Storm Unleashed (Quantum Touch Book 4)

by Michael R. Stern

  * * *

  “ONLY ONE WAY does this move ahead. And since the whole world will benefit from the end of your wars, the whole world should participate in making these changes a reality. The United States is prepared to invest one trillion dollars over the next ten years in supplies, equipment, and manpower. We expect those of you with oil to match our financing and other resources. We expect those who will benefit most to provide the necessary political and social environment to allow this to happen. And to those of you who allow or facilitate the perpetuation of terrorist organizations, you must stop immediately. In return for our commitment and our resources, you will all agree to end your war against Israel.” The president's words sparked a room full of loud refusal.

  “Stop. All of you. Stop,” said the Kuwaiti prime minister. “A growing economy helps each of us. We have already seen the damage of lost opportunity. I am an old man. It is time to end it. Stop the wars, stop the terror, behave like men. We believe in one God, all of us. Praise Allah, we should want him to be proud of us.” The shouting started. The president laughed. He stood and cleared his throat.

  The Iraqi president said, “Mr. President, we have had our differences. They will not be resolved here. I wish to leave.” Shouting began again. The president held up his hand.

  “We have barely begun.”

  “And you'll be gone in a year.”

  “And I intend to leave office with this project well under way. You want to leave. Give me a moment to arrange it.” He left the room.

  “FRITZ, GET out there,” said the colonel. Already afoot, he ran into the false hallway just as the president also entered it.

  “Ever been to Baghdad, Fritz?”

  The president escorted the Iraqi across the hall. Fritz opened the portal. The president walked so close behind that the Iraqi president had to keep walking. They remained through the portal for three minutes until the president came back alone. “Reset it, Fritz. Quick.”

  When the president reappeared, the Iraqi president looked like he had been awakened from a bad dream. The president held the door and ushered him back to the meeting. From the open door, Fritz could hear the continuing arguments.

  * * *

  AS HER LAST stop for the day, Margaret Porter decided that one last check with Mr. Nakamura would suffice. Then she could go home. She had arranged for the room to be cleared once the time for use had expired. She had two wedding receptions to prepare in the morning.

  Stepping from the elevator, she saw men with golf bags going through the door, shook her head, and went back to the lobby. The manager on duty was passing as the elevator doors opened.

  “Hi, Margaret. Still here?”

  “I don't know, John,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “I'm not sure where I am.”

  The look on her face made him ask if something was wrong. She told him what she had just seen.

  * * *

  FRITZ TOOK OUT his phone. “Hi Lin.”

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  “At school, the summit.” He saw Jane and the colonel each take out phones. “What's up?”

  * * *

  THE MEN TOOK THEIR GOLF BAGS to the roof. Five hid metal tubes. The Asians slid rockets from them, attached legs, and placed the tubes on metal bases that moments before had been golf bag bottoms.

  “All of you, stay down. We can be seen,” said Nakamura. “We have one minute to complete our mission. You have the range. Check where your first round hits, adjust, shoot, and leave. When the fireworks shells explode, it will distract them for only seconds. You must fire immediately.” Nakamura walked to the front, ducking. “We have ten minutes.”

  The man in the pinstripe suit watched the men prepare. His companion stood in a concealed corner inside. When a bell sounded to indicate the elevator had reached the roof, the Asian removed his silenced pistol. Margaret Porter and her boss took two steps toward the roof. They never heard the two rapid pops. The Asian dragged the bodies to the corner and walked to the man in pinstripes.

  In front of him, four mortars were aimed across Pennsylvania Avenue and one toward the southeast. “Mr. Nakamura,” said pinstripe, “you go in thirty seconds. Earplugs.” Each man placed a plug in one ear, waiting for the final moment.

  * * *

  “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, my friend from Iraq and I have just found a reason to agree, which makes me very happy,” said the president. “As you can see, he has decided to stay. And I'm sure he will have some positive suggestions to add.” The Iraqi nodded.

  “Now shall we get more specific? One of the two water plants we suggest is on the Turkish-Syrian border. Tanks will collect the water, and pipelines will stretch to the east and south, where more water tanks will be located. As progress continues, pipelines will reach further. Water-tank facilities will be at the ends of the pipelines. To pump the water, we propose development of solar and wind farms. You all know where the best places would be for each of you.”

  Throughout the room and down the hall, cell phones began to ring.

  * * *

  SOUTHEAST OF THE White House, two star shells exploded, a fireworks display, turning the heads of the White House rooftop security. By the time they looked for the source, four rockets had been fired. Within seconds, more explosions had destroyed sections of the executive mansion.

  * * *

  “DON'T YOU KNOW?” asked Linda, fear climbing through the phone. “The White House is being bombed.” Jane's face paled as she and the colonel headed for the door.

  “I'll call you back, Lin. No one here knew. I love you.”

  “Fritz, be careful. Call me back.”

  One of the soldiers asked him what was happening. He told them what he knew and took off with armed soldiers and waiters on his heels.

  * * *

  RADIO TRAFFIC WAS emphatic, “Move the first family.” Spotters on the roof saw the smoke trail, and within minutes the Hay-Adams was invaded by angry soldiers.

  * * *

  MEL RUSHED THROUGH THE portal, not stopping for the soldiers, and pulled the conference-room door open. Heads turned at the unexpected disruption.

  “Mr. President, the White House is being bombed. You need to stay here. All of you.”

  “Mel, what's happening? Where's my family?”

  “They're safe, Mr. President. In a bunker. James is hurt. He's buried under the rubble. Sorry, sir. The Oval Office is gone. Troops are already in place.”

  “Get the guys, Mel. Everyone, please stay here.”

  The president ran right behind Mel. Jane and Colonel Mitchell were waiting in the school hallway.

  Jane asked, “Mel, have the bombs stopped?”

  “I don't know. I ran out as the roof fell in. When the bombs started, James called the residence. Then I came here.”

  The president said, “There's only one way to find anything out. Fritz, get me in.” The portal had been held open, so he pulled the door. A secret service agent fell flat as he tried to grab the president and missed. Other agents raced through the portal.

  * * *

  ALARMED STAFF AND frightened guests avoided the soldiers, but the concierge stepped out and said, “May I help you?”

  “The White House has been attacked from your roof,” said the captain. “Take us up. The hotel is locked down. No one in or out.” With weapons at the ready, soldiers blocked the doors.

  The concierge was unruffled. “Of course, sir. As you wish. But our guests must be treated appropriately.” The captain grabbed him by his lapels and lifted him off the ground.

  “Get us up there now. For all I know, some of your guests did it. Now move!”

  “Of course, sir. Any assistance we can provide.” The concierge smoothed himself. “A moment please, so I can have our people accommodate you. We have an event in progress on our roof.”

  No one was visible. The surprised concierge led the soldiers to the door, where red splatter adorned the lace curtains of French doors. The soldiers ran in ahead. In the corner to his le
ft, two bodies lay in bloody pools. The captain returned from the roof, a radio in hand. He reported five mortars and nine dead bodies, all apparently Asian. “Yes, sir. Right away.” He looked straight at the now-stunned concierge. “Some party. Follow me.”

  * * *

  FRITZ OPENED THE DOOR and Jane led six soldiers into a pile of rubble. Mel pointed to where James had fallen, and the soldiers began to dig. In the doorway, the president stood silent. Behind him, the conference attendees began to file out.

  Fritz watched a metamorphosis occur. First, the president's jaw set, and he lowered his eyebrows. A quick brush of his left hand over his left ear. He balled his hands and pivoted to the filled hall. “Stay here.” Fritz grabbed his arm as the president stepped to enter his office.

  “Fritz, I want to see about James, and I want to check on my family. I'll be fine.”

  “Mr. President, please take someone with you. You don't know what's inside.” Colonel Mitchell had worked his way through the crowd.

  “I'll go with him, Fritz. Let him go.”

  Under the collapsed roof, soldiers had freed James from the debris, gravely hurt. Stepping through the rubble from the school, the President of Eledoria walked to James. “I am a doctor, Mr. President. I will do what I can until your doctor arrives.”

  “You're an eye doctor,” said the colonel.

  “Yes, but any doctor can help, and I was an Army doctor for four years. Do you have an oxygen tank nearby? And will someone get me water and a cloth?” While the Eledorian knelt to care for James, the president ran over broken glass and fallen ceiling into the main section of the White House. Surrounded by Marines and secret service agents, a crowd had collected—the imposter arrivals for the conference. And in the hall coming toward him were his family and Jane Barclay.

  MEL WAS ON A PHONE when the first EMTs arrived with a doctor. Relinquishing his position, the President of Eledoria told the arriving doctor that the agent had a severe head wound but no other external wounds were apparent. James's respiration was shallow, he probably had broken ribs and punctured lungs, and he had a severely broken leg. The soldiers nearby cleared enough space for a stretcher and helped carry the agent to a waiting ambulance.

  Fritz asked, “Where are you taking him.”

  “GW.”

  Climbing over the windowsill, which only moments before looked placidly out to the South Lawn, the vice president spotted Fritz. Before he could speak, Mel reported that Pennsylvania Avenue had been blocked off, and D.C. police and military units had moved on the Hay-Adams. “I'm talking to your team now, sir.”

  “I know. I walked two blocks to get in. Pissed off my agents, I can tell you. Is the president okay?”

  “He's in the White House, Mr. Vice President. We were in the conference,” Fritz cleared his throat, “across the hall.”

  “How was it going? Any progress?”

  “A little, I think. Then this. No one knew until we got calls.”

  “Looks like you did it again, Fritz. Saved him. If we were doing the usual, they would all have been in here.”

  “Mr. Vice President, the leaders are standing in the doorway. What should I do?”

  “Do any of them know about the portal?”

  “He showed the Iraqi president his own living room. President Putin, the Israeli. That's it as far as I know.”

  “Well then, let's get them settled down. Come on.”

  “Wait.” Fritz stepped gingerly across the room, bent over, and picked up a picture frame. “We should take care of this.”

  Chapter 25

  AS THE ONLY uniformed person remaining, Fritz shepherded the leaders back to the meeting. The vice president took over. Once they were settled, Fritz walked through the panel to check on Tony.

  “Glad to see you remembered me. Milt went back to the airport to get more guys. Can you tell me what's happening? I didn't want to move.” Hard knocking down the hall delayed the answer. Fritz brushed the curtains aside, and looking in at him were Ashley and Chief Dempsey.

  “Come on in. What brought you here?”

  “We were watching TV,” Ashley said. “When the attack started, they went live. The reporters were on the street when the fireworks started. Jim called the chief. Here we are. I brought my computer so we can check what's going on.”

  “We're camped in your classroom, Ash. The president is in the White House, the vice president is running the meeting.”

  “Where?” the chief asked.

  “Just the other side of that wall.”

  THE VICE PRESIDENT knew every phase of the proposal. He assured everyone that they were completely safe and told them to get comfortable. “If anyone would like food, help yourselves. Then let's get back to work.”

  “Mr. Vice President, this seems a bad time for us to continue,” said the British Prime Minister.

  “Mr. Prime Minister, we have just suffered an attack on the center of my government. If we had kept to our original schedule, you would all have been in that room. What better time to talk about stopping this?” His piercing blue eyes crossed the room like lasers and left no doubt that he was in charge of the meeting.

  “We could still be in danger. We don't know if they will attack again,” said the Narian President.

  “Mr. President, where you sit could not be safer.”

  “I must protest.”

  The vice president held up his hand. “Right now, while the White House is being checked, you are sitting far away. I know the president was saving the best for last, but no time like the present, my mother always said.” He walked them back to the hallway.

  “Sergeant, I want you to close the door in a minute.” Turning to the leaders, he said, “Look closely at what was the Oval Office.” He nodded to Fritz. When the latch clicked, Fritz pulled again. The vice president said, “If you will all follow me.” He stepped into Fritz's classroom. As they gathered in front of the room, Robert E. Lee reached out to his memory. The current occupants shared the same bewildered looks. The vice president continued. “You are standing in a classroom of an American high school. Now, would anyone like to go somewhere else?”

  “I would like to go to my home,” said the Israeli Prime Minister, smiling.

  Fritz reset the portal, and the Israeli invited everyone to join him. As the hall emptied, President Putin, the last one in line, caught his eye. Ashley joined Fritz.

  “Ash, do you have your phone?”

  “Yep.”

  “Go with them in case there's a problem,” Moments later, Fritz's phone rang. He looked at the ID screen.

  “Hi, Mr. President. Is your family okay?”

  “We're all shaken. Fritz, what's going on? I can't get back.”

  “Everyone is in Israel. I'll come get you in a minute. They're with the vice president.”

  The door opened and the leaders were talking softly, some to themselves.

  “Mr. President, they're coming back. I'll see you in a minute.”

  Ashley led them out and opened the door to the meeting room. The vice president and the Israeli leader were the last to come through.

  “Mr. Vice President, I may be wrong,” said the prime minister, “but I think you have convinced them.”

  THE PRESIDENT hurried across the hall. “I'll talk to you later, Fritz.” Holding the door open, Fritz and Ashley stared at unimaginable destruction. Shovels and wheelbarrows were already removing debris. Two men with paint brushes were whisking a flat surface. Although covered with rubble and surrounded by it, the Resolute Desk had survived. Covered in dust, tracks on her cheeks, Jane walked into the remains of the Oval Office with Colonel Mitchell. With small, careful steps, they reached the school hall. She hugged Ashley.

  Colonel Mitchell said, “At least seven are dead, and James is in bad shape. The bombs were mortar shells, apparently fired from the hotel. Whoever is responsible killed all their own operatives.”

  Jane said, “The president wants to keep going. He doesn't want another Geneva. He was doing so we
ll.”

  “The vice president picked up the meeting. He's already taken them to the Oval Office and Israel and let them see my classroom. He beat them over the head. I think it might work.”

  “He has to keep them quiet though. Fritz, if word gets out, the bad guys will know.”

  “Too bad we can't bug them all.”

  Jane said quietly, “Thanks, Fritz.”

  * * *

  IN THE MIDDLE OF Key Bridge, a man in a pinstripe suit took a camera from a small travel bag set on the paved walkway. Pretending to take pictures of the Lincoln Memorial and the lighted Lee-Custis mansion at the top of Arlington National Cemetery, he removed a silencer from his pocket and tossed the metal tube into the Potomac. When a lull in traffic gave him the opportunity, he tore the molded plastic from his face, wrapped it securely around the pistol and dropped them to the churning water below. Satisfied, he repacked the camera, climbed into his car, and headed for his waiting plane.

  Chapter 26

  “MR. PRESIDENT, in spite of all we have seen and all that has happened tonight, I need time to absorb your proposal. You expect much, perhaps more than is possible,” said the Lebanese president. “You cannot appreciate how limited my authority is. Hezbollah can veto anything we might decide.”

  “Mr. President, you have just witnessed what we can do. Some of you have already seen it first hand, though you may not have known it.”

  “That was YOU?” proclaimed the Narian president. “But how? They were underground.” The president smiled but said nothing, watching his audience exchange glances.

  “I am committed to our collective success,” said the president. “You have heard our proposal. Perhaps you need to consider it in some quiet. We'll stop for now and resume tomorrow morning. Same travel arrangements. You will all be picked up at 8 am. In light of tonight's attack, the location for tomorrow will be adjusted. To keep us all safe, you are all sworn to secrecy. I ask for your words of honor. I will consider any breach an act of bad faith, and depending on what comes of tonight's attack, perhaps an act of war.”