The Olympus Device: Book Three

by Joe Nobody

  Scanning the area, a puzzled look came over the attorney’s face. “And how are you going to make a plane disappear, Dusty?”

  “The boat ramp,” he replied with a smile. “Planes sink rather quickly, or so I’ve heard.”

  Shaking her head, Grace said, “I hope Mitch bought the insurance when he rented it.”

  As if on cue, Mitch appeared around the corner. “Grace, do you have a bobby pin, by any chance? I need a small length of conductive metal.”

  It took a few moments to dig the hair restraint from her purse, finally holding up the thin wire as if happy to contribute something. “I’m now officially as accessory to burglary,” she smirked, handing it over.

  “Meet us around back when you’re done,” Dusty instructed his brother.

  A few minutes later, the trio regrouped on the back stoop, Mitch nodding toward the door. “All set.”

  Dusty’s elbow busted the small pane of glass above the knob with a single stroke. Reaching carefully through the shards, he manipulated the lock and then opened the door. Turning to Grace with a shy smile, he bent low at the waist and made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “Should I carry you across the threshold, my dear?”

  The home was fully appointed with furniture, appliances, and even a few snacks in the kitchen. They found crackers, bottled water, candy bars, and two cans of soup. Grace wrinkled her nose, pulling out a to-go box of Chinese leftovers the sales agent had left in the fridge. “I think this fried rice is as old as the Great Wall itself,” she mused, inspecting the layer of furry growth concealing the cuisine.

  “We’ve even got eating utensils,” Mitch announced, pulling the plastic-wrapped bundles from one of the drawers.

  Dusty, finishing his tour of the home, added to the excitement. “There are beds, bath towels, soap in the dishes, and even hot, running water. Can I pick a vacation spot or what?”

  “But what about the plane?” Mitch asked, bringing an end to the upbeat report. “We can’t just leave it sitting out there sticking out like a sore thumb. The government will be looking for it, probably from the air.”

  Dusty’s answer didn’t improve his younger brother’s outlook. “Okay, so you sink the plane in the lake. What then? Are we going to walk back to Texas?”

  Waving his companions into the den-turned-realtor’s office, Dusty gestured to a map hanging on the wall. “We’re about five miles from this little town. There’s internet here, so if Grace can hook up her laptop, we will make sure there’s a used car lot hereabouts. I’ve got cash. Since your face is less well-known, you can stroll into town and buy us some new wheels, Mitch.”

  “How do we know someone won’t show up to sell a house?” Grace inquired.

  Dusty stepped toward the desk, punching the button on an answering machine. “Please leave your name and number, and I’ll return your call. Thank you for calling Fane Properties. We look forward to serving you,” sounded the greeting.

  “If anybody calls to make an appointment, we should hear it on that machine. I’m hoping the realtor calls in remotely to check for messages,” Dusty said.

  A quick internet search confirmed that the nearby berg did indeed support two used car lots, one of the web pages showing a 6-year old SUV advertised with 75,000 highway miles and new tires. The price was right, and a phone call confirmed the unit was still on the lot.

  “Make sure the battery is good,” Dusty instructed, handing Mitch a bundle of cash.

  “And make sure the air conditioning works,” Grace added.

  “And double check the power steering,” Dusty continued, enjoying the opportunity to harp on his brother.

  “I have bought a car before,” he protested, dismissing both of them. “I’m a professor for heaven’s sake…. Give me a break.”

  Ten minutes later, Mitch was hiking up the deserted street, hand-drawn map and small bag of money in his grasp.

  Dusty turned to Grace, draping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. “Kids these days, they think they know it all,” he teased, pretending to be the proud parent.

  “They do grow up fast,” she replied, playing along. “Now, you keep a keen lookout, Mr. Weathers, while I go rinse off some of this road dust in the shower. If the coast is still clear when I’m done, I may need help drying off.”

  “In the headlines today, the Midwest was rocked by two separate explosions,” began the newscaster. The first blast occurred just outside St. Louis, Missouri at a regional airport, following a short time later by what some are speculating was a gas leak at the Federal Bullion Repository at Fort Knox, Kentucky. We go now to our local reporter, Michael Stansky just outside Fort Knox.”

  The president watched as the picture switched to an image of a younger, clean-cut man standing on a roadside, the strobe of emergency vehicle lights behind him in the distance.

  “Authorities are being extremely close-lipped about what happened here today,” began the local newshound. “Citing national security concerns, the U.S. Army shut down the entire Fort Knox compound immediately after the incident, and no one is being allowed near the base or the gold repository at this time. What we do know is that at 1:48 PM local time, residents as far away as Elizabethtown began calling their local law enforcement officials to report a possible earthquake. According to various spokespersons, entire structures were shaken for approximately five seconds early this afternoon, with only minor incidents of damage being reported at this time. So far, we have no indication of any causalities.”

  The monitor in the White House Situation Room changed again, this time showing the face of a haggard looking woman holding a rather restless toddler. “I was down at the convenience store,” she said into the microphone. “All of a sudden, the whole building shook like there was no tomorrow. I thought we were being hit by a tornado. Stuff was knocked off the shelves, and everybody just hunkered down like they were about to die.”

  The president looked at his chief of staff, shaking his head in disgust. Rhodes started to say something, but the chief executive cut him off, pointing back to the monitor on the wall to indicate he wasn’t finished watching the news.

  The young reporter was back. “I’ve talked to various experts, and most agree that either the military experienced some sort of massive ammunition accident, or there was a significant natural gas explosion on the base. We’ve been promised a news conference later this evening and will bring our viewers up to date at that time. Back to you in New York, Frank.”

  The main anchor’s face flashed only for a moment, “And now on to St. Louis, where a similar situation unfolded at the Archway Regional Airport early this afternoon. We go to Kelly Pierce, reporting for KLSL in rural Illinois.”

  On came a middle-aged female reporter that dominated a similar backdrop of emergency lights, only this time there was a plume of smoke accenting the scene. “Frank, at approximately 11:55 this morning, local residents reported hearing a series of thunderous blasts at the small airport behind me in the distance. As I file this report, non-emergency personnel are being kept away, officials citing potential fuel leaks and secondary explosions as a primary concern for everyone’s safety. I was told off the record that there have been causalities, but the authorities haven’t released any additional details. This is Kelly Pierce, reporting for KLSL Eyewitness News.”

  Making a cutting motion across his throat, the president indicated he’d seen enough. After an aide muted the broadcast, the president turned to Rhodes and said, “Do we know for sure what happened in St. Louis? I need facts, not speculation or conjecture.”

  The chief of staff nodded toward the end of the table where a cluster of military officers resided.

  A 4-star general cleared his throat, obviously hesitating in order to choose his words carefully. “Our people just arrived on-site a few hours ago, Mr. President. The initial word is that the explosion appears to have been caused by cluster munitions. Perhaps more than one.”

  “What?” the president snapped, not believing his ears.
Before the general could respond, the ramifications were already sinking in. “One of ours?” he added immediately, a sick expression filling his face.

  “It’s too early to be sure, sir, but yes, my man on the scene has uncovered evidence that it was one of ours. He’s found at least one unexploded bomblet, most likely from a Tomahawk land-attack cruise missile. I’ve already ordered all commands to conduct an immediate inventory of our munitions. In addition, we should have the serial number tracked down by the manufacturer in the next few hours.”

  A shock wave ripped through the room, many of the gathered Washington elite growing pale with the implications of what had just been reported. It was Mr. Rhodes who finally spoke first, uttering only two words, “Hughes and Armstrong.”

  “What? What did you say?” asked the president.

  “Of the 11-member blue ribbon commission, only nine were attending the negotiations in St. Louis. Admiral Armstrong and Senator Hughes claimed to have scheduling conflicts and were unable to participate with such short notice. We kept security pretty tight, sir. Other than the actual members of the panel, not very many people knew of the meeting’s time or location.”

  The president couldn’t seem to grasp what his top advisor was saying. “But… but… that’s ludicrous, Rhodes. Why would they want to kill Weathers? They would have to know we’d catch on. It doesn’t make any sense….”

  “Unless they didn’t care about getting caught, sir,” chimed in the 4-star warrior from the other end of the table. “If they had managed to gain possession of that doomsday weapon, they probably wouldn’t be worried about prosecution or any other ramifications. My guess is that we would have already heard from them by now, most likely via a list of demands.”

  A wave of nausea rolled through the chief executive’s gut, his face exposing the pain of fear that suddenly occupied his core as the implications of the general’s statement set in. “A coup? I can’t believe that. I know Hughes is a hardliner, but the man was a U.S. Senator for over 20 years.”

  “I’ve known Admiral Armstrong for a long time, sir. There’s no greater patriot. But the last few years, he’s started expressing the occasional extreme position, calling himself a constitutionalist and complaining about politicians. If his retirement papers hadn’t come in, I would have shortened his verbal leash,” the general added.

  Turning to the Secretary of Homeland Security, the president wasted no time in issuing an order. “Have the FBI pick both men up immediately.”

  “Yes, sir,” came the response as the nation’s security czar reached for a phone.

  “You won’t find them,” warned the general. “Men with that much wealth, power, and experience can vanish into thin air. Besides, they’re several steps ahead of us. They could be anywhere by now.”

  The president pushed back from the table, standing abruptly without warning. All present knew the habit, the inner circle having observed the Commander in Chief pace back and forth while in thought.

  “Weathers was right,” he finally announced, arms crossed, hand rubbing his chin. “That damned backwoods Texan could see it all along. This is why he’s raised such a fuss… caused us all of these headaches… was so stubborn. He was worried about people abusing his discovery from the very beginning, and we should’ve listened.”

  Rhodes disagreed. “I think you’re giving him too much credit, sir. I believe he was merely trying to auction off his invention to the highest bidder.”

  The president wasn’t convinced, “No, I disagree. He could’ve sold that technology for more money than any one man could spend in a lifetime, but he didn’t. Instead, he demanded layers of protection for the device, just so something like this wouldn’t happen.”

  “So what do we do now, sir?”

  “We have a man holding the most powerful device ever created. He’s roaming around in the heartland of our country, and he’s convinced that I just tried to kill him. He’s already struck a blow of reprisal at Fort Knox, which may or may not have satiated his need for revenge. I think our top priority is to convince Mr. Weathers that neither I nor our government, had anything to do with that attack.”

  “If I were in his shoes, that would be a tall order, sir,” the general said. “You’d have hell to pay convincing me that some rogue element of the military decided on its own to cut loose with missiles.”

  “Perhaps Mr. Weathers isn’t as cynical as you are, General,” Rhodes commented.

  “Perhaps,” replied the sage, old warhorse. “Let’s hope he’s not as aggressive either, because if I were in that guy’s shoes, I’d be heading to Washington, DC right about now. I’d be brandishing my sword and searching for the man who tried to kill me.”

  Again, the military man’s perspective dawned a new potential to the gathering. “You’re not implying the president is in danger?” Rhodes gasped.

  The general shook his head, never understanding the pacifist mentality. “The president would be in grave danger if Weathers thought like most of the Texans I’ve met. That’s a pride based organization down there, Mr. Rhodes, especially in the western part of the state. When I was an airborne brigade commander at Fort Bragg, I ran into more than a few of their ilk. They’re generally not the sort to shy away from a fight, and you can double that sentiment if they feel they’ve been wronged. I’m not a behavioral physiologist, but after the pictures I’ve seen of Fort Knox, I’d say you’re dealing with one pissed off citizen of the Lone Star State, and he’s calling us out. ”

  “That’s ridiculous, General, one of the most asinine evaluations I’ve ever heard,” Rhodes countered. “We’re dealing with a mindset more resembling that of a criminal than some primitive tribal concept of honor or face.”

  One look from the president silenced the debate, his face making it clear he’d reached a decision. “I’m more inclined to go with the general’s assessment on this matter. I think we need to get out in front of this and let Mr. Weathers and his supporters know we didn’t have anything to do with the attempt on his life. I’m going to go to the press with the truth, and kill two birds with one stone. We’ll have all of America looking for Senator Hughes and Admiral Armstrong – while at the same time sending a message to our angry Texan.”

  The room erupted in voices, Rhodes trying to protest his boss’s decision, other attendees initiating sub-conversations in small groups. “Sir! Sir! I’d strongly advise against going public with this,” Rhodes’s voice implored, finally overriding the din. “Our nation is already deeply divided and ripe with conspiracy theory, political mudslinging, and distrust of your administration. Admitting that a rogue military unit might be loose with long-range weapons at their disposal is just going to make the situation worse. People are already frightened of Weathers and his apocalyptic weapon. There’s a possibility you could incite panic in the streets.”

  “You may be absolutely right,” the president responded, feeling more confident in his newly conceived strategy. “But I don’t think honesty is going to cause nearly as much social unrest as what would occur if Weathers strikes again. Worse yet, if the facts about St. Louis or Knox leak out on their own, then the American people will have two threats to deal with – their own government… and the Olympus Device. If we remain silent, it makes us look guilty. If we attempt some half-assed misinformation campaign or try to bullshit the press, then we indeed look guilty as hell.”

  “Sir, I agree that we must talk to the press, but I was hoping to buy some time… release the facts gradually so as not to provoke social unrest or pour gasoline on any conspiracy fires.”

  The president shook his head, “In my judgment that would probably result in an even more damning response from the general public. But it’s not the people I’m most worried about – it’s our friend from Texas. We have to address that issue first, ladies and gentlemen. Weathers has to be our highest priority.”

  “I don’t see how going public is going to convince that guy that we had nothing to do with the attempt on his life,” someone r
emarked.

  The president’s face grew cold, his glazed-over eyes indicative of having mentally drifted to an uncomfortable, lonely place. “I’m counting on our friend with the superweapon being a reasonable, logical individual and taking what we say publically into consideration.”

  The man once touted as the most powerful in the world, was now having second thoughts about that label. Continuing in a metered voice, he responded, “I have no choice but to make that assumption. Because if that Texan has already gone completely rogue, then nothing we do or say will make any difference anyway.”

  A disheartening hush fell over the room, the best and brightest minds in the country well aware of what the boss had just stated. Some worried about their own futures, others considering the lives of family and friends. A few of the more creative individuals wondered about Weathers’ next target. Was it going to be a nuclear reactor? A New York skyscraper? The Pentagon? The very building where they were seated? There was no shortage of strategic objectives.