by D F Capps
“Your coffee, sir,” Franks said.
Andrews opened his eyes, breathed in and out, looked at Franks, and took the coffee. He turned back to James. “What would be the first outward sign that I was moving by helicopter?”
“The three helicopters would be moved out of the hanger at Andrews Air Force Base. Second step would be to close the airspace for all routes from Andrews to the White House, and third, from the White House to Camp David.”
Andrews took a cautious sip of coffee. It was too hot, as usual.
“So if someone were watching the hangar, how much advance notice would that provide them?”
James rubbed his lips as he thought. “Twenty, twenty-five minutes before the chopper lands at the White House. Another ten to fifteen minutes before they take off again.”
Andrews blew across the top of his coffee, trying to cool it down. “And how soon does the airspace get closed?”
James pressed the ear-piece to his ear with his finger. “Within seconds. Excuse me for a second, sir.”
James spoke into his wrist microphone, then returned his attention to Andrews.
“So someone could either know, or strongly suspect, Marine One would be on its way to Camp David thirty to forty minutes before it would be shot down?” Andrews asked.
James paused for a moment. “Yes, sir. I’d have to agree with that assessment.”
Andrews frowned. “Meaning someone would have that long to put thirty to thirty-five people in place. That could be done, couldn’t it?”
James shrugged. “Maybe. But that doesn’t take into account the different flight paths, sir. To cover all of the routes would take almost eight hundred and fifty people. The logistics are huge and unlikely.”
Andrews took another cautious sip of his coffee and walked over to the window.
“How long into the flight would someone be able to determine the general flight path, and how long before the helicopter would reach the attack site?”
James followed him over to the window. “The final route could be determined within three minutes with maybe another twelve minutes travel time to the kill zone. I see what you’re thinking, sir. Prepositioned groups could be centrally placed so they could move up to seven or eight miles in either direction to get to the kill zone. That would reduce the manpower requirement to around a hundred people. Operationally, that’s doable.”
Andrews again tested his coffee. It was just about the right temperature now.
“That means there would have to be some noticeable ground traffic between when Marine One left the White House and when the choppers were shot down.”
James nodded. “Yes, sir, it does.”
Andrews took several swallows of his coffee. “And someone on the inside feeding them intel.”
James glanced at the floor. “Yes. That, too.”
Andrews nodded slightly and finished his coffee. He motioned for Franks to come closer.
“Get a hold of Michaels over at the NSA and Butler at the NRO. See if there were vehicles in motion around the attack zones prior to the ambush. I also want Clemens from the FBI in here ASAP. Things are going to move quickly now and we need to be faster.”
Franks moved off quickly while Andrews turned back to James.
“You were a Special Forces commander for a while before you came over to the Service,” Andrews said. “Who would be able to do something like this and how long would it take to get everything operational?”
James paused for a moment. “Strategically, it would have to be someone like Russia or China—a player with deep resources and wide connections. The missiles used were Russian, but those are available on the black market anywhere in the world. Tactically, mercenaries would make the most sense, but it would take a long time to move them into the country without alerting us.”
Andrews nodded and pursed his lips. “What if the mercenaries lived here?”
James looked at Andrews, shock registering on his face. “That would be extremely troubling, sir. That would mean someone inside our own system tried to kill you.”
Andrews turned away from the window and took a chair.
“How long to put the arms and the people together and preposition them?”
James walked slowly over to a chair and sat down. “Twelve hours, maybe less. What are you thinking?”
Andrews set his coffee cup down on the short table. “With hundreds of billions of dollars flowing from the military to our defense contractors each year, I’m thinking I may have underestimated their desire for money and overestimated their dedication to our country, and that miscalculation has just turned deadly.”
James’s cell phone buzzed. He answered and listened. “Our agents on the scene have confirmed that the body in Marine One is Agent Dodd. I’ll inform the White House that you are alive. Stephanie Peterson can hold a press conference and let the public know before this spins out of control.”
Andrews held up his index finger. “What if we don’t?”
James frowned. “Don’t what?”
Andrews turned to face agent James. “We don’t know who is behind this attack. We need to think things through before we do anything else. I’ve already got eight dead and three Marine helicopters destroyed because I didn’t think things through clearly. We can’t afford another mistake. Right now, whoever did this believes they have succeeded. What would be the next logical step?”
James tipped his head slightly to the right. “The Twenty-fifth Amendment to the Constitution provides for the vice president to become president.”
Andrews nodded slowly. “But can Harper be sworn in as president before my death is confirmed?”
James shook his head. “We have confirmation. Agent Dodd is dead, and you’re sitting right here.”
A plan was forming in the back of Andrews’s mind.
“Yes. But what if we hang on to that information until the medical examiner makes the identification official?”
James seemed confused. “I suppose we could, but that would merely delay the inevitable for a few hours. What would we gain?”
Andrews nodded as the plan became clearer by the second.
“Time and evidence. We need to get back into the White House, quickly and quietly.”
He stood up.
“You think once they find out you’re still alive they’ll mount another attack?” James asked, following Andrews.
“I’m sure of it.”
James’s brow wrinkled. “But the White House is a hard target, sir.”
Andrews looked at him. “Then we need to make it harder.”
* * *
President Andrews walked into the back of the residence where his wife would probably be asleep. She was up, but still in her bathrobe.
“We have to return to the White House.”
She looked at him with an exasperated expression on her face. “So what’s going on? How did it go with President Hua?” She was clearly puzzled by the sudden change in plans.
“The meeting with Hua went well, but we had some trouble on the way back.”
She frowned. “Anything serious?”
He glanced at the floor. “Yes. We were attacked by three saucers. I’ve got to say, that Navy lieutenant commander is one of the best pilots I’ve ever seen. She saved my life.”
Martha plopped down into a padded chair in the bedroom, shock filling her face. “The aliens went after you?”
He shrugged. “They may or may not have known I was in the fighter craft, but either way it was a very close call.”
Martha shook her head. “That’s very frightening.”
He nodded. “It gets worse. This morning Franks had Dodd made up to look like me and put him on Marine One to come out here. All three choppers were shot down en route.”
She recoiled in shock. “Sidney Dodd?” Tears flowed down her cheeks. She looked horrified.
So it’s true, he thought. She and . . .
He had trouble looking at her. His heart ached with betrayal, rejection
. He had to keep himself together. The country was in a crisis. It wasn’t supposed to matter that he and his marriage were also in a crisis. He had to focus on the country to the exclusion of everything else. But she was also in so much emotional pain that it was tearing him apart, right along with her.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “It was an assassination attempt. They killed Dodd thinking it was me.”
She looked up at him, the horror in her face deepening.
“Oh, God.” She slumped back in her chair and stared at the floor. “Then we need to stay here, where the military can protect us.”
How am I ever going to be able to fix this? he wondered.
“It’s too isolated here. Yes, the military could protect us, but a target out of the public view might be too tempting. We need to be back at the White House. We can move into the residence section of the underground bunker.”
She looked up at him in surprise.
“You think we need to be in the bunker?”
“Yes. The assassination attempt didn’t come from another country, or from the aliens; it came from inside our own system! At this point, I don’t know who I can trust, and who I can’t.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“What about Vice President Harper? Is he in danger?”
Andrews broke eye contact with her.
“I’m sure he’s being protected. Right now whoever did this doesn’t know I’m still alive. My guess is that Harper is being prepped to become president as we speak. I’ve never trusted him. He threatened to split the party and force us to lose the election if he wasn’t made vice president. He wasn’t even on my list as a running mate. The party picked him against my objections. As far as I know, he could be deeply involved in this coup against me. That’s why I never included him in the information about the Zeta Greys. I just can’t trust him.”
She nodded, a bewildered look on her face. “How much time do we have?”
Andrews checked his watch. “Not much. I think the safest thing we can do is sneak back into the White House through the underground tunnels before anyone realizes I’m not dead.”
Martha looked down at her robe. “Then I need to get dressed. What about Franks and Harriet?”
Andrews looked at her. He felt like a chasm had opened up between them. She was drifting away and he didn’t know how to stop it.
“They’ll have to come with us and stay out of sight until we have a better handle on what’s going on and who’s involved.”
Chapter 44
Sean Wells watched in stunned silence as the announcement scrolled across the bottom of his hotel TV screen: “Marine One shot down. No survivors.” He waited as an impromptu press conference was being put together. An empty podium with a dozen microphones dominated the center of the screen. Several minutes later Vice President Harper walked briskly to the podium with Secretary of Defense Farnsworth behind him.
“It is with great sorrow that I announce that Marine One has been shot down with President Andrews aboard. There are no survivors. I want to assure all Americans that a full and complete investigation is taking place. What we do know at this time is that Russian shoulder-fired missiles were used to bring down Marine One. We will find the people behind this tragedy and they will be brought to justice. I, as vice president, stand ready to take President Andrews’s place in leading this great nation in these troubled times. Rest assured that order will be restored in the world through American leadership. Secretary of Defense Farnsworth has a few words he would like to add.”
Farnsworth stepped to the podium. “President Andrews’s recent withdrawal of our military forces from Europe has destabilized the entire continent. As I speak, Russian tanks are racing across Ukraine and Belarus to attack our NATO allies. This unprovoked aggression cannot, and will not, go unanswered. As soon as Vice President Harper is sworn in, the order to withdraw our troops from Europe will be rescinded. We cannot, and will not, stand idly by while hundreds of thousands of innocent lives are lost to Russian aggression. I assure all of our NATO allies that we will be there, in their hour of need, to defend them with the full might and force of the United States military. Order will be restored, I promise you that.”
Sean Wells muted the TV and thought, Is this the start of World War Three? If so, I sure picked the wrong time to be in Washington, D.C. He wandered over and looked out the window of his hotel room. On the other hand, this could be the right time for a really big story. He called his editor.
“Ed, where is Harper’s swearing in going to take place?”
He heard the rustling of some papers. “The Oval Office, why?”
The idea was just starting to form in his mind. “Are they allowing the media in?” They should for something like this; it’s politics at its best.
“They are, but for only a very select few.”
Uhh-huh, Sean thought. “Are we on the list?”
His gut was telling him there was a rat in the middle of all of this, and the only way to find out was to be there.
“One slot. No cameras, no sound support. One person as a witness, that’s it.”
Sean nodded. “I need to be there. I want that slot.”
Ed paused before asking, “Why?”
“Too many things aren’t adding up. Something fishy is going on.”
That tingling sense of excitement ran up Sean’s spine.
“Like what?”
There’s a bigger story here; he could feel it in his bones.
“Marine One was brought down by Russian shoulder-fired missiles, right?”
He could sense Ed’s confusion over the phone. “Yeah, what about it?”
Sean nodded and smiled. He could see it clearly now.
“Andrews ordered our military out of Europe. Why would Russia go after Andrews? That would only guarantee a military response. Why not sit back and let the Americans walk away? I mean, it doesn’t make any sense.”
Ed was back to his usual devil’s advocate personality. “It does if Russia is going to war. What about all of the Russian tanks heading into Europe?”
Sean grinned. “I know, I know. That’s what’s fishy. We aren’t seeing what’s really happening. All we see is what somebody wants us to see. Something big is happening behind the scenes. That’s why I have to be there.”
Ed paused for a moment. “Okay, you’re in.”
Chapter 45
“Theo, you got a minute?” Charlie asked.
Theo was rushing around Ceti Research doing physical things, trying to keep his mind from panicking. From the thoughts Charlie was picking up, that wasn’t going to work.
“Can’t it wait? This thing with the president is critical.” Theo picked up some papers on his desk, quickly read them over and set them back down.
“It concerns that, at least by inference.” Charlie waited for Theo to refocus his attention on him. “We need some additional leverage to bring about full disclosure.”
“The president may be dead for all I know and you want to talk about disclosure?”
Charlie waited, reading Theo’s thoughts and emotions. He just needed a short break in Theo’s attention. Finally it came. “He’s alive and well.”
Theo looked Charlie in the eyes, sighed and said, “I should have thought to ask. You, of all people would know. Sorry.”
“I think we need to recruit someone into Ceti Research to help guarantee full disclosure of the Zeta Grey presence and the corruption involved,” Charlie said. “I ran a security clearance. Here’s the result.” He handed the sheets to Theo.
“A reporter?”
Theo’s shock registered in his expression, thoughts, and feelings.
“Your CIA recruits reporters all the time. They have access and believable cover. He’s honest and ethical. I think he’s a good choice.”
Charlie calmly listened to Theo, weighing the pros and cons in his mind.
“You sure we need this?”
Theo was still wavering, but leaning in favor of the plan.
“Yes, we do,” Charlie said.
He sensed the uncertainty in Theo’s mind. “How and when?” Theo asked.
Charlie smiled. “I’ll handle that. All I need is your approval.”
Theo looked at the security clearance sheets one more time. “Go ahead,” he said, as he left the room.
Charlie typed the information into the computer and created a new Ceti Research ID card and security clearance file.
* * *
President Andrews paced back and forth in his private room just off the Oval Office. Deputy Director Michaels from the NSA and Director Clemens of the FBI entered quietly.
“Farnsworth received an encrypted text message right after our troops began to withdraw from Europe. The Speaker of the House and a senator on the Armed Services Committee received similar texts. It took a while, but the NSA decrypted the text messages. Now we know who is involved and at what level.”
Andrews read the pages in silence then said, “I guess it makes more sense now. I’m just shocked at who has betrayed me. The mercenaries who shot down Marine One were employed by Conrad Kaplan. I want him arrested and brought to justice.”
Director Clemens nodded. “Yes, sir, the Seattle field office is already on that. They should be able to handle it quickly and quietly.”
Andrews drifted back over to the door leading to the Oval Office, and waited for his cue.
* * *
Sean stood against the back wall in the Oval Office waiting for the ceremony to begin. The official White House photographer would record the ceremony. Vice President Harper waited next to the chief justice of the Supreme Court in front of the presidential desk. Farnsworth was present along with the top officers from the different branches of the military. James, the head of the Secret Service Presidential Protection Detail stood in front of the president’s private door on the side of the Oval Office.
Sean’s curiosity piqued as a man with an FBI ID card on a lanyard around his neck entered from the hall entrance, walked quickly over to Vice President Harper and whispered something in his ear. Harper appeared shocked. When the FBI agent whispered the news to the Secretary of Defense, Farnsworth looked horrified. Vice President Harper turned to face the crowd in the Oval Office.