The Final Proclamation (An America Reborn Thriller Book 2)

by Carlton James

  1520 Hours EST

  Fred and Sean Callahan rolled through the gate toward the old, run-down farm house along two strips of gravel with brown grass sticking up between them. The grass had been bush-hogged at the end of the season by a tractor and mower but it had grown almost a foot before being stunted by the first frost. Fred muttered a soft expletive as the tire of his truck ran right over a fresh pile of steaming cow manure. He could smell its pungent aroma through his open window. Obviously cattle still grazed on the old farm. He had hoped to find a frozen mud puddle to run through, but was disappointed. Ice was present here and there, but nothing deep enough to wash off his tire.

  At the farm house, with faded white paint and what used to be a red metal roof stretching over a broken-down front porch, Fred rolled to a stop. Within a few minutes he could see a black limousine coming up the driveway. It stopped beside Fred’s truck and the driver’s window rolled down to reveal David behind the wheel.

  “Hi, Fred,” David said cheerfully. “Would you and Sean be able to join the Governor in back? I think there’s more room.”

  After a glance at Sean and receiving his nod, Fred said, “Sure.” He and Sean got out of his truck and walked to the passenger door of the limo. Sean used a cane, but was able to slide into the large interior with relative ease.

  “Gentlemen,” the Governor said as he offered both men a firm handshake and a wry smile. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. Especially you, Sean. I can see you got your mom’s good looks,” he said with a smile, drawing a collective chuckle.

  David was listening intently from the front seat with the separating window rolled down. David then said, “In case you’re wondering where the rest of the detail is, I’ve got two other cars with seven troopers staged out of sight near the road. Two of my former Marines are moving into an over-watch position right about now. The Combat MP Detachment is split and watching the road from whatever cover they could find. Fred, your warning along with the General’s was heard loud and clear.”

  The Governor quickly changed the subject. “Sean, please accept my personal thanks for your service and my sympathy for your loss. I also want to thank all of the men and women in Special Ops. The work you have done, which likely will never see the light of day, is very much appreciated by those of us who know. Don’t know if you were aware, but I served in the U.S. Army Reserve as a Captain and Transportation officer. Don’t talk about it much, but spent eleven months in the sandbox of Afghanistan running convoys from Kabul to Kandahar for a lot of that time. It was before the IEDs really got popular, but we did take fire regularly. Stupid bastards learned quickly that if they took the time to put their AK-47 sights on target, our boys would shoot their heads off, and so they just stuck their rifles around the side of their rock and fired off a magazine at a time without even aiming. We really liked to haul fuel cause then we had an Apache helicopter or other air support watching over us. Now those guys usually made short work of the fool.”

  The Governor had a look of satisfied contemplation on his face. “Hell, none of them had any education and were told by their Imams that we were invaders sent by the devil. Tough, but we had our mission and didn’t like it when bullets were sent our way.”

  Sean showed open surprise at the Governor’s story. “Governor, why hasn’t this been out in the news, or at least been used for your campaign?”

  “Truth be told,” the Governor said, “that was a long time ago, and I’d usually prefer to leave it in the past. My wife has finally stopped complaining about me thrashing around in bed at night or waking in a cold sweat with the vision of an RPG pointed at me. My political campaign was based on cleaning up the state and putting its fiscal house in order. That was what I did in business so campaigning on bringing jobs to Kentucky seemed to be a more likely winner. Guess it turned out to be the case.”

  “Anyway,” the Governor said, “I mentioned these things because I wanted you to know I understand, at least somewhat, the position you’re in when talking about what’s currently happening in the country. That being said, General Thompson, the Commander of the Kentucky National Guard Army, informed me the crazy Bitch in the White House is planning on declaring a State of Emergency and totally trashing the Emergency Preparedness plans we have had in place since right after 9/11. I don’t know if you can say anything at all, but whatever you feel you can share by way of information would be greatly appreciated. I may have specific questions later, but everything is going to be based upon you only telling me, I should say us, what you’re comfortable sharing. Kind of long and convoluted, but I think you get my drift. Guess this is my way of reaching my hand out for help, without pressure. Son, what can you tell us?”

  Sean could see how such a man could be elected. He wasn’t flashy, but when he spoke, it definitely seemed to be from the heart. “Governor, all of my work is highly classified and placed in that category of “need to know.”

  The Governor bowed his head in resignation. Sean continued, “But I have a pretty good feel for what my Commanding General of SOCOM thinks about this issue, so let me begin by imploring you both that what is said here does not get repeated. Okay?”

  Both the Governor and David solemnly agreed. “And Dad, if a word of this gets repeated by you, there’ll be no invitation to my wedding. Agreed?” A snort of humor followed by a grunt was all Fred had to respond.

  With a deep breath, Sean said, “What you’ve heard from General Thompson is right on track with what is being sent to everyone. On top of that, the inside word is that she won’t even try to declare Martial Law. If she did, she would be bound by the Uniform Code of Military Justice. Her own military would insist on that being the case. No, the thinking is that she will try to keep everything under the declared emergency umbrella. When any Executive Orders wander outside of her Constitutional authority, she’ll just continue on and depend on the divided Supreme Court to do nothing. She may even try to order the National Guard to go out and seize guns, but my guess is that’s not going to fly very far or fast.”

  Sean said, “Now, if she can spin any situation into what will be described by her pet press as an insurrection, she will be able to order out the military to keep the peace. Like everything in politics, a farmer refusing to let DHS officers take his pigs could be spun as a traitorous uprising.”

  The disgust on the Governor’s face was rising rapidly.

  “Realistically, Governor, I wouldn’t think many military units will be part of that sort of thievery. The bigger question is, what will your National Guard do when citizens start shooting at those DHS people?”

  The Governor reacted thoughtfully. “I don’t really know. Usually Standard Operating Procedures (SOPs) are in place to provide guidance. Putting down on paper what we really intend might not be a good idea. What do you suggest?”

  For the next hour and a half, Sean gave the Governor an outline of possibilities for a handful of likely scenarios he may be facing from the administration, along with his own ideas on how to address them without appearing to be directly contradicting the administration’s authority.

  “Governor,” Sean said as the meeting was wrapping up, “in my gut it just feels like some other world event or events will make a lot of these concerns seem pretty moot. Between the idiot in North Korea and those crazy Iranians, up to half a dozen other things could come up to take everyone’s focus away from the country’s heartland. I just hope whatever it is; the President doesn’t push us all over the edge.”

  “I’m with you there, soldier,” the Governor said with more than a bit of reverence in his voice and his eyes. “Do you know if you and your people will be operating in Kentucky?”

  That question was troubling for Sean, but like everything, he met it head-on. “At this point I don’t know. Sir, this conversation has helped a lot in my under
standing of how things will work here, and really, in a large part of the country. You can have my word that whatever operations me or my people undertake, they will be in the best interest of my country. I swore an oath to the Constitution which includes following duly assigned senior officers all the way to the Commander in Chief. If given a choice between following Constitutional mandates or a contradicting order, I learned as a brand new lieutenant that no one can or should make me violate the Constitution.”

  “Son,” the Governor said softly, “I’m proud to know you and would serve with you anytime, anywhere.”

  Chapter 24

  The New Year - Plus Eleven Days

  Outside of Beijing, China

  0600 Hours Local Time

  In a Spartan bunker located on a secret military base Premier Song Ren rested uncomfortably on a hard bed inside of a well-stocked infirmary designed to handle the Premier and other heads of state in case of a nuclear attack. He had arrived the day before, after his security detail had transported him from the scene of the assassination attempt. He chose to remain pending a report from both Lao and his own assistant security detail chief, with a determination of his current vulnerability to another attack. His injuries, including a bloody but superficial wound to his neck and concrete shrapnel wounds to one leg. They had been dressed and sutured where needed. He refused all pain killers stronger than aspirin, even when the sutures were inserted.

  Wong had arrived during the night and had been dispatched to implement Song’s few orders that were possible while waiting for information. Throughout the night, Song had slept fitfully, being awakened by both discomfort and periodic updates of how the very quiet investigation progressed. No indication of the attack had been released to the public or even within the government. It was expected not even a rumor of it would leak. Unlike in the West where the news media had sources everywhere and would disseminate whatever they chose, in China, such information was carefully regulated by Lao’s propaganda people. Lao had a vested interest in preventing any dissemination.

  Wong came to Song right after lunch to advise that Lao had arrived with a report.

  “Have him come in,” Song said with a hard voice.

  Lao entered the infirmary, limped to Song’s bedside, and bowed his head without a word. It was apparent that Lao’s leg was heavily bandaged and gave him much pain to walk.

  Song glared at the top of Lao’s head for several moments before barking out the command, “Report.”

  “General Secretary,” Lao said without emotion, “the fool on your detail was visited two days earlier, late in the evening, by two unknown men at his home. His family had not been seen for at least twenty-four hours before that. He had a wife and ten year old son. In his home was a small box containing what appeared to be the severed finger of a woman and a note from his son pleading that these evil men be stopped from hurting his mother. A low-level MSS source had observed the visit and recorded the license plate number from their vehicle. Both men’s bodies were found behind an opium den in a bad section of Beijing, dead from an apparent overdose. Neither man had the telltale needle tracks usually found on the arms or legs of a drug addict. They do belong to a Tong that has strong ties with, and has been used by, the three Politburo members I have described to you previously as being backers of the three PLA Generals that were arrested and executed. On the way here, I was informed this Politburo power block has substantial financial interests in Formosa and stands to lose a great deal should your planned invasion go forward. They have already lost significant resources from your oil import policies.”

  Song waited for additional information when Lao fell silent. He asked, “What is the level of accuracy of your report?”

  “General Secretary, I assess the probability of the identified Politburo block being responsible for this assassination attempt to be seventy percent. All other possibilities, however, rank below five percent in probability, to include rogue PLA Generals and other enemies you have developed over the years.” Again Lao fell silent.

  “Lao,” Song said with a much softer voice, “what moves have you made with my security detail?

  “I have arrested your security leader, and he is currently being subjected to physical and chemical interrogation. So far, there is no indication of any knowledge on his part and I do not expect to find any. Your assistant security leader has reminded all members of your security apparatus that should anyone fail in his duties, not only will they and their families be tortured and killed, their families stretching across all generations will suffer the same fate. All members understood this before, however, they have just seen photos and video of what will happen should they fail.”

  Song only nodded to this information.

  “General Secretary, it appears that your political enemies have determined use of criminal gangs or any other means to remove the threat to their prosperity are warranted. With your permission, I will institute a war-time footing for your security to include staggered travel times, multiple identical convoys departing from your location, and other measures.”

  Again Song only nodded his head.

  “Lao, why did you risk yourself to protect me yesterday?” Song’s most penetrating gaze met Lao’s eyes as he asked this question.

  After a polite bow of his head, Lao looked into Song’s eyes and said, “General Secretary, you represent the best way forward for China. It is not personal for me, only logical.”

  This answer surprised and satisfied Song.

  “General Secretary,” Lao said very softly, “have you suffered any ill effects from the flu vaccine we received two days ago?”

  “I felt a mild fever after four hours. However, that passed with no after affects.” Song discussed this in a tone like both men were discussing the flowers in Song’s favorite garden.

  Lao replied, “I, too, had a similar reaction. Fortunately, it was quick in passing. It is most comforting to know the flu will pass me by, should it come my way this year.”

  Song made no response. After another moment, Song said, “Have your agent in Afghanistan return there and determine if and when the contingency plan can be launched. No date is to be suggested, only determine the earliest timeframe for readiness.”

  “Also, Lao, bring me a proposal for a test of the Frozen Lilly EMP technology on an American Naval ship. It must be a lone ship cruising somewhere other than the South China Sea and probably at night, although I will not presume to tell you your business. Any chance of detection or identification must be very small. You have my authority to use one of our new stealth submarines.”

  “Is there a preferred timeframe for this test?”

  “Yes,” replied Song, “it should occur within the next few days, if possible.”

  “I will advise you of the proposal within twenty-four hours, General Secretary,” Lao said softly.

  At Song’s nod, Lao hobbled out of the infirmary.

  Chapter 25

  The New Year - Plus Eleven Days

  The Broehm Residence

  Outside of Cronin, Kentucky

  2000 Hours EST

  Mike welcomed Peter and Matt Gibson into his family room to join Sean and Fred Callahan, Rollie McDermott, and Jim Carson. Linda had not accompanied Sean as she was working on training schedules for the neighborhood.

  “Rollie, Jim, and Matt, thank you for coming over,” Mike said with a smile. “I’ve talked to each of you a little off-line but wanted to bring everyone together tonight and make sure you guys have a clear picture of what we’re facing. By the way, guys, Sean, Fred and Peter have been following along since day before yesterday.”

  “Oh, hell, Mike,” said Rollie with a grin. “We figured you’d get around to cluing us in even
tually. Like I always say, only the im-po-tent folk like yourselves really need to know this stuff up front. Of course it didn’t help that we were out of town until today.”

  A general chuckle echoed around the room at Rollie’s substitution of impotent for important.

  “Now Rollie, you know since the ‘ole snip, snip-vasectomy, Lauren hasn’t had to worry about me being ‘potent’ anymore, anyway.” Mike said this with a large smile. “After all, you all know what Lauren wants, Lauren gets.”

  “Now that we’ve gotten beyond my potency, let me bring you up to speed on some recent information. I’ll give you the Reader’s Digest version. Reliable information says President Fontaine will soon be using the devastating economic downturn to declare a State of Emergency, which will be similar in effect, and in some ways even more powerful than, a declaration of Martial Law. A Presidential Executive Order gives her the authority to essentially seize control of almost everything. Some folks a lot smarter than me think that she will treat it as though there is little or no state or local government, so the feds will try to run everything. With the recent death of the conservative Supreme Court Justice there is little likelihood she will be challenged by the Supreme Court.”

  Mike drew in a slow breath to let all this sink in.

  “Coyote Collins is going to be the federal Regional Governor of a three-state region including Kentucky, Tennessee and West Virginia for the duration of the declared emergency. All previous emergency preparedness plans are being scrapped. The Department of Homeland Security will be tasked with providing support for Coyote, which will probably involve hiring thugs to enforce his directives.”

  Rollie interrupted by saying, “Now, Mike, is state and local law enforcement, along with, heck, the National Guard going to be ordered around by that dooffus?”