by S. T. Boston
President Hill, who had been set to stand in the election following the end of John Remy's administration, was a republican. Baines was a democrat. President Hill was sure that in such a time of crises his kind of politics was what the damaged country needed. Baines had been reluctant to spend the dollars required to kick-start the economy, just delaying the regeneration that was badly needed if the United States was ever going to be a shadow of its former self. Spending the public dollar and the slightly harder nosed style of politics seen by a republican administration was what the country required, and having won the election and having been in power for close to eighteen months, President Hill had exceeded what he'd set out to do. In his mind he'd done enough to secure a second term in office already, and cement his place among the greatest leaders of his beloved country. He would be remembered as the man who got the pulse of America beating once again. Now sitting in the PEOC, he was experiencing something that no leader of the free world wanted to experience, and only a handful of his former colleagues had needed to endure. A true life or death national emergency, and one that's outcome could shape the entire course of human history. He felt as if he should be wearing a shirt that read The Buck Stops Here!
Gradually the mixture of staff, which was made up of US military top brass, from the Army, Navy and Air Force, as well as senior members of his administration took their places at the long, highly glossed table, lines of stress and worry framing every face. At the top of the table, President Hill cleared his throat and took a swig on a glass of chilled water, it felt good on the back of his parched throat. He stood and dusted down the front of his dark grey, Tom Ford double-breasted suit. This particular one, although just one of many suits he owned by the designer, was his favourite. He just hoped it wasn't going to be the one that reminded him of the day that his country was attacked with nuclear weapons.
He cleared his throat again, a little louder this time and in such a fashion that brought the bustle of the room to order. The fifteen or so grim faces turned their attention to him and waited to hear what their commander and chief had to say about the dire situation that was rapidly developing in Japan. At six foot two with ice blue eyes and dark hair that gradually, month by month, became slightly dusted with the salt and pepper look, President Hill appeared more like a handsomely aged Hollywood actor than a leader of people. It was his film star looks, coupled with his natural ability to build a rapport with anyone he met that had won him both votes and respect. He was what they called a down-to-earth kinda guy, someone who knew what it was like to be at the bottom, but through sheer guts and determination had worked his way to the top. At fifty years of age and with a background in the military, he also had the hearts and minds of his troops, for back in the day he'd been one of them, had fought and got his hands dirty. To them this gave him a vital foresight in matters of conflict and he took great pride in being able to talk with his military leaders as if he were one of them and not their boss, the same went for troops on the ground who he took great pleasure in visiting on a regular basis. In this troubled world, though, his troops were on active duty on American soil, helping to restore order and working with the various overstretched law enforcement agencies. Nevertheless he spent time, when he could, visiting them in the various states that required the military intervention.
He cast his eyes over the seated crowed and said, “As you know, fifteen minutes ago the Empire of Japan was attacked by North Korea. The attack came in the form of a single nuclear blast that early indications suggest had a yield of twenty five megatons. We do not know just how large their nuclear arsenal is, but at this point in time they are the planet's only nuclear power, a situation that should never have been allowed to happen!” He fixed his eyes on Chuck Leading, the head of the CIA who shifted uncomfortably in his seat and fiddled with a violet tie which he'd loosened and now hung untidily below the collar of his white shirt. The top two shirt buttons were undone, exposing his milky skin beneath. “What intelligence we have suggests that their launch, targeting and defence system is very primitive compared to the other nuclear powers, thus making it easier for them to bring back online. A fact that should never give them the upper hand, except in a situation like this.” President Hill took his attention away from Leading, who looked ashamedly down at his hands. “Do we know any more about what capability they may have?”
“We believe they have a maximum of fifteen, twenty five megaton yield birds, sir.” Chuck Leading piped up, trying to sound confident in his rather shady intel. He paused but President Hill did not interrupt, so he continued, “We have had no word from North Korea yet, but our channels are monitoring them where we can and as soon as we have any news you will be the first to know.”
“And what of Isamu Kato, the Japanese Prime Minister, was he at Kantei?”
“We do not know, sir,” Leading replied, feeling like the kid in class who thanks to not doing his homework could not answer any of the teacher's questions to a satisfactory manner.
“I hope to god he was on a visit somewhere, Kantei is in Chiyoda, right at ground zero. I think at this time we have to assume that the leader of the Japanese Empire is dead.” There was an agreeable murmur that spread around the room. “And what of our own systems, what is the latest? At the moment we are like sitting ducks here.”
The secretary of defence, Liza Sherwood, stood up from the table and said, “Sir, we are stepping up our efforts to be back online in the next twenty four hours, by this time tomorrow we should have full strike and defence capabilities.” At a meagre five feet two inches, Liza Sherwood had a reputation as a pit-bull, small but vicious and the kind of woman who could get the job done. With her jet black hair down, and not tied tightly back into a bun, almost lifting her eyebrows higher on her coffee coloured skin than seemed possible, and in less formal clothing, she would even have been attractive. Unfortunately for the forty two year old, men seemed to fear her, and steered well clear. Not that she minded, she was married to her career and had no time for such things. “I don't need to remind you that if President Baines had re-instigated the nuclear program as soon as he came to power we would not be in this situation.”
“Thank you Liza,” Hill said, grinning slightly at how loyal she was to him and this administration. She'd skipped the fact the he hadn't wanted to either and had ended up having his hand forced by congress. “We can't lay blame on anyone else for this current situation, we need to work the problem we have now. What is happening in the Pacific?”
“Both US and Russian fleets are at a standoff, separated by a hundred miles of ocean. Our Navy is on an engage only if engaged order, we don't want to be the first ones to fire and start a third world war. We were trying to open up a channel of negotiation to the Russian President, but this latest turn of events has halted our attempts. We believe that they are going to be live and nuke ready an hour or so either side of us. We are monitoring their news channels and do know that the government there has condemned the attack on Japan.” Liza remained stood, and Hill knew she didn't feel intimidated in the slightest by him or any of the other men in the room.
“Let's hope it's the right side of that hour then,” he said, trying to hide the nervous tension in his voice. He was about to speak again when an urgent knock came from the thickly framed glass door to the conference room. President Hill felt a pang of nervous energy as he beckoned the young, fresh faced communications operative into the room, whatever he was bringing him was highly important.
“Sir,” the young black male began, his wide, dark eyes looking nervously at the county's management. “We have an incoming call from the Dae Wonsu, the North Korean Army Grand Marshal, he is requesting talks with you immediately, sir.”
“You'd best put him through then,” President Hill replied, not quite sure where this next turn of events was taking them.
Chapter 31
Lucie was not quite sure just how long she'd been hidden in the band-saw pit. The feet of the guy who'd pursued her from the cottage had
literally found the seam of the plywood cover, she'd been certain he would look down and tear the sheet away, exposing her hidey-hole, but he hadn't. He had come so close, been no more than five feet from her when he'd eventually moved away. Lucie had heard his shoes pacing the building for a second time before the window creaked again on his hinges and he'd left. Time, it seemed, had no meaning down among the wood chippings and creepy-crawlies, the sound of the window could have been just five minutes ago, it could have been five hours, she really didn't know. She'd also stopped noticing the scurry of arachnid and insectile feet that occasionally kissed her skin or disturbed her hair, like tiny invisible fingers.
In the dark of the pit the one thing she did feel were the warm tears as they streamed from her eyes and touched her chilled skin, they came almost rhythmically, like a drip from a leaking tap. Sam was either dead or taken, she'd not even had chance to tell him that in seven or eight months' time he was going to be a father, now it seemed that was a job he may never get the privilege of fulfilling and it filled her with just as much sadness as the thought of actually losing him as a husband. She'd known Sam for most of her life, knew what a wonderful person he was, but their child would never even have that, not a single memory to hold dear of the man Sam had been.
A distant voice, carried on the slight breeze outside drew her attention from her grief, it came a second time, closer now, “Lucie.” She stirred in the pit, her bones and joints protesting at the movement. “Sam, Lucie.” Closer again, and she recognised it, it was her brother, he'd made it back from London and had gone to the cottage. She knew there was a strong chance that the small team of men who'd attacked her and Sam were still close by, watching and waiting to get the rest of them. She had to warn him. Driven on by a fear of losing the only other person in her life who she loved, Lucie threw the cover off the pit and clambered out, frantically brushing herself down, fully alert now and remembering all the nasties that had shared the space with her. She flung her still slightly damp, and cold to the touch, hair forward and combed her fingers through it, almost certain that a number of spiders or woodlice would now have found shelter and be setting up home there. “LUCIE.” Adam's voice was much closer now, and she could hear a trace of panic in it. She dashed across the mill, noticing for the first time just how much her feet hurt, a sensation that adrenalin and her fight or flight mechanism had decided she did not need to feel as she'd literally been running for her life, and that of her unborn child.
Lucie clawed open the old metal window frame, more of the dirty white gloss flaking away under her fingers as it moved reluctantly on unmaintained hinges. The freshness of the air felt wonderful as she painfully hopped down and out into the rear yard. The day had turned cloudy, a light mizzle drifted on the breeze making her shiver and realise just how cold she actually was. “LUCIE!” She wanted to call out, but she was afraid, afraid that as soon as she did the massive guy, the one who'd so cruelly held her hair, would spring from behind one of the old wood piles and snatch her. Instead she hobbled to the end of the building, taking the same route she'd used earlier. Peering round the corner, and looking down the building line toward the cottage she could see her brother, he was standing by the mottled concrete gate posts, his eyes frantically searching up and down the road, and then he saw her.
* * *
Adam felt frantic, he'd known something was amiss as soon as he'd swung the RX7 into the gravel drive. The front door to the cottage had been open. Rushing inside he'd located the body of an unknown male in the bedroom, where Sam had gone to rest up. There was a noticeably large amount of blood, from whom he had no idea, in the lounge, near to the internal door that led to the hall. More worryingly both his sister and Sam were missing. The addition of the dead body gave him a little hope that they'd won whatever battle had gone down here in his absence and fled, but to where? As Oriyanna and Taulass came back from the outbuildings carrying worried expressions, he knew it was more likely that they'd put up a fight and either been killed or taken, whilst managing to take one of them down in the process, and he took no comfort in that thought.
Not wanting to give out hope on his first idea, Adam rushed to the front door, calling out their names, hoping that if they were close by they'd know it was safe to come out, or was it? Could the ones who done this be nearby still? He was certain that the team who'd carried out the attack would want both Oriyanna and himself just as much, with the added bonus of Taulass, or T as Oriyanna called him, much to his dislike, they were practically sitting ducks.
Sliding past the Mazda he reached the end of the drive and scanned the road, calling his sister's name, then Sam's over and over. Then the adjacent mill car park he spotted Lucie from a distance, at the far end of the old building, wearing what appeared to be a dressing gown. Momentarily hope sprung up in his gut and he rushed to her, expecting to see Sam's grinning face join her at any moment, but it didn't. As he drew closer he noticed how painfully she was walking, limping on both feet to try and reach him quickly. When they were finally close enough she threw her arms around him and clung tightly, like a toddler would to its parent after a nasty fall, looking for comfort.
“What happened here?” he managed to ask, already knowing the answer, but needing to hear it all the same. He held his sister at arm's length, breaking her embrace and looking into her weeping brown eyes.
Lucie sniffled slightly and said, “They came not – long – after you left. I was – in the bath, they've taken Sam. He put – up enough of a fight to – give me a chance.”
Adam took her back into his arms and gave her a reassuring hug, for what it was worth, and silently thanked Sam for his selfless act. He would either grieve for his friend or try to work a rescue plan into the equation later, but for now Lucie was alive and that accounted for something. 'Thank heaven for small mercies,' his grandmother had always said when he was just a boy. Well, there was a certain amount of irony to that statement now, and it made him smile. He broke away from her, took her by the hand and said, “I think they're gone now, but I'm not taking any chances, we need to leave here ASAP, get dressed and grab anything else you might need.”
“I was going to say the same,” Lucie croaked, managing to get herself together a bit. The mizzle was fast turning to a thick drizzle that would no doubt be a downpour in the next hour, she was keen to get into some warmer clothing before she caught a chill. “Did you find what you were after in London?” she asked as they went into the cottage.
“We did,” Adam replied walking into the lounge. “And we found a little more than we bargained for, too.” Taulass who, along with Oriyanna, was searching a dresser draw frantically, turned around and smiled warmly. “This is Taulass.”
Holding the warm smile he said, “You found her then, what about Sam?”
“It would seem that they have taken him,” Adam replied glumly, the words caused Lucie to start sobbing again, as if she'd needed reminding of the dire situation. “I think we are going to have to work a rescue plan into this thing as well,” he added, feeling completely beaten by the situation. “What are you guys looking for?”
“Pen's and paper,” Taulass replied, turning his attention back to the task in hand. “I need to work the math to reprogram that hub on the ship, I need to get it all down so when we bring it back I can get on and program the computer. Once they pick up that craft we are in a real time sensitive situation. Now they have Sam they will be expecting us even more.”
Like we aren't already, thought Adam. “It's not safe here, we need to relocate,” he added.
Oriyanna placed an old faded blue tin box, which Adam felt sure his grandfather had used for storing rubber bands in, back in the draw and crossed the room. “Sam won't be dead,” she reassured Lucie with a warm smile. “They went to, too much trouble for that. They will be taking him to the Arkus 2, and it's highly likely they will be using human transport. Although massive there are no shuttle craft on Arkus 2 that I know of. If he's that desperate to get his hands on us we may have
more time than we thought. It has to be an eighteen or nineteen hour trip, door to door, as you say. Just how long ago did it happen?”
Lucie wiped her eyes with the backs of both hands, sniffed loudly and said, “I have no idea, it was not long after you guys left, so maybe four hours, six at the most. I completely lost track of time.
“So that gives us thirteen hours or more before they reach Peru,” she summarised, talking more to herself than anyone in particular.
“You think we can get him back?” Lucie asked, making no attempt to hide the hope in her voice.
“We need to get to that ship, Lucie,” said Taulass, giving up his search of the draw. “Now I think we have a plan on just how to do that and if it works then of course we will try to get him back. But it will take me some time to work on, I'll let the others explain it to you, we have no time to waste, especially after what just happened in Tokyo.”
Lucie looked at her brother in confusion, “What just happened in Tokyo? And what the hell does that have to do with us?”
“I'll tell you in a minute, but first we need to get out of here, I don't think they are coming back but I'm not willing to risk it. We will head to the Barge Inn, they always used to have a room or two for guests to rent, and we can haul up there until Taulass has figured out what he needs to figure out.”
“Lucky for you guys, I'm a genius,” he grinned, trying to lighten the mood a bit. “I just hope I can get hold of a pad or something, I have a lot to do if this thing is going to work.”
Chapter 32
Roughly seven hundred miles south west of the Cornish coast, and just before the pilot began a steady decent through Portuguese airspace for their refuelling stop, the Gulfstream Jet broke free from the thick blanket of could that had been covering half of Northern Europe. The cloud base had been so thick that it looked as if they were rushing across a snow-covered arctic. It was certainly impossible to tell that they'd been jetting over towns and fields, followed by the Bay of Biscay and then Northern Spain.