by W. R. Benton
They were warned countless times in the media and last night they were told to go home, but they chose to ignore our warnings. They paid for that choice in blood. This is not a game we're playing, and we've found martial law in all occupied areas cuts down on the efforts of partisans, who want to do us harm or destroy supplies. Martial law will be maintained in all states that come into our control, and will remain in place until peace is established.
We will continue to crush protesters and use all the military weapons at our disposal to do so. While some of the protesters may think they are fighting for this or that goal, in truth, many of the protesters are looters, which in the eyes of the law makes them criminals, and I am here today to set some simple rules.” Television cameras were in place, recording the man's words, so later this day his speech would be heard by millions.
“Uh, Mister President, why no right to legal protests?” a reporter asked.
“Steve, you were told before this briefing that I would not be taking questions. I don't have the time to get into questions today, so I'll politely ignore your query.” the President said, and then nodded toward Steve.
As soon as the President stopped speaking three men in plain clothes moved toward the reporter. Minutes later the man was gone, escorted from the building.
The President gave a fake smile and continued, “If you live in an occupied area held by the CSA, you are expected to obey all of the posted rules. Understand this, please; you do not have the right to assemble, to be out after curfew, or the right to loot and call it a protest. We are currently at war with the United States and as captives of the CSA, you have only the rights we will give you. Your rights will increase as peace is established in your area.
Chicago, listen to me, if you are seen out after curfew with a large group on the streets, there will be no questioning by the police or military. There will be no warnings or anyone telling you to return to your home, because you will be shot. Any group consisting of more than four people will now be considered a protest, and dealt with using force. There will be no exception to this. That concludes my speech today and if you have questions, my press secretary will take them later this evening.”
When he walked from the podium, he was immediately surrounded by a half dozen bodyguards, who scanned the people in the building as they moved.
Once in his limo, his wife said, “Excellent speech, John, and I think you're the right man for President. You're compassionate and yet forceful when you need to be. However, with that said, do you think your words will make a difference?”
“No, not real—”
His cell phone rang, “Hello, this is the President.”
“Sir, I hate to bother you, but our intelligence indicates a huge riot planned for tonight.”
“Deal with it, General, and not softly either. If necessary, I want assault helicopters overhead, because we must stop this challenge to our authority. Use the minimal force needed, but if you get too hard handed, don't worry about my reaction. These riots must be stopped.”
As the President spoke, the First Lady removed a decanter and poured him a double bourbon. He took the drink from her and knocked it back all at one time. He held his hand out for another.
“Sir, we really got some negative news coverage last night with the tanks, but I was surprised they had fire bombs ready for us.”
“Well, I wasn't, not in the least. I suspect the NWO is behind our problems in Chicago and if nothing else, funding the fight. You can expect anything tonight, and handle it your way.”
“Uh, yes, sir, I'll do that.”
“Trouble?” his wife asked as he ended the call and placed the phone back in his shirt pocket.
“No, not really. General Adams has intelligence that indicates a riot this evening.”
“He's in Chicago, right?”
“Uh-huh, and it's a mess there, but has been for years. Can you imagine what Detroit will be like if we take that city? I could never understand how both those places had some of the strictest gun laws in the world and yet, they had more people killed in a year, in either city, than died in combat in the Middle East.”
“Do you mean it was safer to be in a combat zone than live in Chicago or Detroit?”
Looking at her over the rim of his whiskey glass, the President said, “That's exactly what I mean. People in both cities are also used to looting and calling it protesting. I am a firm believer in the Constitution, but first peace has to come to the area and that means, in most cases, the trouble makers have to be taken out.”
“But tanks are a bit much, aren't they?”
“Tell that to the tank crews who were burned to death last night or are in the hospital today recovering from burns from Molotov Cocktails. They were prepared, and well, too. We lost three tank crews and had over a dozen others burned badly enough to require hospitalization.”
“How many people in a crew?”
“Three, so nine people lost their lives to a bunch of loud mouths wanting to start trouble. I won't, or better yet I can't, allow that to continue. The resistance in Chicago will be crushed and if it takes years, it doesn't matter. I hope to eventually turn it into a nice city again.”
Chapter 11
The Boss, Thomas. and Adolpha were in a briefing room in the wine cellar being filled with all kinds of information, from the safe houses in Chicago to the weather. It was confusing to all three, and The Boss had reached the conclusion the Order was sending him to his death. Here he was, a middle aged agent, and had been groomed since birth to be the false front for the NWO and now he was being sent on his first real assignment? Someone wanted him out of the way, maybe, and the only person with that kind of authority was the Big Boss. Unless the Big Boss wasn't the real boss of the organization. The NWO was so wrapped in security that no one seemed to know who the real boss was, and it was all intentional.
“Paul,” the young man in a black suit spoke The Boss' first name and then continued, “you're being sent to America to organize the country for our take over. However, it has been decided that you will start in Chicago, then move to California where you will be our representative to the President of the United States. Your needs will be taken care of, and we'll be in contact with you twice daily, in one form of communications or another.”
The Boss nodded.
“Your primary responsibility and mission in Chicago is to keep the riots going and making sure the CSA has to assign military units there. Our goal is to force the Conservative government to pull troops from the front lines to maintain law and order in various large cities. Once you've trained Adolpha you will relocate to California, and then the responsibility for the city is hers.”
She smiled, but then the man said, “And, I've been instructed to tell you, ma'am, to keep your panties on most of the time. It has been decided that your sexual adventures may one day force us to eliminate you, if you're ever considered a security problem. That, my dear, would be the waste of a very beautiful woman.”
Bastards, she thought, and then realized she was going with The Boss. While not an especially attractive man, he did know his way around a bed well enough, and she'd use him as needed. Being away from his wife and having needs, he'd not refuse her and she knew it well. But, if The Boss didn't want to play, she knew she was fully capable of seducing Thomas.
“Now, your military C-130 will take off at 2300 hours tonight and once on the East Coast, it will stop and wait for good weather and then drop the three of you at 0200 hours, Chicago time. Now this will be done when the weather cooperates and we have clouds, but no rain. So, that means you could leave the first night you arrive or maybe as long as a week. You'll leave the aircraft at 7010.400 meters, free fall to 183 meters and then open your chutes. All parachutes will have automatic backup, so it should open for you. If not, then do the job manually. Best of luck. Now, each of you will have equipment bags on both sides of you filled with arms and ammunition. The arms are all stolen from one side or the other during the Middle East War a
nd cannot be traced to anyone else. You will see those guns are put to good use. A reminder, release the bags before you land, as they'll still be attached to you by a lanyard, or you'll probably suffer an injury.”
Thomas asked, “Isn't roughly 500 feet low to open and expect us to remember to release the equipment bags? We'll likely get two swings in the chute and then be on the ground.”
“It is low, but you don't want to be seen landing. It is imperative that the weapons go with you; now the password is Double, and the counter password is Play, just like in baseball.”
“Any questions?”
Silence.
“Good, now come with me. We'll get the gear and weapons you'll be smuggling into the states issued. The guns are all M-4's, so ammo can be found on any dead soldier or cop with a rifle. Some cops use shotguns, but the round is a standard United Nations round. If you seriously need ammo, contact us about our home delivery service.”
No one laughed at his attempted humor.
Something had The Boss on edge besides the parachute drop, something he could not put his finger on, but it would come to him. As far as his wife knew, he was going to the United States to help another firm in his company which was having difficulties with production, and he'd be back when he could. He could call her, if needed, and send her letters, which an agent would carry out of the city and they would eventually be mailed from New York City. The city was now part of the United States and as far as his wife knew, that was where he was working. His phone was even modified to show his location as being in New York state, but usually in the city.
Once the weapons and gear was issued, they each received a new identity. Along with the new names, a complete personal history of each was now loaded in the computer. They were also given new American passports, drivers licenses and social security numbers as well. The Boss discovered he was a freelance writer, Thomas was an artist, and Adolpha was an executive with a large business in the city. Since the owner of the business owed the NWO a few favors, she even had a desk and office in the building. Thomas was surprised to learn he even had an art show and exhibit going on right now in the windy city. They were told to memorize their personal histories.
Each had a small place rented in the city, apartments, and while not extravagant, they were given based on suspected pay for an individual's particular skill. Since Adolpha was an executive, her apartment was the largest and most expensive and as a freelance writer, The Boss got the lower end of housing. Each were fluent in American English and the NWO had covered all angles of the infiltration well.
Hours later they boarded an American C-130 during the darkness of night and took off. The trip was long and tiring for the three. At various stops for fuel the crews would often change, but the three passengers remained on the aircraft. Food was issued in the form of box lunches, which consisted of a sandwich, a fruit cup or banana, chips, and a small carton of milk. At one stop the sandwich was replaced by fried chicken, and even the Boss enjoyed that meal.
After a long and grueling flight, they touched down in New York. They had no idea where they were, but the pilot had said over the intercom they were now in the state. The aircraft taxied to a parking spot, the engines cut off, and minutes later a man in a black suit entered the aircraft and said, “Please come with me. I know all three of you are tired, so I'll take you to your rooms, and if you're hungry, you can order a meal there as well. You are not to leave the rooms for any reason, shy of the building being on fire or a terrorist attack. Don't worry about the military gear or your luggage. Your bags will be brought to your rooms in about an hour. The gear will stay here, under guard.”
They were taken to a hotel just outside the airport and given suites for their stay. The Boss quickly showered, changed into slacks and polo shirt, and moved to the bar in his room. Each room had a miniature bar stocked with all kinds of drinks. He sat in an overstuffed brown leather chair and turned the television on to the news channel.
A fairly attractive female reporter said, “— and the CSA military admitted to well over 500 dead in last night's riot. According to both the President of the new nation and the military governor here, the violence will continue as long as private citizens continue to ignore the curfew. This station, XBNR, suggests that all viewers obey the curfew and avoid violence. Unlike living under the United States government, you no longer have the right to assemble or actually, any Constitutional rights. We, all of us in Illinois, are captives. Back to our news center. Bob.”
“If you've just joined us, I'm Bob Perkins with the morning news. New this morning; Many of the inner city residents are have difficulty meeting the work demands of the CSA. Under the current laws, each person must work in order to eat, and the only exception are those individuals who have been diagnosed by a doctor as unfit for work. In that case, you must hand carry your doctor's letter to a food distribution center, who will confirm your medical condition and enter you in the computer system. The current law states if you are not entered in the system, no food will be issued to you. If you are over 65 years of age working is not a condition of eating, and you only need to show a drivers license or other age related document to the people at the food distribution center for your area. The problem for many of our elderly and ill is transportation. I take you now to Julie Jones who joins us live from the windy city. Julie?”
“Good morning, Bob. I am standing in front of the largest food distribution center in the city and there are complaints from many individuals about the current CSA food law. According to many, the transportation system is the problem. I have with me Sandi Rogers, who claims as a single parent of six children she is unable to work, because her children take up all of her time. Sandi, are you aware there is free child care for your children and free bus transportation around the city?”
“Takin' care of my babies is a full time job, so why do I need another job? 'Sides, my boyfriend works. I don't want my children left with strangers all day.” The woman was obese, dressed well, and was holding an infant with her right arm, while another child, with a runny nose, held her other hand.
“My question was not about work, but if you knew about the free child care and if you have any transportation problems.”
“I cain't work 'cause the doctor said I got bad knees, and besides, I home school my kids.”
“Well, that's a different story then, the home schooling.” Julie said, her right eyebrow raised as she added, “If you take your educational information to the food center along with an excuse from your doctor, you can clear up this problem.”
“Why do I have to do that? I'm an American and I need help with my babies. In the past, I stayed home, took care of my little ones, and was paid so I could live. Ain't my fault the child support people cain't find the daddies of none of my kids. I don't think it's fair to ask no woman with six kids to work when I ain't got no husband.”
“It's now the law, and I don't see where it will be that hard on you to provide proof. Are you aware that the public transportation system is up and running, at no cost to anyone?”
“I have a car.”
Knowing the conversation was not going well, Julie thanked her for her time and then selected a man to interview next. He was a tall lanky man, with long fingers and face.
“I have with me Thomas Smith, who has just left the center. Mister Smith, how difficult was it it to reach the food distribution center this morning?”
Smith was clean cut, dressed well, and wore a ball cap and jeans. He was a short wiry black man with white even teeth. His smile was a foot wide.
“The bus stop was a ways off, but other than that, it was easy. I came here, showed my card from where I been working, and as you can see, I did my shoppin'. There ain't no transportation problem; what we got here is a people problem, 'cause most don't want to work. For years folks been getting paid for doin' nothin' and now overnight they need to be workin'. Old habits are hard to break. Oh, I can see where it takes a little time, but at least ya can eat the next wee
k iffen ya have a job.”
Seeing a member of the city bus system, she thanked Mister Smith, and quickly approached the man wearing the public transportation uniform.
“I see you work with our city transportation system and would like to ask you a few questions, if I may.”
“Sure, and my name is Ed.”
“Ed, are you aware of any complaints called in or voiced over transportation to this or any other food center?”
“There have been some, and I'm a driver. I have had folks complaining that I don't come when they want me to be there, or they have to wait too long for me at the center to go home, but my schedule is such that I'm only gone from any one bus stop for approximately one hour. So, it's possible to catch my bus, do your shopping in less than an hour, and be home in next to no time. The problem is, with gas now rationed, folks are depending more and more on public transportation. But, these new people don't understand how a bus schedule works. I feel our system is good; it's usually on time, runs in all kinds of weather, and it's safe.”
Turning to face the camera, the reporter said, “This is Julie Gates, reporting live for Chicago's own XBNR, and back to you, Bob.”
There was a low knock on his door, so he muted the TV.
He opened the door to see Adolpha wearing a robe.
“Can I come in? I need a drink.”
The bunker under the previously destroyed White House of the United States was cleared of any damages, and even a new house was standing once more. Workers had worked around the clock, seven days a week, to repair all damages to both. However, the building was hardly occupied these days, and the President and his family lived underground, like a family of moles.