CHAPTER 58
The mutants were changing, but not as she’d predicted.
Carolyn stared at the screens in front of her as the medical scanning equipment slowly, painstakingly, swept over the casings, revealing what was inside on three-dimensional digital displays.
“Garrett, come take a look at this.”
“Do I have to?”
“Come on. Take a look and quit being such a baby.”
“I’m not a baby. Every time you tell me to look at something, you always have bad news.”
“Look . . . here. The arm. Can you see it?”
Garrett stared intently at the screen. “Yep, looks like an arm, all right.”
“No, look closely. Does it look like the arms we saw on it before?”
“Well, no, I guess it doesn’t.” It did look different, now that he looked more closely. “It doesn’t seem to have the claws anymore.”
“Right. And look at the bones. They’re shorter. Not as thick. Look at the skull. It’s thinning as well. Look at the teeth.”
“So . . . you think the thing is shrinking?”
“It sure looks that way. It just doesn’t look like it’s . . . It doesn’t seem to be splitting into two. Like they’ve done before. Like I expected.”
“What about the rat?”
“Same thing. Look.” She switched the display to show the scanning results for the mutated rat.
“It’s much smaller. There’s a lot of empty space in that casing now.”
“Right. And here, Garrett, look at the bone structure.”
“I’ll be damned. Same thing, isn’t it?”
“Sure looks that way. The bones are smaller, less dense than before.” Carolyn paused. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say the things were mutating back to their original state.”
“What?”
“I’m saying, based on the readings we’ve seen for the last four hours, the mutated creatures are changing back into what they were.”
“You mean to tell me those casings are going to crack open at sundown, and a normal rat is going to pop its head out?”
“I’m not too sure normal is the correct word, but anatomically speaking, it looks that way.”
“Jesus. That means Sergeant Wilson—”
“That means Sergeant Wilson—or something that looks like Sergeant Wilson—will be in that casing when, and if, it cracks open.”
“I don’t understand this at all. Was there anything in the Soviet data that showed any sort of regression in their Gemini experiments?”
“Nothing. Not a thing.”
“Well, it looks like you have another mystery to figure out, Carolyn.”
She stared at the screen showing the casing containing what had been Sergeant Wilson. “Yeah, another mystery.”
CHAPTER 59
The hidden keypad slowly slid from under the thick mahogany top of the president’s desk. On it, he gently placed the palm of his hand. Around the underground situation room sat the secretary of defense, the secretary of Homeland Security, the national security advisor, and the newly frocked chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, his four stars glinting from the bright overhead lights.
The president’s voice was strained from lack of sleep—and from other reasons known by only one other person in the room—yet every word he spoke reverberated through the small buried command center as if he were speaking through a megaphone.
“Today, we have come to a turning point in this fight. We’ve found these creatures impervious to the effects of chemical weapons. We’ve found conventional strikes have been ineffective in slowing their advances. Right now, we have the opportunity to wipe them out where they lie. I have ordered a massive aerial bombardment of the ground waves. Their casings are barely belowground, and General Metzger has assured me we can blow them to pieces with high-explosive iron bombs. That order has already been given.” Andrew paused, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before he spoke the words that no other president before him had ever been forced to speak. “I do, however, have one more order to give. In the cities of Little Rock, Minneapolis-St. Paul, and Oklahoma City, there is another threat we cannot destroy with conventional weapons. There are thousands of casings scattered in and around those cities. Casings of the mutated birds, aboveground, hidden in the buildings, and belowground in the sewers. If, as we have observed the previous two nights, these creatures emerge from their casings at sundown, in double the numbers we saw last night, we will have lost an opportunity to destroy them that we may never have again. I cannot let that happen. If we allow them to take wing again, we will not be able to stop them.”
Hugo McIntyre spoke first. “Mr. President, if you order the destruction of those cities, you will essentially be signing the death warrants of thousands of American citizens. Maybe millions. Those cities are in the early stages of their evacuations and—”
“Hugo, I know. With God in heaven as my witness, I know.”
“Mr. President, then let me suggest we wait until right before sunset, to allow the evacuations to progress as far as possible.”
“The strikes will be timed to do just that, Hugo. We have three B-2 bombers waiting to launch at Barksdale. They will strike right before sunset at each of the three cities.”
“Are the people going to know?” Tank’s voice boomed, filled with emotion. “Are we at least going to let them know what we’re going to do?”
Jessie Hruska responded immediately. “Would you like to be the one to let them know, Mr. Stone? Would you like to be the one who gets up in front of a camera and tells the American people that we’re going to nuke three American cities?” Jessie’s eyes burned bright as she stared at the SECDEF.
“Don’t we owe them at least that much, Ms. Hruska? I mean, Jesus Christ, we’re talking about blowing the living hell out of our own country, aren’t we? Killing the same people we were put here to protect?”
Jessie fought to control her temper. She was so close, and no political appointees would stop her now. “Would it make it any better? Would telling the American people that we’re very sorry we have to do this, but we’re going to have to destroy three cities, and if you have any relatives there that are still trying to get out, you’d better get on your cell phones right now before it’s too late? Would it make you sleep better at night? Would it?”
Tank took a second to compose himself before speaking. “Ms. Hruska. We represent the American people. We represent all their hopes, their desires, and most of all, their trust. They trust us to do the right thing, even when it’s something like this, when we’re faced with a problem that has no easy solution. If no one else in this room has the stomach to do it, bring me a camera crew and I’ll tell them mysel—”
“That’s enough!” The president slammed his fist on his desk. “That is enough. Tank, there’s no time for speeches.” He looked at his watch. “If I don’t give this order in the next ten minutes, those bombers will arrive at their targets after sunset. After sunset, Tank. Am I clear?”
Tank stared at the president for what seemed an eternity. The man he’d grown to admire over the last few years no longer sat before him. The man he was looking at—with his finger on the nuclear button—was not that man. Not anymore. He’d changed. Transformed into something different. Cold. Almost unfeeling. The man he’d known would never have come to this decision so quickly. And more importantly, he would never have done it without the advice and counsel of his vice president.
Something was wrong.
“Yes, Mr. President. You are clear,” he said. But he wasn’t done yet. “Is the vice president aware of what we’re doing, Mr. President?”
Andrew’s gaze turned icy as he glared at his SECDEF. “No. She has not been briefed. Yet.”
“May I ask why, sir?”
“There hasn’t been any time, Tank.”
&n
bsp; “We’ve got time right now, sir.” He glanced at the plasma screen on the wall. “It’ll only take a second.”
“Mr. President, you have to give the order now, sir. The bombers are waiting.” General Metzger’s voice sounded impatient.
“Sir?” Tank was not about to be ignored.
The president pressed a button on his secure communications panel, opening a line to the NMCC. A voice answered almost immediately.
“NMCC, General Blackburn speaking.”
“General Blackburn, this is the president of the United States.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. President.”
“General, I am ordering the execution of operation Three Kings.”
“Yes, sir. I understand you are ordering the execution of operation Three Kings.”
“That is correct, General.”
“Sir, I need to confirm that you are authorizing the release of nuclear weapons. Please authenticate.”
A small needle pierced the president’s palm once again, drawing a tiny amount of blood for instant DNA analysis. “This is the president of the United States. I am authorizing the release of nuclear weapons.” He pulled a small laminated card from his wallet. “Authenticate Tango, Delta, seven, two, nine, six, Charlie, Bravo, one. Day code one, seven, Foxtrot, Xray. Code word, falcon. Release is on my authority as president of the United States of America.”
Tank Stone took a step toward the president’s desk. “Sir, why doesn’t the vice president know?”
General Metzger stepped in front of Tank Stone and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Sit down, Mr. Secretary.”
“Get out of my way, Thad.”
“I can’t do that, Mr. Secretary.”
“Get out of my way, General Metzger, or I’ll tear your fucking head off.”
General Metzger pulled his sidearm and quickly affixed a silencer to the end of the barrel. “I think not, Mr. Secretary.”
Tank paused, clenched his fists.
Metzger pointed his pistol squarely between the SECDEF’s eyes. “You will sit down.”
Unaware of what was happening in the situation room, General Blackburn placed his hand on his own panel, which immediately identified him through instant DNA analysis. “This is General Ryan D. Blackburn, senior controller on duty, National Military Command Center. I have received orders from the president of the United States authorizing the release of nuclear weapons. Authentication Tango, Delta, seven, two, nine, six, Charlie, Bravo, one. Day code one, seven, Foxtrot, Xray. Code word, falcon. Release is on his authority as president of the United States of America.”
A steady green light appeared on the president’s panel. The order had been received.
Tank tried to move past General Metzger, at the same instant shouting, “General Blackburn! Belay the—”
His statement was cut off by the puff of a silencer, and a bullet slamming into his forehead. Tank’s body fell to the floor in a heap, a crimson pool spreading from the jagged exit wound in the back of his skull. His eyes remained open.
Hugo McIntyre sprang from his chair. “Jesus Christ! What the hell have you done!”
General Metzger nonchalantly swung the barrel of his pistol toward the secretary of Homeland Security. “Don’t make a move, Mr. Secretary.”
“Mr. President? What’s going on there?” General Blackburn asked, hearing the commotion on the other end of the line.
The president stared at Jessie as he spoke. “Nothing, General. We’re all secure.” She smiled at him. “You have your orders.”
“Yes, sir, I have my orders.”
The president terminated the connection.
“Mr. President, I suggest a lockdown of all communications until this is over. We’d better get you airborne,” General Metzger said.
“Yes. I’d better get airborne.”
Hugo McIntyre couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. “Mr. President! This son of a bitch just murdered the SECDEF, and you didn’t even blink an eye!”
“He was trying to interfere with the president’s legal orders to our nuclear forces, Mr. McIntyre,” Metzger said. “I couldn’t let that happen.”
“Bullshit! He was trying to stop the madness, and you killed him! Why doesn’t the vice president know about your order, Mr. President? Why was Tank trying to stop it? Why?”
Jessie Hruska calmly stepped over the lifeless body of the SECDEF and sat on the edge of the president’s desk. “Andrew, you did the right thing.” She pulled a surgical glove from her jacket pocket, along with a small vial. “You know that, don’t you?” She uncapped the vial, placed a small amount of the drug on her finger.
“Yes. I did the right thing.” His voice was flat, almost robotic.
“And I love you for it, Andrew.” She slowly rubbed the drug into his skin, behind his ear.
“I love you too, Jessie.”
“What in the name of God is going on here?” Hugo McIntyre asked, his mouth hanging open in disbelief.
“The cause lives on, Mr. Secretary.” General Metzger moved closer to Hugo McIntyre. “Generations have patiently waited for this day, Mr. Secretary, right under your noses. The country we once served may have lost the Cold War, but the dream that gave it life still burns brightly.”
Hugo McIntyre’s voice was cracking. “My God, what are you talking about?”
“Andrew, Hugo may be a threat to you. To our national security.” Jessie smiled and winked at Hugo McIntyre.
“Yes. A threat,” the president repeated.
“You should order General Metzger to kill him.”
“Yes,” the president said flatly. “General Metzger should kill him.”
Hugo McIntyre turned toward the door, but never took a step. The puff from a silencer was the last sound he’d ever hear.
General Metzger detached the silencer and holstered his weapon. He picked up the president’s phone. “This is General Metzger. There’s been an attempt on the president’s life. We’re going airborne immediately.”
Jessie removed two pistols from the president’s desk and placed one in a hand of each of the two dead bodies.
Metzger smiled at Jessie as he continued. “Mr. McIntyre and Mr. Stone attempted to assassinate the president. They’re both dead. Get the Secret Service escort down here now, and inform the alert crew at Andrews we’re on our way.”
Jessie stroked the president’s hair. “It’s time to go now, Andrew.”
“Yes,” he said. “It’s time to go.”
CHAPTER 60
“Madame Vice President, there’s been an attempt on the president’s life.”
“What did you say?”
The Navy commander handed her the message and gave her a quick synopsis. “It was in the situation room. The SECDEF and secretary of Homeland Security tried to kill the president. General Metzger shot and killed them both and then took the president to Andrews with Ms. Hruska. They’re airborne right now.”
This is wrong. Allison knew what she was reading couldn’t be true. “Commander, tell the pilot to transition to orbit twenty-seven. Do not, I repeat, do not inform control that we’re leaving this orbit.”
“Ma’am?”
“You heard me, Commander. We’re going to move, and we’re going to do it quietly. No contact with control. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He left the vice president’s cabin and headed for the cockpit.
What she’d just ordered the pilot to do was completely out of the ordinary. He was never to leave a prescribed orbit without informing secret government air traffic controllers where he was headed. Although most aircraft transmitted their identification continuously via transponder, the vice president’s aircraft—along with most high-level government aircraft—deactivated their transponders in a time of crisis. To use a term familiar to submariners, they were running silent and running deep.
Orbit 27—where she’d directed the pilot to head—was a rare portion of the North American airspace that was not monitored by radar. It was a blind spot. A place to hide.
Allison Perez stared at the message in her hands.
If what she was thinking were true, she’d need to stay hidden. Maybe for a long time. She felt the plane begin to bank as it left its prescribed orbit and headed north toward Canada.
A knock on her cabin door startled her.
“Yes?”
The commander opened her door, with another message in his hands. His face was ashen. “Ma’am, the president has ordered execution of operation Three Kings.”
“What is Three Kings, Commander?”
“You’d better read this one for yourself, ma’am.” He handed her the message.
It was a nuclear strike.
The president of the United States had ordered a nuclear strike against three American cities—Minneapolis-St. Paul, Oklahoma City, and Little Rock.
She now knew beyond a doubt that something was terribly wrong. Not only had two highly trusted members of the cabinet been killed—supposedly after trying to kill the president—but Andrew had ordered the execution of a nuclear strike without even hinting to her that he was thinking about it.
“Thank you, Commander. That will be all.”
The commander closed her cabin door on his way out.
Allison ran through the different possibilities. If there had been an assassination attempt against the president—by Hugo McIntyre and Tank Stone—there must’ve been a damned good reason for it. Chances were they were attempting to prevent the nuclear execution order she now held in her hands. If the story were true.
A second possibility was that Hugo McIntyre and Tank Stone had been framed. Someone had made it look as if they were killed during a botched assassination attempt. And those someones would be General Thad Metzger and Jessie Hruska, who were now with the president on Air Force One. And if that were true . . .
It didn’t matter which scenario was true. They both came down to one thing—the president of the United States was under duress. He never would’ve given a nuclear execution order without consulting her first. His decision earlier to release chemical weapons without consulting her—although out of character—was still somewhat plausible. But nukes? No way. When he’d considered using nuclear weapons after the Cleveland attack, he’d bent her ear like it had never been bent before. This time, he’d kept her completely in the dark.
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