The New Year - Plus Six Days
Covert Motel Room
Washington, D.C.
2130 Hours EST
When Walter entered the hotel room his mind was not very focused. His lust for Su Ling, the strange look on John Levy’s face after he had given the signal, and the crazy things going on in the White House all seemed to throw him off balance.
Su was standing at the mini bar pouring his favorite scotch into a tumbler with two small cubes of ice. When she turned, displaying a sexy smile and the contours of her body through the thin, silk robe, his tough resolve and hate for the Chinese people seemed to float away like smoke on an errant breeze.
“Oh, Walter,” Su said with her cute China doll accent, “you walk in like you rushed. You not want my company?”
Whatever Walter was going to say changed in the moment. “My Dear, um.”
With that he grabbed the drink and gulped it down before shoving it toward her for a refill. After drinking the second just as quickly as the first, Walter roughly grabbed her for a sloppy kiss and the usual fondling of her body. He also tried to grind himself into her without regard to there being clothing in the way.
Shaking his head as if to clear it, Walter said, “I want you to bring out your bag of tricks. I, uh, I mean, I’ve been a very bad boy.” He let the phrase drift off as he looked down at the floor.
Su immediately recognized the need to go into her dominatrix persona and barked at him, “You very bad. On your knees, you bad boy, and drop your pants. Bare bottom when I return. DO IT!”
Su shouted the last two words, allowing a small shower of spittle to escape her lips. She walked to the bedroom of the suite and came back with a wooden paddle and a short, nine-tailed whip. She wore knee high black leather boots, a leather cap and her other “whips and chains” garb. Walter had only wanted the rough treatment once before, but she was ready just the same.
Mr. Sung had told her several times that if Walter wanted the rough stuff, she could dispense with the usual debriefing before sex was initiated. She presumed that such film would be more valuable as a bribery tool.
After only seventy-five minutes, Walter bowed his way out of the room while saying, “Thank you, Mistress. Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.” Sweat was still pouring off his head, accompanied by fire coming off of his tortured bottom, back, and the backs of his legs.
Five minutes later, after Su had changed to street clothing and packed the last of her toys, Mr. Sung and two technical-type men entered the room without knocking. Mr. Sung walked directly to Su and smacked her across the face with his open palm.
Having seen the blow coming, Su had pulled away as it was falling and staggered backward. This left the appearance the blow had been more devastating than it was.
In rough Mandarin Chinese spoken in a conversational tone, Mr. Sung said, “You were supposed to milk him for information before you milked his dick, you whore.”
Su knew better than to remind Mr. Sung of his previous instructions. She bowed her head and said, “So sorry. It will never happen again.”
“If it does, you beautiful pig, I will take it upon myself to show you the true meaning of pain and being a whore.” He glared at her to insure she was appropriately cowed.
“You two, search this room. Search it well. I will search this pig.” Turning toward Su, he uttered only one word. “Strip.”
Su walked away from the hotel feeling more violated than she had since her first week at Charm School. Mr. Sung had probed everywhere on her body that could conceivably hide a recorder, including the tiny micro-dot size that could be purchased at local electronics stores. Despite their search, they had not discovered the passive recorder given to her by Hugh. A special extension stick had been disguised as a toilet plunger that allowed the recorder to be hidden well up inside of the ventilation system. She could not retrieve it before she left, but did not think that would be a problem for Hugh.
Still shaken from Mr. Sung’s rough treatment, she didn’t even notice the white van double parked just outside of her apartment building. As she drew abreast, a familiar voice said, “You’re not gonna believe what Dwight wrote on Facebook.”
Turning to look, Su saw the sliding door on the van standing half way open and Lisa sitting in a lawn chair inside next to her dad. Hugh motioned to her and said only, “It’s time.”
Su could never recall how she traversed the ten feet to the van, whether it was on shaky legs, a confident stride, or an all-out sprint. She just found herself sitting on the carpeted floor crying like a baby with her head in Lisa’s lap.
Chapter 17
The New Year - Plus Seven Days
The Peter Worthington Residence
Outside of Cronin, Kentucky
0950 Hours EST
Mike stood up from his chair in his family room while Peter Worthington, along with Sean and Fred Callahan and Linda Sharpe, came in to join him. Lauren sat just inside the kitchen, listening from across the counter.
“Thanks for setting this up on such short notice, Mike.” Fred had emotion in his voice, which was highly unusual for the Police Chief. “After the call I got last night, I wanted to get your take on it.”
Both Sean and Linda were as mystified as were Mike and Lauren. Sean said, “Dad, what’s up?”
With a deep breath, Fred said, “Last night, after midnight, I got a call from the Army National Guard Commander for Kentucky, General Steven Thompson.”
Looking at Sean and Linda, he continued, “No, not his aid or anyone else in his chain of command. He called me himself. He wouldn’t say much, but did ask me to join a select group this afternoon at 4:00 p.m. to meet with the Governor and a few others. He only said it was about emergency preparedness.”
Saying the last two words, Fred managed to make them sound extremely ominous. Everyone sat quietly contemplating what it might mean for a few moments.
“Dad?” Sean asked in a soft but commanding voice, “the General just got back from Washington, didn’t he?”
“Yes, son, I think he did.”
Sean continued, “Now I’m just speculating here.” Sean told the lie that everyone present recognized as such. “Has anyone heard about the Bitch declaring martial law? Anything?”
Surprising everyone, Peter spoke up. “I’ve got some pretty good sources in Washington, and all of them seem to say she will be declaring a State of Emergency any time now.”
After a pause, he continued, “Friends in the EPA and Bureau of Surface Mining all tell me that’s the case. Scott Shelby even got a heads up from his money friends, who just happen to be major contributors to the Fontaine Foundation, that it was coming, and probably soon. Hell, they’re all hopeful that the Queen’s edicts will make sure the greenies are well protected. The Department of Agriculture has even been assuring farmers the government will be buying up most of their wheat, corn, and bean crops for next season. The inference is that it will go to supply soup kitchens likely to be opening throughout the country.”
Peter seemed to have run out of revelations. Mike said, “Fred, I’m going to presume that whatever you hear at this meeting later, you’ll be sworn to secrecy. How about if we plan on meeting back here later this evening and you can tell us whatever you think you can?”
Fred nodded with a guarded smile. “If I can’t trust my Army hero son, my soon to be daughter-in-law, and my two best friends, we might as well give up anyway.”
. . .
The White House
1030 Hours EST
Marc Baxter tried to keep a calm, interested look on his face as he listened to Don Stetson in the small conference room. “How are we going to ensure all this go
es through, Marc?”
Marc said, “Don, I’m not sure the time is quite right to push for this gun registration law. Congress simply won’t go for it, especially with all the acts of anarchy breaking out in the urban centers on both coasts and places like Chicago and Detroit. Murder rates have gone through the roof! Although with the Supreme Court now evenly divided it might be just the time to try.”
Don was convinced that with the two school shootings that had occurred the previous day, now was the time. In California, a fifteen year old boy had executed three boys at his school after they had accidentally shot his sister during a botched gang initiation rape. Both the shooter and the gang-member victims were wards of the state after their parents lost jobs and could not take care of them.
It was a mystery where the boy obtained the 9 millimeter pistol used in the killings. The second shooting involved a mentally disturbed fourteen year old girl in Raleigh, North Carolina. She heard voices in her head telling her to take her older brother’s hunting rifle and shoot at the school windows. Fortunately, only three students suffered minor injuries from broken glass.
Don didn’t care about the details. He, like Katherine, only wanted all guns removed from private hands. “Marc, we need to identify which Senators need their arms twisted by the President. You know, the ones who won’t vote for the bill but are up for re-election and are vulnerable.”
“I can only think of one off hand, Don. It’s that junior Senator from Virginia. But even if we were to get him, it wouldn’t be nearly enough.”
“Marc, am I missing something here, or is your heart just not in this? Don’t you agree that all guns should be taken off the streets?” Don began to focus closely on Marc.
Just before Marc blurted out his true feelings on the matter, he recalled that Don might just need someone else to throw under the bus should Katherine appear to view Don as expendable.
“Oh, hell, Don. Of course I’m looking to stop the killing. You haven’t seen it, but between attending every staff meeting, doing this plus two other projects for the President and doing more than half of Towanda’s job, I’m just totally fried.”
Marc looked down at the table with what he hoped would appear to be placating submission. “I just hate to complain since almost everyone else is running just as ragged as I am. I’m sorry, man. Guess I’ve been letting you down.”
Don immediately reacted as Marc had hoped. “Hey, kid, I’m not trying to bust your chops. It’s kinda’ easy for me to forget you’ve got more than just this one project to do. I’m just no good at crunching the computer shit, ya know? All the data on everyone in government is now only accessible on a friggin’ computer. My thumbs get lost while my fingers try to find the right keys.”
With a resolute voice, Don said, “What the hell, Marc, none of this will matter if she declares an emergency anyway, you know? At least that’s what I’m hearing.”
For a long two count, Marc didn’t trust himself to look up. Then he asked, ‘What do you think, Don? Is that a good thing if she does declare the emergency?”
“Sure!” Don said this with even more enthusiasm than Marc expected. “Then the shackles will come off, and we can just go out and take the guns. And people will have to give them up with the military backing up those dudes in Homeland Security. Finally, we can actually get something done! Best of all, we’re on the winning team.” Don’s big smile was genuine.
Just then, Chief of Staff Burt Combs poked his head into the conference room door. “How are my two gun confiscation experts doing today?”
“Well, Burt. You’re beating this poor boy to death here lately, but would you mind stepping in here for a minute?”
Burt was intrigued by Don’s conspiratorial tone, so he stepped in and closed the conference room door. “Okay, Don. What’s up?”
“We’ve gotten at least the mainstream media on our side on this one, pushing the idea that the Second Amendment is old and out of date with the times, but we still haven’t been able to get enough Senators to roll over and play ball. Can the President do some serious arm twisting, or are my sources right and none of this will matter soon?”
Burt kept his cool, but as Don had pointed out to Marc in the past, Burt tended to stop talking and would look up, as if for heavenly inspiration, when he was about to lie. In this case, Burt looked up to the heavens and said, “Boys, let’s get as much press as possible talking about how guns are what’s making things so much worse. Okay? Just focus on that for a while. Let the President handle the Senate. Can you do that?”
Both Marc and Don nodded, keeping their faces serious but non-committal. After
After Burt left the conference room, all Don would say was, “See? Told you.”
. . .
Outside of Shanghai, China
Noon Local Time
General Hu Sengai of the Special Weapons branch of the PLA had steered General Lao Tung, toward a table in the lunchroom. Lao unexpectedly arrived at Hu’s offices outside of the highly restricted “medical research building” fifteen minutes earlier. Hu had ordered his personal orderly to find tea and sweets for Lao. Another assistant had cleared the lunchroom of staff, ensuring privacy for their meeting.
“Hu,” Lao said calmly, “might it be possible to see the manufacturing facility where the flu vaccine is being made?”
Hu covered his shock quickly before using a wall phone to call for his driver. Thirty minutes later, they entered a non-descript manufacturing building which lost much of its anonymity by the two electrified fences and multiple guards with dogs patrolling the perimeter. The ride over in the back seat of an older model American Lincoln Town Car had been made with minimal conversation.
Entering the working part of the facility, the noise of whirring centrifuges and other equipment was quite loud. Lao pulled Hu aside and, while pointing at a random piece of equipment, leaned near Hu’s ear and asked, “Tell me the status of the virus.”
Hu responded, “Testing on the virus is complete and has a mortality rate of over eighty percent.”
Lao pulled away and shouted, “How effective?”
Hu held up eight fingers and then a closed fist before mouthing “percent,” followed by a smile.
Moving to Lao’s ear again, he said, “The vaccine has also been thoroughly tested and is over ninety percent effective. Vaccine doses continue to be made and distributed. All desirables will be vaccinated by the end of the month.”
Lao asked Hu, “What are your projections for the population of China?”
“Two thirds, made up of mostly undesirables, will die. Not all from the virus, but also from mass starvation that will result from the temporary crumbling of the infrastructure servicing those affected. Those that remain will be all that is necessary to rebuild China into the most powerful country in the world. There may, however, be the need for significant reeducation like Chairman Mao did previously.”
The look on Hu’s face was excited, but calculating. Hu referred to the Cultural Revolution in the 1950’s and 1960’s when Communist Party Chairman Mao Tse-tung sent millions of Chinese people needing “reeducation” to the collective farms in the countryside.
“Is your tactical team ready to travel for the operation?” Lao watched Hu’s eyes carefully, assessing his truthfulness. Even though Hu had been threatened before to ensure only accurate estimates, Lao was not one to take anyone’s word on faith.
Hu said, “All equipment and vials of serum-agent are ready. The medical team is now training with their Special Forces escorts to be able to pass through Customs wherever they need to go. They will travel under the auspices of the World Health Organization. It should take no more than a week before they can effectively travel.”
Hu’s pride
at this accomplishment was clearly written on his face. Despite being a General in the PLA, he remained a scientist at heart. The world devastation that would be released did not impact Hu in the slightest. For him, the people affected were all merely laboratory animals.
“Good,” Lao said with a nod. After a short pause, Lao continued, “Hu, after we complete our business here, you will be accompanied by my assistant, who is waiting outside of this complex, to get a vial of the vaccine and three syringes to administer it. My assistant is a medical doctor. You will accompany him in his waiting vehicle to a location where you will personally administer a single dose of the vaccine. Is there any reason why you cannot do as I instruct?”
Hu’s eyes became larger than normal before he drew a deep breath and shrugged. “I will instruct that your man be brought in immediately. Presumably you will remain until he arrives?” Hu was not surprised to see Lao nod and smile. Both men knew what was happening.
After returning from Beijing Hu experienced an unusual feeling of satisfaction. He usually didn’t feel anything when going about his business. He had given the vaccine from the same bottle to General Secretary Song, Lao and himself. He, of course had already been vaccinated, but did not believe a second vaccination would be harmful. It might even be beneficial.
Chapter 18
The New Year - Plus Eight Days
Mountains of Southeast Afghanistan
1015 Hours Local Time
Ahmed was both annoyed and worried. Despite his earlier premonition that the operation would soon be underway, he had not heard from Cho.
“Hadi,” Ahmed said as his lieutenant walked past. “Have you heard anything from the Chinese Infidel?”
“I have not,” Hadi said with reluctance. “My usual contacts told me he is not in Kabul. He is believed to have flown away to the East over a week ago. Shall I ask around again?”
The Final Proclamation (An America Reborn Thriller Book 2) Page 10