The New World Order

by Robert Boren

  “The enemy leadership will want to take him out as badly as anybody. He’s a direct threat to their operation.”

  “He knew to be gone when the Albany massacre happened,” Albena said, looking at her screen. “His departure was completely last-minute. That’s too much of a coincidence.”

  { 17 }

  Articles

  J ohn Clancy was watching the signs, Salvatore sitting in the back seat of the SUV now, Linda in the passenger seat. “Pottstown is coming up. Which off-ramp?”

  “Industrial Highway,” Salvatore said. “Take that past the wastewater treatment plant. Turn right into the steel plant.”

  “We’re going to a steel mill?” Linda asked.

  “It’s not a steel mill anymore,” Salvatore said. “We use it as a distribution point, for things I’d rather not mention.”

  John chuckled. “I can imagine.”

  Linda’s phone rang, so she took it out of her purse, her brow furrowed. “It’s Pat. Should I answer it?”

  “Not with that phone,” Salvatore said. “We’re too close to the base. I’ll provide you with new phones when we arrive. You can call her then, but don’t let her know where we are.”

  John glanced at her. “It’s late. I’ll bet they picked up Craig already.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Linda said.

  “Don’t worry,” Salvatore said. “There’s your off-ramp.”

  John got on Industrial Highway, following it towards the west, passing the water treatment plant, the steel plant looming before him in the darkness. “Anybody there?”

  “Yes, but during the night they’re mostly underground,” Salvatore said. “Pull up to the gate and enter 55816 on the keypad.”

  “Got it,” John said, making the right turn onto the parking lot, dimly lit by a few light poles.

  “You’re sure they can’t find us here?” Linda asked.

  “Nothing is certain, but chances are very slim,” Salvatore said. “Our people killed everybody who was watching the house, so nobody followed. We also arranged a small accident at their helipad. They’re surveillance choppers are grounded.”

  “They don’t have access to the government’s satellites?” John asked.

  “The enemy was not successful in compromising all of the armed forces,” Salvatore said. “Their planning has not been good.”

  Linda’s phone rang again. “She’s calling back.”

  “She’ll send a text,” John said. “She hates to do it, but she always does if she can’t get you to pick up.”

  “True,” Linda said, her eyes glassy. “I hate this. She’s my sister. I know how I’d feel if somebody grabbed you.”

  John drove up to the gate, rolling down the window and stretching to the keypad, inputting the code.

  “You didn’t need me to tell it to you again?” Salvatore asked as the gate rolled open.

  “He’s got a mind like a steel trap,” Linda said. “I don’t know how he does it.”

  “I repeated it in my head three times,” John said. “That usually does it. Learned that at a marketing convention, believe it or not.”

  “I believe it,” Salvatore said. “Good way to remember names of people you meet.”

  “Exactly,” John said. “Where?”

  “Pull into the open door of that big metal building ahead of us.”

  John drove to it, going through the big door slowly, several men rushing over, one continuing to the door and rolling it down with the chain. The others stood by as Salvatore got out.

  “Thank you,” he said. “Anything I need to know?”

  “They picked up the brother-in-law,” said a large, heavy set man with a shaved head.

  “Thanks, Tony. I expected that to happen. Did we lose anybody in the battle?”

  “One. Lucky shot.”

  “Who?”

  “Joey Junior.”

  “Oh no, sorry to hear that,” Salvatore said. “Thank you.”

  John and Linda got out.

  “Follow me,” Salvatore said. He went to a door, through a small office, and behind a messy desk, hitting a button with his foot, the wall sliding aside.

  “You’re joking,” Linda said as they followed Salvatore through to a dark hallway, Tony behind them. The door slid shut, lights coming on in the hallway, which was long, ending at a freight elevator. They rode it down several floors, the door opening to a bright, elegantly decorated hallway.

  “Wow,” John said. “Your home away from home?”

  “When the heat is on in Manhattan, this is where I usually am.”

  “Your headquarters didn’t make it, boss,” Tony said.

  “That is something I don’t like to think about,” Salvatore said. “We lost people there. Too many people.”

  “Lower Manhattan?” John asked.

  Salvatore nodded, leading them through another door into a residence. “You’ll be living here. I’ll be your neighbor, in the suite past this one on the hallway. Check out the fridge in the kitchen for food, and let Tony know if there are other things you’d like. Also give him your sizes and we’ll get you more clothes. I know you had to leave most things behind.”

  “Wi-Fi?” John asked.

  “Yes, Tony will give you the code.”

  “You’re going to rush that book out, aren’t you?” Linda asked.

  “Damn straight, and then I’ll start the next one.”

  ***

  Jacob was at the wheel of his hybrid, the rest of the team behind him as he drove into Boston on the Concord Turnpike. He’d been conversing with the others on the intercom, built into all the vehicles.

  “I just talked to Henry,” Tyra said, “to let him know we were on our way. He warned me that there’s a checkpoint at every main entry point to the city. Even sent me some aerial photos.”

  “How the hell did he get those?” Dave asked.

  “He’s got a lot of connections,” Sunshine said. “He’ll be a key person in our organization. Trust me on that.”

  “Yep,” Tyra said. “He’s glad we’re coming back. He said the leftists are having their way with the population, and the media is suppressing it.”

  “They’ve been suppressing news about leftist antics since the early 2020s,” Adrian quipped. “What are we gonna do at the check point?”

  “I think it’ll be a good time to try out our weapons systems,” Justin said.

  “Are you nuts?” Tyra asked.

  “No, he’s right,” Jaak said. “That’s exactly what we’ll do. I’m looking at the road now, via the traffic cameras.”

  “You have access to those?” Todd asked.

  “Yep, but I can’t take credit for that. Adrian and Trinity figured that out while we were hanging out at the new base.”

  “We thought it would come in handy,” Trinity said.

  “Nice,” Sunshine said. “Do we use wide or narrow mode?”

  “Narrow,” Jacob said. “Reduces our cross-section, right?”

  “Normally I’d say yes,” Jaak said, “but we don’t want to advertise that capability just yet. I say we go in wide. There isn’t a traffic buildup on the outside. Those checkpoints were designed to keep citizens in the city.”

  “They’re making prisoners of us,” Ashley said. “We can’t let that stand.”

  “Exactly,” Jaak said. “Get ready. It’s only two miles away.”

  “Should we use rail guns or lasers?” Gavin asked.

  “Both,” Jaak said. “Give these a good try. We’ll be overkill. There are four UN Vans and about twenty Peacekeepers there.”

  “I thought the UN pulled out,” Justin said.

  “They’ve pulled out of the hearts of the cities,” Jaak replied. “They’re still doing guard duty on the outskirts, plus attacking people in rural areas. We’ll figure out where their bases are and take them out.”

  “I’m liking this,” Sunshine said. “Ready to rumble.”

  Jacob saw the checkpoint coming up in the distance, half a mile away,
where the Concord Turnpike ends at North Cambridge. “Get ready, everybody. Be careful not to hit each other.”

  Gavin chuckled. “Important safety tip.”

  “A group of commandos just loaded into one of the UN Vans,” Jacob said. “They’re coming to meet us.”

  “Come to Papa,” Dave said.

  “Cut the chatter to tactical speech only,” Jaak said. “Stay sharp. This is dangerous. Be ready to escape into the woodwork. Break up into smaller groups as we head into the city.”

  “Here they come,” Jacob said, activating his weapons systems. “Perhaps a little laser burn to the eyes?”

  “Go for it, dude,” Dave said.

  Jacob stared at the targeting screen, the target reticle following his eyes, and he selected lasers. “Here goes.” He activated the laser trigger on the steering wheel and fired, the heat of the laser breaking through the windshield, the driver blinded, the UN Van starting to weave as somebody came up from the back to grab the wheel.

  “Switching to rail guns,” Jacob said, pulling the trigger, feeling the vehicle shake as the projectiles fired, as fast as he could pull the trigger, the van out of control now, several other hybrids firing into the side of the vehicle as it rolled to a stop against the center divider.

  “Start firing on the checkpoint,” Jaak said, “before they figure out what’s going on.”

  “Yeah,” Gavin said, selecting laser fire and hitting the personnel, as cars in line tried to drive away. “Be careful with the rail guns, we don’t want to hit civilians.”

  “Yeah, what he said,” Justin said, racing ahead, going wide and hitting the checkpoint from the south side, firing his railgun into the midst of the Peacekeepers, mowing them down as the others gathered and fired.

  “This is fun,” Dave quipped.

  “Cut the chatter,” Jaak said. “Look at that van, trying to leave the area.”

  “On it,” Sunshine said, turning her car to the north and cutting around, facing south, firing her railgun into the engine compartment, the engine stopping, then exploding into flames, Peacekeepers trying to get out the side and back doors, angry citizens out now, some of them firing handguns, others simply running in and dragging wounded Peacekeepers into the street, kicking them in the head, hitting them with tire irons and whatever else they had handy.

  “Yes, that’s what I wanted to see,” Adrian said. “That’s how we’ll win. We need to get arms to the people.”

  “Hold that thought,” Jaak said. “I think this checkpoint is toast. Let’s get out of here. Break up into groups of two or three vehicles, and watch each other’s backs. Kill any UN Peacekeepers you see. None of them are good guys. Show no mercy.”

  Jacob drove the wrong way down the Concord Turnpike ramp, getting onto Rindge Avenue, Sunshine behind him, both disappearing into the side streets of Boston.

  ***

  Tracy McCain was in her makeshift Governor’s office, just finishing a meeting with the leadership of the executive departments. Lotte came in.

  “How did it go?”

  “I’m focusing on relief to those displaced by the bombing, and shoring up the problems we have with the power grid.”

  “Don’t spend too much time on Manhattan until we get Mayor Fine out of there.”

  “I have citizens to help. That will be my focus. If you don’t like it, you’ll have to stop me. At this point, I just don’t care what you do.”

  Lotte walked towards her.

  “Oh, gonna point a gun at me again? That was a very public meeting. If you kill me, the media will report it.”

  “We own the media.”

  Tracy snickered. “That’s why the citizens kicked the UN Peacekeepers out of Manhattan, I guess.”

  “You’d better watch your mouth,” Lotte said.

  Tracy grinned. “You’re in a box, and you can’t do jack. You should’ve killed me when you could. I’ve been getting big press just about every hour as I put responses into place for this mess your people put us in.”

  The phone on her desk rang. She pushed the button on the speaker box. “Yes, Carrie?”

  “Dan Dannon has just arrived, and would like to chat. Shall I send him up?”

  Lotte got a nervous expression, her hand going to her pocket, fingering her pistol.

  “Send him up right away,” Tracy said.

  “I’ll kill you both,” Lotte said, “so watch it.”

  “Get out of here,” Tracy said. “This will be a private meeting.”

  There was a knock on the door. Lotte backed up towards the back door of the office, hand still in her pocket.

  “Come in,” Tracy said.

  The door swung open, Dannon walking through, freezing as he saw Lotte, his hand going into his coat pocket, Lotte firing her gun into his chest five times, Dannon returning fire with his Glock, splitting Lotte’s forehead wide open, blood splattering Tracy, who screamed bloody murder, Carrie and two security people rushing into the room as Dannon fell to the floor.

  “What happened?” Carrie asked.

  “This enemy operative was just killed by Dan Dannon,” she said.

  “Don’t say that,” Carrie said in a hushed tone, glancing down at Dannon, laying on his side.

  “We’re taking over,” one of the security guards said, pulling his pistol and aiming it at Tracy’s head.

  “No no no,” Carrie said, backing up towards the door, the second security guard grabbing her, and then several shots were fired, both security men slumping to the floor dead, Carrie trying to pull loose of the death-grip on her arm, as Dannon sat up, still holding his pistol.

  “How?” Tracy asked.

  “You think I’d move around in this city without a vest?” he asked, standing up with a big grin on his face. “You know who that woman was?”

  “The enemy,” Tracy said under her breath.

  “Yep, good thing I recognized her. She’s former Dutch Secret Service. Went rogue about ten years ago, spent time being radicalized at a terrorist training camp in Syria. She was once the lover of Saladin.”

  “There are more security guards on the way,” Carrie whispered, getting back from the door, Dannon springing into action, firing down the hallway, killing them before they could get off a shot.

  “Do you have any better weapons around here?” Dannon asked. “That won’t be the last of them. We should be in a more secure facility.”

  “The news vans are still in the parking lot,” Carrie said. “Want me to call them up here?”

  “Yes,” Tracy said. “Right away. Send them up through the back door, though.”

  “Good call,” Dannon said, slipping his refilled magazine back into his Glock. “Weapons? Is there an armory on this floor?”

  “I don’t know,” Tracy said. “In case you haven’t guessed, they’ve been holding me prisoner. I bucked them today, and Lotte was about to kill me.”

  “She wouldn’t have killed you,” Dannon said, looking down the hall. “They can’t. Good call keeping a high profile with the media. That’s probably what will save both of us.”

  “Carrie, leave us for a moment,” Tracy said.

  “Okay, I’ll go find the key to the armory. You want the reporters admitted, correct?”

  “Correct,” Tracy said.

  Carrie left the room.

  “She’s good under fire,” Dannon said. “What’s on your mind?”

  “You killed Walter. Are you planning to kill me too?”

  Dannon’s face showed a sly smile. “You thought I was going to kill you in Utica.”

  “I didn’t, but Mayor Fine and Chief Harvey thought it was a possibility. It was the Mayor’s suggestion for me to go on TV right away.”

  Dannon sat in a chair. “Yes, I killed Walter, but not for the reason you think. He was an enemy operative. He planned to waltz in here and take over, after you were neutralized.”

  “Can you prove that?”

  “I can,” Dannon said.

  There was a knock on the door. “Press.”r />
  “Come in,” Tracy said. “We’ll talk later, Dan. I hope you’re telling me the truth. Send me the proof. You knew the bombing was coming.”

  “I did. That’s my proof. I intercepted a message from him.”

  “Why didn’t you warn anybody?”

  “I found out too late,” he said. “We’ll go over that soon.”

  The reporters came in, stepping around the bodies of the security guards, eyeing Lotte.

  “Who’s that?” asked the NBS reporter.

  “Her name was Lotte, and she’s the honey pot who turned Governor Romano. She’s been holding me hostage, after kidnapping me, trying to make me a puppet for the people who started this war.”

  “We’re not at war,” the NBS reporter said.

  Tracy laughed. “You press morons are part of the problem. I won’t do the press conference until we have cameras on, going to a live television feed. If you’re not willing to do that, all of you can leave now, and your press passes will be revoked.”

  “You can’t do that!” shouted the reporter from CDS.

  “Watch me,” Tracy said. “The people you’ve been covering for killed off most of the New York state leadership. They missed the wrong person. Now they’re gonna pay. We’re taking this state back. Either get on board or get the hell out of the way. Oh, and we’re investigating everything that happened, and will be issuing subpoenas and indictments as quickly as possible. Any enemy collusion by members of the media will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”

  ***

  Mateo kicked the wall behind his desk in Geneva, going into a rage as he watched Tracy McCain’s live press conference. His phone rang. He ignored it, trying to calm down. Then it started ringing again. “Dammit.” He accepted the call and pushed the speaker button.

  “Mateo?” Charles asked.

  “Yeah,” he said, his voice wavering.

  “I’m on the line with the others. Lance, Maggie, and Jean. We’ve got a big problem.”

  “Yes, I am aware of the problem,” Mateo said, trying to sound calm. “This isn’t my fault.”

  “You used Lotte ineffectively,” Lance said. “You also failed to stop Dan Dannon. That might lead to us losing control of New York, and if that happens, it’ll become a distribution point for the resistance.”