Blacksnow Zero

by Lee Gimenez

  “What’s his name?”

  “McCord. Steve McCord.”

  A frown crossed his face.

  “What is it, Tulley?”

  “I haven’t seen him, but I’ve heard his name. He is here, in another wing of the prison. From what I’ve heard, he’s in bad shape, ma’am.”

  That was the second time she’d heard this and a chill went down her spine. “Please, Tulley, find him. Do everything you can to help him.”

  The man nodded but the frown didn’t leave his face.

  2 Days to Zero Hour

  The President’s private study

  The White House

  Washington, D.C.

  President Taylor stood in the middle of the small office, intently watching the news broadcast. The TV screen showed images of anti-Chinese demonstrations in various cities. Kansas City, Dallas, Portland – it was the same everywhere. The protests hadn’t abated, but rather seemed to be heating up. Americans were fuming about the Wilson assassination, and anger was boiling over. A second Chinese consulate had been burned down, this time in Dallas. The president grinned, savoring the timing of it all.

  There was knock on the door and he muted the sound on the TV.

  Alice stuck her head around the door. “Mr. President, the general needs to see you.”

  “Sure, Alice, send him in.”

  General Corvan stepped in the room and said. “Sorry to bother you, sir, but I have some news.”

  “No problem, Corvan,” Taylor replied, smiling. Watching the demonstrations had put him a good mood. “Have a seat.”

  “Thought I’d find you in the Oval Office, sir.” The general glanced around the cramped, utilitarian office.

  Taylor sat behind the modest desk. “This is less formal, Corvan. Gives me a chance to relax a bit.” He didn’t add that the study had no windows, making it easier to sip scotch without being interrupted.

  “Of course, sir.”

  “What do you have?”

  “Some good news and some not so good news.”

  The president smiled. “Give me the good first.”

  “Yes, sir. Erica Blake, the former FBI agent, is now in custody. She’s been incarcerated in our special place.”

  “Excellent. The bitch deserves it.”

  Corvan nodded. “Per your orders, she was charged under the Patriot Act. She won’t be going anywhere for a very long, long time.”

  “Good. Now give me the other news.”

  “Sir, as you know, we’ve been in the process of tracking down Senator Lewis.”

  Taylor’s mood turned dark at the mention of the woman’s name. “Well?”

  “We believe she took a flight to Australia. Sydney, to be exact. The NSA believes she’s in that city now, or in the general vicinity.”

  “And? What are you doing about it? I want her found!”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve commissioned a CIA wet-work team. They’re on the ground in Sydney now. I’m sure they’ll find her.”

  “Good.” He leaned back in his chair, ran a hand over his bald head. “Everything else on track for BlackSnow?”

  “Yes, Mr. President. I had another meeting this morning with the other generals and admirals. All the logistics are in place.”

  “Excellent. Has Admiral Peters been prepped for Zero Hour? Remember, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs is an important cog in this operation.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve rehearsed it with him several times.”

  “Good.”

  Just then there was a knock on the door and Alice once again stuck her head around the door. “Sorry to bother you,” she said, “but General Wu Chang is calling from Beijing.”

  Taylor shook his head slowly and muttered, “What does he want?” Raising his voice he said, “Okay, Alice, put him through.”

  Alice nodded and closed the door.

  The president shrugged and rolled his eyes. “I’m looking forward to when I don’t have to babysit that guy.”

  The general grinned and the red phone on the desk began to ring.

  Taylor picked up the receiver and held it to his ear. “General Chang, how good of you to call. How’s the weather in Beijing? It’s hot here in D.C.”

  “Mr. President,” Taylor heard Chang say, “this isn’t a social call.” The man’s heavily accented English sounded stressed.

  “What’s the problem, General?”

  “The Premier just called me. He’s been watching the American news. This latest consulate burning has us on edge, Mr. President. You must announce the findings on the assassination. Now.”

  “Of course, General. I’ve also been watching the burning of your consulate in Dallas. It’s tragic. Very tragic. I’m going to order National Guard units to begin guarding your U.S. Embassy and all of your consulates, effective immediately. Be assured that I won’t tolerate any more violence against your people or your property.”

  “That is good news, Mr. President. I appreciate that. But when are going to give your national address on the assassination?”

  “Very soon, General. You can tell the Premier that I will be speaking to the nation in a matter of days.”

  “That is good to hear.”

  “Don’t worry, Wu, I don’t want to further damage the partnership between our two nations. I have just as much at stake as you do.”

  “That is correct, Mr. President. Just yesterday I authorized another purchase of your Treasury bonds.”

  “And we appreciate it, Wu. I appreciate it, personally. Maybe over the next couple of months, you and the Premier will consider paying us a visit. The weather at Camp David will be excellent then. I can assure you the fall foliage is beautiful there.”

  “I would welcome that, Mr. President. I have never been there before.”

  “Excellent. I’ll alert my staff so they can begin making preparations. We’ll have a State Dinner in your honor, right here at the White House.”

  “A State Dinner – that would be very special.” By Chang’s tone of voice, Taylor could tell the general regarded the dinner as a great honor.

  “Good. In that case, I’ll let you get back to work. I know you’re a busy man. We’ll talk soon. And don’t worry about security for your consulates. I’ll start protecting them with the U.S. military.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President.”

  The line disconnected and Taylor replaced the receiver.

  “That went well,” the president said. “Another crisis averted.”

  “Yes, sir,” Corvan replied. “I’m assuming you want me to start coordinating with the Defense Department for deployment of National Guard units to their consulates?”

  The president glanced at the calendar that hung on the wall of the office, then looked back at the general. He barked a harsh laugh. “No! The hell with the Chinese.”

  1 Day to Zero Hour

  Prison Complex

  Guantanamo Bay Naval Base

  Guantanamo, Cuba

  Erica Blake jogged-in-place in the prison cell, the perspiration dripping from her forehead. She wasn’t used to the sweltering Cuban heat and her baggy orange jumpsuit clung to her body, drenched with sweat. With nothing to do but wait, the hours and days had seemed endless. Exercise had been her only solace. The clock on the corridor wall said 9:50 a.m., only two minutes after she’d looked last.

  Dropping to the grimy floor, she began doing sit-ups. Her arm was healing, but it would be months before she could do push-ups. Still, between the jogging and the sit-ups, she had been able to stay somewhat sane. She did fifty, then sat up on the concrete floor. Winded, she gulped in air and regretted it immediately. The pungent smell of the prison filled her lungs – feces, urine, vomit and other foul odors she couldn’t identify.

  The Marine guards at the end of the corridor stood ramrod straight, holding their rifles across their chests. Besides bringing her tasteless mush to eat three times a day, they had no interaction with her. Except for a few brief words, the guards were silent.

  From her cell, Erica had be
en able to observe the other prisoners being held in this corridor. Most of them appeared to be Middle Eastern men, with long, shabby beards. They spoke what sounded like Arabic. From the sluggish, listless way they moved in their cells, it seemed they had been at the prison a long time.

  The door at the end of the corridor opened and Ensign Tulley walked in. He spoke briefly to the guards and the three men approached her cell. One of the Marines unlocked the door and the young officer entered. The guards relocked it and moved back to their post.

  “I have some information,” Tulley said, a frown on his face.

  Erica stood up and faced the man. “It’s not good, is it?”

  “No ma’am, it isn’t. Why don’t you sit down?”

  “I’ll stand, Ensign.”

  “As you wish. After we met the other day, I called Senator Lewis’s office in Washington. The senator has been missing for several days. Nobody on her staff knows where she is.”

  Erica shook her head slowly. “Jesus.”

  “I also checked with the D.C. police and the Bethesda, Maryland police, where she lives. No one’s seen her or heard from her. Her housekeeper reported her missing. I talked to her also.”

  “They got to Lewis,” Erica said. “And she’d even hired bodyguards.”

  The ensign nodded. “Her bodyguards are missing too.”

  “I told you, this is big.”

  “Yes, ma’am. The other name you gave me, Detective Gray.”

  “Yeah?”

  “He took early retirement from the Fairfax County police force. And now he’s out of the country, on vacation.”

  “Convenient.”

  “I agree, Miss Blake, this has a real bad smell to it. Unfortunately, without those two people to confirm your story, your charges are going to be difficult to defend. I requested an expedited hearing on your case, but was turned down.”

  Any flicker of hope disappeared. “What else could go wrong?”

  “Actually, ma’am, there is one other thing I need to tell you about. But I’d like you to sit down first.”

  Erica shrugged, plopped down on the cot.

  “It has to do with your ex-husband, ma’am.”

  She looked up at the ensign’s eyes and saw the hesitation there.

  “You found Steve?”

  “Yes, I did,” he said, his voice heavy with sadness. “I’m sorry to tell you, but Steve McCord died this morning.”

  She didn’t comprehend the words at first, then the finality of it hit her like a ton of bricks. Her heart pounded and her stomach churned. “Steve? Steve’s dead? Are you sure?”

  “I’m afraid so. The doctors at the military hospital here in Guantanamo did what they could, but….”

  Erica put her head in her hands and began to weep. She cried uncontrollably, her pain-wracked thoughts filled with images of Steve. The only man she’d ever loved.

  ***

  Special Operations

  Marine Corps Detachment

  Training Facility, Building 14

  Fort Bragg, North Carolina

  Bobbie Garcia looked at his computer screen and grinned. The latest wire transfer had gone into his secret bank account, increasing his previous balance. Once again, the general had kept his word. And in just days, this whole operation would be over.

  He and Maria would be able to start their new life together. Smiling to himself, he decided he would buy her a new car. She’d always had to settle for used, high-mileage Chevys or Fords. This time it would be different. He’d surprise her with a brand-new Lexus or Mercedes-Benz, in metallic blue, her favorite color. He closed his eyes as he visualized the sleek car, even smelling the aroma of the rich, leather interior.

  Just then his cell phone rang. He grabbed the phone and held it to his ear.

  ***

  The President’s private study

  The White House

  Washington, D.C.

  President Taylor leaned back in his chair, closely studying Admiral Peters, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. The admiral was a small man, thin and wiry, with piercing, icy-blue eyes. The navy man was sitting on one of the visitors chairs. General Corvan was sitting next to him, and the two men waited patiently for the president to speak.

  Peters had not been part of the original group that had created BlackSnow, but rather a later addition. But Corvan had vouched for him and the general had rarely let him down.

  “Admiral,” Taylor began, “I understand from Corvan that you’ve been fully briefed on your…role…at Zero Hour.”

  “Yes, Mr. President,” Peters replied confidently.

  “Good. I don’t want any slip-ups. In that room will be people who aren’t in on our operation. The Secretaries of Defense, Treasury, and Commerce, along with a few others. I want them convinced.”

  Peters nodded. “Don’t worry, Mr. President. It will go smoothly.”

  “Okay, gentlemen. Are all the other preparations in place?”

  “Yes,” Peters said. “The submarines are in position. All they need is the go-ahead sequence codes.”

  Taylor rubbed his jaw. “Excellent. Corvan, is everything set up for the trip?”

  “Yes, sir. We’ll leave for San Diego tomorrow morning. The dedication ceremony for the new aircraft carrier is set for the afternoon. Since it’s a big event, I’ve confirmed that all of your key Cabinet members will be going.”

  “Very good,” Taylor said. “Okay, gentlemen, if that’s all, I’ve got some other work to do.” He waved a hand in the air. “Budget stuff, you know how it is.”

  “Of course, sir,” Corvan replied. The general and the admiral stood and left the room, closing the door behind them.

  Reaching into a desk drawer, Taylor pulled out a glass and a bottle of scotch, placed them on his desk. He poured himself a double, picked up the glass and downed it one long swallow. The harsh liquor burned his throat as it went down, but a moment later the lightheaded buzz kicked in and calmed his nerves. Tomorrow was a big day. The biggest of his life. A lot was riding on it.

  Then he put the glass and bottle back in the drawer. He knew he would need a clear head tomorrow and one drink was all he would permit himself. There would be plenty of time for more after it was all over.

  ***

  Gimmlewald, Switzerland

  Megan Lewis took a sip of the chardonnay, savored the taste. It was a rare French vintage, but she didn’t expect anything less from the handsome banker. Henry Mueller, who was sitting across from her, smiled. “How do like the wine?” he asked. The two were having dinner in a small, but elegant restaurant not far from her inn.

  She returned the smile. “Exceptional, Henry. Thank you for this dinner and for everything you’ve done for me. I truly appreciate it.”

  His face turned serious. “You’re welcome, Megan. As I told you before, you’ll be safe in this town. Not many people visit it. And it’s not on any tourist maps.”

  She nodded, then took a bite of her veal.

  “I can’t believe what’s happened to you, Senator. And the things that are going on in your country…it is beyond belief.”

  “Believe it. Everything I told you, it’s all true.”

  He leaned in closer. “I’m assuming the deal we had….” His voice trailed off.

  “I’m afraid that’s gone, Henry. President Taylor is hip-deep in this insane BlackSnow operation.”

  A sad look crossed his face. “A pity. I had my heart set on that land in Wyoming.”

  “We’re all disappointed. I’m convinced my life will never be the same. I have a new reality to deal with. I may never be able to return to the U.S. By the way, have you told your bank anything about any of this?”

  “No. I told them the deal was still in the works that we would find out something soon.”

  “Good. If I were you, I’d stall them as long as possible.”

  “I will, Megan.”

  “The less people who know I’m here, the better.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t tell
anyone you’re here.” He raised his wine glass. “I propose a toast. To better times.”

  She halfheartedly picked up her glass, clinked it with his. “To better times,” she muttered. Deep down she knew better times were not ahead. Quite the contrary.

  He must have sensed her darkening mood because he placed one of his hands over hers and gave her a brilliant grin. “Cheer up. Living in Switzerland is quite nice. It is a beautiful country. And you are well off financially. After a time, you’ll see. Your life here will be better than you imagined. Think positive.”

  His positive attitude was infectious and she gave him a small smile.

  Mueller squeezed her hand. “And, of course, Zurich is not too far away. I can visit you whenever you like, or need….”

  She understood his implication right away. Mueller would never replace Audrey, but he would be a welcome distraction from all the negative events in her life right now. “You know, Henry, the inn where I’m staying is close. Why don’t we have a nightcap there, after dinner?” She gave him a sly grin. “I do need to repay you for all you’ve done for me.”

  He glanced at her nearly empty plate. “If you are done with your dinner, we could go there right now.”

  Megan chuckled. “Hot to trot?”

  “I am not familiar with that American expression.”

  “It means you’re in the mood to make love.”

  The man nodded, took out his wallet, pulled out a thick sheaf of Swiss francs and put them on the table.

  Megan stood and said, “I’m ready.”

  Zero Hour

  Aboard Air Force One

  Flying at 42,000 feet over Missouri

  President Taylor listened idly while Treasury Secretary Longstreet droned on, his Power Point presentation seemingly endless. Taylor, Corvan and the secretary were in the plane’s conference room, seated around the oval conference table. Through the windows to his left, Taylor saw a perfect blue sky. From this altitude the weather appeared serene, much different than the rain and storm clouds they’d left back in D.C. this morning.

  The red phone on the credenza rang and General Corvan stood and picked up the receiver. Taylor glanced nervously at his watch – BlackSnow was beginning.