The Final Proclamation (An America Reborn Thriller Book 2)

by Carlton James

  Suddenly, inspiration struck. “Katherine, many of the things that need to be done will outrage some small but dangerous segments of our population. Some may even perceive that you are in some way violating the Constitution. Of course, the Supreme Court will settle that quickly, but some will feel that violence is the only answer. I’m afraid that even the Secret Service might not be able to protect you from assassins, especially if the unrest in the country continues or gets worse.”

  Katherine reacted immediately, by losing the happy face and showing her flashing anger. “Those cretins better not try and come for me. By God I’ll have them all strung up and shot!” Her eyes burned with fire as she mentally contemplated several people jerking from the hangman’s noose while bullets riddled their bodies.

  Susan felt bad about driving Katherine into this mood, but it was effective in avoiding her own interrogation.

  “In fact,” Katherine began a new thought out loud, “one of the first things to do is to demand that all guns be turned into the Department of Homeland Security. No guns, no threats. Dear one, tomorrow, have an appropriate declaration drawn up.”

  “Yes, Madam President, only should we wait to sign the order until Homeland has a system in place to collect them?”

  Katherine poured herself tequila on the rocks before answering, “Hmmm, yes, that makes sense. Have the Attorney General (AG) come to my office tomorrow afternoon. I’ll need to goose him more than a little to get it done quickly. Oh, and speaking of something quickly, after last evening, I think it’s time for you to experience something that is not done quickly. Maybe you should unlock my private trunk and retrieve the new item in the pink plastic bag. It’s high time you got some appreciation for everything you do for me.”

  Katherine kept a private, steel trunk, padlocked with a lock that was supposed to be impervious to picking. Inside were certain personal items that no one, but Susan, could access.

  Susan knew it was going to be another very short night of sleep for her. The newfound power was obviously a powerful aphrodisiac for the President.

  . . .

  Washington, D.C.

  2330 Hours EST

  Marc dragged into his apartment after walking the four blocks home from the White House. He was exhausted to the point he no longer cared what Katherine had done and would do, only numb to it all. All press inquiries had been put off until the scheduled press conference late the following morning. He didn’t even want to think about the profanity-laced tongue lashing he had received from Towanda when she discovered that he had known of the announcement and had not told her. He had never heard so many uses for the phrase, “Dickless, white boy,” and hoped to never have it repeated again. The last time she used it was when he had tried to refer her to the Chief of Staff, who had ordered the secrecy. It was obvious that she was afraid of Burt and believed his threat to have her removed and detained. Marc, on the other hand, had no such power, so he became her verbal whipping boy.

  Don Stetson had been jubilant about Katherine’s announcement, foreseeing the possible eradication of privately owned firearms in the United States. He kept saying that if he could do this one thing, his daughter’s spirit might finally rest in peace.

  Marc threw his winter coat toward the chair in the corner and walked into his small, efficiency kitchen. He knew the only thing he had to eat in the place was a jar of peanut butter and part of a sleeve of crackers. Susan complained about his Spartan existence and lack of groceries on many occasions. Of course, it didn’t bother her enough to go to buy groceries herself. On the counter was an unopened bottle of very good bourbon. He had been saving it for a special occasion. After giving it minimal thought, tonight warranted not celebration, but the temporary forgetfulness only alcohol could bring him would have to do.

  When Susan walked in an hour and a half later, she found him asleep on the couch with his glass spilled onto the carpet beside the coffee table. She didn’t even shower before falling into bed. Despite being nearly as tired as she could ever recall, sleep did not come easily.

  Chapter 37

  The New Year - Plus Fifteen Days

  FBI Headquarters

  Washington, DC

  1130 Hours EST

  FBI Director, W. Allen Kidd, sat at his desk looking with near disbelief at the Presidential Order that had been hand-delivered to him, by the Attorney General, ten minutes earlier. The Order directed him to immediately seal all records involving the investigation of Walter Fontaine pursuant to PDD 13603 and the new, highly classified PEO that had not yet been numbered. Ten minutes after delivering the new PDD, the AG left his office. He was not a happy man.

  The AG was technically the boss of the FBI Director, in the hierarchy of the Executive Branch. The AG had demanded all the now sealed Fontaine investigation documents be delivered to his office within forty-eight hours. In addition, he demanded the Director identify everyone involved in the investigation and to have their personnel files delivered to his office at the same time. The Director had refused the second order, with the admonition that should such a blatantly illegal demand happen again, he would personally stand before the press cameras and provide to them evidence of Walter’s activities. Barring the implementation of that demand, he would seal and sit on the Walter Fontaine investigation at the order of the President.

  Allen was further shaken when the AG’s response had been to ask about how several of Allen’s family members were doing, by name. His immediate response was to instruct his security detail to remove the AG from his office and the building. His follow-up call to the President went unanswered.

  Two hours later twenty men and women of the Director’s protection detail sat or stood in his office while Allen paced in front of the corner windows. The room had just been swept for electronic listening devices and all cell phones left outside. When the last members of his detail hastily arrived, the team leader advised him all were present.

  “All right,” Allen said with no preamble. “Since you folks have volunteered to lay down your lives for me, I want you to know what you’re facing and give each one of you the opportunity to gracefully bow out. Less than three months ago I was informed Walter Fontaine, the First Man, had been meeting and having exotic sex with a well-trained Chinese girl, who was working for the MSS. These meetings were video-taped in living color by the MSS.” A few under-their-breath curses could be heard in the room.

  “During these sessions, the First Man not only got his rocks off, but he was also skillfully interrogated resulting in the PRC having extremely sensitive, up-to-date and reliable information concerning our country’s intentions toward China and throughout the world.”

  All present waited to hear what Allen intended to do about such an obvious case of espionage. It is in the DNA of every FBI Special Agent to want to see justice done, no matter who committed the crime.

  Allen said, “After an extremely covert, but thorough investigation was conducted, the DAD for Espionage and I took compelling evidence to the President. At first she literally laughed at the revelation that her husband was cheating on her, telling us that fact was well known to her. When we provided audio tape recordings of one of the trysts, along with advising her that the whole operation was video-taped by Chinese intelligence, she became understandably angry. No, that is an understatement. Furious would be an understatement. The DAD and I spent the next four hours sitting in chairs outside of her office like misbehaving school boys. When we were called back in, she demanded to know who knew about the investigation, to include the names of all of the agents involved.” A look of horror began to appear on several faces in the room.

  “When I refused to provide that information to her without a reasonable justification for her need to know, she threw us out of her office. Not before, of course, orderin
g us to maintain everything at the highest classification level and tell no one else about the investigation.”

  A muted chorus of, “That Bitch,” “What the Hell!” and other expressions of outrage began to be heard throughout the room.

  Allen continued over the outraged voices, “This morning…” Everyone quieted down allowing him to continue in a normal voice. “This morning I was visited by the Attorney General. He presented me with a Presidential order, a couple of them, actually, demanding all documents and evidence relating to the investigation of Walter Fontaine be sealed and delivered to the AG’s office within forty-eight hours. He then demanded both the names and personnel files of everyone in the FBI who was knowledgeable about this investigation. When I refused and threatened to go to the press, the bastard began to ask me about the health and happiness of several of my family members. That’s when a few of you were so kind as to show him out of the building.”

  Any outrage felt up to this point was minimal in comparison to that felt by every member of the protection detail now. Allen had to shout for quiet.

  “You can imagine my first inclination was to make good on my threat to take it all to the press. I still have at least a decent reputation with the press and even both sides of the aisle in Congress. That is a card I do not want to play, if it can be avoided. My primary responsibility is to the Constitution and the people of our country. I believe that with all of the upheaval happening today, a change in leadership, or splashing the First Man’s indiscretions in the media would result in nothing good, and would harm the United States greatly. What I do intend to do is send a carefully worded note to the President assuring her that so long as she does not succumb to blackmail by the Chinese, that for the good of the country this matter will remain sealed and she will continue to have my loyalty. I will also mention the veiled threat by her AG has caused me to take steps, should anything ‘accidentally happen.’ It is my earnest hope these actions will be enough.”

  “Sir,” said head of the detail, “so you believe there is truth in what people say about the Fontaine machine being responsible for the death of over forty people, who could be considered their enemies?”

  With a wry smile, Allen said, “Now that’s a tough question. The FBI investigates the toughest drug and organized crime groups. Yet, we’ve only managed to arrest a few politicians, relatively speaking. You all know how we work; we follow the guidelines set out by the Attorney General. In political investigations, if the proverbial “smoking gun” doesn’t fall in our laps, the Department of Justice, or at least this Department of Justice, won’t even allow us to open an investigation. They fear it would appear we were trying to influence elections. We all know that attitude is very one-sided. The public believes that we closely monitor election fraud, when, in fact, we can only investigate allegations after-the-fact. With this Attorney General, do you think there would be any chance at all the Department of Justice would authorize an investigation of the Fontaine Empire?”

  Heads shook with either sadness or anger, while many sets of teeth clenched.

  With a deep breath, Allen said, “I didn’t answer your question, so here is what I personally think. Yes, I think there are those in the Fontaine administration and those who believe they have significant influence over that administration, with the resources and motivation to protect their power base, using whatever means they believe are necessary.”

  Allen paused to give everyone time to digest the new threat. He said, “My primary concern is that this information will get out and bring down this government at the worst time for all of us. Here’s what I am going to do about it. The team who investigated the First Man has already been sent back to their original offices with instructions to remain silent on this. A number of people have been entrusted with a thumb drive containing all relevant evidence and a detailed video statement by me, which will be safely and covertly stored. Should it become necessary, meaning I am no longer able to act freely, they will make sure copies of this information reach Congressional leadership and the Supreme Court.

  “I hope it doesn’t come to that. These are very difficult times for our country and any President, including this one. She deserves our full loyalty to assist her in meeting these challenges. My oaths command that I give her every benefit of the doubt. By doing so, I realize that it may place each of you in much more danger. That’s why I want to offer you the chance to take an immediate reassignment to the office you came from, no questions asked or judgments made by me.”

  Allen paused and slowly moved his eyes to each person in the room, one at a time. After the team leader gave a simple ‘thumbs up’ gesture, everyone in the room followed.

  Allen bowed his head and with a choked up voice, said, “All right, then. I will leave it to you professionals to determine how best to keep me safe.” Looking at his team leader, he said, “Please give me a plan, as soon as possible, to keep my immediate family safe as well. I’m presuming they should take a trip, starting this afternoon, but I can’t think of a safe place that isn’t known by far too many people.”

  He felt better when his team leader told him there were several possibilities and choices would be presented to him within the hour. He also knew of some trustworthy people that could both help and keep their mouths shut.

  Chapter 38

  The New Year - Plus Twenty-Five Days

  Beijing, China

  2200 Hours Local Time

  General Secretary Song sat in his office waiting for his specially armored Mercedes limousine to arrive. Three identical vehicles along with similarly matching security vehicles made up motorcades for Song’s movement. The times of departure varied.

  Over the past several days, he moved every two to three hours to one secret location after another. Civil unrest continued to increase across China, particularly in the interior of the country. Song’s previously ordered buildup of the PLA, by activation of all reserves, had drawn protests in the United Nations by the United States, Japan and Taiwan. The Chinese Representative to the UN had dismissed the protests by claiming the buildup was an internal matter. The military for the renegade province (Taiwan) had begun to mobilize as well.

  When the first decoy convoy left his office parking lot, Song sat quietly in the back seat of his limousine. He had decided he needed to get away to his country house for a couple of days. When the invasion of Taiwan was ordered, such a break would not be possible. His new Charm School girl would be there, just to make his leisure and relaxation complete. He was not sorry to be leaving the intrigues of leadership in a communist country behind, at least for two days.

  Two hours later Song found himself instructing his new girl in exactly how to prepare his favorite beverage. She had offered to prepare tea for him, using the full ceremony reserved for special occasions. Having taken one of the little blue pills from America that his physician had given him, he found the stirrings of passion leading him more toward alcohol and a faster route to a release of tension.

  “And that, my beautiful creature, is how to make the perfect drink.”

  His description completed, as well as two glasses of the mixed drink containing expensive vodka, he drank half of his in one gulp before leading her by the hand to the couch. He didn’t even become angry when she giggled at seeing his reaction below the belt of his black, silk robe. If anything, the giggle made him even more excited.

  The soft sound of musical notes like a waterfall made a romantic setting. Song looked into her mischievous, smiling, eyes and returned the smile. His, of course, was without warmth. “Dance for me.” She began to sway to the music in a sultry way. After an agonizing few minutes of dance, she spun around and pulled the pins from her very long hair, allowing it to flow down her shoulders to cover the front of her silk robe.

  With one quick motion, her rob
e dropped from her shoulders and onto the floor, revealing tantalizing glimpses of her brown, standing nipples and well-coiffed pubis.

  In a husky voice, Song said, “I want your tongue to taste me.” Obediently, the girl dropped to her knees, spread open his robe and began to utilize her tongue in ways she had been taught at Charm School. Over the next five minutes she teased him, bringing him close to climax before cleverly cooling his passion. Several times she used different techniques before she buried him into her throat.

  He did not hear the sound of the explosion, but did clearly see the flash and the partial wooden beam that nearly tore her body in half. He also felt the agony of her death convulsion as she bit deeply onto his nearly-exploding member. In that moment, he lost consciousness.

  . . .

  .

  Outside of Beijing, China

  0945 Hours Local Time the Next Day

  Song came awake to the sound of hospital equipment. He found himself back in the secret military bunker where he been taken after the first assassination attempt. Since then, the primary medical suite had been completely remodeled, with all new equipment, beds and other modern hospital conveniences installed. It no longer looked like a military M.A.S.H unit, but instead looked like a modern hospital. Even the lights were bright, LED bulbs, causing his eyes to burn and water with pain. He could hear whispered voices nearby as a person ran away to notify someone that he was awake.

  Song’s mind began to focus and he could see that Lao was approaching his bed with his chief deputy right behind him. Even through the fog in his brain, Song could feel his anger begin to rise. Lao stopped by his bed and bowed his head. Song tried to bark, “Report.” To his disappointment, he was only able to croak out the word.