Fake News

by G L Rockey

  “Luck, fate, heaven, hell.”

  “Ohhh.” Jim steadied himself as Top Gun skimmed yet another swell. “My luck, your fate.”

  “If you only knew.”

  “Knew what?”

  “Nothing.” As Top Gun rolled to port, Zack struggled with the wheel. “You know who we haven’t heard from in any of this?”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “Our congressional leaders.”

  A five-foot wave doused the cockpit. Jim’s knees buckled, “We’re going to die.”

  Zack called over the chaos, “Armstrong’s goons planned this thing perfectly. Congress back home on Labor Day break, eating corn on the cob with their constituents. Watching the same TV doo-dah-day we’ve all been watching on the boob tube for the last twenty-four hours.”

  The props whined as the craft slammed yet another series of surging waves.

  “We’re going to drown.” Jim said.

  “Little swells. Nothing to worry about. Listen, we have to contact Beno when we get back.”

  “If we get back.”

  “We’ll get back. We have to.”

  Jim wiped saltwater spray from his forehead. “I could have been a lawyer.”

  “If anyone can derail this thing, Beno can. She’s got to K.O. Armstrong in Novembershe has toif there is an election.”

  “If there is an election? Zackary, you simply have to get to a shrink.”

  Lightning illuminated the blackness in front of them. Thunder split the air. A drenching squall began.

  Zack, over the chaos: “Beno is right.”

  Jim yelled, “You’re crazy!”

  “Do you grasp what Beno has been saying?” Zack braced himself as they shot off a wave.

  Jim clutched the railing. “I don’t care.”

  “She’s talking beyond any system of economics we now havebut greed stands in the way, a select few now control roughly ninety-five percent of the world’s wealth. Too many are getting the short end of the stick. ‘Their silver and gold shall not deliver them in the day of the wrath.’ Ezekiel seven-something.”

  Jim mumbled, “Oh, my God, he’s quoting the Bible.” He shouted over the torrential rain, “Zackary, your Jesuit slips are showing. I just hope you can walk on water.”

  Jim took a swig from the bottle just as they smacked a four-foot wave, the boat pitched sideways then righted itself. Lightning struck ten feet astern.

  “What the…” Jim said.

  “Not to worry, Jimbo, probably ghosts from Flight 19 that went missing over the Bermuda Triangle.”

  “You think that’s funny, don’t you, real funny.”

  Zack looked at his compass and wiped saltwater from his face. He turned to a heading due west. “Should be seeing the night lights of Miami in fifteen minutes. Keep an eye out.”

  “Zackary, you’re insane.”

  Zack glanced at the raging fury of water all around. “You know, Jimbo, I agree, but sometimes I think I’d rather be insane than what is currently being offered as the other optionin either case, I’d give it all away to be out of hereto know for sure, to know once and for all what’s beyond the invisible shore.”

  Jim finished the Glenlevit and pitched the bottle to the sea.

  Chapter Forty Four

  Sunday, August 31

  9:00 a.m. EST

  Camp David

  Rays of morning sun light streaking through the dense evergreen and deciduous tree canopy, the crisp air yielding a hint of an early winter, President Armstrong, Professor Novak, and General MacCallister strolled a Camp David trail.

  Skipping alternate steps to keep up with the long strides of Armstrong. Novak wore his favorite brown tweed jacket. The President perspired inside his red-white-and-blue warm-up suit. MacCallister, in full dress uniform—hat, medals, five stars—exuded confidence.

  Hands clasped behind his back, Novak beamed. “Well, Mr. President, are you pleased with our progress so far?”

  The President flicked a twig with his hickory walking stick, “Yes, yes, but I’m baffled at the ease of it all. This media thingsuch shallowness…” He paused a moment to think. “It’s like that big buck rhino I shot—remember, Mac?—on that trip to Africa. Damn thing was a giant, awesome, and at the same time so doll-gone stupid.” He scratched his groin. “You know those damn things mate for an hour.”

  The general laughed.

  Novak smiled

  The President stopped to poke at an anthill. “Look at them little buggers run.” After a minute of poking around, crushing some ants, he resumed the walk. “Anyway, what were you saying, Leo?”

  “Our progress”

  “Oh, yes, this current thing, progressof course, this is more than we could have hoped for. But, II hate all theyou know, doll-gone carnage.”

  Mac puffed. “You gotta break some eggs to make an omelet.”

  Novak fluttered his eyelids at the hackneyed expression.

  Armstrong: “I know, Mac, butthe women and children”

  Novak knew when to come to the aid of the President’s discomfort. “Mr. President, all great changes in history have come at the expense of some human sacrifice. Since the beginning of time it has been so. I would dare say early man shed a little blood when they tried to decide who would pass the flame on and to whom.”

  “Yes, I knowbut I’m always distressed with the loss of human life.”

  Mac had a thought on the subject. “God knows, many of our heroes spilled some blood–Sherman’s March to the Sea; Tet Offensive, Shock and Awe…hell, Truman dropped the big bomb–many people were sacrificed in the name of righteousness.”

  “Many were screwed, too,” Armstrong said.

  Novak changed the subject. “Mr. President, you were wonderful on TV yesterday. The stage is set in the public’s mind. Tomorrow you will speak to the citizens of the world.”

  “You know those boys from the Hill are going to be damn roasted about being out of town their recess and all, you guys shutting down everything, me not making this speech on the Hill.”

  “That’s the plan,” Novak said.

  “I know, but, doggone it, I was going to get in a little hunting myself, down at the farm. But this isthis has to be done. It’s just the doll-gone timing. Why couldn’t we have done it on Columbus Day or Martin Luther King Day? I just know some of those boys are going to be upset about not being able to get back to D.C.”

  “They’re all giving sound bites to the media, though, blabbing up a storm,” Mac said.

  “Let ’em, might be their last chance,” Novak said.

  Armstrong chuckled. “Them boys over on the Hill sure like that TV coverage. Some of ’em even have makeup artists, full time, on their staffs. You believe that, Mac?” He poked an elbow toward Mac and smiled. “Right, Mac.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Novak kept the President on track. “Mr. President, when you make the announcement tomorrow that we have found confirming evidence that the Boston and Seattle incidents were terrorist attacksit will be of little consequence, anyway.”

  “What was that?”

  “Terrorist, foreign government involvementyou remember”

  “Are you kidding? Of course, I remember. I justI’ll go over the script, I mean speech, tonight.”

  Novak: “When they see the foreign conspiracy evidence, the people will rally around you.”

  “Like dogs with a raccoon up a tree,” Mac said.

  The President smiled. “General, did I ever tell you the time I was coon hunting. Had two coons up the same tree? Funniest damn thing you ever saw. I had the best coon dogs a man could have, Amos and Andygot them from a farmer over in Cobb County.”

  Novak returned the conversation to the issue at hand. “It will surely steel the people’s resolve. When you show them our evidence then announce the invasion of terrorist countries is underway, you will be hailed a national hero.”

  The President furrowed his brow. “Leo, tell me how this
domestic thing is going to come down again—the media, you know.”

  “The plan is on track. You have the power, by tomorrow the American people, public opinion, will welcome your actions. You will explain the declaration of martial law has to be extended indefinitely to assure law and order. We’ll round up Beno and her nut supporters.”

  “We’re ready for that, right, Mac?” The President teed off on a rhododendron with his walking stick.

  “Ready.”

  “The general is preparing a place for all the opposition, right, General?” Novak said.

  “Right. We’re constructing a couple places for the opposition…much like we handled the Jap aliens after Pearl Harbor; Native Americans reservations…all very humane.”

  “Yeah, anyway, General, tell me again how we’re going to get this international thing cooking,” the President said.

  Mac looked at his watch. “Lande is going to do guest shots on this morning’s TV news talk shows. She’ll confirm evidence of terrorist complicity in the Seattle and Boston Yards incidents, their supplying arms to insurgent groups within the States. That will be enough for you, in accord with your Armstrong Doctrineto announce the invasion of terrorist supporting countries.”

  Armstrong smiled. “Our boys will blow the Beelzebub out of those pricks.”

  Mac continued. “And our NATO friends will be sucked in, not to mention our Israeli allies. We will be compelled to come to their defense, drop a couple of strategic nukes on the bad boys.”

  Armstrong stopped. “No population centers.”

  “No, no, just to get the bad guys’ attention, then troops will go in and mop up in short order, two weeks, max.”

  “What about those slant-eyes?” Armstrong drove a large pebble down the path with his stick.

  Mac said, “If they refuse to play ball, a couple cruise missiles over the bow, so to speak; strategically placed, will get their attention. We can cyber shut down the whole goddamn country if we want to, and our satellite lasers can fry any missile launch a hundred feet off the groundthey know it, too. They’ll be advised to stand down or be cinderized.”

  Novak nodded, “And our embassies in key countries are, as we speak, preparing to deliver a notice of such intention tomorrow morning at nine Eastern Standard Time, an hour before you’re scheduled to address the world.”

  Armstrong cast a stern glance from the corner of his eyes. “I still can’t sleep over that Seattle thing you guys pulled off. Paris, eh, never trusted them French sex maniacs anyway.”

  Novak said, “It had to be done, Mr. President, for the greater good.”

  “I don’t want to have any more bloodshed than is necessary. I hate that,” Armstrong said.

  Mac said, “Yes, sir, but as I said earlier”

  “What earlier? Who said that?”

  “You have to break a few”

  “Oh, yes, right, eggs, omelet, anybody hungry? What about the Huns in Moscow?”

  “We’ll throw them a couple bones.”

  Armstrong said, “What about the Jew boys?”

  “They get to keep Jerusalem.”

  “Sounds good to me. How about you, Mac?”

  “Hell, yes, part of the deal.”

  Novak said, “Six months. Six months and we’ll have this planet cleaned up.”

  “Spic and span as my mother’s kitchen, God bless that gentle woman,” Armstrong said.

  Mac rubbed his hands, “This is what we should have done years ago.”

  “Yes, years ago. Remember being a young whippersnapper, playing around on Daddy’s farm. Did I ever tell you about the time I darn near ran over a cow? Almost ruined my ol’ man’s Farmall tractor, too.” Armstrong smiled. “God a-mighty, what a time. Then I went to acting school.”

  Novak steered the President back on track. “You, Mr. President, are about to see your new world order come into being, when all will be free and equal, where God intended His world to be. It is almost achieved. Pax Americana.” Novak clapped his hands in silent applause.

  “What about ol’ Pax Beno? She’s got a piss pot full of supporters.” The President frowned. “What’s the latest spade poll?”

  “That is moot, Mr. President. The election will be postponed indefinitely.” Novak sighed, “Just think, tomorrow shall be the beginning of a new era in the evolution of humankind’s movement over the face of this planet. Oh, Mr. President, people will remember you, they will tell their grandchildren about you. We are on the eve of the re-ordering of Planet Earth. Think of it. Can you fathom the import of these times we are in—nay, the time we have begun? We are an elite few, the few who will give peace on earth to all races under the sun, obedient to the banner of democratic capitalism even more splendid than the Pax Romana.”

  “Don’t get the horse before the cart, Pax Novak.” The President smacked a stone with his stick. “What’s this glitch with that prick Miami newspaper editor, Boca something? Lande said something about a fax” The President paused and glanced at Novak. “Speaking of our Boston Bean big-mouth media whiz, when will that be taken care of?”

  “The general has exit plans for Dr. Lande this very evening, right, Mac?”

  “Roger.”

  “Good. Ah, what was I saying?”

  “A fax”

  “Oh, yes, overheard Lande yesterday, somebody sent a fax to that prick Miami newspaper editorformer priest.”

  “Zackary Stearn,” Novak said.

  “I’d like to nail that self-righteous mackerel snapper once and for all,” Armstrong said.

  Novak cleared his throat. “Not to worry, under control. We traced a fax from Bimini to his office, nothing to worry about.”

  “Bimini?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What’d it say?”

  “Some code, we’re working on it.”

  Armstrong smashed another stone. “Better watch that sorry excommunicated poke of manure, Notre Dame guy, Irish prick, Catholic to boot, porking some young editor.”

  “Young enough to be his daughter.” Novak raised an eyebrow. “Mary O’Brien.”

  “We have our eyes on it.” Mac said.

  Armstrong said, “What? You mean you got pictures?”

  “Well, not exactly, but”

  “What in deuces does that mean, not exactly?”

  Novak intervened. “Mac’s satellite people are keeping track of Stearn, right, General?”

  “Roger that,” Mac said.

  “Where is he now?” Armstrong asked.

  Mac said, “As we speak, last report, on a restored piece of floating junk called Veracity.”

  Armstrong furrowed his eyebrows, “Veracity?”

  “Boat, he lives on it, docked at Pompano Marina, south of Miami Florida.”

  Armstrong shook his head, “Lives on a boat, figuresall the vices. Once them priests bolt, there’s the Devil himself to pay, sowing all them pent-up wild oats.” He pursed his lips, clobbered another rock with his walking stick, asked, “What was the Dow yesterday, Novak?”

  “Just broke thirty five thousand.”

  “The bottom falls out Tuesday, right?”

  “Yes, sir. A little fear will make this thing easier to sell to the American people. Billions of shares will be dumped, opening bell Tuesday.”

  “Good, good. That ought to do it. I have any of that stuff?”

  “No, sir, sold yours last week.”

  “Gold. I mean, good, good.” The President wiped his left sleeve across a runny nostril.

  Novak said, “And the general will disrupt all commercial communication satellites right after your speech tomorrow morning.”

  Armstrong said, “That’ll drive those TV jerks up Murphy’s creek without a paddle.” He frowned. “I can’t wait for that prick anchor at know-it-all network to squirm like a night crawler on a fish hook.”

  “They’ll be writhing,” Novak said.

  “We’ll see what that does to their happy-talk crap.” The President bashed a low tree limb wi
th extra force.

  “Yes, sir, exactly.”

  “Perfect,” Mac said.

  Novak said, “Everything is in motion as planned. It is amazing how smooth this whole thing is progressing.”

  “It better go smooth.” Armstrong paused, took aim at a stone and crushed it straight as an arrow. Admiring the trajectory of his drive, he smiled. “’Cause if the press gets wind of what you two boys are up to it’ll be time to call in the dogs, piss on the fire and go homefor both you guys.”

  Novak and Mac exchanged concerned glances.

  Chapter Forty Five

  Sunday, August 31

  10:00 a.m. EST

  Toting the New York Times and Miami Herald under his left arm, Zack entered, ten minutes south of Miami, a room of the La Quinta Inn. He surveyed the cookie-cutter accommodations–beige living room walls, window, green chair, double bed, bathroom. Opposite the bed, a combination computer-video phone sat on the top of a writing desk along with a small flat screen television screen. He dropped the newspapers on the bed.

  Jim, behind him, kicked the door shut. “Why don’t we just go to my place, I’ll fry us some eggs.”

  “Your place is bugged.”

  “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “No.”

  “So is The Boca…betcha. Veracity, too.” Zack wiped his lips. “I hope Ted kept his mouth shut on board Veracity. I wanted them to think it was me on board, bumping around.”

  Jim closed his eyes and shook his head. “You need to get hold of yourself.”

  Looking around, Zack said, “You think this place could be bugged, too?”

  “That’s crazy. Who knows we’re? I think this whole thing is a figment of your and Joe Case’s imagination.”

  Zack said, “You still doubt, don’t you, after all this, what we’ve been through the past five hours? You amaze me.”

  “What if the Channel 10 video is legit and your wacko Bimini pal’s audio tape is fake? “I’m betting on Channel 10. Just think about it, Joe Case versus the leader of the Western World.”

  Zack picked up the Times. “Look at that headline. CITIES UNDER SIEGE: RACE WARS SPREADING. Look at the Herald: PRESIDENT DECLARES MARTIAL LAW. You think all this stuff is a movie?”