Nation Divided

by Drew Avera

  Frank stepped off of the platform and disappeared into the crowd forming inside Parliament. His speech had been elegantly delivered. He had met demands of my captors, and for that reason I now shook with fear.

  The man behind me placed the computer he had carried into the room in front of me and lifted the screen. On it I could see Frank sitting in the plush leather chair in his office. His eyes were red with a mix of anger and despair.

  "I've done what you have asked and I will agree to the terms of opening trade routes with the American Union as we discussed previously. You have my word on that. Now, please let her go," he said into the screen.

  "We thank you for complying with our demands, Prime Minister. Don't worry about Ms. Tyler—she will be released from her captivity," the man said behind me, bringing the slightest amount of relief to the nauseated feeling in my stomach. “We will keep in touch, so don't toy with us. Do you understand?"

  "Yes." Frank said it in a way that made it sound more like a hiss than a word.

  "Excellent. Goodbye, Prime Minister." The man slammed the computer closed with enough force to crack the screen. "Ms. Tyler, it appears you are free to go," he said as a cold piece of metal was placed against the back of my head. I held my breath because I had reported on enough of these situations to know what would happen next.

  30

  STEPHEN O’NEIL

  The flight to London was a blur as my mind drifted to what I would say to Prime Minister Leonard. The fact was not lost on me that this was a test of faithfulness to the real Caleb Fulton. The look in his eye alerted me to that fact, despite the coy smile he flashed each time I looked up at him. I was grieving, but not just from the loss of my wife, Carol. It was also for my children. They were in danger and I had a responsibility to protect them.

  I knew as we landed that I needed to get the Prime Minister alone with the truth. It was only then that I could truly negotiate with the man, but in order to do that I would have to reveal my secret. I pulled a piece of presidential letterhead from the stack of papers on the desk in the plane and scribbled quick notes. The flourish of my pen scrawled in a staccato rhythm as I jotted down the key points.

  I did not know how he would handle such news. I imagined the worst-case scenario would be a bullet in my head, either by the British or by Fulton's men upon my return. I hoped against hope it would not come to that.

  A knock at the door alerted me to an aide’s arrival. "Stephen, the plane is about to land and we need to go over some notes before we meet with Leonard," he said through the thin door.

  I quickly folded the paper and placed it in my coat pocket as I stood up from the desk. "Alright, I was just going over the script to better prepare," I said, opening the door and looking the man in the face. His blond hair was combed to the side, but his sideburns were bushier than most people would deem appropriate for a man serving the President of the American Union. "What's our ETA, Todd?"

  He looked at his watch and then answered. "We're scheduled to land in twelve minutes, provided we get a good tailwind upon approach. At least that's what the pilot said." Todd had a smirk as if there were an inside joke between the pilot and himself. I imagined it was probably something perverted; that was often Todd's flavor of humor.

  I folded the script in my hand and drummed it against my leg as I walked to the row of leather seats where my kids sat. I hunkered down next to my son Taylor and clasped the seatbelt across my lap, mulling over the script one final time. My thoughts were interrupted as Todd sat across from me.

  "We will be meeting Prime Minister Leonard at the London Marriott Hotel. There is a VIP suite with an office where the negotiation talks can take place. Arrangements have been made for your children to be cared for by a tenant childcare service provided by the hotel, so you shouldn't need to concern yourself with that. The Prime Minister will be accompanied by a secretary and two security guards. Mr. Fulton wanted me to stress to you that your primary goal is to get him to lift sanctions against the AU so that we can negotiate tariffs and other such details at a later time. There's no need to reach a finalized deal today, so you can rest easy. Do you have any questions for me?" Todd flooded my ears with enough information to make my head spin, but I caught enough of it to be comfortable with the situation.

  "No. I think I have a good handle on it. I just have to get him to agree to lift the sanctions. Someone else will handle the details later. I'm sure that I can do that without any problems," I said flatly. The disinterest in my voice was evident to me; I just hoped Todd did not pick up on it.

  "You'll do fine, Stephen. Prime Minister Leonard is motivated to have things go our way."

  I looked up at him and could see the same snarky smirk on his face as he had with his "tailwind" joke. "How do you figure that?" I asked.

  He leaned forward and looked at me with cold, blue eyes. "Let's just say our people have a way of motivating guys like him." Todd winked at me and the uneasy feeling in my stomach returned. Was there no place in the world Caleb Fulton could not reach with his evil schemes?

  I leaned my head back against the seat as the landing gear touched down in London. I was past the point of no return and I knew I had to commit fully to my plan or else my children's lives were at stake. There were things in life that I regretted, but I would not let losing them be one of those things.

  No matter what, I would protect my family from the horror that I feared would catapult the world into complete chaos.

  31

  PRIME MINISTER LEONARD

  I poured another glass of water as President Fulton stepped into the room. Ever since seeing the image of Sydney on the other side of the video feed, being held captive in a plot to control me, my throat has been dry. I gulped the water rather loudly as he walked closer.

  "Prime Minister Leonard," he said with a crooked smile and an extended hand. I immediately placed the glass on the table and shook his hand. It was a firm grip, though I could see a small bit of sorrow in his green eyes.

  "Mr. President," I replied with a nod. "Thank you for meeting with me."

  "The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Leonard," he said as he flattened the front of his jacket with his hand. He looked slightly uncomfortable, but I did not take offense to it. Trade negotiations under the current circumstances amid personal loss must have been weighing on him heavily. I understood it well.

  "Please, call me Frank," I said, hoping to bridge the gap and form a friendly bond.

  "Certainly, Frank, call me Caleb if you like."

  "I will, Caleb. How was your flight?"

  "It was like most transatlantic flights, long and uneventful. Listen, could we step outside on the balcony for a moment?" his abrupt question caught me off guard and I looked about the room to get a nod from my security detail. I noticed that a blonde man in President Fulton's company wore a strange expression, but I ignored it.

  "If you like. We have a marvelous view of Big Ben from here," I said as I moved over to the door. Caleb followed me outside and he gripped the guardrail with both hands as he looked out over the horizon. If he seemed slightly distracted before, then he looked completely distracted now. Perhaps like a different person. I could hear his deep breathing, and I felt a tinge of fear being in his presence. "Are you all right, Caleb?"

  He reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to me. Every movement he made was slight as he kept his back to the window while looking out over London. "Read this, but don't bring attention to yourself while doing so."

  "What is it?"

  "Just read it, Frank," he answered with a short tone. I unfolded the page and read the handwritten words scrawled across it.

  "I am not really the president. I am a pawn for the real Caleb Fulton who has my family serving him under duress. I am forced to do as he says or else my family will be killed. Please protect my family and grant us sanctuary in exchange for everything that I know. The men with me are not friendly. They work directly for the real Caleb Fulton and cannot be t
rusted. Signed, Stephen O'Neil."

  My hands trembled as I read the words. I could not believe such a thing could be true, but with Sydney being held captive and the emergency planning of this negotiation meeting, I knew that it was no coincidence.

  "Is this true?" I asked with a harsh undertone. I almost spit the words as I said them.

  "Every last bit," he answered. "Please, will you help us?"

  I could see his knuckles getting whiter as he griped the balcony rails. I was a good judge of whether a person was lying, and every piece of me cried that this man, Stephen, was telling the truth.

  "You realize that in doing so that it could cause a war?" I asked, trying desperately to maintain my composure.

  His shoulders slumped. "What makes you think that a war isn't already brewing?"

  He posed an excellent question. If the true President of the American Union was hiding his identity, then he was most likely hiding his true agenda as well.

  "The two men with you, they're bad guys?"

  "Yes."

  "Alright, stay here," I said as I turned to walk back inside. I opened the glass door and stepped onto the dark red carpet in the office and looked at my security detail. "John, do you enjoy the opera?"

  John, my head bodyguard, nodded his head and drew his weapon from its holster. Our secret phrase went unnoticed by Fulton's men until they saw the barrel of both my guards’ guns leveled at them. Within the span of a few seconds, silence erupted into a hail of gunfire as Fulton's men were executed.

  I turned to face Stephen, who looked like he was about to pass out as he gazed through the window. His captors were now dead, but the hellish situation had not passed fully. Now there were all kinds of questions which required answers. The most pressing was what the hell is happening and what does Sydney have to do with any of it?

  32

  PRIME MINISTER LEONARD

  "I assure you, I have no idea about any plot regarding Ms. Tyler," the smug bastard said with a face that belied the massive pile of shit he was now wading in.

  "I don't believe you," I hissed. The video feed experienced bouts of interference, but I knew he could hear me. I knew my words were not falling on deaf ears.

  "That's unfortunate. I have nothing to hide by not revealing that information to you, Frank." He said my name without any respect whatsoever.

  "I am Prime Minister Leonard to you and yes, you have a lot to hide apparently, based on the deceit by which you lead your country." I held back nothing.

  He smiled and straightened his tie. I assumed it was nothing more than nervousness coursing through his body. His tie hadn't moved since he adjusted it a minute earlier. "I'll tell you what, Prime Minister Leonard. I will concede to your demand of revealing my true identity to the citizens of the American Union within the seventy-two-hour window you suggested. In return, I would like the bodies of my men, Todd Childress and Chris Andrews, returned to me for a proper burial."

  "I can agree to that, provided that you use your intelligence information in order to track down Sydney Tyler. I want to see her alive, mind you." Every bit of my body ached to know if she was alive.

  "I have received the information regarding the call you received, and I am having my people trace it. I will do my best to ensure Ms. Tyler is returned to you safely. Do I have your word that neither you nor Stephen O'Neil will release the information you have before I have had a chance to deliver it myself?"

  The audacity of this son of a bitch to presume to tell me how this was going to be played out pissed me off. I bit my tongue. "You have my word. Mr. O'Neil is being held in a secure location, both for his safety and to prevent any kind of information from being dispersed by accident. Does that suit your needs?"

  "It does." Fulton scratched his eyebrow and ran his hand behind his head. "Be sure to watch the news outlets, Prime Minister. There will be something of interest to you very soon."

  Before I had a chance to respond, he closed the communication link.

  "What does that mean?" Stephen asked. The man looked bewildered, with his shirt untucked from his pants and bands of sweat forming under his arms and around his neck. I thought for a moment that he might have a heart attack.

  I stood up and closed the screen to my computer. Fulton's words obviously had a double meaning. He wanted me to keep an eye out for his announcement, but I knew the tragic truth was that he wanted me to hear something more. "I believe it is a declaration of war." I could hear Stephen gasp.

  The words escaped my lips almost as if my brain didn't have a chance to filter through them. It was automatic. The horror of my words was not that they existed, but that they were most likely true. I knew war was a possibility, but I didn't think it was a likely conclusion. Regardless, I had no choice but to take his threat as a real possibility. And if that were so, then God have mercy on us all.

  PART II

  33

  CALEB FULTON

  It’s the beginning of the end, I thought as I closed the connection between Prime Minister Leonard and myself. I could feel the rage building up inside me as I wheeled myself away from the desk, away from the last thing that connected me to that self-righteous son of a bitch who decided to interfere with my plans. The fact he ran to seek refuge in a country that refused to give him over to me was ironic, especially considering he was the face behind my administration for so many years and my policies were not always aligning with those of England. I wanted Stephen O'Neil to know true loss due to his betrayal, but I knew I had put all these barriers into play by my actions. I held my expectations too high and wore my heart on my sleeve to a fault. Once my true intentions were revealed, I lost the upper hand and drove Stephen to no longer trust me. I didn't see it at the time, but that broken trust drove a deeper wedge between us than I could circumnavigate through sheer will. I had to take things into my own hands, to show him I had control of the situation he considered his life. I wanted to show him I was God and I would allow nothing else to keep me from getting what I wanted. Perhaps, somewhere deep inside of me, after taking his wife's life, I thought he would continue our charade.

  I thought a lot of things.

  "He sounds pissed, sir," Jared said as he sat on the couch behind me. He was so quiet I almost forgot he was in the room.

  I turned my wheelchair in order to look at him directly. "He does, but that doesn't matter. We have seventy-two hours to comply with his demands and by the time we get to that point we should be underway with our own plans. They will have no idea what’s coming."

  "I'm still not following how this is a good thing, sir," he said as he ran his hand through his graying hair. Six years ago, it had been a dark brown without a single strand of gray. My, how things change.

  I rested my head on my hand, tired of the constant questioning. "These plans have been in place for years, Jared. I know that it is hard to imagine how something of this magnitude could sleep peacefully during all the tumultuous history we have endured, but trust me; there are men and women in many stations of life who have waited years for this time to come. The plan has been scrutinized many times over the years, searching for any weakness in it, only to find that it is the most solidly laid plan in our history. Believe me, when I tell you that this is what is going to save America and restore her to her prior greatness."

  He nodded his head in agreement, but I knew he did not understand. "If you don't mind me asking, sir, what's the next part of the plan?"

  I smiled. "I need you to contact General Lettum and tell him to prepare the missiles. He will know exactly what I mean."

  "Where can I find this General Lettum?"

  I sat in my thoughts for a moment. General Lettum had been a war criminal during a skirmish over thirty years ago. He was a Texan who bled for his country as it fell apart around him. He was slightly maniacal as he led troops to the doorstep of the American Union's capital. It was a forced surrender on his part, and along with his men, he was thrust into a military tribunal. The last straw for him was seeing his men e
xecuted before his eyes. The Confederate Government refused to trade prisoners for them so our leadership at the time decided to kill them all, except for Lettum. He was considered a valuable asset and spent the last thirty years incarcerated.

  "You will find him at American Union Penitentiary, Marion," I said. Jared's eyes bulged as he seemed to suddenly realize who it was that I was referring to.

  "Are you sure, sir?"

  "I'm as sure as I'll ever be, Jared. Just get word to him and report back to me. Seventy-two hours is a short leash, and we need to get ahead of the situation."

  "Isn't he a monster?" Jared asked with a bit of nervousness in his voice.

  I looked up at him and replied, "Aren't we all monsters?" my question hung in the air as his jaws tightened and his eyes narrowed. No one ever liked to think themselves the monster, but it was inevitable to one day become that which you hated for the greater good. A good man once told me that in this very room. He was dead now, like so many of those who came before me.

  Jared rose from the couch and looked at me, holding his breath as if he had something to say before turning to leave the room, leaving me to sit in the dormant silence of my office. He was beginning to question my choices, but unlike Stephen, Jared was smart enough not to say anything about it. I liked people like Jared; they were the kinds of people who let the fires burn until it was too late to put them out. And this fire would not be easily extinguished.