“Take ‘em out,” Cloos ordered. He watched as kill shots decapitated the two terrorists.
Targets down, sir.
The two reptiles continued jockeying for the right to eat the second terrorist who had ventured to the lakeside. One gator clamped down on the man’s lower torso, and the water turned a dark shade of crimson as the other executed a death roll. Both gators secured their meal and disappeared across the pond.
“Good shooting, Corporal. Throw the bodies in the water and return to your position. No alligator should go hungry today.”
***
9:28 a.m. – Virginia Beach
Later that morning, President Armando walked down the lonely hall toward the conference room where his cabinet meetings took place. He was the President of the United States, yet he was all alone in the world. His usually reliable Secret Service agents, Rodney and Manuel, had not shown up to escort him to this morning’s meeting. His wife was in the hands of AIS terrorists, and they were using her to blackmail him. If the administration made any attempt to stand in the terrorists’ way, they would kill his bride of 39 years. Her smiling face flashed before his eyes, followed by the grim image of her bound and gagged, with a knife to her throat. He fought back a tear, but managed to maintain his composure.
Everyone rose to their feet as Armando entered the conference room. Abdar and Adilah sat to his left. Russo, Palmer and Zhou sat to his right. Liebowitz and several junior staffers sat farther down the table. He wasn’t sure which, if any, of them were really on his side.
Armando cocked an eyebrow as he noticed two unfamiliar men, one Caucasian and one with darker skin, in suits standing near the wall. He gestured toward them. “Who are these men?”
Abdar answered in a monotone voice. “Your new Secret Service detail, Mr. President.”
“Where are Manuel and Rodney?”
“Manuel is sick, and Rodney did not show up today.”
Armando felt his stomach tighten. Manuel and Rodney had always been loyal and reliable. Something wasn’t right, but he chose not to press the issue.
“Take your seats.” Armando claimed the chair at the head of the table. “Abdar, what’s the latest?”
“I have nothing to report, Mr. President.”
Armando pursed his lips. Abdar was never at a loss for words. “Very well. Russo, please update us on the status of our efforts to neutralize General Cloos.”
“Thus far, Cloos has rebuffed our efforts to reach out to him. He clearly has his own agenda to subvert our national policy. We may have no choice but to use military force against him.”
Force, Armando thought. I hope it doesn’t come to that. We’ve done enough shooting at our own people. Liebowitz is right. The image of his wife, his soulmate, bound and gagged with a terrorist’s knife at her throat, flashed through Armando’s consciousness.
The President leaned forward and clasped his hands in front of him. “Beginning today, we’re going to change the way we do a few things. First and foremost, you will not use or threaten the use of force against anyone – including both AIS and any domestic insurgents --without my prior authorization. General Palmer, that applies to the military, and Russo, that applies to Homeland Security. Abdar, that applies to any personnel under your supervision as well. Is that clear?”
Russo made eye contact with General Palmer before fixing a steely gaze on Armando. “Yes, sir.”
“General?” Armando shifted his gaze to Palmer.
“Clear, Mr. President.” Palmer nodded.
Armando turned to his left. “Abdar?”
Abdar nodded but did not speak.
“Additionally, you will take no action whatsoever against AIS without my direct approval. Is that clear?” Everyone nodded. “Further, the time has come to appoint a vice president, re-establish the presidential line of succession, and begin steps to reconstitute Congress. Liebowitz, I’d like for you to oversee those efforts.”
Benjamin perked up and cocked an eyebrow. “Me, Mr. President?”
“Yes, Benjamin. You. You’ve pushed for both of these initiatives to happen. Now it’s time to put your money where your mouth is.”
Russo spoke up. “Mr. President, I--”
“It’s not up for debate, Russo. Those are now the policies of this administration, and you have your assignments. Anyone who is not on board should submit their resignations immediately.” Armando rose from his seat. “Meeting adjourned.”
***
6:49 p.m. – Virginia Beach
Early that evening, Benjamin settled onto the couch after doing a security sweep of his apartment. He kicked off his shoes, rested his feet on the coffee table and popped the top on a bottle of Bazelet Ale, a red amber beer brewed in the Golan mountains of Israel. He reflected on the events of the past several days. Both Abdar and Russo had attempted to win his favor and turn him against the other. Both appeared to be going behind the president’s back, pushing their own personal agendas. Abdar had become increasingly and ominously distant. Russo’s alliances with General Palmer and acting Secretary Zhou were disconcerting to Benjamin, but he couldn’t put his finger on why. Now, the president was finally showing some backbone. While he didn’t agree with the president’s position on combating AIS, at least he was showing some resolve. President Armando’s policy shift on appointing a vice president and reconstituting Congress had blindsided Benjamin, as had the subsequent assignment of those projects to him.
Benjamin finished his beer and looked at his watch. He retrieved a satellite phone from a hidden lock box in his bedroom and dialed a number. “Liebowitz reporting. There is much internal bickering in the Armando administration and the remnants of the American government. A U.S. Marine Corps Major General at Camp Lejeune is defying direct orders from Armando and his top lieutenants. Members of the administration are threatening to use military force against him, without the president’s knowledge. Additionally, the administration has continued to take aggressive action against citizens who are pursuing vigilante justice. The administration is willfully allowing AIS to run free on American soil. Numerous governors, led by the governor of Texas, openly defied the president. They have been eliminated. There is no vice president or Congress, and members of the president’s administration are actively seeking to undermine each other as they jockey for position. The country is fractured and on the brink of civil war. That is all for now.”
***
7:17 p.m. – Fontana Dam
That night, Joshua powered up the television and flipped to BBC. The female, brunette anchor predictably spoke with a British accent: The world is becoming increasingly volatile today. The Russian army is amassing forces along its border with Ukraine, prompting fears of an imminent invasion. Ukraine’s military is preparing to mount a defense, but is significantly outnumbered.
Meanwhile, an Iranian destroyer has anchored itself 50 miles off the coast of Israel in the Mediterranean Sea, and Iranian fighter jets have buzzed the Israeli coast. Israel has promised to respond to any Iranian attack with nuclear force.
Further east, the Chinese Navy is conducting maneuvers in the East China Sea and the Sea of Japan, stoking fears of increased Chinese aggression in the region.
Here in Great Britain, the British Royal Navy is conducting exercises in the North Sea, and the HMS Dauntless is en route to the Mediterranean Sea. When asked about the maneuvers, Prime Minister Angela Burgess said, Someone has to fill the void left by the United States.
Joshua put his arm around Rebecca as she joined him on the couch. “Now that we know what’s really happening in the world, let’s see what kind of B.S. the American media is spewing.”
He switched to an American news channel. It didn’t really matter which one, since all of them had been saying exactly the same thing for the past month. The anchor relayed “news” that was close to home: Domestic terrorists in Western North Carolina have attacked several Homeland Security camps near Fontana Dam. The agents working in the camps were killed, and the vigilantes claim
ed to be searching for the fugitive Drew Thompson, who is wanted for treason.
Joshua perked up as an image of several burned buildings and destroyed tents appeared on the screen. “That’s the camp where we were being held captive.”
Rebecca squeezed his hand. “Ray?”
“That’s my guess.” He scratched Reagan’s ears as the canine positioned himself near Joshua’s feet. “If they so-called ‘vigilantes’ killed everyone in the camps, how do they know they claimed to be looking for Drew?”
CHAPTER 13
Wednesday, November 7, 2018 – 0702 – Virginia Beach
Major Chinn and his three passengers arrived in Virginia Beach just as the sun peeked over the horizon the next morning. He exited I-264 onto Oceana Boulevard. After several turns he made his way to Southern Boulevard. Two commercial buildings and a mini storage facility came into view. An office building sat just past them. Chinn maintained his speed at 25 miles per hour as they passed the second commercial building, which had the look of a warehouse or light manufacturing facility.
“That’s it,” Chinn said. “General Cloos’ intelligence indicates that the data transmissions are originating there.”
“Or originating somewhere else and simply being routed through there,” Caroline said.
Chinn chuckled. “That’s why you’re here. To help us figure that out.” He turned right onto Birdneck Street. “General Cloos has arranged a safe house just down the road. Let’s get some rest. We’ll map out our plan of attack this afternoon and execute after sundown.”
Kane nodded. “Good plan, sir.”
***
7:15 a.m. – Fontana Dam
The morning fog still hung over Fontana Lake as Joshua and Jack paddled the canoe to the preordained spot. Both men wore holstered sidearms, and Joshua’s .22 rifle and Jack’s .30-06 and crossbow were readily accessible on the canoe floor. Reagan stood motionless on the bow, staring off into the distance. When they reached the designated meeting place they dropped anchor, baited their hooks and dropped them into the murky water.
“So do you think they’ll really show?” Jack asked.
“They’ll be here.” Joshua chuckled. “Heck, Mordecai is probably already here watching us.”
Two minutes later Joshua picked up the sound of a whirring boat motor. The sound gradually grew louder. “Somebody’s coming.”
Jack unsnapped the holster on his Glock .40. “Hopefully someone friendly.”
A small, green aluminum johnboat emerged from the fog in front of them. Ray was alone in the boat. As Ray’s boat slowed to a stop a small wooden rowboat appeared on the starboard side. Tater grimaced as he pushed the oars through the water over and over. Mordecai sat near the stern, puffing his pipe. “G’morning, fellas.”
After everyone exchanged pleasantries Joshua got down to business. “As we said, Jack spotted AIS scoping out Fontana Dam. I believe we can expect them to make a move on the dam in the immediate future. We have no way of knowing if they will attempt to destroy the dam or capture it, but either outcome is unacceptable.”
“I’ve got men ready to fight,” Ray said. “We just need to know what to do.”
Jack scratched his sandy blonde hair. “What kind of weapons do you have?”
“The usual. Shotguns, hunting rifles, all kinds of pistols.”
Mordecai took a puff from his pipe. “I’ve got all the weapons you need. How many men?”
“Probably fifty.”
Joshua scratched Reagan’s ears. “We need to map out our strategy. Then we’ll know how many men we need and what kind of weapons we need.”
“Joshua is right,” Jack said. “The first thing we need to do is anticipate their potential attacks. The good thing is that there are only so many ways to get to the dam. The roads to the dam on either side, by water on the lake or the river, or on the road below the dam.”
Mordecai stroked his moustache. “They could also hit us from the air. Or they could have some kind of submerged vehicle. There’s also the chance they have someone on the inside.”
Joshua stopped scratching Reagan’s ears, leaned back and took a deep breath. The dog whined and pawed at his leg. He reached down and rubbed Reagan’s head. “Thomas Page, in our camp, has contacts with the TVA. We’ll work with him to get someone on the inside from our group. Ray, how many of your guys have boats?”
“Quite a few,” Ray answered
“We need two boats on the river west of the dam, and ten or fifteen on the lake,” Joshua continued. “If possible, each of them needs a working fish finder. That should help us detect anything below the surface.”
“I’ll make it happen,” Ray said.
“We also need teams on the service roads on both sides of the Little Tennessee leading to the west side of the dam, on all access roads leading to the top of the dam, and we need scouts up and down Highway 28,” Joshua continued. “We’ll need men stationed at the base of the dam on the west side, and on top. And we’ll need snipers on the trail above the dam.”
Jack chuckled. “Not bad for a guy with no military experience.” He nodded toward Mordecai. “You say you’ve got weapons. Do you have any anti-aircraft weapons?”
“I’ve got whatever you need, sonny.”
“Good,” Jack continued. “We need as many men as possible equipped to shoot down anything that comes from the air. Additionally, if they come in large numbers, we need to find ways to split them up.”
Thirty minutes later the men had finalized their strategy and assigned marching orders.
“I think we’ve got a solid plan,” Joshua said. “My gut says this attack will happen today or tonight, so we’ve got no time to waste.”
***
1000 Hours – Military Ocean Terminal, Sunny Point (MOTSU)
General Cloos took a sip of piping hot black coffee at the staging area near the entrance to the Military Ocean Terminal, Sunny Point, at the intersection of routes 133 and 87 near Southport. The Army personnel inside had not taken kindly to his suggestion that they needed help defending themselves, even though there were only a few of them. He wondered if they were loyal to General Palmer, but chose to give them the benefit of the doubt – for now. His Marines would defend the terminal whether the Army personnel wanted them to or not, and could do it from outside the walls if necessary.
Cloos looked at his watch. He was growing tired of playing the waiting game. If his men were going to engage in a fight, he was ready to take it to AIS and begin the process of exterminating the sub-human bastards. The scout teams were in place. Every bridge of importance had been checked for explosives. Colonel Brookhart and his men were in place at the Southport nuclear plant and had made contact with plant personnel. Lt. Kenneth Morley and a team were stationed at the Port of Wilmington, and several other units had assumed defensive positions around the port. Lt. Carmichael and his unit were standing guard at the gasoline terminals on the Wilmington side of the Cape Fear, and Captain Foster was patrolling the river with deputies from the Brunswick County Sheriff’s Office, which was one of the few local law enforcement agencies that still functioned.
His sat phone vibrated. “Cloos.”
Captain Foster, sir. One of our surveillance drones picked up a convoy of four AIS vehicles headed east on Highway 74 near Whiteville.
Cloos straightened his posture. “Where are they now? Do we have any idea where they’re going?”
They turned off at Hallsboro Road, and appear to have gotten lost. They’ve just turned onto Crusoe Island Road.
Cloos chuckled. “They’re in Crusoe? No need to track ‘em anymore.”
Sir?
“If they wound up in Crusoe they’ll never be seen again. Locals will handle ‘em.”
Yes, sir.
Cloos hung up the phone, opened his tablet and reviewed an intelligence update from one of his people at Lejeune. They had confirmed that the AIS Supreme Leader was on U.S. Soil, and that he was in either North Carolina or Virginia, but had not yet been able to decode
the voice and identify the leader. Maybe I’ll get to kill the bastard myself, Cloos thought.
***
11:29 a.m. – Virginia Beach
Benjamin briskly walked down the hall to the conference room where President Armando’s cabinet meetings were held. Abdar had only sent the notice for this emergency meeting 45 minutes before the 11:30 a.m. start time. Nearly every seat at the table was filled when he entered the room. Benjamin observed that most attendees had looks of grave concern on their faces. He also noticed two unfamiliar men who had the look of Secret Service officers standing near Abdar and Adilah, and one man and one woman in Federal Protective Service uniforms positioned near Russo. Benjamin claimed an open seat halfway down the back side of the table.
In another unusual move, Abdar called the meeting to order. “I’m afraid we have some bad news,” he calmly stated. “AIS has captured President Armando. His entire Secret Service detail was killed.”
A collective gasp filled the room. Benjamin clenched his teeth as an image of President Armando, bound and gagged in a chair, appeared on the conference screen. Two figures in black robes stood behind the president, one of them holding a large knife to his neck. A flag featuring bold blue, green and white horizontal stripes and red Arabic lettering underscored by a black sword hung behind them.
How did they snatch the president from right under our noses? Benjamin tightened his fist beneath the table. They must have had help from someone inside the administration.
The terrorist with the knife pointed it at the camera. As you can see, we have your President. At 6:30 tonight, we will behead him for all the world to see. All people will know that America is no more. You will know that you are not safe. We will own your land. The screen faded to black.
Russo jumped to his feet and waved his hands in the air. “How the hell did they get the president? Do we know where he is?”
“We don’t know where he is at this point,” Abdar said calmly. “We are investigating all leads.”
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