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by Richard Stephenson

  Max’s wife returned to find her home destroyed, which confused her since the rest of the neighborhood was just as it was when she left. Max had tried to dream up some elaborate lie, but just didn’t give a damn and told her the truth. To make things worse, the insurance agent would later laugh out loud in front of Mr. and Mrs. Harris when she understood that the hurricane had nothing to do with the damage, but rather Max’s laughable mistake. Max’s marriage was already on the rocks when his wife returned home. It took over a year to repair their home and Darlene made sure that Max knew how disgusted she was with him. She was pregnant at the time and only stayed with Max because she didn’t want to raise a baby on her own. Max had never been so humiliated in his life. His home survived a hurricane and was instead destroyed by his own stupidity.

  Max really hated hurricanes.

  Max was thankful that the Category 5 hurricane sitting in the Gulf of Mexico would do little to him other than bring some heavy rain. The first one took his childhood; the second almost ruined his marriage. He could not imagine what a third would do to him. He just wouldn’t be able to deal with it, not with the constant pain he was in.

  He had managed to secure a nice comfortable job at a small local police department and quickly worked his way up to chief, which wasn’t hard to do with only twelve officers in the department, the previous chief’s pending retirement, and Max’s overqualified sixteen years of law enforcement. He was an hour away from the busy city of Houston, but the little town he managed to settle in might as well have been Mayberry. He was happy to play the role of Andy Griffith and not have to worry about much of anything outside of minor traffic accidents and a domestic squabble from time to time. The hardest work the department had to do was keep the town clear of the waves of homeless people who tried to set up hobo camps around town on their way out of Houston. As long as the 6,447 citizens of his town didn’t have to actually look at the dirty bums, they were content to leave Max and his department alone. Chief Harris was actually kind of surprised the city police department even existed; the county sheriff’s office did most of the real work. When their quiet little town did actually fall victim to a major crime, the county boys would always swoop in, wanting to take over. They relished the excitement and Max was more than happy to oblige; the last thing he wanted to do was real work. After all, the Internet didn’t surf itself; someone had to look at strange porn, might as well be Max. The chief of police wanted as little responsibility as possible. He ran from trouble and had managed to hide from it quite well in his dream job.

  An hour later the pain was only a little better, and Max realized he wasn’t getting back to sleep. He played Modern Warfare 7 for about an hour then decided to shower and eat breakfast. He got to the station an hour early and relieved Elizabeth, the graveyard shift desk sergeant.

  “Morning, Chief.”

  “Morning, Elizabeth, anything happen last night?”

  “Not a thing. The phone didn’t ring, not one time.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.”

  Elizabeth handed her keys over to the chief. “You see the news on Maxine? Looks like your sister doesn’t like you very much. What did you do to hurt her feelings and make her stay away?”

  Max just stared at her, frowned, and rolled his eyes. He turned and limped off towards his office.

  “Oh, come on! Don’t be like that! It was a little funny! Get it? Max, Maxine? Your sister?”

  “Go home, Elizabeth,” Max said over his shoulder.

  Elizabeth Reed had known the chief for years and still had no idea why he was in so much. When things got really bad for him, he even used a cane. People knew to keep their distance when the chief pulled out that cane; it was when he was in the worst of all possible moods. She even knew that he constantly popped pills, a secret the chief had managed to keep from everyone except her. He actually did his “I’m eating Skittles so no one will notice me taking pills” trick when he collapsed into his office chair in the next room. Elizabeth knew from the day she met Maxwell that he was an addict; she had seen it before with her brother-in-law after his back surgery. While Max functioned well in his job; the pills never affected his performance. In fact, the chief was the smartest man Elizabeth had ever met. He was brilliant, resourceful, and had an encyclopedic knowledge of just about everything. It was a shame, though, that he was also lazy and had no ambition to do anything more with his life. Max was only forty-three, but the way the grumpy bastard acted he might as well have been thirty years older.

  Elizabeth obeyed her boss, heading home for some much needed rest. After changing into her pajamas, Elizabeth plopped down on the couch with her frisky little cat, Callie, and grabbed the remote to check out what was going on in the world. She flipped the channels until she found the latest update on Hurricane Maxine. What she saw made her push the cat off her lap and get dressed.

  “Sorry kitty.” Elizabeth pushed the brown and orange cat off her lap. “Momma’s gotta go back to work. Something tells me the boss ain’t gonna be happy.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  President Malcolm Powers sat at his desk in the Oval Office deep in thought. He was facing the most important decision of his second term. He knew that whatever he decided to do, many would consider it the wrong choice. His actions in the next twenty-four hours would have lasting repercussions that would be studied in the history books for centuries to come. One choice would make him hated by his own country, the other hated by the entire world. There was no middle ground. To help him arrive at his decision, he had done a lot of research on the end of the Second World War. More specifically, he studied President Truman’s decision to drop atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Malcolm truly believed that no president in the nation’s history had ever had to make a tougher choice. If Truman had not dropped the atomic bombs, the only remaining option was an invasion into the heart of the Empire of Japan along the shores of the island of Honshu. Such an invasion would result in catastrophic losses. Having the means to prevent it, Truman could not allow countless American lives to be lost. On the other hand, saving American lives came at the cost of taking Japanese lives and ushering the world into the Atomic Age. Malcolm wondered if Truman had any idea that his decision would result in the terrifying stalemate that would be the Cold War.

  The president felt he could give Truman a run for his money when it came to making a tough call.

  “Sir, the attendants of your next meeting are waiting for you in the Clinton Room,” a smooth talking female voice spoke from the ceiling.

  “Thank you,” the president replied. The A.I. program installed by his longtime friend, Howard Beck, was probably the first controversy of his short political career. The press had a field day with it. The American public blew the entire thing out of proportion. Many feared the A.I. would somehow overthrow the president and attack mankind like Skynet did in The Terminator. Others demanded it be removed for fear of it being hacked by Iran or North Korea. The experts knew just how impossible it was to hack into one of Beck Enterprises’ world-famous A.I.s. Tech giants all over the world tried every day to understand how the system worked, and none were even close. The technology was decades ahead of its time. The A.I.s gave the appearance of sentience; attempting to hack into one was like putting a knife to a person’s throat. It was hardly something that could be done without the A.I. realizing what was going on. The industry had predicted that true interactive A.I. was at least a decade away. Howard Beck proved them wrong. The final criticism about the White House A.I. was the only one that had any merit. The president’s critics in the Democratic Party despised Howard Beck for buying the presidency. They felt that Beck was somehow controlling the A.I. from his fortress in the Rocky Mountains and was Malcolm Powers’ puppet master. If the American public wanted Howard Beck running the country, he should have run for president himself. Malcolm often joked with his friend that he should have just put him on the ticket as his vice president just to shut them up. Finding humor to be a waste of time, Howar
d got the joke but didn’t laugh. Malcolm knew his friend wouldn’t last a day in politics; the billionaire recluse hated being around people.

  “Computer, inform the group that I will be with them shortly and ensure that they are comfortable.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The president stood, put on his suit jacket, and walked over to the mirror. A very long day was in front of him. Once he was pleased with his appearance, he fixed his tie one more time for good measure and began pacing around the room. He was ready to begin the meeting but decided instead to make them wait. He knew it was a petty power play, but he wanted to remind the men and women in the next room that he was their boss. Some of the most powerful people in the United States government, along with their egos, were in the next room. He enjoyed putting them in their place.

  Many of these same people were hardcore Republicans and couldn’t understand why their president had named his conference room after a Democrat. The former president had passed away the previous year from a stroke at the age of eighty. Malcolm Powers attended President Clinton’s funeral, along with the other former presidents because protocol demanded it. Protocol didn’t mean a damned thing to Malcolm. Bill was one of his closest friends. If the two men had made a career out of selling used cars, he still would have attended his funeral regardless of what protocol required of him. Malcolm not only attended the funeral, he was a pallbearer. He also stood at the gravesite in Hope, Arkansas, with his arms around his close friend’s widow and adult daughter, the current Governor of Arkansas.

  When Malcolm took office, many had expected him to give his former mentor a role in his administration. President Powers appointed former President Clinton as Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. The appointment didn’t surprise anyone; President Clinton had a Juris Doctor from Yale and had been a Professor of Law at the University of Arkansas. The only other president to serve on the nation’s highest court was William Howard Taft over a century prior. And like President Taft, President Clinton became the second president to swear the Oath of Office to an incoming president. The Second Inauguration of President Powers was an event that both men cherished.

  The Clinton Room was adjacent to the Oval Office in an area that once belonged to the president’s secretaries. After Beck Enterprises installed the A.I. in the White House, President Powers saw little need for secretaries. Fearing even more backlash from the media about the A.I., the secretaries did not lose their jobs. The four women were simply reassigned to other areas of the White House. There really weren’t any job openings in his administration; the women were simply given menial tasks and told to look busy. A few years later, all four of them left the White House with a glowing recommendation from their employer.

  Satisfied that enough time had elapsed, the president started towards the door; the A.I. calculated his direction of travel and opened the door for him. Every person in the room was on their feet and silent, the only exception being the occupant of a wheel chair, who straightened up in his chair as much as he could to show respect to the leader of the free world.

  President Malcolm Powers sat in the large chair at the front of the room, a gift from his mentor, who sat in the same chair for most of the 1990s. Once the president was seated, the others took their seats and gave the president their full attention.

  “Good morning. Thank you for coming on such short notice.” The president spoke in a deep solemn voice, setting the tone.

  The people in the room spoke over one another. “Good morning, Mr. President.”

  Wondering why they had been summoned, the men and women in the room looked at each other. Seated directly to the right of the president was the Chief of Staff, Stacy Reid. Next to her sat Secretary of Defense Charles Decker and FBI Director Warren Gill. Next to him sat Secretary of Homeland Security Winston Laferriere. The man sitting to the far right in the wheelchair was Director of the Central Intelligence Agency, Roberto Jimenez.

  Seated to the left of the president was the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Carl Moody. Occupying the next two seats were Fleet Admiral William Mack and Major General James Weygandt. The woman sitting on the far left making no effort to mask her hostility was Florida Governor, Lori Prince.

  “I’ve asked you all here today because I seek your counsel. We are at a crucial turning point in the war with Iran. Before the day is out, I must make a decision that will either bring the war to its end or extend the conflict for at least another year.”

  Everyone in the room settled into their seats. They finally knew what this meeting was about. The president had called them to Washington without a hint of the true purpose of the meeting. Everyone in the room had expected the meeting would be about Hurricane Luther once they discovered Governor Prince was in attendance. Governor Prince looked even angrier when she realized he was talking about the war and not the destruction of her home state.

  The president paused and seemed to lose focus. President Powers was not looking well. Seven years in the White House had taken its toll on the man. Unlike most of his predecessors, Powers had little political experience when he took the Oath of Office. Like President Eisenhower before him, Admiral Malcolm Powers left military service and was urged by many from both political parties to run for president. Admiral Powers, much like General Eisenhower, had no political affiliation. The Democrats were certain that his famous friendship with President Clinton meant he was a Democrat. The Republicans were certain the Admiral belonged in their party based on his political beliefs. Powers agreed to run on the Republican ticket and in 2020, he won the presidency in a landslide. Four years later he was a lock for re-election. The Democrats knew they had no chance of winning and persuaded a reluctant congressman to run in the losing race.

  The president looked to his former commanding officer, Fleet Admiral Mack, and nodded his head, indicating that he was ready for him to begin his briefing. The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff had gotten used to being overlooked. He should be the one giving the briefing, not Mack. He had accepted the friendship between the president and his former commanding officer. At first he took it as a personal insult, but after developing a close relationship with his Commander in Chief, he knew that it wasn’t meant as a slight.

  Fleet Admiral Mack began. “Thank you, Mr. President. We now have the Fifth Fleet underway to the Persian Gulf and the USS Enterprise and USS George Washington are underway to the Port of Gibraltar. I can report that in fourteen days we will be ready to begin the invasion of Iran.”

  Director Jimenez grunted and shifted in his wheelchair. “Why the delay, Admiral?” he asked in a raspy voice.

  “The Roosevelt Strike Group suffered major losses when they tried to enter the Mediterranean. The USS James Russell will need at least two months before she can get underway again.”

  The newly commissioned vessel had been named for the most decorated soldier of the Iraq and Afghanistan wars. The Medal of Honor winner single-handedly took out an entire insurgent camp before they could ambush a convoy of military police transporting prisoners. He suffered a fatal wound during the attack but managed to stay in the fight. His widow and children attended the launching of the massive vessel that bore his name.

  Iran had seized control of much of the Middle East in the last five years. When the rest of the world evicted Iran from the Society for Worldwide Interbank Financial Telecommunication, or SWIFT, in 2012, it had a devastating effect on the country. Without the use of SWIFT, Iran could no longer move money across its borders electronically. All of the oil in Iran just sat there. If Iran wanted to sell its oil to the rest of the world, the only way it could be done was by moving billions of dollars of physical cash across the border. No other country was foolish enough to make such a transaction in this fashion, so the obvious choice for Iran would be to give in to the demands of the rest of the world and end its nuclear program.

  Iran shocked the world when it did not give in to the threat, but instead doubled the efforts of its nuclear program. The Iranians successfu
lly smuggled their oil to sympathetic countries and at great cost, were able to sell enough oil to keep the country running.

  In late 2015, Iran again shocked the world when it successfully detonated a nuclear device in the Indian Ocean. Terrified of Iran, the West knew that war was inevitable. Over the next two years, with the protection of a nuclear stalemate, Iran successfully infiltrated the provisional government in Iraq and quickly overthrew it. Invading their neighbor was not necessary when their government was so weak. They simply moved into Baghdad, set up shop, and absorbed the vast resources that Iraq had to offer.

  Iran had even managed to conquer its most hated enemy, the nation of Israel. Not satisfied with Israel’s status of nuclear ambiguity, Iran was determined to find out the nuclear secrets of its potential threat. Iran sent spies deep into Israel to find out what cards they were holding. When the Soviet Union fell, many Soviet Jews in the Soviet nuclear program immigrated back to Israel. Speculation ran rampant that Israel had been building an arsenal during the 1990s. No one could say with certainty if Israel had five nukes or five hundred. Israel enjoyed the mysterious threat they had constructed; Iran was determined to expose the mystery. Israel did not have five hundred nukes. They didn’t have five. They had one working warhead and the scattered parts to maybe build another. The spies stole the warhead and proudly returned it to Iran. Not satisfied until every stone was unturned, the spies were sent back to confirm their findings. A year later they returned and could say with certainty that Israel was not a threat. Israel had disassembled its warheads and sold them on the black market to aid its failing economy.