“Mind if they sit in the house while we have a look around?” Josh asked.
Without hesitating, Bryan replied, “Since when do they need permission. Go on in girls.”
Samantha suggested that she stay with the girls, but when she entered Bryan’s home the girls were nowhere to be found. Eventually, she discovered them upstairs in one of his son’s old bedrooms. The two were lying on the floor playing with Lego’s.
“Mind if I join you?” Samantha asked.
Sniffling, Katherine said, “Sure, but you have to get your own.”
Samantha looked around and hastily grabbed a half completed sets on top of the dresser.
Without prompting, Layla said, “We used to spend hours over here. The five of us were inseparable. We did everything together.”
“Where are they now?” Samantha asked as snapped pieces into place and began building the toy structure.
“The twins just graduated from OSU. One moved to Texas for his first job, a bank, or something. The other one went to Europe to find himself. The youngest one is in school at Juilliard,” Layla replied.
“You guys stay in touch then?” Sam asked.
“We exchange email once in awhile. Mom used to get so mad at us when we came for our supervised visits. Every time we were up here all we wanted to do was go outside and play with the boys. She yelled at them pretty good and scared them off. I always hated her for that. Bitch,” Katherine answered.
“Katherine!” Sam exclaimed.
“Well, she was,” she replied calmly. “She turned Heather away when she came looking for Dad and then she ruined our lives by using drugs and getting involved with that psychopath and his brother. She deserved everything she got.”
Samantha thought for a moment and said, “That’s one way of looking at it.”
“How else would you look at it? Javy was right. The woman turned into a greedy drug addicted whore,” Layla said.
“That’s it!” Samantha exclaimed. “No more ‘bitch’ or ‘whore’ talk. Understand?” she decreed.
The girls jerked their heads up and glared at her. After a few seconds, when Samantha’s stern look didn’t disappear, the pair nodded their agreement.
“What I meant was, yes, you two went through hell, but you came through it stronger, more independent, and self-reliant. You have your father to thank for that. He moved mountains to ensure your safety and provided as much of a normal life as was humanly possible. Yeah, he goes a little overboard sometimes, but that man’s world would end if something happened to either of you.”
“A little?” Katherine said with a smirk.
Samantha exhaled loudly and said, “All right, a lot overboard, but you’re missing the point. There aren’t many fathers that would have gone to the lengths that your father did. Most would have shut down, built up walls, and let you to sink or swim on your own. He could have stopped caring, but he didn’t. He stood up and declared that no one was ever going to hurt you like that again. Even his friends all treat you two like you are their own. That’s a rare thing in this world. There isn’t a person standing outside this house that wouldn’t go to the ends of the Earth to help the two of you.”
“Three of us, actually,” Heather said tearfully. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I was wondering where you guys went.” She surveyed the room and said, “Can I play too?” as she swiped another half completed set from the dresser.
“I’ve seen the lengths to which our father is willing to go,” she added as she took her position on the floor. “I may have only met him, but I do know one thing. Your mom was wrong. Had he known about me, he’d have figured a way to make it work. He never would have left you guys, or your mother. He would have been as involved as was human possible. I know that now. People do some really stupid things for money.”
* * *
Dallas and James stood in the street looking at the fuselage talking when Josh, Kristin, and Bryan came walking back from the destruction of the house.
“Hey, Bryan,” James called out. “Have any of those NTSB boys checked this out yet?” he asked while pointing up at the wreckage.
“The fire and EMS crews were here for about twenty minutes or so. Just long enough to remove the bodies. I imagine they are back there somewhere,” Bryan answered as he pointed west behind the house. “They’re probably looking for the black box.”
Without asking or receiving permission, Dallas jumped into the open end of the fuselage and started climbing up toward the cockpit. The other men followed suit, leaving Kristin standing guard outside.
“What are you doing,” Josh said as he trailed Dallas.
“I’m looking to see if there are any clues as to why this thing fell out of the sky,” Dallas answered as he moved dangling wires and debris out of his path.
Bryan started to climb up as well when something caught his eye and he stopped. He reached out and grabbed a burned wiring harness that was hanging from the exposed ceiling and rotated it in his hands, inspecting it. As he looked closer, he saw other harnesses and relay switches, all fried.
“I think I found what you’re looking for,” he called out, as he peered at the sheathing on the wires.
“Son of a gun,” he exclaimed.
Dallas and the others stopped climbing and started heading back toward Bryan.
“What have you got there,” Josh said as his old friend yanked some of the wiring free.
“At first, I thought this melting and burning was a result of the fireball when it crashed, but look at the interior. There’s hardly any fire damage. And look at these,” he said as he handed Josh a relay. “What do you see?”
“It looks like it was burned,” Josh said as he looked it over and gave it to James. “All of the circuits are toast.”
“And this?” Bryan said handing over a harness.
“Fried too,” Josh answered.
“Now look at the wires,” he continued as he began provided wire after wire. “The plastic sheathing is melted.”
“Yeah, but you said there was a pretty big explosion and fireball. This stuff could have shorted when it crashed,” Dallas said.
“Look a little closer. See how it’s bubbled like that?” Bryan explained. “That came from the inside out. Fire damage doesn’t do that.”
“So what did it?” Dallas asked impatiently.
“Lightning could this, right?” James asked.
“Yeah, it could, but I don’t see any storm clouds. If I had to make an educated guess, based on the damage I see to all of the on-board electronics, I think this sucker got hit by an EMP.”
Chapter 11
Brent Howard pulled up to Josh’s cabin to find it deserted. He knocked on the front door, rang the doorbell, and tried the handle. Nothing. He knew I was coming. He took a seat on the front porch and decided to wait. Some grand welcome for the retiring General.
The sound of a distant hum piqued his interest though. Since no one was home at Josh’s cabin, he thought he’d take a look. He didn’t have anything else to do.
When he cleared the hedgerow, he saw the speck of a quad copter hovering high in the sky. What the hell?
Without warning, the reconnaissance vehicle began rapidly descending. As it approached the ground, it abruptly slowed back to a hover in front of him at eye level. As he stared at it in disbelief, the camera mount rotated to face him. The General reached out to touch it and it quickly backed up.
Brent cocked his head at the hovering device. In response, the machine seemed to dip left and right and waggle at him, like it was laughing. As he stepped closer to it again, the copter turned around and started leading him toward the Martinez farmhouse. The retired General followed it like a child being enticed by a stranger with candy.
The home started to come into view around the last of the hedge and he could see Basilia standing on the front porch with the remote in her hands. She calmly directed the flying ROV and landed it gently next to her.
“What is that?” Brent called ou
t.
She shushed him and motioned for him to approach quietly.
“I couldn’t resist,” she whispered sheepishly.
“Resist what?”
“I bought this for the boys for Christmas so they could survey the farm remotely. I couldn’t help myself and had to try it out.”
“Speaking of that, where is every one?”
“You haven’t heard the news?”
“No,” Brent replied confused. “What am I missing?”
“Come on in. I’ll fix us some coffee and bring you up to speed.”
* * *
Former President Sarkes exited the armored car in front of the main house at Camp David and began walking steadfastly toward the front door. His body was drained physically and mentally from the months of travel and non-stop negotiations. He needed to rest. Impulsively, he saluted the Marines standing guard outside as President James Rayburn opened the door and welcomed him in.
The two Presidents had been in constant contact with each other as Tom attempted to do President Rayburn’s bidding across the Atlantic at The Hague. During his time overseas, he had managed to negotiate four backdoor deals with France, Spain, the Netherlands, and India. The former History major enjoyed the irony. All had a built-in deep seated disdain for the English as either former colonies or colonial rivals, but billions were owed to each.
Even with the Keystone pipeline online, reduction in entitlement spending during the Sarkes administration, and copious amounts of natural gas exports, the U.S. was still burning through cash. All told, over one hundred billion needed to be distributed to these nations in order to garner their support, albeit subversive.
The DGSE had informed Sarkes that the English had dispatched MI-6 and several ‘Watcher’ teams from the Apostles to infiltrate as many facilities as possible. When Tom asked how they knew all of this information, the Minister simply said, “No man can resist the allure of a French maidens pout.”
In response, the U.S. employed its own covert forces. The spies were now spying on the spies.
With the Treasury and Mint buildings being watched, it would be near impossible to sneak out the millions of gold bars needed to repay each of the countries in bullion. With the assistance of the Federal Reserve and the Treasury Department, they began draining discretionary and slush funds, as well as black accounts from hundreds of banks worldwide.
Before Sarkes stepped foot in the Camp David compound, they had cobbled together the hundred billion dollars owed to the four nations. The United States now had some allies.
“You look like hell, Tom,” Jim Rayburn said.
“Oh yeah? What’s your point? You look like crap all the time,” he retorted.
The two chuckled as Jim took Tom’s bags and handed them to the porter. A raging fire was going in the oversized fireplace and two drinks were waiting on the bar.
“Veronica preferred this place at Christmas,” Tom said referring to his late wife. “The staff always goes all out for the holidays. Why aren’t you at the White House?”
“Probably for the same reason she liked it here so much, I guess,” the POTUS replied.
“Avoiding the Press Corps too?” he said with a laughed.
“Exactly,” Jim replied. “Listen, Tom, I need you to take one last trip. I’d like you to accompany the ‘Delta One’ shipment out of Denver. The Commander up there is a jumpy little bugger. I’m afraid he’s gonna make a wrong move and get some people killed.”
“Why not,” Sarkes replied with shrug. “It’s not like I have anything else to do. This international business is as far as I can take it.”
“Excellent!” Rayburn responded.
The POTUS looked as if had more he wanted to say, but stopped himself.
“And?” Tom prodded as he started heading toward the two glasses at the bar.
“We need to discuss a few things. Issues other than the Hague.”
Tom slowed his walk and sighed, “What now?”
“We’ve managed to keep a lid on it for now, but Homeland and the FBI are investigating a series of ‘electrical disturbances’ throughout the country,” Jim said in a slightly annoyed tone.
“What are we talking about here?” the former leader asked.
“For about a month, power surges and shorts caused all sorts of problems. Sea-Tac is operating on VFR only, the DC Metro stopped working out at Dulles, sporting events went dark, street cars, ski lifts, parking lots... you name it. But today,” he started to say.
“What, Jim?”
“A plane was brought down over a suburb.”
“Casualties?”
“Latest reports have it north of fifty. Double that wounded,” the President responded.
Sarkes thought about the man’s comments before he asked, “You know what this sounds like?”
Jim exhaled loudly as he said, “Yeah, unfortunately, I think I do.”
“Is the NSA still keeping tabs on the fringe tech folks?” Sarkes questioned.
“Yup, and this has ‘he who shall not be named’ written all over it,” Rayburn began.
“Don’t say it, Jim,” Tom said cutting him off. “We had that guy committed when he went off the rails. He doesn’t exist.”
“Then you do remember him,” Jim said.
“Of course I do, I was the one that signed the commitment order. Reginald Lee. That little bastard escaped the psych ward and disappeared. He warned us about these types of devices; small, portable, and concealable. He was brilliant and designed some of the NSA’s more advanced systems and programs.”
“If I recall,” the POTUS interjected. “He started doing experiments with EMP’s for us with that Chester Daniels fellow when he went off the deep end and gave that interview. You had him committed in the interest of National Security. I agreed with that decision. Think someone else figured out the tech and is using it on U.S. soil?” Jim asked.
“Sure as hell sounds like it. We never found Reggie though. Just up and disappeared. Please tell me you guys found him,” Tom inquired.
The President responded candidly. “We went looking for him when it first started. According to the report I was given, he’s been living the quiet life off the grid with some other conspiracy theorists he met in the mental ward, including Chester. We had the NSA use their facial rec software and track him down. It took some doing, but they found him out near Portland.”
“Any chatter from the usual suspects?” Sarkes questioned.
“Unfortunately, no. We’re not hearing anything out of the Middle or Far East, or the former Eastern Bloc. It’s a complete global radio silence,” Jim answered, clearly puzzled.
“Brits?”
“We don’t think so, but we haven’t ruled them out. Whatever it is, it’s lightweight and portable.”
Tom thought for a few moments as he walked over to the bar and retrieved the drinks.
“How many occurrences,” Tom asked
“Just the eight,” Jim said half under his breath.
Tom spat his drink back into his glass and said, “Holy crap, Jim! Homeland and the FBI have nothing to go on?”
“I didn’t say that, Tom,” Jim replied. President Rayburn then stood and turned toward one of his Agents, “You can show Col. James and our guests in now please.”
“What’s going on, Rayburn?” the former President asked.
A side door opened and Sarkes could see a full bird Colonel enter. He was followed closely by two additional men.
“Tom, I’d like to introduce you to Col. Wilson James. He’s the head of the PSY/OPS group out of Germany. He’s been following some intel for us.”
Col. James quickly stopped, came to attention, and saluted.
The former President gave an abrupt return salute and asked, “His shadows are?”
The Colonel stepped to his right to reveal a young man in an Air Force uniform, who said, “Senior Airman Cecil Sullivan, sir,” as he saluted.
President Sarkes returned the gesture again, and said, “Next?”<
br />
“Weapons Sergeant Gregg Chastain,” the third man answered.
“Okay, we have a Colonel, an Airman, and a special forces operator. All of these things are not like the other,” Tom quipped. “What are we into gentlemen?”
The next hours were spent bringing the former leader up to speed as he sat in disbelief. No detail was spared. When they were finished, President Rayburn had four rooms made available for the guests. At Col. James’ request, a guard was posted outside of Cecil’s room.
At 6:00 AM Christmas morning, Tom Sarkes exited his bedroom to find Gregg rummaging around in the kitchen.
“Can I help you find something, son,” Tom said from behind Gregg startling him.
Once he recognized the voice, he relaxed. “I’m just looking for some coffee grounds, sir.”
“Did you get any sleep?” Tom asked gently.
“It was fitful. You’d think Camp David would have more comfortable beds,” he replied and the man laughed.
“Next cupboard over, top shelf,” Tom replied.
The two made coffee in silence and then took seats on the leather couch situated in front of the still glowing embers from the previous night. Gregg sat his mug down on the coffee table and tended to the fire. Once it was ablaze once more, he retook his seat. Behind them they heard the shuffling of slippers across the hardwood floor.
“I thought I smelled coffee,” said a voice from the shadows.
The two men quickly stood and turned around. The First Lady was staring back at them.
“Glad to see some men still have manners,” she said with a sly smile on her face.
“Yes, ma’am,” Gregg answered. “Coffee, ma’am?” he asked.
“Have a seat young man. I can get it myself,” she replied as she shuffled off to the kitchen.
Hannibal is at the Gates Page 11