This gave Cunningham an idea. He sat down with his closest and most trusted advisors, and outlined a plan that would form the foundations of his presidential campaign. He knew it would be met with an initial outcry. He knew he would be laughed off the stage when he first talked about his plan for change. But he knew, unquestioningly, that he could win people over.
If he made cocaine a legal drug, implemented laws to regulate its production, usage and distribution, as well as fund awareness campaigns for the obvious health concerns, he could apply tax to the one point eight trillion dollar a year industry. That alone would boost the economy, and it would also put the Cartels out of business. Crime would drop, relations with South American countries would improve, and that would eventually lead to further opportunities for trade agreements between nations.
It was the same with prostitution. It’s global worth as an industry was around two hundred billion dollars per year. He could make it legal, introduce a healthcare system for the people who worked in the business, and make it a safe, legitimate, respectable environment to work in. The women would be better off, and better paid, plus he could apply tax to the consumer spending. Couple that with the cocaine money, and the income from those two sources alone would wipe out the Federal Deficit in just a few short months. That alone would guarantee him the Oval Office.
He was a natural salesman, and he believed that if he subtly disguised the how with the why, people would eventually show their support.
Theoretically, his plan was perfect. But he knew the biggest problem he faced was the level of bureaucracy that the Oval Office frequently came up against when it tried to get things done. Battles with the Senate to get bills passed could be long-winded, which would delay his plans for a new golden age of American history.
He knew that if he wanted these changes to be accepted, he needed to recreate that unification the country saw following 9/11. Where people rallied together, and the government backed any proposed changes with blind enthusiasm, simply because it was better than what they had at the time.
That would take something extraordinarily tragic; an atrocity so terrifying, it could unite the country in an instant—make people turn to someone who could promise them a brighter future, no matter what the journey to get there entailed...
Cunningham was engrossed in the many reports detailing the aftermath of the terrorist attack three days ago. The attack had simply been christened 4/17 by most international media outlets, similar to how 9/11 was, some sixteen years prior. A couple of the more creative reporters had adopted the moniker of Nuclear Monday, but that hadn’t caught on quite as well, being deemed in poor taste.
He failed to suppress a smile as he read about nations that were decimated—blasted back to the Stone Age in less than twenty minutes, and how their leaders were literally begging the United States to help them. His allies in Western Europe had immediately jumped to his side, but he’d already spoken with his fellow presidents and prime ministers, assuring them they needn’t get their own countries into debt trying to rebuild the world—he had it all under control.
He turned the page and saw a large feature on the work GlobaTech Industries was doing in the Middle East, notably in Syria and Israel. Both nations had been hit hard in the attack, and had opened their borders to each other without hesitation, in an effort to help refugees find shelter and medical support. GlobaTech was acting as a peacekeeping force, as well as transporting food, clean water and temporary housing to the region.
Cunningham’s smile broadened as he read the report, in which the journalist had commented that, while it was an obvious tragedy, the fact that the conflict between both countries had immediately come to an end was a silver lining in an otherwise black cloud. It went on to say just how strong the human will to survive truly was, and that it was a shame that sometimes it took something so horrifying to make people see there’s more to life than each other’s differences.
The president closed the paper, folded it in half and placed it on the table next to his armchair. He then stood, cradling the glass of brandy in his hand as he walked over to the fire, staring thoughtfully into the flames.
He knew the world would hate him when they inevitably found out what he’d done. But reading that article only served to strengthen his belief that everything he’d done was in the best interest of not only the people in his country, but around the world as well. He might go down in history as the worst terrorist to ever live, but at least the future in which that history was taught would be a peaceful one.
SANTA CLARITA, CALIFORNIA, USA
April 21st, 2017
06:04 PDT
Jericho was woken by a persistent knocking on his apartment door. He opened his right eye slowly, rubbing it to remove the grit accumulated during the five hours of broken sleep he’d managed. As per the doctor’s instruction, he’d left his eye patch in place.
He swung his legs out of bed and stood slowly, stretching and grimacing through the cacophony of aches and cracks. Wearing nothing except his boxer shorts, he padded slowly over to the door, opening it without a second thought.
Julie was standing in the corridor, leaning on his doorframe. She looked wide awake and fresh-faced. Her hair was tied up, and she was wearing a tight vest top and cargo pants.
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” she said with a smile, looking him up and down. “Get your shit together—we’ve got a meeting to go to.”
“Who with?” asked Jericho, still half asleep.
“Winters and Schultz. C’mon, let’s go.”
“What time is it?”
“Just after six, why?”
Jericho sighed and shook his head. “No reason—I’ve just not readjusted to military mornings yet.”
Julie looked at him with mock sympathy, pouting. “Poor baby... Come on, shift your ass.”
She stuck her tongue out playfully before turning on the spot and walking off down the corridor, not waiting for him to respond.
He raised an eyebrow and smiled, before ducking back inside and closing the door. He grabbed a quick shower and threw some clothes on before leaving his apartment and following her out of the building.
The sun was already shining, high and bright in a cloudless blue sky. Jericho navigated his way across the base, which was already alive with activity, passing troops, weapons testing ranges, and an array of vehicles, both parked and mobile. He caught up with Julie as they neared the office building in the southwest corner of the compound. To highlight exactly how large the base in Santa Clarita was, it took them nearly ten minutes to walk there from the apartments.
The meeting was on the fourth floor—in the same place Jericho was de-briefed the other day. They rode the elevator up, and walked side by side down the corridor toward the conference room. As they entered, both Josh and Ryan Schultz stood and looked over.
“Thanks for coming so quickly, guys,” said Josh. “Take a seat.”
He gestured to two chairs facing the door, backs to the window. Julie was the first to sit down, leaning back on her chair and resting one leg on the table. Jericho took a seat next to her and looked around, noting the tense look on Schultz’s face.
“Has something happened?” he asked.
“Nothing bad,” said Josh, before Schultz could say anything. “We just have news. And a mission for you. We’re just waiting for one more. They should be here—”
“Sorry I’m late,” said a voice from over by the doorway.
Everyone looked over to see Ray Collins standing there, smiling as his gaze rested on Jericho and Julie.
“Fuck me—Blackbeard!” he said, laughing.
“You all... know each other?” asked Josh, surprised.
Collins waved his hand dismissively as he stepped into the room and took a seat opposite Jericho. “Aye, we go way back! The big guy here saved my ass from a beatin’ last night in the bar.” He nodded at Julie. “And Sarah Connor over there just can’t control herself around me...”
“You wish!” she
scoffed, giving him the finger.
He smiled and nodded to her raised middle digit. “You wish, sweetheart!”
Jericho chuckled, which prompted Julie to glare at him and punch his arm. “Don’t you start...” she said.
Jericho shrugged. “Hey, what have I done?”
“Alright, alright,” said Schultz. “Everyone zip it. In the interest of full disclosure,” he looked to his left, “Julie Fisher, Jericho Stone... this is Ray Collins. He’s one of our best, believe it or not.” He turned to Collins. “These two are your new teammates, so play nice.” He sat back down at the head of the table, clasping his hands in front of him and leaning forward in his seat. “Alright, ladies, listen up. Individually, the three of you are impressive soldiers. Julie, Ray... you’ve served GlobaTech for many years between you, and you’ve proven time and time again we can rely on you. Jericho, you’re a decorated soldier with a history of commanding a black-ops unit. But right now, in this room... this is the big leagues, understand?”
“Okay,” said Josh, taking his cue. “You’ve all been briefed on what’s happening and why you’re here. We need to put together a small team, to work quietly in order to conduct our own investigation into the CIA, with regard to the recent attacks. Also, we need to know how the president factors into all this.”
He took out a remote from his pocket and aimed it at the TV on the wall opposite, which Jericho figured was a replacement for the one he broke the day before. He clicked it, and an image flickered onto the screen, showing a file photo on the left, with information on the right, bullet-pointed.
“Our first client, so to speak...” he continued. “We’ve been contacted by one of our employees—an engineer who worked on the Cerberus satellite. In light of the recent terrorist attack, and our internal revelation about who’s responsible, he’s come to realize that he has information about the work he did that actually serves to implicate the president in what happened.”
“Fuck...” said Collins. “Who is he?”
“His name’s Daniel Vincent. He’s hiding out in Prague, staying in a low-key hotel in the city center. He’s concerned the CIA might be on to him, so we need to get to him first and bring both him, and his information, home safely.”
“Sounds easy enough...” commented Jericho.
“Things like this always sound easy... But remember, you’re not military anymore, okay? You’re an everyday citizen with a nine-to-five job, so watch yourself. If things get messy, or go wrong, you can be arrested and there’s nothing we can do to help you. The government has the advantage here, so play it smart.”
Jericho nodded. “Understood.”
“I want you all to prepare for this—get yourselves kitted out and ready to move on a moment’s notice. Let me be clear, guys and girls, if we can get more evidence to back up what Adrian Hell’s got, we’re a step closer to bringing the bad guys down... publicly. Which is safer for all concerned. I suggest you head over to the armory now and prepare. Questions?”
Collins raised his hand tentatively, as if unsure whether he should or not. “I might be a little behind the times on a few things here, but did you say Adrian Hell has the evidence against the CIA?”
Josh nodded. “That’s right. He’s public enemy number one right now, and that intel is the only thing keeping him alive.”
“Christ...” He turned to address the others. “Let me tell ya, I helped get that guy over the border and into Pripyat last week. He’s tough as fuck, and a whole other kind of crazy.” He looked back at Josh. “How did he do over there, anyway? Did he get his girl back?”
Josh nodded and smiled. “He did, yeah. And he’s eternally grateful to you for your help.”
Collins shrugged, like it was no big deal. “How did it go down?”
“He stole a tank, blew up most of an abandoned research facility, went underground and took out over twenty guys before walking his lady friend right out the front door.”
The few moments of stunned silence in the room that followed was eventually broken by Collins, who clapped his hands and cheered. “Fuck yeah! That’s what I’m talkin’ about! Good for him!”
Josh smiled again. “Indeed.”
Jericho had to admit he was impressed. What he remembered of his brief interaction with Adrian, back in Colombia, left him with the impression he was a capable guy. He let out a heavy sigh and went to speak, but hesitated.
Josh noticed. “What is it?” he asked him.
Jericho sighed again. “Look... I spoke to my old contact at the CIA, which I’m guessing is what put them onto me,” he said. “If the agency is already on Vincent’s trail, involving me will only increase the risk to him, surely?”
Josh shook his head. “The CIA’s involvement with regards to both Daniel Vincent, and you, was inevitable. Yes, it would’ve been ideal if we could’ve gone a little longer without them knowing about you, but it doesn’t matter. You needed to figure things out for yourself, I get that. And now you have, you’re prepared for what comes next, which is a positive thing.”
Jericho stood, which prompted Julie and Collins to do the same. “Okay,” he said, feeling a need to take charge. “We’ll get ourselves ready to move. I’m assuming transportation isn’t an issue around here?”
Josh smiled, glancing out the window before answering. “Yeah, we’ve got most things covered.”
Jericho smiled briefly. “I figured.” He then turned and left the room, followed moments later by his new colleagues. He made his way to the elevator at the end of the corridor, and held the doors for the others. Once inside, he pressed the button and they rode it down to the ground floor.
“So where’s the armory?” Jericho asked.
“We’ve got a couple,” said Julie. “One main storage unit, with another for testing.”
“Aye, this place is like Candyland mate,” added Collins, with his trademark mischievous grin.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened.
“Can’t wait...” said Jericho quietly as he stepped out, allowing Julie to take the lead.
07:09 PDT
They walked across the compound to the north side, toward a long, low building next to a helipad. Julie nodded a professional greeting to a few people as they made their way over.
“This is the testing area,” she explained. “Probably a good idea to go here first. Some of our weapons and tech will be a little different to what you’re used to.”
“A gun’s a gun,” said Jericho, casually.
Julie met Collins’ eye and exchanged a knowing smile before answering. “Spoken like a true soldier. But we’re a good five years ahead of the military, in terms of technological advancement, so open your mind a little, big boy.”
She strode on ahead with a casual, confident swagger. Collins turned to Jericho. “She’s quite a character,” he said.
Jericho laughed. “Yeah, I’m getting that impression.” He nudged Collins’ arm with his elbow. “I think she likes you.”
Collins smiled. “And who could blame her, right?”
They laughed together and followed her inside the building. The entrance was a large, spacious foyer, with gun-metal gray paneling on the walls; clean, and giving the place an almost futuristic feel. Multiple corridors branched off in five different directions, each with large, stenciled white lettering on the adjacent wall, advising of what lay at the end of each one.
Julie was disappearing down the second corridor on the left, which was marked as leading to a weapons testing range. Jericho and Collins followed her down the corridor, which doglegged to the right and opened out into a large hangar, divided into various sections by a mixture of wooden and glass partitions. The corridor terminated on a walkway, roughly two floors above the ground, which stretched all along the side of the area. A metal staircase descended just to the left of them.
They made their way down, catching up with Julie as she approached a black man dressed in fatigues, wearing a cap, which he had on backward.
“Fisher
,” he said, loudly. “What brings you here, girl?”
“Hey, Dev, just giving the newbie a tour,” she said, gesturing to Jericho with her thumb. She turned. “Jericho, this is Devon Green. He’s our resident weapons expert.”
Green looked over, and then up, at Jericho’s massive frame, which dwarfed him by almost a foot. “Christ!” he said laughing before extending his hand. “Call me Dev.”
Jericho smiled politely and shook it. “Good to meet you.”
Dev turned to Collins and gave him a curt nod. “And how you keepin’, Ray?”
They shook hands. “You know me, Dev—I’m doing just fine.”
Dev laughed. “You’re right, I do know you,” he said, pointing to the bruising on Collins’ face, “that’s why I’m asking! Was that over a woman, by any chance?”
Collins touched his face. “Oh, this? Nah—that was just a misunderstanding.”
“Uh-huh... you do have a lot of misunderstandings.”
Collins smiled. “Keeps life interesting.”
“What you got for me today?” asked Julie, changing the subject.
Dev reached over to the workstation he was standing in front of and picked up an assault rifle, holding it out to her. “This is the latest variation of our popular AX-19. As you can see, there’s space for two mags, clipping in at forty-five degree angles here,” he pointed to the underside of the barrel, “...and here, allowing for twice the firepower and half the reloading.”
Julie took the weapon in her hand, feeling the weight and lining a shot up. “Very nice,” she said, handing it back.
Dev smiled. “And for aiming, we have... this.” He picked up a scope and held it out ceremoniously. “It’s the latest piece of tech—been in development for six months. Multiple sights and views.” He pointed to a dial on the side, near the eye piece. “You can cycle through them by turning this—night vision and heat signature are standard... and you can also tag targets for assisted aiming. If there’s more than one of you, there’s the option to wirelessly sync the scope’s display, so if one of you tags a target, it’ll be displayed through all of the linked scopes.”
D.E.A.D. Till I Die: An Action Thriller (GlobaTech Book 1) Page 12
