Washington D.C.
The United States of America.
The whirring rotor blades of circling helicopters reverberated through the windows of the White House, the logos of various news channels emblazoned on the aircrafts’ fuselages. Camera crews focused in on the building, which housed their embattled leader, the speculation of their accompanying news correspondents as varied as their imaginations allowed.
‘It’s not a good idea to be at the window.’
John barely heard his friend and continued to watch the vultures gather at his door, his mind numb and hopes shattered.
Paul appeared by his side and drew the curtains, cutting off the outside world from view, and allowing his president some privacy.
John wandered away and sat down on a couch, his glazed eyes staring into space.
Someone knocked on the door to the sitting room and John’s press secretary entered. She took one look at her boss’s misery and gestured to his Chief of Staff, her expression fraught with concern.
The two White House staffers spoke together in low tones, before the secretary left them alone once more, the door shutting silently behind her.
‘They’ve found her,’ Paul said, coming to sit by his president’s side.
John said nothing as he thought back to their mad dash from the disastrous press conference in San Francisco, after which he and his entire entourage had flown back to Washington to escape the media fallout. Unfortunately, as they’d made their way to the White House, Ashley, whom he’d barely spoken two words to since the humiliating disclosure of her past, had convinced her chaperones to allow her some time in a shopping mall, where she’d subsequently gone AWOL.
The news that she’d been found registered, but it didn’t prevent the myriad of thoughts that continued to cascade through his mind in a blur. Ashley was a stripper? He couldn’t believe it. Ashley made a sex tape? He refused to believe it. It’s worse than that, he told himself, it was an adult movie. God knows what else she’s done. He chewed at his lower lip, his teeth biting into his flesh. Everyone’s seen my wife naked. The thought appalled him. Everyone’s seen my wife naked with another man. He felt sick. Why didn’t she tell me? Why did no one else know? Why did no one warn me? His incisors bit deeper, as his teeth continued to chew, chew, chew at his lip, his eyes gazing into nowhere. But I love her, he thought. I don’t care about that. I love her. He remembered her tears, her wounded expression, her horror, her fear. Her sensitive nature unmasked. His heart went out to her, his beautiful queen, his lost love. What she’d done in the past didn’t matter; it was who she was now that counted. A vision of her talking to the GMRC official reared its ugly head and his teeth bit deeper. Who is she now? he thought. She’s betrayed me to the GMRC. She works for the GMRC. A spot of blood appeared on his mouth as he continued to gnaw his lip raw in distraction. I don’t know who she is anymore.
Did I ever know who she was? he wondered. Does she? So sweet one minute, so attentive, so passionate. So distant the next, so cruel, so cold.
She broke his heart and healed it.
She healed his heart to break it.
The words of the cyberterrorist came back to haunt him, the text filling his mind’s eye: Do you know she was hired by the GMRC Directorate to watch over you?
His brows furrowed in despair.
How well do you know your wife, Mr President?
The chewing ceased and his jaw clenched.
There’s also an adult movie, do you want to see?
‘John, did you hear me?’ Paul said. ‘They’ve found Ashley. She was hiding in one of the restrooms at the mall. They’re bringing her in now.’
John looked at his friend. ‘An adult movie,’ he said.
Paul opened his mouth, but words failed him.
‘A stripper.’ John shook his head. ‘I could have coped with that. I’ve been to my fair share of clubs, you’ve been there with me, you should know I don’t judge. But the tape, an adult movie ... I wish I’d never seen it.’ He stood up and walked away, then looked back at Paul. ‘But she was young, naive, vulnerable. I understand. We all make mistakes.’ He picked up a priceless porcelain statue and stared at it. ‘But the GMRC?’ He shook his head. ‘I cannot and will not forgive her betrayal – God!’ He felt like throwing the ornament across the room, but instead he placed it back down, the anger within controlled. The cold fury of rage coiled around his heart, his torment unexpressed.
The distant sound of voices announced the arrival of his wife’s security team and that meant only one thing: that the woman herself was also in residence.
John walked to the door, which led to the central hall, and he emerged just as Ashley reached the top of the staircase some distance to his right.
She froze at the sight of him, then bowed her head and left her entourage behind as they gave the president and the first lady their privacy.
‘I’ll be just down the hall,’ Paul said, as he beat a hasty retreat.
Ashley walked down the hallway, her shoulders slumped in defeat. As she drew closer John could tell she’d been crying, the tracks of her tears leaving streaks of mascara down her cheeks.
The first lady passed him by without a word, opened the door to their bedroom and disappeared inside.
John stared at the door, wondering if he should console or confront her. He took a step towards it, then stopped and turned back.
He stopped again, his frustration building.
Letting out a growl of anger, he whirled round, stalked to the bedroom and flung open the door; it hit the wall with a bang.
Ashley sat on their bed with her head hanging down, her lustrous black hair hiding her face.
‘Where were you?’ John said, struggling to contain his fury. ‘You give security the slip and then what? Hide like a child in the bathroom?’
Ashley’s head came up. ‘Don’t you dare put this on me!’ she said, her face flushed with rage. ‘You’re the one holding the conference; you’re the one who’s exposed me to the world! And for what? Your precious job. You never care about me, you only think of yourself!’
John swore, shook his head and swore again. ‘I was worried about you, you stupid woman! And if you think I care about myself more than I do you, then you’re a bigger fool than I thought!’
He walked over and grasped her by the arms and hauled to her feet. ‘What did you tell the GMRC?’
‘What do you mean?’
He shook her. ‘What did you tell them about my abduction?!’
‘I didn’t tell them anything.’
‘DON’T LIE TO ME!’
She pushed him away. ‘I’M NOT!’
She went to walk away, but he grabbed her arm and yanked her back.
She slapped him across the face.
Rage engulfed him. He grabbed her again and threw her onto the bed.
‘What are you going to do?’ she said. ‘Rape me?’
He stood there, glaring at her, his shoulders heaving, his mind seething.
‘Go on, then.’ She tore at her dress, ripping it open to expose her underwear. ‘Come on, everyone else has seen me.’ Her mouth twisted into a hateful leer. ‘Don’t you want to fuck me now you know my secret?’
John’s anger faded. He shook his head and walked away.
‘Do I make you that sick?’ she called after him. ‘Do I sicken you, John?’
He didn’t stop, just closed the door behind him, then leaned back against it.
A moment later Ashley’s pitiful sobs could be heard coming from within, her anguish turning into a whimpering whine that pulled at his heart. He wanted to go to her, to comfort her, to tell her it would be okay, that he forgave her.
But he couldn’t.
Because he didn’t.
He wanted to believe that she didn’t confide in the GMRC, that the Council hadn’t employed her to watch over his every move, but the more he thought about it, the more plausible it became. He knew she was an expert liar; she’d needed to be on many occasions when she�
�d helped him out of tight spots at social gatherings. The only problem was, he’d also caught her lying to him about pointless little things, things that didn’t need lying about. He’d tried to confront her about the habit on more than one occasion, only to have her blow up in his face and turn everything back on him … at least, that’s how it felt. Sometimes he wondered if he was being unfair to her, if it was – as she said – his fault.
He wandered down the hallway and away from the sounds of Ashley’s misery. He needed time to think. He needed to know if his wife was who she said she was, or someone who’d come into his life and won his heart, all for the promise of monetary gain, as surely that was what the Council’s Directorate had offered her. Thirty pieces of silver for power and influence over the White House itself.
Paul appeared from the Treaty Room, where he’d been hiding. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Not really.’
‘Come downstairs, have a drink, you’ll feel better.’
It can’t make me feel any worse, John thought. He nodded and followed his friend down the grand staircase, before emerging on the ground floor and entering the library.
Paul opened a cabinet and poured them both a large tumbler of Scotch whisky.
John accepted the drink, sipped it, then swigged it down in three burning gulps. He opened his mouth to cool his throat and held out his glass for Paul to refill it, and his friend duly obliged.
‘So,’ Paul said, sitting down in one of a pair of leather chairs. ‘What do you want to do?’
‘About?’ John said, taking the seat opposite.
‘Good point. Although I was referring to Ashley. You said Da Muss Ich, Bic, or whatever you want to call him, said she was working for the GMRC. If that’s true ...’
‘I need to know for sure.’ John sipped at his drink. ‘She denied telling them anything, but some of those journalists knew things she was privy to.’
‘I get the feeling you’re not telling me everything.’
John looked at his old friend over the rim of his glass and made a decision. ‘I wasn’t completely truthful when I told the security forces about what happened during my abduction.’
Paul grimaced. ‘I had my suspicions. I take it that’s what Ashley was talking about when you shut her down at the hospital?’
John nodded and went on to tell his Chief of Staff about the mysterious professor, Jessica Klein, and their and Bic’s absurd threat about a second asteroid.
‘And Ashley thinks it’s a plot by China, in league with the GMRC, to attack the United States?’ Paul said.
‘Yes, although I don’t buy it. And, obviously, the asteroid threat is ridiculous, so we think it’s a ploy to get us to move the meeting with the EU and Chinese leaders from Camp David to somewhere more vulnerable.’
Paul puffed out his cheeks. ‘And why did you think it was a good idea not to tell anyone this?’
‘Because I thought I could win their trust if they got back in touch. And besides, the computer hacker was the mastermind behind it all. I thought if they knew about him, that was enough.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Of what?’
‘That the hacker is the mastermind. You said this Professor was more than capable. Couldn’t he be the one pulling the strings?’
‘Perhaps. What I do know is that I don’t want the GMRC anywhere near this. They’ve got enough on me already, without this as well. I’m going to give it to the FBI. They, at least, I can trust.’
Paul nodded. ‘I’ll see to it.’
‘I imagine my public meltdown will also have further destabilised the country. I need to call for calm and I will not let the GMRC, terrorists, or anyone else convince people I’m not fit to lead this country.’
‘A public address, yes. Good idea. What about the water shortage? If what I found out is true—’
‘We’re in a world of trouble.’ John dipped his finger in his drink and rubbed it around the rim, creating a high-pitched note. He paused in thought. ‘The FBI can look into that, too. If the GMRC have had a hand in creating this crisis, beyond the obvious, it needs to be exposed, and quickly.’
‘And Ashley?’
John sighed. ‘I need to know about her past, about everything. The GMRC, her past work, ex-boyfriends. I can’t have anything else come out. The country can’t afford it. Not in its current state.’
‘The FBI will have their work cut out, then. They’ll need more resources, like you said at the conference. Although—’ Paul hesitated, his expression conflicted.
‘Although what?’
‘I don’t think you’re going to be able to divert manpower from the government’s GMRC integration programme. Your executive order is weighed down by legal challenges from all quarters. Congress is doing everything in its power to see your Bill of Sovereignty never sees the light of day, and the GMRC itself is pushing for further sanctions against the United States in an attempt to nullify your threat of their expulsion.’
‘And is it working? Have they nullified me?’
‘So far it’s not looking good. Their campaign against you is spread far and wide, and they’re garnering significant political support, not only on our shores, but globally. You’re seen as a threat, not just to the security of this country, but to the entire planet.’
John winced; it wasn’t every day you found out the world was against you. He’d always thought he knew what he was getting into when he decided to run for president; how wrong he’d been. He stood up and pressed a button on a nearby bookshelf.
The rows of shelving slid to one side to reveal an old-fashioned TV screen, which John switched on with its equally antiquated remote control.
An array of news channels appeared and he selected one at random.
‘—it is. The last forty-eight hours of the president’s administration have been beyond catastrophic. A direct confrontation with the GMRC. A terrorist attack, from which he barely escaped with his life, an abduction, and now a public humiliation. If he lasts another forty-eight hours, I’ll eat my hat.’
‘You think he’ll resign?’ said a newsreader.
The studio guest laughed. ‘Wouldn’t you?’
John grunted and switched channels.
A scene of carnage filled his vision, as mass rioting engulfed a city’s streets. Sirens wailed and lights flashed as first responders reached the scene, but the mob was not to be denied. Shop windows caved in, cars burned and people fought over white goods like rabid animals.
The view switched from a traffic camera to a helicopter in the skies above, and a newsreader’s voice accompanied the muffled rotor blades as they beat a steady rhythm through the TV’s speakers.
‘New York city is in chaos tonight as protests over water rationing exploded into violence. GMRC soldiers are noticeably absent after the Response Council has scaled back its presence across the city state. It’s not known whether the National Guard will intervene, as the bulk of their forces have been redirected to Philadelphia, which descended into anarchy late last night as supporters of President Henry clashed with a rapidly growing opposition.
‘Many who saw the independent politician as their saviour have turned on him as he continues to fail in his bid to end the crippling GMRC sanctions—’
‘It’s getting ugly out there,’ Paul said, as the news report continued to show footage of the mayhem.
John couldn’t take his eyes off the destruction, the violence, the bloodshed. It was as if everything he’d always feared was coming to pass, and despite his position, it felt like he was powerless to do anything about it.
‘I’m losing control,’ he murmured and looked at Paul in despair. ‘What can I do?’
‘There is one thing, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.’
‘At this point I’m willing to consider anything.’
‘There’s a special executive order that allows you to seize control, regardless of what Congress or the GMRC do or say.’
‘If you’re talking about PDD
51, forget it.’
‘I am, but hear me out. You don’t have to fully commit to it, you’ll be able to take it as far as you deem necessary. With total power in your hands, you can ensure the FBI gets the funding and manpower they need. You can tackle the GMRC head on, on an equal footing. You can make sweeping changes as you see fit. Redirect resources, extract all military and civilian personnel from GMRC jurisdiction, and push through your Bill of Sovereignty.’ Paul got up and grasped John’s shoulder, his eyes intense. ‘In less than a month you can regain control. No more rationing, no more sanctions. No more GMRC.’
John felt his hopes rise, before he shook his head. ‘No, I won’t do it; it’s against everything I stand for. I’m not a dictator and I will not return this country to the dark days of martial law.’ He walked away from Paul then turned round, his face flushed with anger. ‘I can still do this my way, the right way. The democratic way.’
Paul looked back at the TV and the riots in New York. ‘I’m behind you, you know that. Whatever you think is best. But whatever you’re going to do, you need to do it soon.’
‘Get those purification straws distributed,’ John said. ‘That will help ease the water shortage. I’ll also need to speak to FBI Director Flynn personally, so get him here as soon as you can.’
Paul nodded. ‘And the public address? When do you want it broadcast?’
‘As soon as possible.’
Paul acknowledged the need for haste and left the room to carry out his duties.
John, left alone with only the television for company, downed the rest of his Scotch, wandered over to the library’s window and looked out onto the White House lawn.
The garden to the rear of the building descended into shadow as the sun set from a darkening sky, while an endless barrage of thoughts whirled around John’s head like a tornado. A headache built behind his eyes and he squeezed them shut in the hope of blocking it out.
As he struggled against the pain, he focused in on the source of his problems. I’ve lost Dante, he thought, and now I can’t even trust my own wife. The whole world is against me, and the country’s water supply has all but run dry. Just thinking such thoughts, filled him with dread, but with the hacker Da Muss Ich adding to his troubles and the GMRC doing everything they could to see him fail, he knew it would take a miracle to pull things around.
Ancient Origins: Books 4 - 6 (Ancient Origins Boxset Book 2) Page 62