by Tony Bulmer
than ice cream. Can we listen to the radio please?” Julia made an impatient noise and rolled
her eyes, but she turned the radio on anyway. The
gravel voiced announcer from KNX 1070 was
reading the news headlines
“Boring,” trilled Carly. “I meant, can we
listen to some music?”
The radio announcer was running through,
the usual dry stories concerning the economy and
politics. Julia reached out to switch the channel, but
a sudden electronic alarm pulsed out of the
speakers. There was a pause, static filled the air,
then, a dead voice announced—This is an emergency broadcast, from Los Angeles County Sheriff’s office. This is not a drill. I repeat this is not a drill.
Reed slammed his foot on the accelerator and the big-‐wheeled SUV burst out of the orchard, smashing its way through a white painted wooden fence and emerging once again onto a hard pavement roadway.
The dead voice was warning of a tsunami now, telling folks they should move away from the ocean, to the highest ground they could find.
Reed tore up Temescal Canyon, heading through the trees towards the park. As they cut higher through the woods, vast panoramic views of the South bay and downtown Los Angeles stretched out behind them.
By the time they had reached the trailhead car park at the top of Temescal Canyon, the tsunami warning, had finished. They sat in silence and looked out towards the endless blue horizon.
The baritone rumble of the talk radio pundit cut through the silence. His easy delivery filled with long breathy silences was gone. He talked quickly of a catastrophic eruption of the volcano Mauna Loa and of a massive area of land collapsing into the ocean—
The Hilina slump rift zone has fallen into the sea, creating a phenomena known as the curtain of fire—the big Island of Hawaii is burning. A massive slab of rock twice the volume of Manhattan has broken away from the Island creating a mega tsunami taller than the Chrysler building. This giant wave of water is now travelling toward the Western seaboard of the Continental United States faster than
a jet aircraft. According to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, the tsunami will make landfall in less than two hours. Wherever you are people of Los Angeles head for higher ground. This is an apocalyptic event and it is coming our way!
“Jeezus,” sniffed Julia, “I am scared.” Reed sat thoughtfully for a moment, looking out to sea. Then he snapped open the door and got out.
“Hey, where are you going?” squawked Julia.
Reed looked upwards, towards the mountain trail then said, “We are going up the trail, all of us.”
“But I don’t want to go hiking. Are you crazy?”
Reed looked out to sea again and said, “If this wave is as big as they say, we aren’t high enough yet, not by a long way.”
Julia looked bewildered, but she needed no further bidding, the next moment she was out the car and jogging up the mountain trail at a steady clip.
“This is soooo cool,” said Carly. “Last time we were up here I saw snakes.”
Reed just smiled, held out his hand and helped her out of the car.
66
Honolulu International Airport Deng Tao’s personal Boeing 767-‐33A/ER rose up from the runway of Honolulu International airport, heading west towards China. In just over ten short hours he would be back in Shanghai the greatest city in the world. America meanwhile was finished. The Western seaboard would be devastated by the wave train of the Megatsunami—not just one colossal mountain of water—but dozens of them rippling in across two thousand miles of ocean and smashing every city in the west into flotsam.
Americans were such fools, thought Deng Tao happily, so subservient and easily manipulated. It would take them many long decades to recover from his clever attacks. First they would reel from the strike to the west, then they would feel the power of a second more powerful attack on their Eastern sea board—the towns of Washington New York and Boston all destroyed. The deception had been almost too perfect. Those fools in the CIA had fallen so completely for his slight of hand. They had concentrated their efforts on his Hawaiian operation and completely failed to discover his Atlantic operation—a second geothermal power station on the tiny Spanish island of La Palma off the coast of Africa; the monster wave created there would be even bigger than the one from Hawaii. The colossal energy it created would be equivalent to the combined output of every power station in America. The waves would be deadly, creating
catastrophic damage greater than a hundred nuclear weapons.
And from the destruction, the new world he had long dreamt of would emerge from the ruins, then the Humanistian vanguard would rise up and the Corporate and Federal figures he had groomed for success would step into the breach, forming a new consensus amongst the ruins—a new world order, a network of freedom devoid of the old constraints of government. America would become a slave state, governed by the Tao Corporation and subservient to the needs of the new China
As the plane gained height, Deng Tao looked down at Hawaii through the portside window, observing with satisfaction the vast plume of volcanic ash rising high into the upper
atmosphere. “It begins,” he said. “In a few short hours America will be back in the dark ages where it belongs and the new age of mankind will rise up triumphantly from the ashes.”
Cheena Tao gave him a cold look, devoid of emotion, as she fingered the pearls around her neck.
“So tell me,” asked Deng Tao. “Did you find the death of the servant satisfying?”
Cheena Tao parted her heavy glossed lips and said, “I would have preferred to kill the Johnston woman, and Karyn Kane, too.”
Deng Tao gave her an oily smile. “I am sure you would my dear, but successful delegation is one of the key attributes of an effective business leader.”
“You should have allowed me to kill the Kane woman. That was a mistake,” said Cheena
Tao. “I cannot get the same satisfaction from males—you know that.”
“It was cruel of me to deny you my dear, but you can rest assured there will be many others.”
“Caged birds give me no pleasure. I like to take lives that have value.”
Deng Tao nodded. “You have served me well Cheena, such things can be arranged—you know they can—but first there is a little matter I would like to discuss with you.”
Inspecting her manicured nails now, Cheena Tao raised an eyebrow fractionally.
Deng Tao beckoned over two servants, and smiled at his wife, “Ambition is to be admired always my dear, but when it comes in the form of betrayal—well, such matters must be promptly dealt with. I am sure you understand.”
Cheena Tao pounced from her chair, moving faster than a leopard. But the servants caught her by the arms and forced her back into her seat.
“The way you killed the senator and the governor was very creative but
you were sloppy— and deliberately so, weren’t you my dear?”
Cheena Tao struggled violently, but her captors held her fast.
“Did you perhaps think for a moment I knew nothing of the young prostitute you murdered with our two governmental friends? She was an agent for the Central Intelligence Agency wasn’t she Cheena?” Deng Tao held up his hand and shook his head with benevolent amusement. “No, don’t try to deny it my dear. I have known for some time that you have been passing information to the
Americans. And I admit your treachery was useful for a time. But now, that usefulness is at an end.”
A smartly dressed servant appeared wordlessly at Deng Tao’s side and offered up a silver tray. The tray was part covered in a white linen napkin, and on the napkin were two sets of brass knuckles, gleaming like gold. Deng Tao slipped them onto his fists and tightened his fingers around them.
“I think it is only fitting my dear that your death should match the nature of your life.” Deng Tao stood up and started pounding his wife, whilst his servants held her down. Then, when the deed was done and the bloody and broken corpse of the woman who had once done his bidding was zipped away in a rubber body bag Deng Tao stripped off and showered in his golden bathroom.
Afterwards, when his servants had toweled him down and dressed him in an immaculate white silk suit, Deng Tao sat down to dine, eating a delicious meal prepared by his new Parisian chef Francois. After dinner, Deng Tao had two glasses of vintage champagne. He relaxed back in his plush, overstuffed chair and contemplated a successful day; as he did so, he glanced out the window and saw a chilling sight. An American fighter plane in US Navy colors flying alongside his aircraft, so close you could see the heavy racks of missiles strapped under its wings. Deng Tao rose from his seat, with a cry of strangled outrage. Quickly, he lunged over to the other side of the aircraft and looked out the window. The news on this side of the aircraft was even worse, a flight of three similar fighter aircraft flying alongside in tight formation. They were so close he could see the black-‐visored aircrew
looking back at him—one of the pilots was making a gesture—Deng Tao exploded with anger, a string of violent obscenities pouring from him.
67
Vice President’s residence, Washington DC “I can’t pretend I am pleased Jack. You should have come to me sooner, the very moment you knew how deep this thing reached.” Vice President Dick Hanssen perched on the very edge of the white wicker porch chair, and drummed his fingers together pensively. He looked first at Jack Senegar and then at Karyn Kane, then back again. Senegar sat impassive, his craggy suntanned face
inscrutable in the soft morning light.
Dick Hanssen’s eyes flitted quickly between them, as thoughts boiled and formulated. At last he said, “We had to let him go of course, those Chinese pricks wouldn‘t let us take a guy like Deng Tao out, not in a million years.” Dick Hanssen paused, his furtive eyes settling like flies on Karyn’s breasts, before flitting quickly away. “He is their biggest entrepreneur, the richest man in the world for Christ’s sake. You bring a man like that down and stock markets worldwide would drop into the toilet. I told you to resolve this affair in a sub-‐rosa manner Senegar—a beyond the rim operation. Instead what do we get? a goddamn apocalypse, live on national television.
“You let him go?” asked Karyn.
“We had to sweetheart, but I wouldn’t expect a bare-‐faced killer like you to understand a damn thing about international diplomacy. In fact, the only reason you are here at all, is so I can see
your face when I tell you your six-‐shooting career is over.”
“You got it wrong,” said Karyn smoothly. “Deng Tao planned for his power station to cause that eruption in Hawaii.”
“You haven’t got a damn piece of evidence to prove that though have you?” sneered Dick Hanssen. “You were tasked with bringing the person or persons who murdered Governor Geryon and Senator Johnston to justice, not mount some cockamamie assault on a billion-‐dollar business operation.”
“That business operation you are talking about almost destroyed the entire West coast.
“Volcanic eruptions, tidal waves—such acts of nature happen all the time Kane. So if you think I am going to swallow down your crazy-‐assed story about some conspiracy to destroy America you got another thing coming.”
“Is that what you are going to tell all those folks who had their homes flattened by the tsunami waves?” said Karyn.
Dick Hanssen leaned forward to respond, but Senegar raised a finger and said, “We have been talking to Alan Borkin, Deputy Director of the FBI. He is an old friend of yours isn’t he Dick?”
“One of my many subordinates Senegar, as well you know it.”
Senegar raised his chin and nodded almost imperceptibly. He dabbed the raised finger in the Vice President’s direction and said, “Borkin is being real cooperative Dick, in fact he has been reeling off the kind of stories you just wouldn’t believe, unless you were the kind of sleaze ball who was planning to overthrow the democratically elected
government of the United States. Senegar pursed his lips very slightly and said. “We knew it was you all along Dick. You planned the whole thing didn’t you?”
Dick Hanssen paused for a moment his face twisting into a snarl, “You can’t prove a damn thing Senegar, not a damn thing. And you know what? That makes me doubly pleased, because both you and Kane have outlived your usefulness. Both of you are finished, I will see to it personally.”
“You aren’t in any kind of position to see to anything,” said Senegar. “Your first mistake was getting the Admiral involved. You figured that you could undermine his position and mine by throwing us into this, getting us to act outside the accepted command structure and then discrediting us so that you could replace us with stooges who would do your bidding.” Senegar raised his bone china cup to his mouth and sluiced coffee. He paused for a moment, his face looking hard and angular in the new morning sun. At last he said, “You were right about the coffee Dick, it really is rather good.”
“You think you are smart Senegar?” A hard line arched up across Senegar’s forehead and he said, “A hell of a lot smarter than you and your friends in the Humanistian network Dick. We have been watching you for years, every dirty little move, and you know what? I am glad you made this play in Hawaii, because it gave me just the excuse I needed to take you down—course I didn‘t know for sure how deep you were into this thing, not until you spilled Karyn’s identity to your friends in the FBI.” Jack Senegar sniffed, replaced
the tiny coffee cup on the saucer and placed it on the porch table. “You are finished Hanssen.”
The Vice President’s face deepened with growing anger. “You might be the head of the CIA, Senegar, but there are bigger more powerful forces in this world than your feeble little spy agency.”
“No doubt.” Dick Hanssen rose out of his chair and hisse
d, “My people are everywhere, Senegar, you and the girl here are so far out on a limb with this thing you will never be able to crawl back to safety. The new age of man is upon us and there is no place in it for those who lack our vision. We have geothermal devices all over the world; very soon you and your ilk will pass forgotten into the annals of history.”
Karyn Kane rose quickly to her feet. She caught the Vice President by the hand and struck him hard in the throat with her elbow. Dick Hanssen’s greedy little eyes bugged wide as he struggled to choke out a protest, or maybe even call out to his staff for help. But, on the pretty white-‐ painted porch, no help was forthcoming and there was no one to bear witness to events, Jack Senegar had seen to that.
So, when Karyn Kane twisted hard on the Vice President’s arm and stabbed him between the fingers with the syrette of fast acting neuro-‐toxin. There was no one to see his final agonized convulsions; no one to bear witness as he withed and twitched on the floor, his last moments of life ebbing so quickly away.
The death certificate would read— heart attack, death by natural causes.
68
Long Beach, California Kellerman was lying on the couch watching Double Indemnity on TCM channel when the knock came. She had seen the movie a dozen times at least, so the hard rap against the door pulled her out of a blissful doze. She blinked, as reality flooded back. She was home in Long Beach, in her tiny little walk up flat on Atlantic and Broadway. Not floating in the shark filled ocean a thousand miles from anywhere. Again she blinked, considering the implications of not answering the door. How would they know she was here? Dramatic music swirled from the television set building until it hit a peak. Who ever was out there would have heard the sound for sure. Maybe they would think she had gone out and left the TV on? The knock came again. Who ever it was knew she was here. She would have to get up goddamn it—rise up and face the day.