America's Trust

by McDonald, Murray

  Being the Fourth of July and a Saturday made no difference. All leave had been cancelled as the biggest news story since the twenty-four hour seven day news station had come into existence was playing out before them. The technician appeared within minutes, carrying a standalone laptop totally unconnected from any servers linked to the network. The laptop revealed nothing untoward and it appeared all the DVD contained was a video file. Just to be safe, the reporter requested to borrow the laptop just until he had viewed whatever it contained. A hardcore sex movie or worse was not something he was keen to have linked to his own business machine. The techie took the hint and left.

  The reporter hit play.

  The screen changed to a time stamped image of the ocean, the person holding the camera held up a newspaper to confirm it was the date that was showing at the bottom of the screen. The image panned from the newspaper across an expanse of ocean to an aircraft carrier. The image zoomed in on the number painted on its side and the flag on the ship. The numbers were easily visible as 063 and the flag clearly visible as the Russian flag.

  The reporter typed ‘063 aircraft carrier’ into his computer and the top hit was the Wikipedia page for an Admiral Kuznetsov. He really didn’t see the big deal. It wasn’t like the world didn’t know the Russians had an aircraft carrier. As the aircraft carrier passed by, the image swung around to three red and white checkered water towers. The image then bounced around for a few minutes before it settled on a street sign on a deserted and rather neglected street. The sign pointing to a small collection of outdoor shops clearly read Midway Mall.

  Armed with the information he had, it didn’t take long to discover that no Midway Mall like the one in the video existed, certainly not in the United States. It was only after considering the name a little further he entered Midway Islands into his search engine. The scenery certainly fit. A further search of water storage tanks revealed the three very recognizable tanks from the video.

  The time stamp showed twelve hours ago. He really didn’t get the relevance. The Midway islands were in the middle of the Pacific. Big deal. He set it to the side, just as almost every other network reporter who had received the same video had done. He had more pressing news to work on. The Russians had held a press conference to complain about the building of a secret runway on their islands. They had informed the world they were going to destroy it. Unfortunately and rather embarrassingly for them, poor weather had ruled out the bomber strike that they had planned for that morning. Having made such a big deal about the ecosystem and how fragile it was in the area, they had no option but to wait. Missiles would risk damaging the surrounding wildlife.

  He finished his piece to camera and considered the Midway footage again. He really didn’t see an angle or reason for it to be aired but sent a copy to the newsroom editor with a note about his findings. He’d let her decide. Little did he know, his research and the footage would start a war in less than two hours.

  Chapter 55

  Jack woke up before the alarm. In fact, he had been awake most of the night. His call with President Chernov with regard to the runway had niggled at him throughout the night. It didn’t make any sense; the arctic island they were talking about was barely a couple of hundred miles from a chain of Norwegian islands very similar in climate and structure. If they wanted a runway, they’d have just built one there.

  He had asked the National Reconnaissance Office to treat the area as a priority and a number of KH-11satellites had been redirected to gather as much information as they could. So far, they had uncovered the same as the Russians. The runway was well camouflaged but if you knew it was there, you could see at least part of it. As Ilya had stated, the US flag was in fact flying and to add to the problem, it looked as though it should have been camouflaged and the netting had been blown aside.

  He had left explicit orders that should they uncover anything further he was to be disturbed. He knew Ilya was on shaky ground in Russia. Covering up the B2 bombing of the Kremlin would have cost him significant political clout and certainly put him at loggerheads with his military. A blatant disregard for the sovereignty of her land was not something the Russians would take lying down. Jack needed an answer and quickly.

  Too distracted for the gym, he grabbed a sandwich for breakfast and made his way to the Situation Room. All was quiet. Updates were constantly streaming through on the screens. News footage continued to show the orderly lines forming at supermarkets and gas stations with the rather disconcerting sight of armored personnel vehicles watching over in between their almost constant coverage of the military build-up. As the news channel broke to ads, Jack noticed that the usual medical and fitness ads had been replaced by top named brands. Viewing figures drove ad spending. If the big boys were spending on the News Channels it was because America was watching them. An ad for the Trust, hugely patriotic and proud to tell the viewers just how much they were behind the military and America, ‘America’s Savior, America’s Future’, it proudly proclaimed as the ad finished and the screen gave way to the Trust’s favorite line. Jack had an urge to throw something at the screen but was interrupted from those thoughts by Kenneth.

  “Good morning, Mr. President.” He entered the room, ushering away the analyst that was following behind him.

  “What was that?” asked Jack, looking at the analyst dejectedly walk away before the door closed and blocked the view.

  “An update for you, no news on the runway,” he said, quickly changing the topic. “The Trust students will be here shortly. Will you meet them in your residence or in the West Wing?”

  “We’ll see how the morning pans out,” said Jack evasively. He really wasn’t in the mood to entertain. “When’s the National Security briefing scheduled for?”

  “One p.m.,” replied Kenneth slightly awkwardly.

  “Why so late? I thought it was scheduled for ten?” Jack had clocked Kenneth’s discomfort.

  “I’m not sure. A number of attendees were unavailable this morning,” Kenneth lied. He knew exactly why it was delayed. He had delayed it himself.

  “It better not be because of these bloody Trust tours,” replied Jack, having a sneaking suspicion that was exactly why the security of their nation was being put at risk.

  Kenneth remained quiet. The president had nailed the situation on the head. Roger Young had requested that, as the sites the students were visiting were currently home to the nation’s most powerful men and women, it would be great if they could meet and talk to the kids who would hopefully be following in their footsteps. Although not a public supporter of either party, the Trust looked after the politicians that looked after them. As such, a failure to comply with Roger’s request may impact on their revenues or pension plans since many ex-cabinet members were well paid consultants or board members of Trust companies.

  Jack contemplated calling the meeting anyway, just to prove a point. But he was bigger than that. He’d make the point at the meeting. It certainly wouldn’t happen again, that was for sure. The Jack King that had been elected was back. It was no longer the Jack King mourning his wife and seeing out a very simple presidency - thanks to the Trust’s cash – that they were dealing with.

  “I’ll be in my study,” said Jack, leaving Kenneth standing in the Situation Room.

  Kenneth withdrew the photo the analyst had handed to him that was meant for the president; the runway was just visible in the arctic midnight sunshine. As per the previous photos, the difference with this one was a large area circled by the exceptionally diligent analyst. Others had looked and glanced over it thinking it was just a shadow on the water or a rock formation. The analyst hadn’t agreed. He had looked further and even gone to the trouble of measuring the mass. He had uncovered three possible matches of submarines that matched the dimensions he had predicted. It was a very large submarine and one of the reasons most had rejected it. At over five hundred feet long, very few submarines would fit the bill. But the list attached was just a little too close to the truth to let t
he president see.

  Kenneth went in search of the analyst, to whom he had promised he would inform the president about his findings. He had also sworn him to secrecy. The president would want to discuss the findings with the Joint Chiefs due to its highly sensitive nature. The analyst was, as instructed, waiting for Kenneth in the photo office, just a few doors away and unmanned, thanks to the holiday and it being a Saturday. Kenneth checked nobody was watching before entering the office. The analyst stood to attention when he stepped into the room.

  “We need you take this to Raven Rock and hand it personally to the chairman of the Joint Chiefs,” said Kenneth, putting the image and notes into an envelope. “You are to speak to no one between here and there. I’ll have a car ready and waiting in the pool for you.”

  The analyst snapped to attention and saluted proudly, a mid-level airman in the Air Force having such a critical mission and all because of his own discovery was almost more than he could have ever dreamed.

  Kenneth almost felt sorry for the young man as he left with his chest puffed out so proudly he could barely breathe. He just needed him out of the way for the next two hours. It could have been worse, he supposed. If Kenneth had been capable of killing him, he’d have done so without a second thought. But Kenneth wasn’t a killer; he left that to others. His own hands would remained unbloodied. At least that’s what he told himself. The simple fact was that he was too frightened to do the dirty work himself.

  His cell rang. The students had arrived. Kenneth’s heart began to race. This was it. It was actually going to happen. Knowing they had arrived and that everything was in place, he typed ‘Z’ into his cell and hit send. There was no going back.

  Chapter 56

  The boat rocked wildly and woke Butler with a start. He had been dozing on and off since Swanson went to catch some sleep. The effects of the valium overdose were still coursing through his veins. He was sitting just out of sight in the small galley that separated the bedroom from the deck area. The channel was coming to life. A large tourist boat had just passed them, heading out into the main channel. A noise from below suggested that it had also roused Swanson. She appeared shortly afterwards, a little more awake than she had been after eighteen hours at the helm.

  “Another beautiful day,” she said, looking up onto the deck and the sky beyond.

  “Bikini weather?’ asked Butler with a smile.

  “I think one eyeful was more than enough for a man of your age,” she joked back and laughed as Butler pretended to have been shot in the heart.

  “So what do we do now?” she asked as the laughter died down and the reality of more pressing matters lay before them.

  “I’m struggling. Even if we get to the White House, there’s no way in. Certainly not for us.”

  “And your secret route?” she asked. He really had told her everything he knew. The realization that she had ushered the president out of the way when she had arrested Butler blew her away. ‘I don’t even remember him,’ she had said. Butler had explained that the lack of hairpiece and the addition of glasses would have caught her off guard. That, plus the fact that you would never expect to see him walking along the street on his own. That in itself was his biggest disguise.

  “Waste of time, it’s in the wrong position. And you took the key for the apartment at the FBI offices.”

  “We can kick a door in.”

  “I agree but that thing isn’t a door, it’s more like a vault.”

  “So what, then?” she asked.

  “I don’t know but I’m nervous about today. The symbolism of the 4th of July is worrying. With everything that’s happened this week, it just seems a little too coincidental.”

  She looked at him questioningly.

  He glanced out of the window and was pleased to see a fairly substantial number of people making their way into the heart of the city. Even though the parade was cancelled it seemed the people were still going to party.

  “Back to plan A. We get lost in the crowd and play it by ear,” he said.

  She followed his gaze and saw the crowds walking and driving towards the National Mall, just as any normal Fourth of July. Quite right, she thought. It was a beautiful day and they had their independence to celebrate. The people were speaking. War or not, they had their freedom and liberty, and they were damned well going to celebrate it.

  They each washed and dressed as best they could for the situation. However, their attire was less than desirable. Swanson was in a pant suit, Butler in khakis and a button down shirt, clothes they had dressed in for a night’s work four days ago.

  “We should probably get some new clothes,” Swanson remarked, looking at the revelers in their shorts and t-shirts making their way down the streets towards the party and the White House.

  Butler couldn’t disagree. They stood out. That was the last thing they wanted to do.

  “Perhaps it is a bikini day after all?” he smiled.

  They grabbed everything they could that would help disguise them. One thing the boat did have to offer was hats and shades. Butler looked longingly at the assault rifles that sat there, itching to be taken. However, there was just no way they could carry them around without causing alarm and unwanted attention.

  Unarmed and overdressed, they left with a view to changing their clothes as quickly as physically possible. Their hats and shades would cover their identities enough that it would take somebody actually stopping them and removing their disguises to positively ID them. At that point, they’d know whether it was a fight or flight situation.

  Finding a store open on the Fourth of July with everything else that was happening in the country was not proving easy. Until they changed they did not feel confident about moving towards the White House. After walking west for half a mile, Swanson stopped. “This is a total waste of time, nothing’s open.”

  Butler nodded in agreement. They were just wandering aimlessly.

  “There’s a metro, do you think we should give it a try?”

  “It’s certainly busy enough to cover us,” she replied.

  “Our hats and shades will stop any facial recognition software picking us up if we keep our heads down,” he said knowingly.

  As they neared the station, Butler stopped. “That’s the Navy Yard station?” he asked rhetorically, the sign clearly stating that fact.

  “And?”

  “We must be near the Navy Yard.”

  “And?”

  “Did I ever tell you about my brother Mike?”

  “In the couple of days I’ve known you, funnily enough, with everything else going on, that’s not come up, so no,” she replied sarcastically.

  “Well Mike had a daughter, my niece, you know the one I called from the diner?”

  Swanson nodded, wondering where he was going.

  “Mike was a Marine, killed in Iraq.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Anyway, he was a Medal of Honor recipient and although a couple of years older than me, we look very much alike.”

  “I’m still not seeing where you’re going.”

  “I’ve got a plan,” he announced and marched off towards the Navy Yard, which Swanson noted, was in the exact opposite direction they needed to be going.

  Chapter 57

  “Sir, I have a strange anomaly coming in from the West,” said the radar operator.

  The officer stopped what he was doing and immediately went to the operator’s side. They were operating at high readiness. All anomalies had to be double and triple checked.

  “That’s a commercial airliner on schedule and nothing untoward.” He pointed to the large dot on his screen. “They’re at about ten thousand feet, again expected as they are coming in to land. However, this haze around it has me confused, it’s as though they’re shrouded in a huge flock of birds or something.”

  The officer was nowhere near as adept at using the system as the operator but he really couldn’t see what it could be other than some type of shadow. The airlin
er was definitely there. They were receiving a perfectly good reading and their transponder matched what was expected on that route at that time.

  “Check with Air Traffic Control and see if the airline matches who it says it is. If it does, just write it up as a glitch.”

  It would be one of many glitches they would have recorded on that flight alone. Being in the middle of nowhere seemed to mean they got to test and prove every new piece of junk the military wanted to try out. He couldn’t complain too much, they did get to try out some really cool new gadgets, long before the rest of the Navy. However, given the current situation, he’d have traded reliability and accuracy for the all-new untested option. It seemed nobody had quite thought the process through; every one of the E2-Hawkeye aircraft at their disposal was a test system, all three having slightly different configurations of the same new concept. The one they had been using almost exclusively for the last few days had been the one that had shown the greatest reliability. The Trust’s new system had proved exceptionally good, extending the range of the system by over twenty percent but a significant reduction in low-level visibility was causing some concern.

  “Sir, the anomaly just spread and has accelerated!”

  The officer turned back to his operator. His screen showed the original commercial aircraft still on course to land, while the haze below it had moved forward and broken up into lots of small blurs.

  “How fast?”

  “Fighter jet fast!”

  “Shit!!! Warn Hickham!” shouted the officer, rushing back to his station.

  “This is E-2 Hawkeye 2. We have multiple inbound bogies! I repeat, multiple inbound bogies!” Fifty new targets appeared on his screen. Although far smaller, they were much faster. “Multiple missile launch! I repeat, missiles fired!!”