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  Nothing new came out from the news as he ate but he decided he definitely wanted to go back to his hotel room for the VP’s address to the nation since he could barely hear the TV. He dropped cash on the bar and forced his way through the crowd at the door.

  The sun was shining bright in the early morning sky and it was a perfect spring morning. The day outside would be beautiful, but he planned on spending most of it in his hotel room watching the news. He fished the keys from his pocket and walked up to the compact car. “Shit,” he said out loud. The front driver’s side tire was flat. He hurried to the trunk to get the spare.

  He opened the trunk and leaned inside to flip back the carpet covering the spare tire. As he undid the latch holding the tire in place and began to lift out the tire he felt a sharp pain in his right side and dropped it. He started to turn and was hit again, harder, in the stomach and then the side again. His legs were kicked out from under him and his head hit the rear bumper. Two men began to kick him in the ribs and in the head. He quickly began to lose focus and through his blurred vision he saw a fat man in overalls. “That’s enough. I don’t wanna kill the bastard, just rough him up a little so he learns his manners. Lord knows we can’t cover up killin’ a white boy.”

  Jim Bob, the farmer from the casino last night, leaned down in front of Grayson. “I told you not to fuck with me boy. Don’t bother goin’ to the police, they work for me.” He straightened up and gave a half-hearted kick at the prone man. “Alright, let’s go boys. We got our orders step up our training for a big mission that the colonel wants us to do.”

  Grayson tried feebly to get to his knees but his head swam and he vomited onto the ground near his face. Through swollen eyes he saw a shiny new pick-up truck drive by and then he passed out.

  ***

  16 April, 1000 hrs local

  The Bunker

  Washington, D.C.

  The Vice-President of the United States wiped the sweat from the palms of his hands on his trouser legs. Across from him was the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. The White House Press Secretary looked at him and said, “And, we’re live, Mr. Vice-President.”

  He placed his left hand on an old, well-worn bible and raised his right hand. The Chief Justice told him to repeat after him, “I, Alfred Sawyer Holmes…”

  “I, Alfred Sawyer Holmes…”

  “…do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute…”

  “…do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute…”

  “… the office of President of the United States…”

  “… the office of President of the United States…”

  “… and will, to the best of my ability…”

  “… and will, to the best of my ability…”

  “… preserve, protect and defend…”

  “…preserve, protect and defend…”

  “… the Constitution of the United States.”

  “… the Constitution of the United States.”

  “Congratulations, Mr. President,” the Chief Justice said as he held out his hand to be the first to shake hands with the newly appointed President of the United States.

  “Thank you, John.” He shook the Justice’s hand and walked to the podium. The cameras readjusted their angle and a member of the staff standing near the cameramen gave him the thumbs up. “Today we grieve the loss of our nation’s president. Allan Gosebeck was a true patriot and he died in service to his country.

  “Yesterday, April 15, that patriot was murdered by a coward who misled us all into believing that he was something different than he really was. He murdered our president and the heads of state of four other nations. My sincere condolences go out to our friends from Russia, Japan, France and Germany who, even as I speak here today, are grieving the loss of their own leaders and making the difficult decisions of how to carry their countries through these dark days of random terror attacks across the globe.

  “In a coordinated attack on both the life of President Gosebeck and our nation’s military, we have been dealt a savage blow. It doesn’t matter if these attacks were orchestrated by the same group or if they were separate incidents, I promise you that we will find those responsible for the planning of these events and they will be brought to justice to answer for their crimes. We already have the man who allegedly carried out the attack in Portland yesterday in custody and it’s only a matter of time before we seize the others involved.

  “The situation at the Pentagon is still critical and is a developing story. I have never made a habit of keeping information from my constituents, first at the local, then the national level. Now, my constituency is every man, woman and child in the United States and I will not withhold information from anyone.

  “As I speak, efforts are being made to enter the Pentagon in order to determine what happened and why they stopped responding to outside communication at approximately 3:45 Eastern time this morning. The situation, as we know it, is that yesterday at roughly the same time that the president was assassinated a group of armed men attacked the crowd at a retirement ceremony and another of their group set off a chemical agent that locked the building down. The group on the inside was subdued, but not before a significant loss of life was inflicted on the attendees of the ceremony at the Pentagon. We know for sure that thirty-seven people were pronounced dead on the scene by the Pentagon medical personnel.

  “We were in regular contact with the police force inside the Pentagon and tests of the air were negative inside the building for any chemical agents. The all clear was given and attempts were made to open the doors but they would not open due to some type of electrical malfunction to the computer system controlling them. Then, in the early morning hours, all communications from the inside stopped.

  “We will get the answers to our questions and the public will know the truth, regardless of the outcome. But in the meantime, I urge you to pray for the men and women of our military and to assist your local authorities in whatever way they may need as we carry out the investigation into these crimes.

  “Our nation will carry through this crisis and we will emerge from the ashes stronger than ever and our enemies will tremble before the wrath of the sleeping giant they have awakened.”

  He stepped away from the podium and beckoned for his staff to follow him.

  ***

  16 April, 1845 hrs local

  Karakoram Mountain Range

  Afghanistan-Pakistan Border

  Malik al-Nusurim turned down the volume on the laptop. He’d been watching streaming video of the new president for the infidels who had just finished his speech. Things were going better than anyone could imagine. Even though he sent the message to carry out their missions, he hadn’t known what each of the cells had planned as their targets, let alone that they had a man on the inside of the president’s Secret Service.

  Within the hour, one of his contacts would be emailing him the transcripts of the speech so he could send a paper copy overland to the Brotherhood’s leaders. His base of operations in the cave was technologically centuries ahead of how the real men of power chose to live deeper in the mountains. They lived as kings of old, avoiding electronics for fear of detection, but wanting for nothing since the locals provided everything they needed.

  He would draft a summary of what had transpired so far to accompany the transcript. Would they believe him or would they accuse him of creating lies in order to please their hatred of the West? The Brotherhood of Niyyat had cut off the heads of five nations at once and the group’s leadership didn’t even know it yet. If he hadn’t seen live footage, verified by different television networks and internet news agencies, he might have had a difficult time believing it himself. He thought about the report he needed to write for a moment. Maybe he would print some pictures from the internet to include in his account in order to help convince the masters of the truth of his report.

  The computer beeped indicating a received email and he clicked on the link to open it up. It was the transcript of
the swine’s speech. Even though he’d watched it live, he read the email to refresh his memory. This president must have used the same speech writer for it was more of the same drivel that his predecessor had spat out. The infidels vowed to smash the perpetrators of these events, but they had no clue as to the real threat. They may even root out every individual cell in time, but they would never discover that the Brotherhood was behind this. There were too many layers of misdirection between them and the cells in the field.

  He glanced up quickly from the laptop’s computer screen as one of the guards rushed in shouting that there were soldiers coming up the mountain path. He scurried over to the opening and heard the distant echo of helicopter rotors bouncing off the slopes of the mountains and valleys. Their little flying machines could not come nearly as high as this cave, but the men on the ground would hike their way up here eventually.

  With practiced proficiency, the men packed everything away and hid the incriminating items in the back of the cave, then a large flat rock was rolled into place and camouflaged to appear as if it were part of the cave wall. They lit several very strong sticks of incense that would disguise the smell of the generator’s fumes. The goats were released from their pens and the fencing was disassembled and piled up to look like firewood. They drug their filthy blankets from the side of the cave and brought them to the center. The only items in sight that were from the twentieth century were several old and abused AK-47 rifles and the rusted oil lap. al-Nusurim sent a runner off into the mountains to warn the Brotherhood’s leadership of the incoming soldiers in case they decided to move further up towards their stronghold.

  After several hours of waiting, a familiar American face bobbed up over the ridge as he walked the worn path to the goat herder’s cave. This company had been operating in the mountain range for almost a year and Malik had grown accustomed to being interrupted at the most inopportune times by this group. He wanted nothing more than to have them all shot right there on the path into the mountains, but they would only send more men to investigate what happened. Subtlety was the key to keeping the Brotherhood’s mountain complex a secret.

  “As-salaam aleikum,” the foreigner said, Peace be upon you.

  “Wa aleikumm e-salaam,” he answered back, And peace be with you.

  An interpreter stepped up and began translating for the American. They were looking for a radio or computer that had been giving off a signal a few hours before. The interpreter had a difficult time explaining what a computer was to Malik as he pretended to be an ignorant goat herder. He explained that they had nothing but their goats and a few possessions they had managed to accumulate over the years of scraping out their existence in the mountains. As was the custom in the mountains, he offered warm goat milk and a sticky pastry made from pistachios and honey. The soldier, who’d been sickened by al-Nusurim’s delicacies before, declined them.

  Meanwhile, a few soldiers searched the cave. After a few minutes they came out. “It’s the same as it was the last ten times we’ve been here sir, dirty and poor. These people don’t have what we’re looking for,” the sergeant in charge of the search party reported as he walked up to the two men attempting to have a conversation via the interpreter.

  “Okay Sergeant Jones. Get your men ready to move out, we can’t go any further into these mountains without crossing the border into Pakistan.” The officer turned back to the Brotherhood member, “Merabani. Khudafiz.” Thank you. Good bye. He placed his right hand over his heart and bowed slightly. Malik mimicked the gesture and the soldier turned and began the slow downhill trudge back to their helicopter landing zone.

  He watched them until they were out of sight then turned and walked into the cave with a few of the others. He had a report of victory to write and he was several hours late.

  FIVE

  17 April, 1734 hrs local

  The Pentagon

  Arlington, Virginia

  “Ok, that’s it. We’re through the last seal. Billy, give a call up to HQ, let ‘em know we’re in.” Sergeant First Class Cecil Owens, the chief of the hazardous materials response unit, turned to the squad of military police standing behind him. “Alright guys, remember, no matter what, do not take your masks off once we’re inside. It’s been two days, there’s no telling what’s happened in there.”

  The MPs stacked up outside the blast door and a small tractor began driving parallel to the building entrance. As it moved away, the door was pulled open by the cable attached to the tractor’s bumper. The door held for a moment then crashed into its storage pocket. The police started to step through the door with their weapons at the ready but stopped short when they saw the lobby.

  “What the hell? Billy, tell the CO we need a medical team over here quick!” There were bodies piled up all over the lobby and up against the doors, no wonder they wouldn’t open. It appeared as if they tried to escape but couldn’t make it out and died wherever they were. The HAZMAT[8] crew pulled out their chemical agent monitors and began taking readings, careful to step over the bodies and not go too far into the building.

  “Boss, we got nothing. There aren’t any chemicals in the air that we can pick up.”

  The sergeant’s eyes got wide. “Everybody out! Seal that opening with plastic,” he yelled as he gestured towards the doorway. He walked over to where the radio operator stood and took the radio handset from him. “Febris Three, this is Febris Three-Two. We’re gonna need the CDC in here pronto. There’s all these dead folks just inside the door but not a trace of any chemicals,” he paused. “Yes sir, that’s what I’m thinking, a biological agent of some kind. I had the boys seal the door so whatever it is wouldn’t leak out and infect anyone else,” another pause. “Yes sir, I believe it is airborne. Whatever got all these folks looks like it got ‘em all at the same time…Roger sir, standing by.”

  After several minutes of waiting two large black sport utility vehicles drove up in the bus lane. The rear passenger door of the first truck opened and the HAZMAT response unit’s commander, Lieutenant Colonel Henson, stepped awkwardly from the truck. It was obvious that he was not used to wearing the chemical protective suits that the HAZMAT crew had on as he walked gingerly down the sidewalk towards the plastic-covered opening. Owens suppressed a slight chuckle, easier since he too was encased in protective plastics and rubber. The colonel had a team of five medics with him that Owens hadn’t seen before.

  “Owens, I came down to assess the situation myself. Before we involve those crusaders at the CDC we need to be certain this isn’t something we can take care of at the Army level.”

  “Yes sir, I understand. But we’re going to need more than just a few medics.”

  “Negative on that. Headquarters has ordered us to go in with as small of a footprint as possible and evaluate the level of response required.”

  “Uh, sir, we’ve got a disaster on our hands and need every doctor in the city down here. There were at least two hundred bodies in the lobby…”

  “Understood Sergeant Owens,” the colonel cut him off. “The request has already gone forward and was denied. It’s our job to go in earn our paychecks.”

  “Sergeant,” the medical officer said holding up his hand, “my name is Dr. Collins. I’m from the Army’s Special Operations Biological Infections Containment Center at Fort Dietrich. My team is here to assess the situation and we’ll determine if further response is required.”

  “Fine sir, but I don’t like it. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you inside and you can see for yourself that we’ve got to get the CDC down here as soon as possible.” Owens turned and walked back towards the building. Again, Lieutenant Colonel Henson took exaggerated, awkward steps as he tried not to drag his feet or get his leg caught on anything in order to avoid contamination.

  Sergeant Owens pulled the plastic sheet covering the opening to the side and held it open for his boss to step through. He gestured for the MP team and one of his chemical detection teams to follow them in. The lights overhead flickered on and
off rapidly as the electrical crew outside worked to restore power. The lobby was still fairly well lit because the overhead skylights let in some light but interior of the building was as dark as night. “As you can see sir, something killed all these people and our chemical teams haven’t detected any agents, so…”

  “Run it again Sergeant. There has to be a logical explanation for this. In all my years in the Chemical Corps, I’ve never seen anything that would kill people this rapidly that wasn’t a chemical agent of some type.” He turned towards the medics and the young doctor in charge of them, “Okay Dr. Collins, here’s ground zero. Right outside was where the nerve agent was released, obviously these people died of nerve agent poisoning. Kickin’ chicken and all that.”

  The doctor and his team of medics went to several different corpses and began examining them. Sergeant Collins slid over next to his commanding officer and said, “You know sir, I don’t think these folks died of any chemical agents. We’d still be getting residual readings on our equipment.”

  “Well, we’ll just see what the hotshot doctor has to say and you’ll see that I’m right,” the colonel said smugly.

  Several minutes went by before the young doctor returned to where the colonel and Sergeant Collins stood. “Well, it’s next to impossible to determine what actually killed these folks without an autopsy, but chemical agents are out and it appears they died of asphyxiation,” he said as the sergeant suppressed a grunt. “We’ve tested the air and right now there’s enough of an oxygen content to support lung function, however, I can’t say that was the case two days ago. There’s evidence that the deceased had massive amounts of blood in their lungs since there’s dried blood on their faces around their mouths, streaks of it coming from their noses, there’s blood on their hands as if they were coughing it up, and on almost every corpse we’ve examined, their lips are blue, indicating that their bodies weren’t getting enough oxygen at time of death. It’s possible that they may have drowned in their own blood. This is just my initial opinion though. Like I said, we’ll be able to present a more solid answer when I can perform several autopsies.”