“Good morning, Mr. President.” He entered the room, ushering away the analyst that was following behind him.
“What was that?” asked Jack, looking at the analyst dejectedly walk away before the door closed and blocked the view.
“An update for you, no news on the runway,” he said, quickly changing the topic. “The Trust students will be here shortly. Will you meet them in your residence or in the West Wing?”
“We’ll see how the morning pans out,” said Jack evasively. He really wasn’t in the mood to entertain. “When’s the National Security briefing scheduled for?”
“One p.m.,” replied Kenneth slightly awkwardly.
“Why so late? I thought it was scheduled for ten?” Jack had clocked Kenneth’s discomfort.
“I’m not sure. A number of attendees were unavailable this morning,” Kenneth lied. He knew exactly why it was delayed. He had delayed it himself.
“It better not be because of these bloody Trust tours,” replied Jack, having a sneaking suspicion that was exactly why the security of their nation was being put at risk.
Kenneth remained quiet. The president had nailed the situation on the head. Roger Young had requested that, as the sites the students were visiting were currently home to the nation’s most powerful men and women, it would be great if they could meet and talk to the kids who would hopefully be following in their footsteps. Although not a public supporter of either party, the Trust looked after the politicians that looked after them. As such, a failure to comply with Roger’s request may impact on their revenues or pension plans since many ex-cabinet members were well paid consultants or board members of Trust companies.
Jack contemplated calling the meeting anyway, just to prove a point. But he was bigger than that. He’d make the point at the meeting. It certainly wouldn’t happen again, that was for sure. The Jack King that had been elected was back. It was no longer the Jack King mourning his wife and seeing out a very simple presidency - thanks to the Trust’s cash – that they were dealing with.
“I’ll be in my study,” said Jack, leaving Kenneth standing in the Situation Room.
Kenneth withdrew the photo the analyst had handed to him that was meant for the president; the runway was just visible in the arctic midnight sunshine. As per the previous photos, the difference with this one was a large area circled by the exceptionally diligent analyst. Others had looked and glanced over it thinking it was just a shadow on the water or a rock formation. The analyst hadn’t agreed. He had looked further and even gone to the trouble of measuring the mass. He had uncovered three possible matches of submarines that matched the dimensions he had predicted. It was a very large submarine and one of the reasons most had rejected it. At over five hundred feet long, very few submarines would fit the bill. But the list attached was just a little too close to the truth to let the president see.
Kenneth went in search of the analyst, to whom he had promised he would inform the president about his findings. He had also sworn him to secrecy. The president would want to discuss the findings with the Joint Chiefs due to its highly sensitive nature. The analyst was, as instructed, waiting for Kenneth in the photo office, just a few doors away and unmanned, thanks to the holiday and it being a Saturday. Kenneth checked nobody was watching before entering the office. The analyst stood to attention when he stepped into the room.
“We need you take this to Raven Rock and hand it personally to the chairman of the Joint Chiefs,” said Kenneth, putting the image and notes into an envelope. “You are to speak to no one between here and there. I’ll have a car ready and waiting in the pool for you.”
The analyst snapped to attention and saluted proudly, a mid-level airman in the Air Force having such a critical mission and all because of his own discovery was almost more than he could have ever dreamed.
Kenneth almost felt sorry for the young man as he left with his chest puffed out so proudly he could barely breathe. He just needed him out of the way for the next two hours. It could have been worse, he supposed. If Kenneth had been capable of killing him, he’d have done so without a second thought. But Kenneth wasn’t a killer; he left that to others. His own hands would remained unbloodied. At least that’s what he told himself. The simple fact was that he was too frightened to do the dirty work himself.
His cell rang. The students had arrived. Kenneth’s heart began to race. This was it. It was actually going to happen. Knowing they had arrived and that everything was in place, he typed ‘Z’ into his cell and hit send. There was no going back.
Chapter 56
The boat rocked wildly and woke Butler with a start. He had been dozing on and off since Swanson went to catch some sleep. The effects of the valium overdose were still coursing through his veins. He was sitting just out of sight in the small galley that separated the bedroom from the deck area. The channel was coming to life. A large tourist boat had just passed them, heading out into the main channel. A noise from below suggested that it had also roused Swanson. She appeared shortly afterwards, a little more awake than she had been after eighteen hours at the helm.
“Another beautiful day,” she said, looking up onto the deck and the sky beyond.
“Bikini weather?’ asked Butler with a smile.
“I think one eyeful was more than enough for a man of your age,” she joked back and laughed as Butler pretended to have been shot in the heart.
“So what do we do now?” she asked as the laughter died down and the reality of more pressing matters lay before them.
“I’m struggling. Even if we get to the White House, there’s no way in. Certainly not for us.”
“And your secret route?” she asked. He really had told her everything he knew. The realization that she had ushered the president out of the way when she had arrested Butler blew her away. ‘I don’t even remember him,’ she had said. Butler had explained that the lack of hairpiece and the addition of glasses would have caught her off guard. That, plus the fact that you would never expect to see him walking along the street on his own. That in itself was his biggest disguise.
“Waste of time, it’s in the wrong position. And you took the key for the apartment at the FBI offices.”
“We can kick a door in.”
“I agree but that thing isn’t a door, it’s more like a vault.”
“So what, then?” she asked.
“I don’t know but I’m nervous about today. The symbolism of the 4th of July is worrying. With everything that’s happened this week, it just seems a little too coincidental.”
She looked at him questioningly.
He glanced out of the window and was pleased to see a fairly substantial number of people making their way into the heart of the city. Even though the parade was cancelled it seemed the people were still going to party.
“Back to plan A. We get lost in the crowd and play it by ear,” he said.
She followed his gaze and saw the crowds walking and driving towards the National Mall, just as any normal Fourth of July. Quite right, she thought. It was a beautiful day and they had their independence to celebrate. The people were speaking. War or not, they had their freedom and liberty, and they were damned well going to celebrate it.
They each washed and dressed as best they could for the situation. However, their attire was less than desirable. Swanson was in a pant suit, Butler in khakis and a button down shirt, clothes they had dressed in for a night’s work four days ago.
“We should probably get some new clothes,” Swanson remarked, looking at the revelers in their shorts and t-shirts making their way down the streets towards the party and the White House.
Butler couldn’t disagree. They stood out. That was the last thing they wanted to do.
“Perhaps it is a bikini day after all?” he smiled.
They grabbed everything they could that would help disguise them. One thing the boat did have to offer was hats and shades. Butler looked longingly at the assault rifles that sat there, itching to be taken. However, there w
as just no way they could carry them around without causing alarm and unwanted attention.
Unarmed and overdressed, they left with a view to changing their clothes as quickly as physically possible. Their hats and shades would cover their identities enough that it would take somebody actually stopping them and removing their disguises to positively ID them. At that point, they’d know whether it was a fight or flight situation.
Finding a store open on the Fourth of July with everything else that was happening in the country was not proving easy. Until they changed they did not feel confident about moving towards the White House. After walking west for half a mile, Swanson stopped. “This is a total waste of time, nothing’s open.”
Butler nodded in agreement. They were just wandering aimlessly.
“There’s a metro, do you think we should give it a try?”
“It’s certainly busy enough to cover us,” she replied.
“Our hats and shades will stop any facial recognition software picking us up if we keep our heads down,” he said knowingly.
As they neared the station, Butler stopped. “That’s the Navy Yard station?” he asked rhetorically, the sign clearly stating that fact.
“And?”
“We must be near the Navy Yard.”
“And?”
“Did I ever tell you about my brother Mike?”
“In the couple of days I’ve known you, funnily enough, with everything else going on, that’s not come up, so no,” she replied sarcastically.
“Well Mike had a daughter, my niece, you know the one I called from the diner?”
Swanson nodded, wondering where he was going.
“Mike was a Marine, killed in Iraq.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Anyway, he was a Medal of Honor recipient and although a couple of years older than me, we look very much alike.”
“I’m still not seeing where you’re going.”
“I’ve got a plan,” he announced and marched off towards the Navy Yard, which Swanson noted, was in the exact opposite direction they needed to be going.
Chapter 57
“Sir, I have a strange anomaly coming in from the West,” said the radar operator.
The officer stopped what he was doing and immediately went to the operator’s side. They were operating at high readiness. All anomalies had to be double and triple checked.
“That’s a commercial airliner on schedule and nothing untoward.” He pointed to the large dot on his screen. “They’re at about ten thousand feet, again expected as they are coming in to land. However, this haze around it has me confused, it’s as though they’re shrouded in a huge flock of birds or something.”
The officer was nowhere near as adept at using the system as the operator but he really couldn’t see what it could be other than some type of shadow. The airliner was definitely there. They were receiving a perfectly good reading and their transponder matched what was expected on that route at that time.
“Check with Air Traffic Control and see if the airline matches who it says it is. If it does, just write it up as a glitch.”
It would be one of many glitches they would have recorded on that flight alone. Being in the middle of nowhere seemed to mean they got to test and prove every new piece of junk the military wanted to try out. He couldn’t complain too much, they did get to try out some really cool new gadgets, long before the rest of the Navy. However, given the current situation, he’d have traded reliability and accuracy for the all-new untested option. It seemed nobody had quite thought the process through; every one of the E2-Hawkeye aircraft at their disposal was a test system, all three having slightly different configurations of the same new concept. The one they had been using almost exclusively for the last few days had been the one that had shown the greatest reliability. The Trust’s new system had proved exceptionally good, extending the range of the system by over twenty percent but a significant reduction in low-level visibility was causing some concern.
“Sir, the anomaly just spread and has accelerated!”
The officer turned back to his operator. His screen showed the original commercial aircraft still on course to land, while the haze below it had moved forward and broken up into lots of small blurs.
“How fast?”
“Fighter jet fast!”
“Shit!!! Warn Hickham!” shouted the officer, rushing back to his station.
“This is E-2 Hawkeye 2. We have multiple inbound bogies! I repeat, multiple inbound bogies!” Fifty new targets appeared on his screen. Although far smaller, they were much faster. “Multiple missile launch! I repeat, missiles fired!!”
***
“Ladies and gentlemen, I have no idea why you are here,” protested the Base Commander. He had been summoned by the guards at the gate, as truck after truck of television crews had arrived, all apparently for the ‘big event.’
“We have no big event, I promise you. We have no special event here at all today.”
“Our offices have assured us there is a major event here this morning at 7:00 a.m. Is the president arriving?” asked one reporter whose crew was already filming.
“I reiterate, there is nothing happening here today. I would know if there were,” he yelled across to all the various crews.
“Well, we were told there’s a joint Navy-Air Force special for the Fourth of July and it was a not-to-be-missed event. We’ve pulled every crew from wherever we could to cover both sites.”
“Who? Who told you this?” screamed the Commander, almost pulling his hair out in frustration; he had been pulled out of bed for this circus.
As one, they all shrugged. They didn’t know who it had come from initially, they had just all been told by their various news stations.
The sound of jeeps pulling up behind him were the first sign of the base security forces arriving.
“Please escort these people away from the base,” he said as the boots approached.
The SFs ignored his request and whispered in his ear. He only heard two words before sirens filled in the blanks.
They were under attack.
***
Jack looked through the list of students who were visiting. He spotted Lauren Swann’s name amongst the attendees. A smile at the memories of her uncle drifted onto his face. What the hell, he thought. He walked through to Joan who, despite being told not to come in, had insisted. Everyone else was coming in, she had argued.
“Joan, can you pick ten of the tour group for a chat with me in the Yellow Oval Room, please? Pick them at random but make sure you include the girl called Lauren Swann and her boyfriend, I think it was this Mike. Here,” he said, pointing to the list.
“Of course, Mr. President. You know, it’s the strangest thing…”
Jack paused. “What is?”
“No, its fine. I’m just being old and silly.”
“Joan? What is it?” he said again more firmly.
“Well, the group, they’re the best of the best of American students?”
“Yes.”
“Now don’t take this the wrong way, I’m not racist in any way,” she countered before continuing to Jack’s nod of agreement. “There just weren’t many, you know white Americans, in fact I didn’t see even one!”
“We are a diverse country, Joan. It was an evenly mixed bunch that I saw on the video stream,” Jack said, brushing her concerns aside. “I’ll be in my residence, can you organize coffees and drinks in the Yellow Room, please?”
Jack strode from the West Wing with Frank and four other Secret Service agents. He’d give the students a behind the scenes look at the residence and hopefully hear more about Bill from his niece.
As he arrived in the Yellow Room, his cell began to ring. He looked at the caller ID. It was the Secretary of Defense.
“Is your TV on?” he asked without preamble.
Jack hit the power button, asking “What channel?”
“Any one!” replied the secretary ominously.
Chap
ter 58
Arriving to a ‘Closed’ sign was not what Butler had anticipated. The plan in his mind was perfect. However, it required the store be open. A light on in the back gave him some hope. He banged on the door heavily, indicating for Swanson to join him.
Eventually, an older gentleman marched towards the door. His demeanor was not welcoming. Dressed in full military regalia, he somewhat surprised Swanson.
“Where are we?’ she whispered.
“The NEX,” replied Butler pointing to the sign. Swanson shrugged. “The Navy Exchange.”
“We’re closed, what do you want?” asked the man irritably.
Butler snapped to attention, startling Swanson and barked while saluting. “Sergeant Major Mike Butler, United States Marine Corps, requesting your assistance, sir!”
The old Marine opened the door. “Serial number?”
Butler gave him the number. The Marine closed the door again and locked it. He then walked across to a computer terminal.
“Are you going to tell me what you’re doing?” she asked.
“Just wait, we’ll be fine.”
“He’s dead. Your brother’s dead, right?”
“Technically, he’s MIA. His body was never found.”
Butler watched as his brother’s details came up on the screen, not that he could see it through the glass door. He could just see the old man’s demeanor change. A sense of pride flooded through him. His brother was a genuine hero, a brother he was immensely proud of.
ALL ACTION THRILLER BOXSET: THREE MURRAY MCDONALD STANDALONE THRILLERS Page 25