The Final Proclamation (An America Reborn Thriller Book 2)

by Carlton James

  “General Secretary,” Lao said with deep deference, “this is my deputy, as you know. Since I have failed you twice, my shame will only be addressed by my death. Before taking care of that detail, I will brief my deputy and he will assume all of my responsibilities.”

  With that statement made, Lao bowed his head again and made motions to withdraw from the room.

  “Lao,” Song said in a stronger voice. “Dismiss your deputy and come here.”

  With near shock on his face, Lao motioned to his deputy to depart. He then walked over to Song’s bed and bowed his head again.

  In a normal, but stern voice, Song said, “I ordered you to report. Not your deputy. You. Do so now.”

  In an uncharacteristically husky voice, Lao said, “A missile battery twenty-four kilometers from your country house released two missiles that were targeted at your coordinates. It appears that one experienced a failure of its guidance system and struck a school building ten kilometers from your location. There were only two casualties. The second struck just outside of your country house and exploded with a high explosive charge. Your security detail found your companion dead and you severely injured. The missile battery detachment was found murdered at their battery, to include their officer. Early investigation appears to point to the same Tong that tried the last assassination attempt. You will recall that they were traced back to three Politburo members. The two that remain living have gone into hiding, but are believed to remain somewhere in the Shanghai area.”

  Song remained silent for several seconds before asking, “What is my condition?”

  “General Secretary, you have suffered a mild concussion, a compound fracture of your arm, several broken ribs and severe lacerations to your penis, which has been surgically repaired. You have also received over two liters of blood, to replace that lost due to your injuries. You should be able to recover from your wounds.” Lao discreetly left out the fact the lacerations would leave scars that looked very much like teeth marks.

  “Tell me, Lao. Are there only the two Politburo members that are active threats?”

  After a deep breath, Lao said, “No, General Secretary, I have four others under surveillance, as well as three members of the PLA General Staff.”

  Over the past several minutes, Song had formulated his decision. “Lao, how soon can you to initiate Black Orchid?”

  Lao managed to keep his face placid as he responded, “In six hours a military plane can depart from Shanghai with Hu’s two people and the security team. Two hours before that the clean-up team will depart for Kabul.”

  “See that it is done.” Song’s words were said without emotion, but with the cold calculation for which he was well known.

  “Yes, General Secretary.” Lao made no argument nor did he offer any resistance to unleashing the worst plague in world history.

  “And Lao?” Song stopped Lao as he was about to walk away. “You have not outlived your usefulness to me. I expect you will not allow a third attack?”

  The question did not receive a verbal response, but only a short bow of Lao’s head, before he turned to leave the room.

  When Lao entered his designated office in the bunker, he walked to the secure telephone and called General Hu. The General picked up the telephone on the second ring. “Hu? This line is secure.”

  Hu responded the same way and waited for Lao to continue. “Hu, my next call will be to the security detail. Black Orchid is activated in one hour. Clear?”

  In a voice completely devoid of emotion, Hu responded, “Yes.”

  Lao hung up the telephone and called his chief aid and activated the security detail.

  Hanging up the telephone Lao looked at the sole photograph sitting on his desk. It was an old Polaroid of his wife and daughter on the wooden dock at a beautiful, hidden lake. Both wore floppy hats and big grins as his daughter, who was twelve years old at the time, held up a tiny fish she had caught. His wife had died of cancer and his daughter rarely allowed him to see his grandson. He was overcome with emotion and buried his head in his hands as he sobbed without shame.

  Chapter 39

  The New Year - Plus Twenty-Eight Days

  Kabul, Afghanistan

  0005 Hours Local Time

  Cho met the two medical technicians and half of what should have been their twelve-man security team at the Kabul airport and transported them to the nearby safe house, where the technicians carefully plugged in the non-descript refrigerated container. Two thermite grenades were placed on top of the container and could be ignited within seconds, thereby completely incinerating its contents. With a deep sigh, both technicians fell into bed and were almost immediately asleep. Travel to Kabul had been a nightmare. Cho had arranged to meet Ahmed and the martyrs at a small, two-story hotel only a block away, in the morning.

  Cho had an uneasy feeling as he paced in the medium-sized hotel room. The room was on the top floor of the two story concrete building that had only twelve clean, but very simple rooms for rent. He didn’t personally know the PLA Special Forces security detail team leader and had been pointedly ignored when he had asked for a briefing on security arrangements. He was infuriated to learn the security team had been cut to only six operators. The team leader was equally angered when Cho and the medical technicians would not tell him what was in the refrigerated case. He would become very disturbed when the technicians put on full hazardous materials suits in the morning. The portable refrigerated case containing the vials that would change the world hummed quietly in the corner.

  Early the next morning, everyone showed signs of being sleep deprived. They had been awake, with only a few catnaps, since departing China. Cho’s assistant had confirmed by radio that Ahmed and his martyrs would be at the hotel within the hour. The three departing flights for the martyrs were scheduled for just after 10:00 a.m. The two technicians did not seem to know what to do with themselves.

  Cho’s assistant knocked at the door using the precise cadence and correct number of taps. When Cho opened the door, his assistant quickly entered, followed by Ahmed and Hadi. Guns appeared in the hands of the Special Forces team leader and his two operators when Ahmed refused to be searched.

  In a commanding voice, Cho barked out in Mandarin, “Do not move, you fools!” Everyone in the room froze and glanced nervously at Cho. “Lower your weapons,” Cho said sternly. The team leader merely aimed his pistol just off to the side of Ahmed’s torso.

  “Camel herders,” said the team leader under his breath.

  Cho continued to address the team leader in a conversational tone. “Holster your weapons now, or your families will have the opportunity to watch each other die slowly, painfully and without honor as they curse you for the fool that you are.”

  The look in Cho’s black eyes was enough for the team leader, who, after a hesitation, holstered his pistol. He nodded to the two other operators standing off to the sides and they followed suit.

  Ahmed looked at Cho for a few seconds before nodding and turning to signal Hadi. The technicians and all three Special Forces operators sucked in their breath when Hadi opened his robe to display the suicide vest packed with plastic explosive, ball bearings and other bits of metal. His hand was holding a spring-loaded triggering device and the look on his face was the serene look of a man about to meet his maker.

  In Arabic, Cho said, “It is difficult to find good help these days, even for such an important mission.”

  Ahmed snorted with mild humor and nodded his agreement.

  “Your martyrs are ready?” Cho asked the question out of formality.

  Ahmed responded, “Yes. They await my order in two school buses outside.”

  Cho then handed a small briefcase containing passports
and plane tickets for twelve of the martyrs, to Cho, for inspection.

  After a careful inspection of the passports and tickets, Cho said to the two technicians, “Prepare the first two doses.” Both nodded.

  In a deferential tone, Cho said to Ahmed, “Please bring in the first two.” Ahmed calmly left the room, while Hadi continued to stand against the wall, left hand displaying the vest detonator.

  Two minutes later, Ahmed returned with the men. Both had the look of apprehension on their faces, mixed with what could only be described as religious fervor. At Ahmed’s instruction, they lined up in front of the technicians standing at the table.

  On cue, the first man pulled a revolver from under his robe and fired one round into the forehead of the nearest Special Forces operator. Hadi then killed the team leader and the third operator with two suppressed bursts from a modified AK-47.

  Ahmed had fired two electric tasers into Cho, who fell to the floor in convulsions. Ahmed then calmly walked to the doctors and shot each one in the head. Hadi walked to the side wall of the hotel room and took off his vest. It was a disguised breaching charge. He quickly set the charge against the wall to the adjoining room.

  When the firing had stopped, the second martyr rushed to secure the virus vials and return them to their refrigerated container. He wore protective gloves and quickly gathered four vials of blood from the technician’s bodies. Ahmed had brought his brother-in-law Ali, as the second martyr to properly handle the virus.

  Since the first shot, less than twenty seconds had elapsed. Over the ringing in their ears from the loud gunfire, they could hear several bursts of automatic fire outside of the hotel. A few seconds later the explosive punched a hole in the concrete wall leading into the room next door. Ahmed paused briefly to write a short message on the front wall of the room, using blood from the security team leader’s leaking head. Ahmed and Ali then carefully carried the refrigerated case through the hole to discover another hole in the opposite wall into the next room. In this room there was a large hole in the floor leading into the room below. Through the back wall of this room was a hole leading to a small carpet shop that was connected to the hotel. Through a trap door in the floor of the carpet shop, Ahmed and Ali carefully carried the refrigerated case, followed by Hadi and the martyr, who were roughly dragging the semi-conscious Cho. They had wrapped him tightly in a carpet, securing it with nearly a roll of duct tape. The trap door lead down into a narrow tunnel leading away from the direction of the airport. Two blocks later, the tunnel entered the basement of a home.

  The refrigerated case and Cho were lifted into the waiting truck. A plume of smoke could be seen coming from the airport where a diversionary attack had taken place simultaneously. The attack had involved sending a rocket-propelled grenade into a fuel storage tank, which immediately drew all American “Advisors” in the area. This allowed Ahmed’s truck to roll away from the area unnoticed.

  . . .

  The White House

  1610 Hours EST

  Katherine glared at her National Security Team across the table. CIA Director Bradley Pittson and NSA Director Donald Clayborn and Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff General Stephen K. Taylor and a total of four aids sat at the table, having just briefed the President on what was now called, “the destroyer incident.” Each of the men present attempted to return the President’s glare with confidence, however all but General Taylor could not help but allow embarrassment for their intelligence failure to creep onto their faces.

  “So you’re telling me, Bradley,” Katherine said while dragging out the CIA Director’s name, “that there’s been no intelligence about anyone having the capability to defeat existing EMP shielding? You can’t even hazard an educated guess as to who was responsible? What the hell can you tell me?”

  “Madam President,” Pittson began, “intelligence reports indicate, with high confidence, that two days ago, General Secretary Song was attacked by rogue Generals of the PLA, using a Tong as a surrogate.”

  “A what?”

  “Madam President, a Tong is an organized crime enterprise in Asia,” Pittson explained. “Members of the Tong murdered all soldiers of a PLA tactical missile battery, while they were conducting annual live fire exercises. They then launched two missiles at the General Secretary’s summer house, located over twenty kilometers away. The General Secretary was severely injured, but not fatally so, and is expected to recover. The day after this attack, recently activated Chinese reserve units were ordered to begin moving toward Fujian Province, located right across the Formosa Straight from Taiwan.”

  Pittson took a deep breath, before continuing, “Based upon the Chinese moves to cripple Western economies, moving their troops into potential attack position for an attack of Taiwan, and the complete void of intelligence regarding an enhanced EMP weapon, my people assess it most likely that China is responsible for crippling the destroyer’s entire electrical system. By keeping the attack completely covert and maintaining plausible deniability, the Chinese have sent a veiled but explicit threat to us to stay out of what they view as their internal squabble with Taiwan.”

  Everyone in the room was silent as all eyes fixed on Katherine. Her glare had morphed into a look of deep concentration, which masked the intense migraine headache that threatened to rip her head wide open.

  “General,” she said while looking at General Taylor, “what naval forces do we have west of Hawaii?”

  “Madam President, besides small naval forces based at several ports in the Far East, we have two small Naval Strike Forces consisting of eight ships or less. One is standing off the Korean Peninsula and one is in the South China Sea. The one off the Korean Peninsula has been on-station with anti-missile defenses since their President threatened to rain death, in the form of a nuclear EMP, upon the United States. To date, we have given no response to these threats beyond the presence of the Strike Force.”

  Through the pounding in her head, Katherine said, “Order the one in the South China Sea back to its home port. Where is that?”

  “San Diego, Madam President.” General Taylor could not believe the President was going to abandon the treaties with Taiwan that had been in place since the early 1950s. “Madam President, the USS Ronald Reagan carrier group that you ordered moved from Japan to Pearl Harbor has been re-provisioned and can replace the smaller flotilla.”

  Katherine’s screeching response was immediate. “Goddammit, General! I will not tempt war with the Chinese. We’ve got our own civil war brewing in this country and I will not get into one that would go nuclear! When you have some useful intelligence,” she emphasized the word useful, “make sure Burt hears it immediately. We’re done here.”

  She then stormed out of the room, closely followed by her Chief of Staff’s primary aid.

  Each of the men looked at one another other across the table. Not a word was spoken, but expressions on faces ranged from stunned, to sad, to hints of fear. It was several seconds before first Pittson, and then the rest, rose and quietly walked from the room. From his car Pittson placed a secure phone call to the FBI Director.

  Chapter 40

  The New Year - Plus Twenty-Nine Days

  Secure Bunker for Chinese Leadership

  Outside of Beijing, China

  2100 Hours Local Time

  General Secretary Song lay in a hospital bed in his office within the emergency bunker when Wong knocked on the open doorway. “Come,” Song said in an annoyed voice.

  “General Secretary, General Lao has arrived and would like to see you. He apologizes for the inconvenience and the late hour.” Wong delivered the message without any emotion in his voice, like a robot.

  When Lao entered the room, he placed a box on Song’s desk and turned it on and closed the
air-tight door. “Even though this place is supposed to be secure, now we can definitely speak freely, General Secretary.”

  Song asked, “Black Orchid?”

  “General Secretary,” Lao said softly, “it did not go as planned. The clean-up team observed an attack on the security team members outside the hotel room by Islamic fighters. Those fighters killed all security team members. An explosion was heard inside the room. When they made entry, they found three security team members dead, both medical technicians dead and an escape hole blown in the wall. On the wall, painted in blood, was a message in Arabic that said, “We have it now. Death to Infidels everywhere.”

  Lao continued, “My best agent, who was in the room during the fight, was carried off by the terrorists. Two taser pistols, with expended shock probes, were found on the floor of the room. The team leader believes Cho was struck with the tasers and, while incapacitated, was carried off, along with the virus container. The terrorist group had also orchestrated a diversion at the airport, which drew off available American Special Forces trainers and Afghan forces, in that direction. My clean-up team removed the bodies of Hu’s security team and erased the bloody message on the wall.

  Song had been staring at Lao throughout the briefing. When Lao fell silent, Song said, “Do you believe they will release the virus as planned?”

  Lao said, “Based upon my own analysis and gut feeling, yes, I do, General Secretary. Unfortunately, they will release it on their own timetable and not ours. Alternatively, the virus may kill them all and everyone around them, if they do not have the expertise to handle it properly.”

  Song asked, “How long before the military reserves are fully activated and moved to Fujian Province?”