The Fall of America | Book 10 | No Winners

by Benton, W. R.

  “Yes, sir.” he said and then closed his eyes as he felt his minor pains and aches disappear as the strong pain killer began to work on him. Minutes later he was asleep.

  The Spetsnaz team continued their mission and at dark, they moved into the woods to sleep back to back once again. The Captain had hinted that they were very close to their target. As they slept, Danya wondered why all the effort to destroy something or kill some people if the war was about over. But, as a soldier, he’d never ask a question, because that was not his place. His job was to follow orders.

  At 2100, the Captain said, “Radioman, contact HQ and tell them where we are spending the night. Also, tell them tomorrow we will remain in place until 2300, then we will carry out our mission.”

  “Roger that, sir.” The young radio operator said.

  Our target must be really close. Not much around us if I remember the map right from this morning. Two small towns within 5 miles of here and a dam. Also some fishing boats and docks. I have no idea what the target is, but probably the dam, Danya thought. If our target is the dam, it will kill some people downstream if we blow it up, shut off the power, and maybe kill a few guards and workers. Other than that, why?

  He was still thinking when he fell asleep.

  Morning dawned with a slight drizzle that at first was cold, but after the sun came out, the temperature went up quickly and the rain stopped.

  Off in the distance gun fire was heard and each member of the team picked up a weapon.

  “What was that?” the Captain asked.

  Chapter 7

  Joy screamed as the aircraft spun to the right, the left wing lowered and struck the ground, breaking the cabin in half. The back half was in flames, but the front portion, where John and Joy were, skidded down the roadway and came to a complete stop in a ditch with a loud crash. John felt his forehead, and his hand was covered in blood when he pulled it away. Joy was unconscious, but otherwise she appeared unhurt with no blood seen.

  John ripped a sleeve from his shirt and tied it around his head. He heard screaming and looking down the runway he spotted the location of the noise, the rear section of the aircraft was on fire. Gaining his feet, he moved toward the screams as fast as he could.

  When he neared, the co-pilot walked to him and said, “Let’s get them out of there. We’ll enter in the back and move forward, undoing the seat belts as we pass. If a seat belt is stuck, cut it off. Hurry, before the wing tanks explode!”

  John released a dozen folks and then he was up against the flames. He would hear the screams of those burning to death forever. The last man he met he had to cut his seat belt off and he was hurt so badly he had to be carried out of the aircraft. Just as the co-pilot exited behind John with a child in his hands, he screamed, “Get away! The tanks are going to go up!”

  They quickly moved away and then the tanks blew, the blast silenced the screams of those trapped forever. Oily black smoke climbed for the heavens.

  Once the fire died down, John knew they would rescue no more, so he moved to Joy and found her awake, but complaining of a headache.

  “Where were you?” she asked and then moaned.

  “Rescuing those trapped in their seats. The tanks just blew up and there's no one to help now, they're all dead. We did manage to save over three dozen.” Hearing a noise, he glanced up and added, “Rescue vehicles coming.”

  An ambulance went to both broken sections of the aircraft and checked for dead and wounded. Those dead in the aft section would have to remain where they were until the fire was out and the metal cooled down. Right now there was nothing they could do for them.

  The survivors, who included the cockpit crew, were taken by ambulance to a hospital and taken care of. While everyone was being cared for, John call the General from the emergency room.

  “Yes, sir, over half survived but a good hundred trapped people were killed in their seats.”

  “John, are you still capable of meeting at the peace table with the Russians?”

  “Yes, sir. I have to be there, because I owe it to my war dead, sir. I’ll be there, and I’m not very injured, just a slight cut over my eye. X-rays showed no damage to my skull. I understand the airline is going to provide the survivors with clothing, tickets to their final destinations, and a thousand dollars in cash, all for free. I’ll be there.”

  “How is your, um, uh, assistant?”

  “Joy is fine, and we were sitting side by side during the whole thing. We are very lucky, sir.”

  “I’d say you are, but all we have on the news is a civilian airliner crashed while landing in Greenland following an in-flight emergency.”

  “Well that’s true, but when we landed some of the passengers have said they saw flames coming out of the engine cowling on the left side. The fire is what killed most of the people. Out of 256 passengers, maybe 156 survived.”

  “You still have a few days before you need to be in Paris, but leave as soon as you can and then rest once there. This meeting might just stop the war with Russia and allow us to establish a nation once again. Oh, and it’s important for me to tell you that you’re both on a Russian business hit list.”

  “How can that hit list be true?”

  “Big Russian businesses are getting rich on the war and they don’t want peace. Your team and the Russian team are to be killed.”

  “Damn me. That’s a big risk they are taking. How’d you find out?”

  “Our old CIA buddies have some moles in business over there and they warned us. They are deadly serious, John, so stay alert. Get the early flight out of there too.”

  “I can catch a flight out tonight, with Joy, at 2000 and that’s the first flight. I think it would be more comfortable to rest in France than Greenland.” he said, and then laughed.

  “I imagine so. Keep me informed, John. Now try to rest as much as you can before this evening’s flight.”

  “Yes, sir. Goodbye.”

  He hung up the phone and said, “We are to leave on the 2000 flight to Paris this evening.”

  “We’ll still be a couple of days early, but I’d rather rest in Paris than here.”

  “Oh, me too. I’ve never been there before.”

  “Me either, and I don’t know a word of French.” John lied; he'd taken the language in high school and college. While not fluent, he spoke conversational French.

  “Me either, except what I’ve seen in movies and I’m sure that wasn’t spoken correctly.” she said.

  “We’ll soon find out.” John said and then laughed.

  When the tires of the jet screeched on touchdown in Paris, Joy’s heart fluttered in excitement of being in France. She was all eyes as they disembarked and moved to customs. When they walked to the nearest customs agent, John asked, “Speak English?”

  “Je peux parler la langue mais c’est la langue des non-initiés.” (I can speak the language, but it is the language of the uneducated.)

  “Je comprends, mais sans les Américains sans instruction, vous parleriez l’allemand aujourd’hui.” John replied. (I understand, but without the uneducated Americans you would be speaking German today.”)

  The customs agent, now embarrassed, said in English, “I need to see your passports, please.”

  John handed both his and Joy’s passports to the man as he said, “We are here to meet with the Russians to discuss peace in America. We are carrying political passports and we are packing weapons.”

  “I need to contact my supervisor before you can enter.” The agent pulled his cell phone and dialed in some numbers.

  “J’ai ici un Américain sans instruction. Possède un passeport politique rouge et une arme. Oui, oui, oui.”

  “Oui, monsieur. Oui, oui, uh-huh, oui.” He waved for John to come as he spoke to his boss.

  “Dites-leur qu’ils peuvent être tués ici.”

  “Oui monsieur.” the customs agent replied.

  “You may go.” He closed the phone and then stamped both passports and handed them back. He met Jo
hn’s eyes and said, “I am to inform you that you and this beautiful woman are on a killer’s list. Our intelligence people have found your names marked for killing.”

  “I am aware, and that is why we are armed. I thank you. Je suis un Américain sans instruction, tu te souviens?”

  The man waved them through and then turned to meet the next passenger.

  I thought you didn’t know any French.” Joy said as they walked toward the exit.

  Laughing, John said, “I’m not fluent and remember a bit from a college French course I took. When he first spoke on the phone he said he had uneducated Americans with political passports. Then, after he told us we could go, I told him, more or less, that an uneducated American thanks him. I think that’s what I said to him, but I might have told him to plant his corn early to avoid a spring flood.”

  She broke out in an honest to God belly laugh and it felt good to her and John. Laughter hadn’t been in their lives much over the last few years.

  Once they walked out of the secured part of the airport, a man was spotted holding a sign that read, “General and Miss Joy.”

  John neared and the man said, “I can see it is you, General, and your lovely assistant. My name is Desmond Ben and I am a French Jew. My friend Koro is our driver and body guard; he’s a relocated Russian, but he’s outside waiting for you. Please go out as I collect your bags, if you’ll give me your claim stubs. I didn't put your name on the sign, because I didn't want to attract those who do not want you to live.”

  They walked out the door and there stood a huge man with an untrimmed white thick beard, who said, “Welcome General, I have seen your photo and Joy’s as well. Please get in the back seats of the Limo and we’ll leave as soon as Desmond collects your bags. If you wish to drink, there is alcohol and glasses in the center console. My name is Koro and I am a Russian by birth but now I am an American, as is Desmond.”

  Koro was closer to seven feet tall than six, 350 pounds, crew cut hair, green eyes, and huge hands and feet. He smiled constantly.

  “I was told I’d be met,” John said, “but never thought it would be with a limo.”

  Koro said, “This is not a normal limo, and is bulletproof and explosives-proof as well. The glass cannot be shot out.”

  “Why all the precaution?”

  “You are on a Russian hit list, along with Joy, Senator Smith, and Major General Wilkerson, and the payment for each kill is one million US dollars in cash. The Russian peace team is also targeted. The big businesses in Russia have lots of money, thanks to the Russian-American War.”

  Desmond arrived with the three suitcases, placed them in the trunk and then got in the back with John and Joy.

  He smiled and said, “I’m not sure what is in your luggage, Joy, but I suspect gold bars. Lawdy, it was heavy. Did Koro update you on the hit list?”

  “Yes, but it makes no sense. We can be killed and yet the peace agreement will eventually happen at some point down the road. I think both sides are tired of war.”

  “Every day the war continues, the businesses make a few million dollars. So, every single day is important to greedy men. They care nothing about the Russian or American soldiers who die in the conflict.”

  “Who are you two?” John suddenly asked.

  “Koro, who’s real name is Gleb Igorevich, was born in Russia but moved to the United States when he was ten. He speaks fluent Russian, French and English. My name is Desmond Ben and I am an American Jewish-Russian and grew up in the states. I speak Chinese, Russian, English and French. We are both CIA agents. That, my friend, is all you need to know about us. We use our sightseeing business as a cover and it works well.”

  “I understand.” John said and met Joy’s eyes.

  “Five more minutes to the Hôtel de Crillon, a 5 star hotel and near $1200 a night. You have been booked for eight days.” Desmond said, and then handed John two envelopes. “Inside each package is $5,000 to eat on and have a little spending money. There will be no more, and that amount should cover you well. It’s all in French funds, except for $500 each, in American dollars, to pay off anyone who may supply you with needed information.”

  John took the money and handed one package to Joy. “How secure is this hotel where we will be staying?”

  “It’s popular with tourists, so there are usually two or three cops around the front door and they have an armed security staff on duty 24/7. The doorman is really a security guard and he is packing a .357 pistol.”

  “At the price of a room, I don’t see how it could be popular. That much a night is absolutely insane in my mind. The most I have ever paid was $280 a night in Memphis.” Joy said.

  Desmond laughed and said, “It’s okay, the Russians are footing the bill for everything, so enjoy.”

  John asked, “Any idea who we are meeting on the Russian side?”

  “Well, I don’t have names, but a Two star General from the infantry, a Full Colonel of Armor, and a Political Officer who is a full Colonel. Other than that we know very little, because the Russians don’t release much information on their military personnel. They never have. By the way, they brought their own security team with them.”

  John shrugged and replied, “I’m here, hopefully, to end a war and not fight these jokers, so their numbers mean little to me. I only know both sides have had too many deaths and people maimed. It’s time to stop the war. They will never beat us, so they may as well stop the fight.”

  “There is your hotel. It’s nice, huh?” Desmond asked.

  Not worth twelve hundred dollars a night, John thought.

  “Are you planning on placing restrictions on the Russians to end the war?” Koro asked.

  “The only restriction I have is an unconditional surrender by them and they immediately withdraw.”

  Scratching his cheek, Desmond said, “Good luck on any surrender, because I don’t think they will. They must save face when they leave.”

  “I see. Maybe I’ll bend my orders a little and just ask them to leave as soon as possible. I just want them out of my country. We will never have a future as a nation if this war keeps going.”

  “I agree,” Desmond said and then added, “but I don’t think America will ever be the same country she once was.”

  “She has changed just as we have.” Koro said, and then smiled.

  “Koro, stop in the very front. Remember, we have a General Officer with us, so treat him as such. Sir, we will soon park in the very front of the hotel. I want you and Joy to go check in at the desk, while we fetch your bags. Not much to do checking in, not really, since the rooms have been paid for. The hotel made the Russians pay in cash.”

  John shrugged and replied, “That’s fine with me. I know I’m tired and sleepy.”

  “I advise you to not sleep since it’s near 1700. Sleep now and you’ll never get to sleep later this evening. I need to get your bags into the hotel.” Desmond then opened the door and left the limo.

  “John, does us being on a hit list bother you?” Joy asked, as he stepped from the limo with her hand in his.

  “Only a fool would say no, but I’ve been on a hit list since I became a partisan, it seems. While I was an active leader in the Ace’s Partisan group, the Russians placed me on a wanted list with a million rubles reward. So, as far as I know, the money and reward is still active.”

  “That’s almost 13,000 dollars, huh?”

  They neared the door and an old black man dressed in a red uniform of some sort opened the door and said, “Welcome to the Hôtel de Crillon, a five star Hotel. My name is Raoul Besson. Enjoy your stay with us.”

  John tossed the man five dollars and then entered.

  “Yes, it’s a lot of money in Russia. Let’s get to our rooms, my dear, because I’m tired, hungry and sleepy. I will stay awake until at least 2100 before I go to bed. I want to sleep well overnight. I figure to get to my room, shower, change into civilian clothes, and grab a bite to eat. Do you want to join me?”

  “Yes, I don’t want to
sleep this early either. So, yes, I’ll eat with you and then maybe a short walk around the block.”

  They neared the desk and John asked, “Do you have a room reserved for an American Brigadier General?”

  “Yes, sir, and for his assistant as well. You are looking fine today, General. I must say your uniform is much nicer in design than our Generals. By the way, Moscow, the Russian Government, paid for both rooms in full.” the clerk was friendly, and John got the impression he was just normally a happy man.

  “Thank you for the kind words about my uniform.”

  “You are welcome. Do you need a porter for your bags, sir?” the clerk asked.

  “No, I have another member of my party taking care of our bags. Thank you for asking.” Koro walked in carrying all three bags and Desmond was carrying a small briefcase.

  “Here are your keys to your rooms.” the clerk said as he handed them two small credit card size electronic keys.

  John and Joy noticed they were in suites 245 and 246 as they turned from the desk and started walking to the elevator. Koro and Desmond followed with the baggage.

  An hour later, John knocked on Joy’s door. When it opened, she had a pistol in her hand and he said, “It’s just me. You ready to eat?”

  He was wearing a red polo shirt with blue jeans. Perched on top of his head was his old Stetson that still held it’s shape fairly well.

  “Of course, but where, cowboy?”

  “I have a list of places in my room that Desmond gave me, but I thought we’d eat here the first night, but it will be expensive. I’ll pay if you want and I don’t mind.” Joy wore a simple blue and white day dress and it was made of cotton, but he thought it looked hot on her.

  “Okay, but don’t be surprised if it costs a thousand dollars or more for a cup of soup.” Joy said and then laughed.

  “Funny.” he said, and laughed with her.

  Minutes later they were in the restaurant and looking the menu over.

  Joy said, “Really not as bad as I thought. I can get a t-bone steak, two veggies, soup and salad for fifty-eight bucks, not counting the tip.”