arms. The lead vehicle stopped inches from him. A head popped out of the driver’s side door and shouted, “Clear the way, sir.”

  Keene reached into his back pocket to pull out his ID and was instantly met by ten M-16 assault rifles. “Easy, soldiers!” he said calmly, slowly holding his hand out. He flipped open the wallet showing his badge. “Jon Keene,” he said. “CIA. Where’s your superior?”

  The young man who’d been driving the lead truck eased out of the vehicle and approached him, taking the wallet and ID. He examined it for a moment then tossed it back to Keene. Turning to his men, he said, “At ease.” The men behind him lowered their weapons. The young soldier trudged off to a few vehicles behind and came back with another younger-looking soldier.

  “What’s a spook doing out in the middle of Louisiana?” the new guy asked him.

  “Well, normally,” Keene began, “I’d tell you that’s classified. But I think we’re all a little past that now.”

  “Yeah,” the young man agreed. “I guess so. Name’s Kitterick, Paul. First Lieutenant, 81st Training Wing, Biloxi.”

  He shook the young man’s hand and said, “Jon Keene, CIA.”

  “Jon Keene?” Kitterick said quizzically. “I’ve heard of a Jon Keene. Heck, we’ve all heard of a Jon Keene. Real mean dude, former SEAL. Led some kind of Black-Ops team … What was it…? Oh yeah, START-6. You that Jon Keene?”

  Boz had tried to bring it up with him. Even Megan had asked a time or two. But that was a chapter of his life he hadn’t wanted to talk about. He had tried to distance himself from his military career. He was a CIA agent now. He had let go of that life long ago.

  The Specialized Tactical Assassination and Recovery Team—START-6—was the unit he and five others had been a part of together. He was the commanding officer of the team and answered only to the president. The unit had gained fame throughout the entire military. Until the ambush in Pakistan. All the do-gooders on the Hill had felt it necessary to bring their morality into question through hearings. And Keene had been their main target. He’d led the mission that had gotten four of his own men and six civilians killed. It was a mistake he should’ve been able to prevent. But he hadn’t. He’d missed it. He’d disappeared for almost four months after that. Until Jennings found him. The unit had been disbanded, Jennings had told him. And he wanted Keene to come work for him and th
e CIA. That was a long time ago, and he’d tried to forget about it ever since.

  “Hey,” Kitterick said, jarring him back, “you that Jon Keene?”

  “I used to be,” Keene answered. “Where are you guys headed?”

  Kitterick smiled a broad grin and turned to his men. “Hey, fellas! We got us a real celebrity here! This here’s Jonathan Keene. The Jonathan Keene! START-6!”

  The men broke into a round of whooping and hollering, with a smattering of applause.

  “Keesler was hit about two hours ago. Took out everything. We’re about all that’s left.” He pointed to the fifty or so military vehicles, carrying roughly four hundred men. “We’ve gotten word, through radio, that just about every base we got between the Rockies and DC was hit. There are some small pockets of guys left in each base. Everyone’s trying to mobilize and head to the rally point.”

  “Where’s that?” Jonathan asked.

  “101st Airborne, Fort Campbell.”

  “Why there? Why not Fort Benning?”

  “Benning got hit super hard. The Chao Qis. But they’re going to be okay. We just can’t get there. The whole I-10 is destroyed behind us. North up the I-59 is the only option we’ve got. Fort Campbell’s the next largest base we got west of DC. Pretty much all the major cities west of there have been attacked. We all figure Fort Campbell is high up on the list. You should come back with us, Captain,” Kitterick said.

  “Can’t,” Keene said. “My orders are to get back to Washington.”

  “Well, you can’t go that way,” Kitterick said. “Like I said, everything behind us is bad. It’s a miracle we made it through. No way you’re getting through in that!” He pointed to the beat-up Taurus.

  Keene looked around, trying to weigh his options.

  “Tell you what, Captain,” Kitterick continued. “Chain of command in this United States military is jacked up one side and down the other. Most of us don’t know who’s in charge. Half of the men I’ve talked to have lost most or all of their superior officers. When the Chao Qis hit, they targeted officer’s quarters and command centers. The communication we’re getting from Washington is minimal. You’re the highest-ranking officer in any division I’ve heard from. Anyone who’s actually got some rank is overseas. And until they get back to bail our butts out, you’re our best hope of figuring out what to do here. So how about you ditch the go-cart and jump in? You can take the I-40 once we hit Nashville and head to DC if you still want to.”