FOREWORD

by Ten To Midnight--Free(Lit)

  The President already knew about that. He hadn’t realistically expected Lewis to change his mind, but it had been worth a try. “The UN Committee for Decommissioning of Nuclear Armaments, right?”

  “Correct. It’s something I believe strongly in, and I believe I’ll be able to make a difference. We’ve got some tough work ahead of us, ensuring that every nuclear power in the world scraps its weapons, but I think it can be done. The thing is, I don’t want my kids ever to have to face what we went through a few months ago. And as long as those things exist, there’s a danger of it happening again. Right?”

  Mitchell smiled wryly. “You know, a year ago, I might have called such comments naïve and idealistic. Treasonous even. But that was before I understood the true nature of treason, and before I realized that we were the naïve ones; those of us who accepted nuclear weapons as a fact of life without respecting the inherent dangers of their existence.”

  “If it’s any consolation, sir, you weren’t alone in that belief. I’m not a religious man, as you know, but if there is a God he gave us a second chance. We have to use it, because I don’t know if we’ll get a third.”

  The President nodded sympathetically. The same thought had crossed his mind on more than one occasion. America had survived, but only barely. And even now, it was by no means certain that it would continue to survive in any recognizable form. Because of the terrible events of three months earlier, his grandchildren would grow up in a world very much different from the one in which he had been raised. Whether that world would be better or worse than that which had preceded it was still debatable. But it would certainly be different.

  “You know, you don’t have to look far for a truly great National Security Advisor,” Lewis remarked hesitantly. “Somebody who possesses all the qualities you require, and somebody who’s a hell of a lot smarter than me. You’re married to her.”

  “I know,” Mitchell said, having already reached the same conclusion himself. “Back in Washington, all that prevented me appointing her as Bert Aldick’s replacement were political considerations. The Hill would’ve never forgiven me, and it would’ve looked too much like nepotism to the media.”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, sir, politics are on hold at the moment. The Hill is a pile of charred rubble. And, for the time being, you don’t have to worry about what the media think of you. Use that freedom, because I guarantee it won’t last.”

  “Thank you for your advice, Lewis. Brutally honest as always.”

  Lewis allowed himself a modest smile. “As you say, there are some tough times ahead and some dangerous people out there who are probably plotting at this very moment to take advantage of the situation. But my job now is to make sure that the world is a little less dangerous than it was. You do understand that, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do. I never seriously expected you to return to government service anyway. And you mustn’t feel like you have any obligation to do so. America, indeed the whole of mankind, owes you an eternal debt. Unfortunately, the full story of what happened will probably never be made public in our lifetimes.”

  “That’s okay, sir. I’m used to being an anonymous hero,” Lewis mused. “I prefer things that way. I don’t get harassed by autograph hunters when I go shopping.”

  “There are many people who over the years have contributed to our nation without ever receiving public recognition. It looks like you’ll be one of them. But everybody who knows what happened will never forget the role you played. If ever you feel the need to come back inside, you can pretty much pick whatever job you want. Perhaps when you’ve finished with the Commission.”

  “Perhaps. But I doubt it. Once I’ve finished this job, I want to do what I should’ve done years ago. Settle down with Jo and start a family. Live a normal life; two cars, two kids, a dog, that sort of stuff. If you’ll pardon the phrase, anuclear family .”

  Mitchell laughed aloud at that. Humor - even black humor - had been unsurprisingly rare lately. “I always did admire your British sense of irony. Don’t ever lose it.”

  “I don’t know how to do things any differently, sir.”

  As he stood to leave the room, Lewis shook the President’s hand warmly. Even though they would probably never work together again, the mutual respect and fondness would last for the rest of their lives.

  “If we need your expertise again, Lewis…”

  Lewis cocked his head to one side and grinned slyly. “You’ve got my phone number, Mr. President.”

  DISPLACED PERSONS CAMP 404, GILSON CITY, MISSOURI

  Beth was gently attending to a teenage girl whose legs had been horribly burned when a man’s voice caused her to freeze.

  At first, she thought she was imagining it. The result of too many sleepless nights, being kept awake by the desperate moans and wails of the injured and dispossessed. Perhaps the first shadows were encroaching upon her sanity. She had seen it happen to so many other ordinary people over the past few weeks, so why not her? She returned her attention to the girl, who didn’t yet know that both her parents had died of radiation sickness two days’ ago and were now joining thousands of others in one of the mass graves five miles to the south of camp 404. The girl wouldn’t last much longer herself, Beth knew. She was already in the final stages of radiation sickness. All Beth could do was to try and make her last few hours as comfortable as possible.

  Beth ran a hand through her tangled, greasy hair, aware that she must smell like shit. What she wouldn’t have given for a shower right now. But, like many aspects of everyday life, showers had become largely a thing of the past. Those who had survived the Third World War were having to come to terms with some harsh new realities. An America that had never wanted for food, shelter or wealth had in a period of weeks been reduced to little more than a second rate nation. It would rise again, she knew. For the determination and fortitude upon which America had been built was still embodied by those who had survived the nation’s darkest hour. But it would be some time before hot showers and plentiful food returned in abundance. Such luxuries belonged to another world.

  Like Martin, she thought.

  Beth had heard nothing of him since that awful night when she had watched him drive away from the house for the last time. Although a stubborn part of her still refused to accept it, she knew that Martin was dead. Had to be. Probably scattered all over Russia, or floating in the upper stratosphere. The knowledge didn’t trouble her as much as it should have done. She reflected that he was better off dead, not having to witness this carnage. Consolation came in the hope that the end had been painless for him.

  Cathy, another widow, had returned to Chicago a few weeks after the war. She had pleaded with Beth to go with her, but Beth had refused. She still had work to do, people that depended on her. Chicago survived. So did New York, Los Angeles and San Francisco. But not Independence. Not Kansas City. And not any of my friends who lived there.

  The voice called her again.

  “Beth.”

  This time, she surrendered to the temptation to look up. At first, all she could see was a silhouette, shadowed by the harsh crimson sky that had become a normal atmospheric feature since the war. Even when she squinted against the glare, she couldn’t make out the facial features.

  But the figure’s shape and voice were unmistakable.

  She stood up.

  She looked into the man’s eyes and saw that they were moist with tears.

  “Let’s go home, honey,” he said.

  She embraced her husband.

  TEMPORARY HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES, PHILADELPHIA

  With the proceedings only five days’ old, the Congressional Inquiry into the Nuclear War had become the most eagerly anticipated legal hearing in history, and today was the day that Dr Lewis Stein and David Sharp were to give their depositions. It was anticipated that both testimonies would prove damning to Paul Nielsen, who was facing charges of treason, war crimes and abuse of command.

  Many of the questions that would
be asked of Lewis and Sharp could only be answered behind closed doors, for reasons of National Security. Such questions largely concerned nuclear launch protocols and operational matters. But the fact that much of the trial would remain classified did nothing to dampen public enthusiasm. The public wanted someone to blame for the war. A bad guy. Better that it was someone recognizable.

  Unfortunately for him, Paul Nielsen was perfectly suited to the villain’s role.

  An electric buzz filled the old City Hall, which was now the new home of the House of Representatives. Several commentators had noted the irony in America’s Government returning to its roots. Philadelphia, after all, had originally been the administrative capital of the United States.

  With minutes to go until the day’s proceedings began, hundreds of politicians, observers and casual onlookers mingled in the lobby under the watchful eye of Secret Service and FBI agents, working with officers of the Philadelphia Police Department and just a few Marine guards. Lewis had always felt nervous of crowds; too many people to watch at once. But Jo was slowly rekindling his faith in human nature. It wouldn’t happen anytime soon, he knew - particularly not while men such as Paul Nielsen existed - but he was learning slowly.

  “You look fine,” Jo assured him, brushing down his charcoal gray suit. “Don’t worry about a thing. You’re a hero. Just go in there and tell the truth.”

  “I always do,” he said. “It’s not the questions that worry me. It’s the cameras. You know I don’t like my photo being taken. They’ll probably catch me sticking my tongue out or something.”

  “Then keep your tongue in,” she suggested dryly. Whispering in his ear: “Until we get home.”

  As Lewis felt himself blushing, he heard a familiar voice from behind him.

  “Yo, Doc!”

  Lewis turned around and smiled warmly as Sharp came striding through the crowd, which seemed to clear a path for him as if he were Moses parting the Red Sea. Gellis was a couple of steps behind him, looking rather uncomfortable with himself. He was more accustomed to reporting on the news, not being part of it.

  “Saved any worlds lately?” the CIA agent joshed. “Or is it just me who does that shit now?” To Jo: “You’re looking great, honey. Why don’t you drop this loser and give me a chance?”

  Jo gripped her husband’s hand. “I don’t think so, pal. Perhaps when I’ve worn him out, we’ll talk again.”

  Sharp raised his eyebrows and whistled. “Whoa. Sounds like you got a handful there, Doc. No wonder you look so old.”

  “It’s good to see you too,” Lewis grinned. He glanced at Gellis, then back at Sharp. “So, I hear you’ve got a new partner in crime. How do you like Langley, Richie?”

  Following their near escape in Frankfurt, Sharp had recommended Gellis to Bishop as a potential candidate for field operations. Actually, it wasn’t unusual for the CIA to recruit reporters as agents. After all, they already had many of the key qualities required for the job; the ability to cultivate contacts, sift through mountains of extraneous data and identify things that didn’t quite fit. Gellis had an added advantage in that he was fluent in Russian. Now the former journalist was spending six days a week at the CIA’s paramilitary training facility in Virginia, and as many evenings with Sharp learning about the less teachable aspects of the job.

  “Well, as my mentor keeps telling me,” Gellis pointed out, “I’ll get to travel to weird places, get shot at and maybe kill the odd bad guy.”

  “Yeah,” Lewis snorted. “Well, don’t listen too much to Sharp. He’ll probably get you killed in some Marrakech whorehouse.”

  Sharp feigned an expression of hurt. “You suggestin’ I’m a cowboy, Doc?”

  “Nah, cowboys can shoot straighter than you.”

  An elderly woman appeared at Sharp’s side. She beamed fondly at Lewis, looking him up and down. His English accent reminded her of a kind, dashing gentleman she’d known many years earlier. Pleasant memories that belonged to another lifetime, when she’d been an attractive young woman coveted by a small army of men.

  At first, Lewis imagined that she was just another member of the public, curious to meet the man who had reportedly been instrumental in preventing Armageddon (those were just unsubstantiated rumors, of course). But then Sharp wrapped an arm around her frail looking shoulders.

  “I’d like you to meet my mother, Betsy Thomson,” he grinned proudly. “Mom, this is Dr Lewis Stein, an old friend of mine.”

  Lewis gently shook Betsy’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Thomson. You should be proud of your David. He’s served his country well.”

  “David? Is that what you call yourself now?” She stared at her son, then pinched his cheek, her face glowing with pride. “He’s an angel, isn’t he? I always knew he’d make something of himself one day. He was such a smart child, you know. Always first in his class.”

  Sharp - his Texan tough guy image under threat - shifted uncomfortably, failing to prevent a blush from appearing on his face. “Mom, please,” he muttered.

  Lewis was hamming the moment for all it was worth. “Oh, come on. Your Mom’s proud of you. And she’s right. You aresuch an angel.” He could barely suppress his laughter. Sharp’s eyes said it all: You just wait, Stein. You just wait. In the background, Gellis chuckled quietly.

  “Listen to the young man,” Betsy advised her son. “He’s a doctor. He knows what he’s talking about.”

  Jo furrowed her brow in puzzlement. “Pardon me for asking, but I thought your name was Sharp. How is it that your mother has a different surname?”

  Lewis whispered the explanation in her ear. “You don’t think David Sharp is his real name, do you?”

  She raised her eyebrows in comprehension, her mouth shaped into a silent ‘O’.

  “I’d tell you my real name, but I’d have to kill you afterwards,” Sharp added with a dry grin.

  Betsy shook her head in annoyance at her son. “Oh, don’t be bashful. I think Joey is a lovely name.”

  Lewis almost doubled up in hysterics. “Joey… Joey Thomson! All these years… I had no idea. Pleased to meet you…Joey .” His chest heaved with laughter.

  Sharp glanced at Gellis, who was also laughing heartily. Others in the lobby had turned to see what all the commotion was about. Finally, even Sharp/Thomson saw the funny side. He allowed himself a quiet chuckle. “Okay,Louie . Make the most of it. I’m still a better shooter than you.”

  In the abstract, Lewis thought it might have been in poor taste to be laughing and joking shortly before giving testimony on one of the darkest events in human history. Yet one of the unexpected effects of the nuclear war was that it wasn’t uncommon for people to smile more than they had done previously. Part of that, he imagined, was due to subconscious relief at having survived. But it owed more to a natural desire to escape the reality of what had suddenly become a very grim and foreboding world.

  A court official tapped Lewis on the shoulder. “Dr Stein? We’re ready.”

  And now reality beckoned once more.

  Lewis took a deep breath to calm his nerves. Jo gave him a good luck kiss and a wink. Then she turned and made for the public gallery.

  “Oh well,” Lewis said to himself. “Here goes everything.”

  As he began to walk towards the chamber, Sharp touched his arm to stop him. For once, his expression and tone was deadly serious.

  “Make sure that bastard fries for this,” he growled.

  Lewis stared at him for a moment, nodded thoughtfully, and then walked away.

  The first thing of which he became aware upon entering the chamber was the chorus of chatter and tungsten flashbulbs. It took him a moment to realize that the army of cameras was mostly focused on him. He squinted against the bright white light. It reminded him of something that he, like millions of others, would rather forget about.

  As he made his way to the stand - which was actually a long wooden bench situated directly in front of the six judges who headed the inquiry - it began to dawn on him that a
s many as a billion people around the world were scrutinizing his every move and gesture at this moment. So this is what it’s like to be famous. And there are people who actually want this? Damn.

  Glancing around the chamber, he recognized a couple of familiar faces. Tony Bishop, General Westwood - in civilian clothes - and Jim Reynolds among others. But his eyes were drawn to another bench, directly in front of him where Paul Nielsen was seated between two severe looking FBI agents. Lewis felt his nostrils flare. In the abstract, he had promised himself that he wouldn’t let this happen. In reality, however, it was not so easy.

  He felt himself being drawn towards the accused. As the former Secretary of Defense began to realize what was happening, a hint of fear crept into his eyes. The FBI agents either side of him stiffened nervously.

  Lewis felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time. He was back in combat mode; the hunter stalking his prey. He became acutely aware of every muscle in his body; finely tuned components of a lethal instrument working in faultless harmony. His eyes darkened. His jaw stiffened.

  Lewis stopped right in front of Nielsen. The former Secretary of Defense stood to face his nemesis, comforted only by the knowledge that the FBI agents either side of him were present to guarantee his safety as much as to prevent his escape.

  Lewis and Nielsen stood eyeball-to-eyeball for what seemed like an eternity to the former Secretary of Defense. Lewis felt the need to do this, to look behind the man’s eyes. He didn’t have any preconceptions about what he’d find. But he needed to know nonetheless. This man had been prepared to incinerate an entire planet purely to satiate his own ego. As a self-taught student of the human condition, Lewis wanted to know why.

  But as he clinically scrutinized Nielsen, he sensed neither regret nor bitterness. Instead, he found a broken, disillusioned wretch. Nielsen had aged badly since the war. And now he had no fight left in him, no will. He was weak, pathetic.