The Great Crime Spike: A Dystopian Thriller Novel (Liberty Down Book 1)

by Eric M Hill

  And, of course, he believed the Constitution belonged in a museum. Right next to the dinosaur bones. This was the foremost reasons why he had run Cuning’s Senate and presidential campaigns.

  The nation’s problems had outgrown the Constitution. And as dangerous as it was to give one man absolute power, the way the nation was going, some man at some time was going to do just that. It was just a matter of time. It made sense that that man would be his man.

  Nonetheless, what the president was talking about was akin to detonating a hydrogen bomb in your own neighborhood. The chief’s eyes were as wide as they’d ever been, and his mouth looked like an open garage.

  “Hal, I wish you could see your face.”

  “Martial law? Andrew, that’s in…sane! If you want to start a civil war, that’s the one thing you can do to guarantee it. Texas will take up arms and fight. You know they will. And I can think of five other governors who won’t be far behind. Kentucky. South Carolina. Georgia. Tennessee. Alabama.

  “Do we have the military might to win? Technically and on paper, maybe. Real life, no. The moment you declare martial law, fifty million fence-sitters will start shooting at targets with your face on it. And how many military people and units will sell us out? Then there’s ten thousand terrorist groups that’ll pop up overnight. The Russians and Iranians and Chinese will be more than happy to equip the freedom fighters. Mr. President, you let this genie out of the bottle and—”

  “All hell will break loose,” the president finished his sentence.

  The chief pressed. “It’ll be the U.S. Civil War all over again, without a guarantee of full or even partial recovery. This is something we can not do.”

  Cuning leaned back in the Oval Office chair and looked at his closest confidant with a sly grin. “It would be a cataclysmic tragedy worthy of an apocalyptic novel.”

  Hal looked inquisitively at the president’s grin. He closed his eyes and propped his elbow on the arm of his chair. He let out a closed-mouth chuckle. “That is one good idea. I should have thought of it myself.” He opened his eyes. “If you were not the president, I would say, You are one sly fox.”

  “You’ve finally called me by my first name since I’ve become president. Why not call me one sly fox? I’ve been called worse. A woman called me a liberal once. Of course, she’s from Texas.”

  “I called you by your first name? When?”

  Cuning grinned more. “Never mind. Let’s not waste time discussing my Boy Scout qualities. I’ve got an apocalyptic speech to work on.”

  “Capitol Hill is going to be one smelly place, with all the poop running down Congress’s legs,” said Hal.

  “I’m sure.”

  Hal’s eyes twinkled. “They’ll be quite motivated to put aside their unreasonable suspicions of your motives to work with you on alternative methods of dealing with the growing existential crises of violent crime and anarchy. Would there happen to be some legislation that you’d be willing to sign in lieu of declaring martial law to protect our great democracy?”

  Cuning’s eyes twinkled, too. “There is.”

  Hal waited several seconds. “Mr. President, if I wanted to be teased, I’d get myself a wife.”

  “No need to go nuclear, Hal. There is a piece of legislation that I’d reluctantly sign for the sake of the nation. Representative Charlize Harmon. Get her in on it. After what happened to her little girl, I can’t imagine there’s anything she wouldn’t sign off on if it hurts predators. I was going to call it the Predator Research and Violent Crime Reduction Act (PRVCR). But I’ve changed my mind. We’ve had enough of Violent Crime Reduction this and Violent Crime Reduction that. We’re not going down that route—looking like more of the same. No, let’s call it STOP. The Scientific Termination of Predators Act. When Anderson delivers, we’ll be ready to take action.”

  “STOP. I like it,” said Hal.

  “The doves and Constitution lovers will have a fit, but the people will love it. Have you heard what Richardson’s doing down there in Texas? He’s changing corrections to punishment.”

  “Mr. President?”

  "The jails. The prisons. The corrections officers. It’s all going to be punishment. The Texas Department of Criminal Justice is going to become the Texas Department of Criminal Punishment. The Correctional Institutions Division is going to become the Punishment Institutions Division. And just add Punishment right before Unit in all of those state prisons. No more Montford Unit. It’s going to be the Montford Punishment Unit.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I’m as serious as Senator Elizabeth Mudd is ugly.”

  The chief of staff grimaced. “I am not a spiteful man, Mr. President, but that is quite serious. What could her parents have done to piss off the Almighty like that?”

  Cuning chuckled. “Whatever it was, it was no misdemeanor.”

  “Double felony for sure,” quipped Hal.”

  The twinkle in the president’s eyes revealed his appreciation for his senior advisor’s dry humor. “Governor Richardson says Texas is through trying to correct predators. He says only a fool would continue to spend billions of dollars trying to turn meat-eating jackals into vegetarians. He says the federal courts would even have them spend tax money teaching jackals to eat with utensils.”

  Hal grinned wryly. “That man does have a way with words.”

  “Yeah, well so do I. I have an apocalyptic speech to write and deliver to the nation.” The president stood.

  Hal stood also.

  “Hal, here’s what I want in this bill.” The president handed him a stapled, typed document. “We can surf Representative Harmon’s anger. She gets credit for the legislation. Plus, she gets a little revenge, and if everything works out as I envision it will, we ride her wave to a second oath of office.”

  Hal took the document. He’d seen it a million times. The art of manipulation. He let out a breath filled with an underwhelming appreciation for human gullibility. “It’s amazing.”

  “What?”

  “How stupid people are.”

  “Now Hal, that’s not nice.”

  “Truth is often the meanest SOB in the room, Mr. President.”

  The president grinned. “That explains your lovely personality. I’ve always considered you a very truthful man. Let’s hope human nature doesn’t change any time soon. We need people to follow emotions not facts.”

  “Mr. President, trust me. If that’s what you need, consider it done. Like I said, people are stupid.”

  The president turned to his right and looked pensively at a portrait of President Abraham Lincoln. The nation didn’t need a leader with strong executive powers; they needed a leader with absolute power. “I’ve placed all my bets on that “stupid” chip, Hal.”

  “Don’t lose any sleep over it, Mr. President. If a man like Adolph Hitler can write Mein Kampf and still become Chancellor, I think we can get you a reelection.”

  Cuning’s eyes moved from Abraham Lincoln to his senior advisor. “Adolf Hitler, Hal?”

  “I apologize, Mr. President. The intent was hyperbole, not a comparison of character. The point I was trying to make—and failed egregiously at it—is that someone who had told the world what he was up to was still able to accomplish it. This man proved his own words true.”

  “What words are those?”

  “He said a couple of things you need to keep in mind, Mr. President. He said, ‘How fortunate for leaders that men do not think.’ He also said, ‘It is not truth that matters, but victory.’”

  Cuning let these words roll around in his calculating mind. “Isn’t he the one who also said, ‘If you tell a big enough lie, and tell it often enough, it will be believed’?”

  “Yes, he did, Mr. President.”

  Cuning smiled. “I have a speech to work on.”

  Chapter 36

  President Cuning thought contemptuously about the worthlessness of the Constitution and the tragedy/comedy dysfunctionality of American government. That this was so
was not open to reasonable debate. All one had to do was to read the preamble to the Constitution and look around. The proof was irrefutable that the Founding Fathers had failed.

  He quoted the preamble in his mind and noted the glaring failures. A more perfect union? No. The so-called union was fragile and on its way to dissolution. Establish justice? Really? You needed a justice system to administer justice. The predators had overwhelmed and all but broken the justice system.

  Insure domestic tranquility? There was no domestic tranquility. Predators had turned the nation into a jungle where the average citizen, and especially women, were hunted by horny, hungry animals disguised as people.

  And now that he thought about it, average citizens had become hunters. They were running around killing and raping and robbing in the name of making the streets safe from predators. Provide for the common defense? Again, no. The Russians and Chinese and Iranians, as well as a host of foreign terrorist groups, were at that very moment on U.S. soil taking advantage of America’s weakness and trying to cleverly foment a popular uprising, as well as providing equipment and training.

  Promoting the general welfare, and securing the blessings of liberty? Ordaining and establishing this Constitution for the United States? No. No. Hell no! It was because of that antiquated piece of paper that the general welfare of the United States and its continued liberty were at risk.

  Cuning looked at the portrait of Lincoln for inspiration. You didn’t let the Congress or Supreme Court stand in your way, he thought. He punched a number into his phone.

  ***

  The special assistant to the president, Jeffrey Dean, looked at his phone. “Excuse me, Brenda.” He pushed away from the table and stood. The thoroughly shaken Supreme Court clerk continued to sit, staring at a salt shaker and wondering how she had gotten into such a mess. Jeffrey looked down at the woman with a conqueror’s grin. “Mr. President,” he said for her benefit. She looked up with startled eyes.

  “Jeff, what are you hearing about Jacob?”

  “Still grieving pretty bad. His nerves are shot. I think he may be drinking again.” He pressed the phone against his chest as he spoke to the woman. “Brenda, the FBI, the CIA, the NSA, and a bunch of organizations with letters you’ve never heard of work for the president. There’s even people within the Department of Integrity and Government Oversight who—”

  “That’s not good news,” said Cuning. “But I guess it’s to be expected. Something that terrible happening to someone who has given so much to this country. What is this world coming to? We have to stop this madness.”

  Jeffrey whispered to the law clerk as the president spoke. “What I want to hear right here and now, Brenda, is are you the president’s friend or enemy?” He spoke into the phone. “I’m here to help you do just that, Mr. President.” Cuning’s cut-throat utility man’s eyes demanded an answer from the woman.

  “Friend,” came her low, tremulous answer.

  “There are no second chances to be the president’s friend, Brenda. One phone call to the wrong person. One email with a word in it we don’t like. One chance meeting with someone on our bad people’s list. One dream we don’t like and we’ll eliminate everyone you love. We’ll eliminate everyone you’ve ever loved. Then soon after you’ve seen the error of your ways, we’ll come after you. Friend…or foe?”

  “Friend,” said the young woman.

  “Good. I believe you.” Jeffrey walked away.

  “Give me some surprising news about VCE’s work with predators,” said the president. “How close are they to a magic potion?”

  Jeffrey heard the president’s angry sarcasm. “Honestly, sir, they’re like blind roofers trying to stop a leak. They’re all over the place. One moment they’re singing hallelujah because some murderer or rapist didn’t behave as savagely as he normally would have. The next they’re almost in tears and slitting their wrists because they think they’ve actually made a predator worse. They’re like a bi-polar Jack-in-the-Box. You never know what’s going to pop up next.” Jeffrey liked the space his boss was giving him to speak. He added as an afterthought slight, “Seems about the only thing they can get straight is manipulating predators.”

  Cuning felt a wonderfully refreshing breeze cascade over him behind the four closed doors of the Oval Office. His heart lifted. His countenance changed. But he kept his voice deliberately despondent. “Seems my only option is Anderson,” he feigned.

  Jeffrey didn’t feel liberty to interrupt the long silence.

  “Thank you, Jeff.”

  “You’re welcome, Mr. President.”

  Click.

  President Cuning felt like a ten-year-old who had just spotted a hundred-dollar bill on the ground. All he had to do was pick it up. He called Alan Christian, Deputy Director of Violent Crime Eradication. How powerful and moving would it be to somberly deliver his speech about the state of the nation and his new Scientific Termination of Predators legislation during the most intense and devastating onslaught that America’s most famous city had ever suffered?

  Alan looked at his phone and was chilled. He was more afraid of this man than ever. “Mr. President, how may I help you?”

  “I plan to speak to the nation, and I need to make sure that the speech takes place while Austin’s hunters are desperately and viciously going after a new and overwhelming wave of super predators. I’m told you can make this happen.”

  Chapter 37

  “Austin, Texas once was a city that defied the very worst of America’s devastating crime spikes,” said the CNN hologram reporter, as the digital image moved to an unoccupied area among the crowd of people looking at the pile of predator bodies. There were now five, and more hunters were in route to add their dead predators to the pile.

  “Its brand of law and order, though dubious, instigated by men like maverick and vigilante Chief of Police Barry King, caused it to rise at least aesthetically above the deluge of crime like a small island that refused to be overwhelmed by the mighty ocean.”

  The digital reporter pointed to the pile of bodies. “The dead bodies before us in this suburb, however, and those in similar piles around the city is proof that no island can defy the mighty ocean forever. It is also proof that—what’s that? Pardon me, ladies and gentlemen. We have a breaking story of a school bus full of children that has been taken over by two so-called predators. What’s…oh. It sounds like Chief King’s children are on that bus.”

  ***

  “Mr. President, this is your moment,” his chief of staff whispered into his ear.

  President Cuning’s eyes exuded confidence to the man who was helping him climb to the top of the Constitution’s ivory tower. He squeezed Hal’s shoulder. “Thank you for your support.” He parted from him and the small company of his favored people who would watch from outside the view of the cameras and walked confidently toward the Oval Office desk.

  He sat and looked straight ahead, his expression serious, but not grim; his features resolute, yet still handsome. His hands were side by side on the desk. The president’s crisp white shirt contrasted smartly against his dark blue suit and dark blue tie. Behind him sat many family photographs. On his left was the Flag of the President of the United States. But more importantly, the American flag was prominent on his right. That was why he was giving this speech—the preservation of the Union.

  President Cuning was acutely aware of the significance of delivering his speech from the Oval Office. Presidents had often reserved their most important and legacy building speeches for the Oval Office. He looked at the small red light just above the digital 10 of the television camera. Ten seconds before he’d force the five irresolute, confused, and weak political parties—or at least enough of their members—to take a fateful step that would bring him closer than ever to getting the power he needed to save the nation.

  The red light starting blinking. 10. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1.

  “My fellow Americans, I come before you this evening prompted by emergency, but compe
lled by destiny. It would be dishonest and foolhardy to pretend we are not under siege of an ever-growing menace of vicious crime. Crime that threatens to tear us apart as a nation. Yet, it would be remiss to forget that our nation was conceived in the adversity of political oppression, was birthed in the fire of revolution, and grew despite the destruction of civil war.

  “Nonetheless, considering all that we have been through as a nation, it is not without reason that tens of millions of Americans doubt whether we can recover from the Great Crime Spike, whether it is realistic to believe there can be a great resurgence of safety and civility that can swallow both the fears of and the actions of vicious criminals. I understand your concerns. I see and feel what’s happening to our nation.

  “The courageous battles of many American cities against violent criminals are constantly in the news. Minneapolis. Tampa. Albuquerque. Sacramento. But the story of Austin, Texas has caught the rapt attention of the nation. Yes, there are larger than life personalities involved in the narrative of that great city. But the siege and evolution of Austin transcends any one or two charismatic people.

  “Earlier today many of us saw on television another awful violation of decency. Two sexual deviants with long records shot and killed a school bus driver full of children and attempted to kidnap them all for who knows what awful purposes. By chance, three of the children on that bus were the daughters of the Austin city Chief of Police, Barry King.

  “Fortunately, both criminals were killed on the bus before they could further traumatize these children. However, what becomes of little girls who are thrust into such a terrible predicament that they are forced to kill? Ironically, and unfortunately, this is the second time Chief King’s daughters have been forced to kill criminals. No child should have to live like this. I vowed to you when I was campaigning to serve you as president that I would bring law and order back to America. I vow to you again—I will bring law and order back to America.