Captive-in-Chief

by Murray Mcdonald

  “Women and children with that group, the men over there!” instructed Elsa authoritatively, repeating the order in Spanish and receiving the reaction she wanted, despite a number of complaints from the men. However, they had no fear of the authorities. Worst case scenario, they would be deported back to Mexico and would return as soon as they could.

  To the outside world, the rundown house had been raided by immigration and the inhabitants marched off. Nobody knew any of the Mexicans personally. The four families had moved in weeks earlier, much to the disgust of the neighborhood, and caused more than enough noise and disruption thanks to their unruly and numerous children. The neighborhood was, as a number of the residents stated to Elsa and her team, eternally thankful something was finally being done.

  In reality, the families had been taken to an empty warehouse where the women and men remained separated. Elsa spoke to the men. She had a very simple offer for them, one that was non-negotiable, and was without question one they had no hesitation in accepting. Of course, Elsa had had to prove exactly how willing she was to live up to her end of the bargain. A knife and the youngest member of the household had been enough to convince the four men that they would indeed do as she wanted. The child would live, at least until the four men had left to deliver their end of the bargain.

  Chapter 44

  President Caldwell walked back into the Oval Office with renewed vigor. Val was always an excellent counsel, always enforcing his belief.

  His National Security Advisor, Secretary of Defense, and most senior member of his armed forces awaited him.

  “Charles, can I have a word in my study, please?”

  Charles and Clay left the room, allowing the secretary and Joint Chiefs chairman to catch their breaths. Ramona had taken the president’s word as gospel and had the two men running to meet the deadline set by the president, calling them constantly to hurry them along to the extent that both sprinted into her outer office to little more than a ‘get in there already!’ command from Ramona. She was back!

  Clay marched back into the room, followed by a bemused Charles.

  “Okay, first up, Charles has resigned as my National Security Advisor. However, I’m pleased to announce his appointment as my chief of staff.”

  Congratulations followed from both men. Charles remained tight lipped. He wasn’t happy at all about what was about to happen, nor was he sure would the two men be who had congratulated him.

  “I’m thinking about bringing our troops home,” Clay blurted.

  “From where?” asked the chairman.

  “I do believe he means in their entirety,” Charles answered the question for Clay.

  “So that’s why you resigned as NSA?” asked the secretary, knowing Charles well enough to know he would never agree to such an action.

  “As NSA, Charles was responsible for one thing, the security of the United States. As chief of staff his role is responsible for every area of government. I’m sure we’ll disagree on some things, however, not the single fundamental focus of his role. It would be inconceivable for us to agree on everything, and it is a very different role and one in which Charles will be invaluable. I don’t see an issue, do either of you?”

  Clay had said it in a way that wasn’t up for debate. He and Charles agreed and Charles, for the sake of his country, was remaining as a key aide to a president who needed every friend he had around him.

  “What about you two?” Clay asked. “What do you think?”

  “It has its merits,” offered the secretary. Clay was taken aback; he hadn’t expected anyone to give him even the slightest support. “When?”

  “I’d like to announce it…hmm…today,” Clay said awkwardly. “Obviously it’s not going to be easy and will take some time, yet I’m convinced the principle—”

  “Is absolutely sound. Brilliant in fact,” the chairman cut in, stunning Clay.

  “As our Capitol lies in ruins and the world condemns our justified and measured response, Mr. President, I think it is exactly what we need to do,” continued the chairman. “The world has used us as their police force for too long. It’s time our men and women came home to their families and we looked after number one.”

  “I have to admit I’m somewhat surprised at your reactions,” said Clay, doing everything within his power to remain calm. Were these two part of the conspiracy? Their reaction was certainly counter to his expectations.

  “Our foreign deployments do nothing except bleed our coffers dry while offering the countries we protect a financial advantage against us. Germany, Japan, and South Korea’s economies flourished while our citizens paid for their defenses. It’s time we let the rest of the countries around the world do their bit. We have enough problems at home and our people have paid more than their fair share to keep the world safe,” said the secretary.

  “Without us projecting our power, the world could explode into violence.” Charles argued. “Wars that we’ve helped contain for years could erupt at a moment’s notice!”

  “Or not,” said the chairman. “For every report that says we are vital to stability, there’s another suggesting our meddling is creating or exacerbating the situation.”

  “I still think it’s wrong, Mr. President, and I’d counsel against it,” said Charles with conviction. “It’s been a very upsetting week, we’ve lost so many good people and friends.”

  “Nothing to do with that, Charles, it’s something I have to do. I have no choice,” Clay said firmly, although it was not entirely true. He did have a choice, only it was at the expense of his two daughters’ lives.

  “How long would it take?” Clay asked his two military advisors.

  “What about Israel?” Charles asked.

  “We don’t have any troops there,” replied the chairman.

  “But our general presence,” argued Charles.

  “Without vast numbers of troops and resources committed across the planet, we’ll have more projectable power than ever at our disposal. God forbid anyone who threatens our allies.”

  “Will they still want to be our allies, the NATO pact—”

  “Do you seriously think any of our current allies are going to pull out of a pact that ensures our support?” the secretary scoffed. “They’ll moan and bitch but they’ll do whatever’s needed to keep us by their side.”

  “How long?” asked Clay, fully anticipating an answer that would require feasibility studies, impact analyses, and numerous other long, drawn out processes.

  “We have GOOD plans in place. With your authority we can begin with immediate effect, Mr. President,” said the secretary.

  “GOOD plans?”

  “Since Vietnam we’ve had GOOD plans drawn up should we ever decide to Get the hell Out Of Dodge. It’s a means for an extremely fast withdrawal to minimize losses in a deteriorating environment. No reason why we can’t use them now. Slow and prolonged drawbacks only ever result in increased threats as our strength and force numbers deteriorate. We’re better pulling out en masse quickly. Safer and far more cost efficient in the long run.”

  Clay shifted uneasily in his seat. Two of his most trusted advisors had just shown themselves, as far as he was concerned, to be part of the conspiracy and responsible for holding one daughter and threatening another. There was no other explanation for how keen they were to enact the troop withdrawals.

  Though Clay kept his calm, he wanted to reach across the office and beat both men to a pulp with his bare hands. Knowing and being able to put a face on even some of his controllers was a positive, he told himself.

  “Begin the planning,” he said sharply. “Get our troops home.”

  The timings were a disaster; he’d expected a long, drawn out process, not an immediate reaction. With everything that had transpired he now had three people he believed to be conspirators. The attorney general, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, and his secretary of defense.

  He needed Joe. Where the hell was he?

  Chapter 45

  The m
emorial service for Alabama’s two senators, three congressmen, and two congresswomen killed in the attack on the US Capitol was led by Governor Eric Warner. On a hastily erected stage in the grounds of the Alabama State Capitol, Eric had addressed thousands of his fellow Alabamians. It had been a somber and heartfelt farewell to a group of men and women who had served their state admirably for almost one hundred and fifty years collectively. Governor Warner had not forgotten to remember the other Alabamans who had fallen that day; in total eighty-five had been lost in the tragedy, including staffers and tourists.

  Any doubts anyone had about the ability of their new governor to govern their state were once and for all dismissed. His command of the audience, his ability to control and drive their emotions throughout his speech, was masterful. A tear ran from his eye as he talked of the youngest victim, only seven years old. Kylie had been so excited to visit Washington, she hadn’t slept for nights prior to her trip. The audience reacted to every inflection, every nuance of his words and actions. He shared moments of joy and laughter he had shared with his fallen political colleagues. The audience laughed with him. It was a poignant and most perfect sendoff to people held dear in Alabamians’ hearts.

  Despite the occasion, applause followed his performance. As incongruous as it felt to clap at such a sad occasion, the outstanding performance merited reaction.

  The president’s voice interrupted the applause. His voice boomed across the audience as the audio of him addressing the nation was looped into the PA system.

  “My fellow Americans…”

  The crowd instantly fell silent. What followed was a detailed reasoning behind an announcement nobody was anticipating. America was pulling her forces back to the US. The world was going to have to police itself. America had worried enough about what happened elsewhere, it was now time to focus and look after number one. The president explained how, as a result, America would strengthen, not weaken its military. Monies would be spent on defending America, not other territories, and America would be safer as a result.

  “…and God bless the United States of America,” the president finished.

  A cheer followed. Few had issue with what had been said, and the few that did were soon shouted down. The president was making America safer, more secure, what was there to argue about?

  Eric stepped back onto the stage and with the audience in the palm of his hand, they awaited his response. He simply started to sing, booming out the first few words of the Star Spangled Banner, and every one of the audience members joined in.

  Tears flowed during one of the most heart rendering versions of the national anthem ever sung. As the last words died down, Eric once more stepped forward. Again the audience were held in his rapture. He started to sing again, Alabama, Alabama, the state song, and the audience boomed it out with him.

  As the events of the evening concluded, the crowd began to disperse. It was an evening few of them would ever forget. Many discussed how incredibly their governor had performed throughout the event and recognized his leading the charge against the rioters. Few mentioned he was the president’s nephew.

  “Guys,” said Eric, turning to his protection team. “Good job tonight. I think my wife and I can manage from here, it’s a beautiful night for a walk.”

  “Are you sure, Sir?”

  “I’m surrounded by the good people of Alabama. I’ve never been more sure!” he replied with a wave and took his wife’s hand, setting off for the mile and a half walk back to the governor’s mansion. It was to be a long walk. Congratulations and well-wishers delayed them every few hundred yards. The Warners had won the hearts of the people hook, line, and sinker. Mrs. Warner’s exquisite outfit not only showed off her beauty, it allowed the first hint of her recently announced pregnancy to show. The two radiated hope and belief in the state that few had felt in a long time, nor believed they could have following the recent events that had rocked the nation.

  ***

  Elsa dropped the four men off on South Court Street, pointing to the wall that belonged to the target house. She reiterated her threat, none of the men doubted her for a second. None had met a more coldhearted bitch in their lives. Utterly emotionless, she had taken a knife to slit the throat of the youngest child in front of their eyes. None had doubted she would happily have done so had they not accepted her demand.

  None were unaccustomed to violence. All four had served time in prison for various crimes up to and including murder; it was how they had survived in Mexico and one of the reasons they had made the move to America. They desperately wanted their children to have a life free from the violence and gang culture that had been the norm for them. Killing a man to save one of their own was no great leap. They had done so before to protect and provide for their families and they would do so again.

  Elsa tossed a bag from the nondescript Chevy van, a hundred yards further down the road. The men jogged to collect it as Elsa pulled away, leaving the men armed and ready to fulfill their mission. Grabbing the bag and checking for prying eyes, they scaled the wall and dropped into the grounds. The sensors that should have alerted security had already been disarmed ahead of their entry. A later investigation would identify a faulty sensor and not the technical wizard that Elsa had employed.

  Under the cover of the tree line, they checked the bag to find a selection of weapons, four submachine guns and four pistols, all with attached suppressors and numerous extra ammo clips for each. All different models and devoid of serial numbers, it was an overwhelming amount of firepower to deal with one person. They had been shown a photo of the target, none of them knew who it was. Not speaking English, they had little time for local news and instead watched Mexican TV.

  As darkness fell they came out of the treeline and worked quietly around the tennis court at the back of the property. A large white house with a pool lay ahead.

  “Alto!” hissed the older of the Mexicans, José. They all stopped as the armed guard in uniform walked into view from around the side of the house.

  They ducked down and cursed between themselves in Spanish. It was not the easy in and out killing they had anticipated. Whatever the case, they had no option other than to proceed, their families’ lives depended on them.

  When the guard disappeared once again from sight, Jose signaled for them to move. All four crept forward. Whether there was one man or fifty in the house they’d do what was needed. These men meant nothing to them, their families meant everything.

  Nearing the back of the house, Jose once again signaled for them to stop. The crunch of the guard’s feet on the gravel at the side of the house alerted them to his coming. The guard had no chance. When he rounded the rear of the house, two of the Mexicans fired, their raised and ready MP5 and Uzi, three-round bursts, six rounds ended the guard’s life instantly.

  ***

  “What was that?” asked Governor Warner as he greeted the state trooper at the gatehouse protecting their home.

  “I didn’t hear anything,” replied the guard. Eric had no doubt he hadn’t, since he hadn’t taken his eyes off of his wife. He was used to men appreciating his wife, it came with the territory of having beautiful wife. However, he expected a lot more from a trooper who was protecting their home.

  “It sounded like gunshots, suppressed gunshots,” Eric snapped angrily, motioning for his wife to move into the stone gatehouse and get down.

  Eric had grown up with guns. He was a strong believer in the Second Amendment and open carried a gun wherever he went. He had experience of firing almost every weapon ever made. He knew a gunshot, suppressed or not, when he heard it. He drew his Korth .357 custom made revolver and signaled for the guard to back him up and call it in.

  They moved slowly and carefully forward.

  “Where’s the other trooper?” asked Eric.

  “Walking the grounds.”

  Not any more, thought Eric. He signaled for the trooper to follow him around the right side of the house. Eric considered moving back to the relative safe
ty of the gatehouse and waiting for back-up, but events spiraled out of control quickly when sirens sounded in the distance as the local police force reacted to the news of an attack on their governor. The first sound brought two men racing around the side of the house, their weapons up at the ready.

  Eric didn’t hesitate. He spent hours each week practicing with his guns, in particular his Korth. Everything about the Korth had been customized for him - the grip, the trigger pressure, even the weight and balance. He fired two shots, sounding almost as one, catching both men before they had a chance to react. The powerful .357 magnum bullets stopped them both in their tracks, center upper mass, slightly to the left. Both perfect shots to the heart. The men fell, both dead before they hit the ground.

  “Holy shit!” the trooper exclaimed at Eric’s gun skills. The trooper was still trying to understand how Eric had felled both men with apparently one shot, while Eric rushed onwards and rounded the rear of the house just as a man disappeared around the other side, heading towards the front of the property. His wife was in the gatehouse, alone at the front. Eric sprinted after him across the rear of the house and rounding the side. The man once again disappeared out of sight. He was at the front and heading towards his wife. Eric tore after him, urging the trooper on behind him.

  Eric reached the front of the house and his worst fear was facing him. One man held his wife with a gun to her head, while another urged him to come out into the open. He did the only thing he could, he walked into the open. The trooper rushing behind him didn’t slow, he raced into the middle of the scene, oblivious to what was happening. The Mexican who had been training his gun on Eric reacted quickly, moving to the trooper and firing off a three shot burst. The trooper fell to the ground, screaming in agony.