Collins tossed the key to Max. Once the two were separated, Charlie ran quickly to the cell door, reuniting with his wife and kids in a barrage of hugs and kisses.
Max sat down next to Collins. "I know it hurts, Collins, but I need you to talk, even if it’s a whisper. How many of them are left? How many made it out of here?"
"Three. Fat man is in the parking lot. The other three took our vehicles and left. One of them took a bullet in the arm. Managed to shoot out one of the truck tires; they won't make it too far in that."
Max walked over to the obese man who way lying on his back, his chest heaving rapidly as he desperately tried to fill his torn lungs with air. Max leaned down and picked up his shotgun.
"You’re not a cop, you fat piece of shit.” Max shot him in the head.
Ignoring the stabbing pain in his hip, Max limped over to Rudy’s dead body. He gently closed Rudy’s vacant eyes and dug in his front pockets for the truck keys.
"I'm sorry, Rudy. I'm going after the men who did this. I promise you I’ll make them pay. I'll make sure your wife is safe, and we'll take good care of her."
Max turned to find Deputy Collins standing behind him. He took off his jacket and handed it to the chief. Max put the windbreaker over his shivering, wet body.
"You feelin’ better?"
Collins placed his palm over his rib cage just beneath his sternum and whispered, "Hurts like a bitch to breathe and talk, but I’ll be okay."
"Let's get going. Once we find those bastard rednecks we won't be doing much talking."
CHAPTER TWENTY
President Malcolm Powers was getting impatient. He and his former guests were sitting in the underground bunker beneath the White House waiting to be moved back up topside. His Chief of Staff had not spoken a word to him and he knew the reason. He would have time to deal with her later. More important things required his attention, like the symbol of the office of the president being directly attacked and an Iranian sub in the water with a nuclear warhead aboard.
"Mike, tell me something good. I'm ready to get out of here."
"Mr. President, we have the airports shut down and roadblocks are being set up on every major road leading out of the capitol. Once all air traffic is grounded and if nothing else happens, we can move you up top."
"How long?"
"An hour, two at the most."
President Powers looked at Admiral Mack. "Are the Enterprise and the George Washington underway?"
"Yes, Mr. President, they’re moving at full speed to join the blockade in the Arabian Sea."
"Radiation levels?"
"Continuing to rise, Mr. President. The weather system continues to spread radioactivity into the area. Much of the region will be uninhabitable for decades."
CIA Director Jimenez coughed and growled, "Animals are killing their own people just to come at us."
Everyone in the room looked gravely at each other. The president continued to address Admiral Mack. "Bunker Five?"
"We still can't get a clear read on it, Mr. President."
"What if they launch directly from the bunker? Will we be able to stop it in time?"
"Yes, Mr. President. We would be able to shoot it down over the Arctic Circle or over the Atlantic Ocean. We are still confident that they do not have a working ICBM."
"Well, their actions lead me to believe that they’re capable of anything. I'm not going to underestimate them; ensure that you do not as well, General Moody."
"Yes, Mr. President." The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff responded with a cold, stern face. He did not like being talked down to.
"Ladies and gentlemen, if you will excuse me, I'm going to retire to my quarters for a short time to freshen up and spend some time reflecting on the horrible events of this day. Please make yourselves comfortable. Just as soon as we are given the all clear, we will all return to the White House."
The president stood up, and every person in the room followed suit. The CIA director placed his hands on the arms of his wheelchair and sat up as straight as he could.
"Stacy, would you join me, please?"
"Yes, Mr. President." The president's Chief of Staff stood up and followed her boss down the short hallway to his private quarters. He opened the door for her, ushering her in. Once he closed the door, he braced himself for the ass-chewing he knew would follow.
"Malcolm, I want one good reason why I shouldn't hand you my letter of resignation!"
Stacy Reid had been Admiral Powers' campaign manager. Once he took office, she was the obvious choice to be his Chief of Staff. She accepted the job on one condition - when they were behind closed doors, she could speak her mind and deflate his ego if it was growing unchecked. Malcolm gladly accepted the condition and would have insisted on it anyway. He needed someone to keep him in check, someone who wasn't concerned about furthering their own career or just wanted to kiss his ass. Malcolm had studied JFK's biggest blunder, the Bay of Pigs, and came to his own conclusion that if JFK's advisors had spoken their minds and not worried about damaging their careers, JFK could have avoided the biggest blunder of his presidency.
"Stacy, just hear me out. I wanted to bring you in on this from the start. Keeping you in the dark was a very tough call. I regret it now, and I apologize. I should never have done that to you."
"I hope you have a damn good reason. I'm waiting."
"Well, I made the decision based on two reasons. The first is that you're from Florida."
"What? How dare you! You think I couldn't give you sound advice? That's outrageous! I hope your second reason is better than that."
"What would you have done if you'd known about my plan?"
"Your plan to lie to the American people? I think you can figure that one out."
"Exactly my point. I need you, Stacy. I can't afford to lose you, especially now, given what's at stake. I hope you can work past this and we can come to an understanding."
"I need time, Malcolm. I just don't know."
"Take all the time you need. In the meantime, I hope you can continue to perform your duties as well as you always have."
"If I'm even going to think about staying, no more lies, no more hiding things from me."
"Of course."
"You know I would have left quietly."
"I know you would, but I couldn't afford the press putting two and two together. Okay, let's talk about today. What do you think?"
"Personal feelings aside, I don't think you'll be able to contain Governor Prince for much longer. She's bound to go to the press."
"You're probably right. I was planning on sending the Enterprise and the George Washington to the Florida coastline. It’s the only reason I called the meeting. I wanted to get input from everyone before I made a decision. You think she knows that? Will it matter to her?"
"She has to realize that an Iranian sub in the water with a nuke takes precedence."
"Stacy, can you talk to her, remind her of that?"
"Me?"
"The woman doesn't like me, and you used to work for her. I think you’ll have better luck."
"We worked together a very long time ago. She was a state senator and I was her press secretary. We didn't exactly part ways on the best of terms."
"Well, I still think you’ll have better luck than I would. She cussed me out in front of some of the most powerful people in our government. She would probably do worse if given the chance."
"I'll talk to her, try to get her to see reason."
"Excuse me, Mr. President?" the White House A.I. interrupted.
"Yes, computer, what is it?"
"Howard Beck is requesting to speak to you. I informed him that you are indisposed at the moment and couldn't take his vid-con. He says that it's urgent."
"What does he want?"
"He wouldn't say. He insisted on speaking with you."
"Well, I can't very well talk to him down here, you won’t let me. It’ll have to wait
until I get back upstairs. In fact, tell him I will speak with him sometime tomorrow. I'm trying to save our country from a nuclear holocaust."
"Yes, Mr. President."
Stacy rolled her eyes. "He probably wants to see if you know anything about Patrick Stewart returning to Star Trek."
"Patrick Stewart is returning to Star Trek?"
"Focus, Malcolm. There are more important things going on."
"Really? Like what?" Malcolm smiled.
"Should we try to reach out to the Iranian Ambassador? Try a diplomatic solution?" Stacy asked.
"We could go through the motions, I suppose. We both know it won't accomplish a damn thing."
"Doesn't hurt to try. We can at least confront them out in the open for the press to see. Let them know that we’re aware of what they're doing. Get some pressure on them from the rest of the world."
"Good point. Where is the Secretary of State?"
"Secretary Whitlock is in Paris meeting with delegates from the European Army."
"Computer, send a message to Secretary Whitlock and dispatch him to Cairo. Inform him that I will be contacting him when he lands."
"Yes, Mr. President."
"Anything else, Stacy?"
"Yes, can you pull a few strings and get us out of here? You’re the president of the United States, after all. Don't you have some sway around here?"
"Funny."
"I'm not sure if now is the right time, but I've had some concerns about...”
Stacy was interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Come in." The president looked up from his desk to see his lead Secret Service agent in the doorway.
"Mr. President, it's time to move you."
"Finally! I'm ready to get back in my office."
"We're not moving you back into the White House, Mr. President."
"Excuse me?"
"Sir, we have secured the grounds of the White House, but things in D.C. are spiraling out of control. Riots are breaking out all over the city. Large portions of the capital are on fire. The roads are in complete gridlock, due in large part to the attack on the White House. The National Guard has informed us that they will lose control of the city in a matter of hours. You’re no longer safe here; we have to move you out of the city."
"Mike, I will not leave the White House! I'm not going to abandon our nation's capital and run away like a coward! Out of the question! I'll stay down here if I have to, but I'm not leaving!"
Stacy decided to play referee. "Mr. President, if things are as bad as Mike is saying, we have little choice but to leave. If the National Guard loses control of the city, we’ll be trapped down here for a very long time. If the rioters think you’re in the White House, they might try to burn it down to smoke you out. Then you will be down here sitting under the ashes of the White House. If we move you to a secure location, you’ll be able to do much more than you can in this safe room. I can work with the press secretary to come up with a statement putting all of this into a positive light."
Stacy was right, as usual. He needed to leave. The last force to capture and occupy Washington, D.C., was the British in 1814. General Robert Ross was under orders to occupy the capital and burn down public buildings. The White House was burned to the ground. British troops even added fuel to the fire to ensure that the presidential residence burned throughout the night and into the following morning. The capitol building was largely destroyed as well. Never in his wildest dreams did Malcolm think his own citizens would take the city by force. If he remained in the White House, the building would certainly be a target. Even if he did leave, he was sure that the White House would be lost.
"Mike, where do you intend on taking me? Do I have a say?"
"Sir, your residence in upstate New York is a secure location. My team will travel ahead of us and join the agents already there. The rest of us travel with you on Air Force One."
"Good, Mike, thank you. The First Lady is already there, correct? She hasn't left, has she?"
"Yes, Mr. President, your wife and daughter are already there. Your son is being moved from Harvard to join you."
"When do we leave?"
"Air Force One is standing by. We need to leave within the hour."
"Thank you, Mike."
President Malcolm Powers stood up and straightened his tie. He took a deep breath and exited the room. Once he was in the conference room, the president addressed the group.
"Thank you, please, sit down."
Everyone took their seats and looked at the president. They could tell that the weight of the world was on his shoulders. The poor man had endured more in a day than some presidents faced during their entire administration.
"For those of you who don’t know, riots have broken out all over the capital. We're not talking about a few protests that got out of control. Things are very, very bad. Much of our beloved city is on fire. The National Guard has indicated that they will lose the city within a few hours. My staff and I will be moving to my residence in upstate New York immediately. All of you are welcome to join me on Air Force One. The choice is yours, of course, but I doubt that any of you have a safer way to leave Washington."
Everyone in the room tried to hide their panic and fear. They were all stunned for a moment, then swallowed their dread and focused on what needed to be done.
The president stood tall and resolute. He paused for moment, trying to comprehend the full weight of what he was about to say. "Computer, coordinate with the Secret Service and begin preparations to evacuate the White House."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Captain Jackson Butler was standing in the grand library of the world's richest man. His orders had been to take over Beck Estates and set up a fortified army base that would serve as the command center for the Rocky Mountain and Pacific states. The country was falling apart fast, and the Unified National Guard had to regroup and consolidate its forces if they had any hopes of stopping an all-out civil war. Jackson had given his reports to his commanding officer, Colonel Rutherford. In them, Jackson had detailed his retreat from Denver and the grave injuries to his XO. When Colonel Rutherford read that Captain Butler ended up at the front gate of Howard Beck’s estate, he actually vid-conned the captain, certain that it was a joke. In later reports, Captain Butler gave the details of the guesthouse, which was a mansion in itself by any practical standards. Colonel Rutherford dispatched troops to Captain Butler's command. The original plans were to first gather enough forces to retake Denver, and then the Joint Chiefs had other plans for Beck Estates. Once Las Vegas, Phoenix, and Portland fell to angry mobs, it was clear that drastic measures had to be taken to prevent the country from descending into chaos. Beck Estates was the perfect staging area. The Joint Chiefs were already having plans drawn for an airstrip to be built on Howard's thousand-acre estate. In a year's time, the home of the world's richest man would be well on its way to becoming a full blown army base.
Jackson was certain he had built a solid friendship with Howard and that he could convince him to go along with the plan. Jackson planned on telling Howard a little bit at a time. Once he got comfortable with the first tidbit of information, Butler would slowly break more and more bad news to the man until eventually he would be helpless to do anything at all. His bright idea was stopped cold. Howard was standing in front of him having a tantrum like a toddler. Howard kicked over a table and sent papers and books flying across the room. Jackson was standing in probably the largest library he had seen in his life. He remembered the large public libraries from his youth. There were still a few left in some of the larger cities. Since most people could fit the Library of Congress on their smartphone, paper books were becoming quite rare. The last paperback book had been printed in 2022, to be replaced with digital copies only. The books that Howard had sent flying across the room looked to be very old, and given the man's vast wealth, were probably very valuable.
"Get the hell out of my house! NOW!!!"
For the love of God, Howard, why are you making this so difficult? I have my orders. Surely you know what is at stake. You insist on doing this the hard way, don't you? I can tell I'm going to have to make this official. Captain Butler had memorized the decree signed by the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
"Howard Beck, by order of the president of the United States, I hereby seize your property, and you will be confined to your suite under armed guard."
Jackson knew this statement would only enrage the old man further. He suddenly recalled an article he had read about Howard Beck some years ago. The man has Asperger's Syndrome, which accounted for his driven genius, but it also explained why Howard had come completely unhinged. People with Asperger’s don’t take change well, especially when it pertains to the place they consider to be their home, a place where they fell safe and in control.
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