Overlord

by David L. Golemon

  Before Virginia could respond, the door opened and a man the acting director of Department 5656 recognized immediately, stepped into the room. He paused at the bed and looked down on Niles Compton and shook his head. He had his hands on his hips and made a tsk, tsk sound as he looked. The man turned and walked to the far side of the hospital room and pulled up a chair to face Lee Preston and Virginia. He placed his hands in his lap and smiled.

  “Assistant Director Peachtree, what brings you here?” Virginia asked.

  The middle-aged man with the perfectly coifed hair looked from the two and then at the darkened screen of the television.

  “Oh, well, I guess you’ve missed the news waiting here like you are. It’s Director Peachtree now. It seems my old boss, Mr. Easterbrook, has opted for the private life of a country gentleman.” The smile was wide and genuine.

  Lee Preston crossed one leg over the other and remained silent, as did Virginia.

  The attention went to Lee Preston. “I think you should know, Mr. Preston, I have initiated an investigation through my good friends at Homeland Security for your part in the illegal immigrant litigation currently happening in Arizona. It seems you may have received monies from sources on many, many enemies lists of that particular federal agency.”

  “I was wondering when you people were going to pull the old ‘security risk’ file out and dust it off. I guess I was bound to become a nuisance when I filed court documents trying to stop the good people of Arizona from putting up an electrified fence around their common border with Mexico, and killing Lord knows how many people in the process. Well, take your best shot, Mr. Director, I’ll be waiting in my office with my copy of the Constitution.”

  The man nodded and turned his attention to Virginia, then he glanced at Niles across the room.

  “Now you, young lady, I need to know where your asset is being held. We would like a chance at debrief.”

  Virginia smiled as best she could, but the action never reached her lovely eyes. Preston saw this and leaned back, not wanting to get any venom on his expensive suit.

  “I guess you must have missed the part where I told you to go fuck yourself.” She glanced at the dark television screen. “But I guess you were too busy stabbing your boss in the back to have heard.”

  “The asset, Ms. Pollock,” he said without his condescending smirk. “The asset known as Mahjtic Tilly—we want him and are going to get him.”

  “Dr. Pollock,” she said, batting her eyes the way Alice Hamilton had taught her over the years.

  “The president of the United States has issued me orders to debrief your asset at the earliest possible time as the security of the United States is at risk—and that, Doctor, gives him special powers.”

  “Debrief,” Preston said aloud. “An old CIA euphemism for torture in the rough, tough, Cold War days.” He looked at Peachtree. “If I recall correctly.”

  “If it comes to that. After all, the asset isn’t really human, is he? He’s one of them,” he said, his eyes rolling toward the ceiling.

  “Maybe not,” Virginia said, leaning forward in her chair, “But Lynn Simpson Collins was very much human, wasn’t she?”

  The look on Peachtree’s face was priceless as Lee Preston suddenly became very interested in the name just mentioned by Virginia.

  “We know more than you ever could fathom, Mr. Director, and someone, someday is going to answer for her murder. I suspect that may end at the White House in the long run, and the man that will explain it to you and the president can get to you anywhere, anytime.”

  “I believe you just threatened the president of the United States,” he said as he stood suddenly.

  “No, I believe she just made a statement about a murderer being caught, nothing about that murderer being the president. Is that what you’re saying?” Preston said as he too stood and buttoned his coat.

  Peachtree smiled and then relaxed as he realized he didn’t have the upper hand any longer.

  “Very well, Dr. Pollock, a warrant will be issued and delivered to Nellis Air Force Base in Nevada at the earliest opportunity. I suggest you heed the warrant when issued, even if your complex is buried beneath the desert. We want the asset, and we will get him.” Peachtree started for the door, stopped and looked at the unconscious Niles Compton, and then turned back to face them. “One way or the other.” He left.

  “I hate to say it, but right at this moment that man is holding all the aces in the deck, and even the deck belongs to the White House.”

  Virginia knew she had to get Matchstick out of the complex. She shook her head as the door opened once again. It was one of the president’s loyal Secret Service agents; she recognized him from his constant vigil over the comatose president. He walked straight to Virginia and handed her a note.

  “This was just passed to us from the president’s private phone system. The first lady asked me to pass it on to you.” He left the room.

  Virginia knew that the message had come to her through the official channels that included the president’s laptop and through his close ties with the NSA. She read the note.

  “Damn,” she said aloud as she looked at Lee Preston. “Mr. Preston, I thank you for being here and helping me with Peachtree, but I have to ask you to leave me alone with Director Compton for a moment.”

  “I understand,” he said and started to leave.

  “Mister…,” She stopped and then thought better of her lead in. “Lee, please corner that Secret Service agent in the hallway. Ask him to find General Caulfield and get him here as soon as possible. He should know how to get ahold of him.”

  Preston nodded his head and then left. Virginia went to the bedside of Niles Compton. She saw him sleeping but leaned over and spoke.

  “Niles, wake up, it’s happening. Operation Overlord is going to be attacked. Niles, please wake up.”

  Virginia looked around the room in despair as Compton remained out.

  With the president’s men going after Matchstick, and the Gray situation going critical, she was faced with having to go directly through the official chain of command. That meant dealing with Giles Camden’s new staff, where she knew a sympathetic ear was going to be impossible to find. She looked at Niles and frowned as he seemed to be dreaming in his sleep. She turned away as the door opened once again. She was disappointed that it wasn’t General Caulfield or another friendly face, but two men she had seen on television standing behind the new man in office.

  “Look, assholes, I’ve had enough threats for today, so you can kiss my—”

  “Dr. Pollock, we’re not here to threaten you,” said the smaller of the two with his briefcase held tightly in his grip. “I think we’ve come to help. We want to know if there is anything we can possibly do to assist you and whoever it is that you work for.”

  Virginia was stunned as she remembered the two young faces from the news reports.

  It was the two young public relations experts for the new president of the United States, and they looked very frightened.

  14

  SOUTH ORKNEY ISLANDS

  A thousand Argentinean and British soldiers watched as the Pyotr Veliky was towed into port by the two frigates of the U.S. Navy. The men gathered at the large dock were amazed at the damage incurred on the giant missile cruiser that looked as if she was about to succumb to the calm waters off Orkney. The sight even curbed the historic hard feelings between the two nations that had battled two decades before over the Falkland Islands. No man wanted to be witness to the scene of the proud warship as she was assisted into port.

  Two of the men who had joined the crowd of onlookers were Admiral Carl Everett and former Master Chief Jenks who, with their men and materials, had just arrived by C-130 Hercules transports and now awaited their transfer to Camp Alamo. Carl had sent his remaining fifty-two men onto the large airstrip to load what gear they had remaining after the Gray strike on the Space Center.

  Everett had explained to Jenks that Sarah McIntire and Jason Ryan, along
with a woman he knew, was supposedly onboard the Pyotr Veliky—although he still didn’t know if the trio were alive or dead. The report had filtered through the soldiers waiting at the dock that the cruiser had suffered catastrophic losses in her brief engagement with the Grays. Everett saw the men who had saved the missile cruiser from going under start to line the decks as she was finally tied off and technicians ran aboard her like ants swarming a wounded elephant. They all saw the men of the battle-hardened ship wave as the vessel that had saved them moved quickly back to sea after escorting her in. The strange shape of the USS Zumwalt moved slowly past her damaged charge and blew her horn in salute to the proud Russian vessel. The men on the cruiser’s deck waved and hollered their thanks at the American seamen lining her stealth-designed angled decks.

  “Glad to know the goddamn navy can get something right from time to time,” Jenks hissed as he puffed his cigar.

  “Damn thing looks too small to fight a battle,” Everett said as he watched the stealthy frigate leave the small bay.

  “Yeah,” Jenks said as he looked at the taller Everett, “well, everything tough doesn’t have to be big, does it, Toad?”

  Carl laughed as he knew the master chief was referring to himself. “No, but it sure helps sometimes.”

  Jenks cleared his throat and spit and then glared at Everett.

  The men on the dock watched as a large Royal Navy shipboard crane started to lift a large object off the fantail of the listing cruiser. Technicians were screaming at the operators to lift it slowly. It was eventually placed down on a large transport awaiting its delivery. It was being taken to the hold of the large C-5a Galaxy waiting for it on the airstrip.

  “I guess they’re in a hurry before all of this activity attracts prying eyes from up there,” Jenks said as he looked skyward into the crisp, cold air.

  Carl joined Jenks in looking apprehensively into the sky. The combat air patrols by a squadron of Sea Harriers of the Royal Navy had ceased two hours before the damaged Pyotr Veliky had entered the bay. Too much attention to the area was the reason he figured.

  Jenks stepped back as a dark-haired woman grabbed Everett by the fur-lined jacket he was wearing and turned him to face her. She kissed him deeply as Jenks raised his thick brows in wonder. Carl picked Anya Korvesky up and swung her around. He hugged her and then set her down with a serious look on his face.

  “Sarah and Jason?”

  Anya pointed to the ship’s gangway she had just run down to the consternation of the safety officials on the dock. Sarah and Ryan were walking down the thick planking with their bags. Sarah saw Everett and she waved, surprised to see him. Ryan was stunned as well as they reached the bottom and then hurried toward the waiting trio.

  “Well, I see you’re done cruising with the Russian Navy,” Carl said as he hugged Sarah. He shook hands with Ryan, who immediately saw the new shoulder boards on the admiral’s fur-hooded parka. His eyes widened.

  “Whose ass have you been kissing … sir?” Ryan asked as he turned to Sarah in mock horror.

  “He better start by kissing mine since I have the fate of his men in my ample hands,” Jenks said as he eyed Anya up and down appreciatively.

  “Master Chief?” Sarah said for her second shock in as many seconds.

  “Hello, little lieutenant, glad to see you and Mr. Ryan made it off the communist pig boat alive.” He accepted the strong hug from McIntire. Jason shook the man’s hand and then shook his head. He turned to Anya and explained.

  “Once upon a time, the admiral here sank the master chief’s boat … on purpose, if I remember.”

  Anya smiled as she saw the memory was an especially fond one for Carl and Ryan, but not so much to the scowling little man they faced.

  “Goddamn right it was on purpose.” Jenks started to turn away from the group. “And it’s Professor Jenks to you from now on, Commander Short Shit,” he said to Ryan as he started to walk off. “Now if you ladies would like to escort an old sea dog to his aircraft, we have a flight we have to catch.”

  “I too have a flight to catch,” a voice said from behind them. Carl looked up and saw a Russian officer as he approached.

  “Captain Lienanov,” Sarah said as she saw the man in full black dress uniform. “What’s going on?”

  “It seems the powers that be have declared me shipless. The Pyotr Veliky has been declared unfit for sea duty and is to be scuttled immediately in a very much witnessed fire at sea, so as to make others believe she succumbed to her battle damage with her cargo still strapped on her deck.” He looked back sadly at the ship he had commanded for only five days. The very same crane that had lifted off the alien power plant was now lowering a duplicate mock-up onto the fantail where men of the missile cruiser were waiting to tie it down.

  “I’m sorry, Captain, for the loss of your command,” Ryan said in total sympathy. The Russian officer raised his seabag and then stared at his company.

  “Thank you, but she wasn’t really mine.”

  “What now?” Sarah asked as Carl realized exactly what was planned for the captain.

  “I would guess that the orders in your pocket are directing you to a place called Camp Alamo?”

  “Yes, they do, and a transfer to another ship, but my orders are confusing at best,” he said in very good English as he looked closely at the twin stars on Everett’s shoulder boards. “Excuse me, Admiral, but they are rather ambiguous orders. It seems I’m being transferred to a vessel that is situated in the middle of Antarctica.”

  “Well, Captain Lienanov, welcome to the world of ambiguity, and I suspect you are hitching a ride with us.” He pointed to the large transport truck leaving the dock area with the power plant strapped to its giant trailer. “And that too, to the aforementioned Camp Alamo, another rather ambiguous name that has connotations in American history that my colleagues here will gladly explain to you later.” Everett gestured for the small group to follow the master chief.

  With one sorrowful look back at the now doomed Pyotr Veliky, Captain Lienanov turned and walked away from his first command.

  * * *

  The two enormous C-5M Super Galaxies were fully loaded to their capacity. Two hundred and seventy thousand pounds of men and cargo crowded the largest aircraft in the United States inventory. Sitting next to the Super Galaxies was the most obscure aircraft to take to the skies in many years. This strange aircraft would be carrying only one item in its bulbous belly: the alien power plant.

  The colossal storage area of the French-owned Airbus A300-600ST “Beluga” had absorbed the heavy power plant like a hungry animal as the strangely shaped Airbus began lowering her top-mounted loading bay. Two other French-built Airbus A300-600ST Belugas had taken off earlier as a decoy and these too were flanked by two C-5Ms from Airlift Command in an attempt to fool any prying eyes that may be watching, as it was the designers of this part of Operation Overlord who knew they were pushing not only the program’s luck, but were also betting the lives of over six hundred men, women, and soldiers that transporting them in the bright sunlight of day would catch the Grays off guard.

  The eight combined and extremely powerful General Electric TF39 Turbofans of the two Galaxies were brought up to full power, drowning out the full three squadrons of Royal Air Force Sea Harriers as they flew up and over the long runway at Orkney. The fighters would escort all three aircraft most of the way to McMurdo Station’s Pegasus runway, where the American weather station operated the only landing site on the Antarctic continent that could support the heavy transport aircraft that was arriving there.

  As the Beluga lifted off with her heavy load, no less than sixteen Sea Harriers took up station, above, beside, and under the French Airbus. The Beluga made a radical change of course and then climbed to the north before they would make a course correction and hopefully one that would confuse any unwanted onlookers.

  Admiral Everett was invited up to the Galaxy’s large fly-by-wire cockpit as a courtesy to the navy by the air force and allowed to si
t at one of the engineer consoles as the colossal transports took off. Once in the air the pilot nodded his head at his copilot and the Air Force colonel removed a message flimsy from his clipboard and tapped his headset so Everett could put his on so he could hear over the roar of the powerful turbofans. Carl slipped the headphones on and accepted the message.

  “Just to let you know, these four aircraft are hot. I think the Defense Department has them on their stolen vehicles list.” The colonel looked to the pilot and then back at Everett. “The acting president and his new chairman of the Joint Chiefs ordered us home two days ago, but we all developed engine trouble in the extreme cold down here,” the copilot said as he smiled with tongue firmly planted in cheek. “The Air Force Chief of Staff and the head of Air Force Intelligence send their regards and hopes this operation is worth it.”

  “So do I, Colonel, so do I.”

  Carl raised the message and read.

  Gray attack on Camp Alamo and Operation Overlord imminent …

  Operation Gray Strike is fully activated with truncated training schedule …

  Defensive command at Alamo has been warned as per this message …

  Operation Overlord will commence within two days …

  Good luck and God speed …

  Caulfield, General (USA Ret.)

  Carl folded the message, then thought better of it and handed it to the engineer, who noticed the worried look on the admiral’s face. He accepted the message, tempted to see what it said.

  “Destroy that as soon as you can, but pass it around to your men first, they deserve to know.” Carl removed the headset, then stood and first patted the pilot and then shook the colonel’s hand in the right seat. “Thank you, gentlemen … for everything. As soon as you make your drop off get the hell out of Dodge as soon as you can. I have a feeling the skies in this part of the world’s going to turn hot real fast. Get home safe.”