by Alex Siegel
"I need details," Walker said.
The officer chatted on his headset and typed on his computer. Walker waited impatiently.
"I think the fight is already over, sir. Nobody is responding. We lost."
Walker clenched his fists. "Wait. Didn't we just move that unit?"
"Yes, sir. They were ambushed while they were unloading."
Walker's frustration doubled. Despite his use of Red Eye radios, the Gray Spear Society was still getting good intelligence. They seemed to know exactly where and when to hit for maximum effect. Every successful strike delayed the assault on the Rosemont Tower Hotel a little more. He felt like he was driving in reverse.
"Fuck!" Walker yelled.
The console operators glanced at him.
He walked over to the buffet table. Sliced pizzas were laid out for everybody to eat, and they smelled good. He grabbed a slice of pepperoni and angrily chewed on it.
The mysterious "Lord of the Gray Spear Society" was making a fool of Walker, and he was sick of it. He hadn't become a lieutenant general in the Army and the Director of the Defense Intelligence Agency by allowing people to take advantage of him. It was time to change the rules of the game. It was time to turn the enemy's strength into a weakness.
He ate while various plans percolated in his brain.
Walker walked over to the officer responsible for coordinating air and space resources. The Gray Spear Society had blocked access to most of those resources using devious computer viruses, so the officer had little to do. The man had a short, compact body with not much fat. He had once been a fighter pilot.
"I need a single bomber," Walker said.
"But I thought we weren't allowed to use bombers, sir," the officer said.
"We're not dropping a bomb on the hotel. We'll hit a different location. Bring up a map of Chicago."
The officer typed on his keyboard, and a map popped up. Walker leaned down to study it. After panning around and examining various locations, he settled on a train depot in Elmwood Park. This suburb was about seven and a half miles south-east of the hotel, a safe enough distance.
"OK," Walker said. "We have to handle this very carefully and quietly. The enemy has compromised our communications channels. Call up Eglin Air Force Base on the phone, and let me talk to the commander directly. I'm going to want a BLU-96 dropped on that spot." He tapped the map of Chicago.
The officer stared. "Sir, that's a densely populated civilian area. People are still living there. A bomb that big will flatten the whole neighborhood!"
"This is war. Sacrifices must be made."
The officer didn't move.
"That's an order," Walker barked. "You know what will happen if you disobey my orders."
The officer's face grew pale. "Yes, sir. I'll make that call right now."
Walker nodded and smiled. The so-called Lord of the Gray Spear Society was in for a nasty surprise.
* * *
Ethel looked out the window as the van drove through Turner Field in Marine Corps Base Quantico. The small airfield was used by the Marines for local travel. A single runway ended in the Potomac River at both ends. The shortness of the runway meant only light airplanes and helicopters could use it. Tall grass covered marshy land where it wasn't paved.
The river was more impressive than the airfield. Ripples in the vast swath of green water glittered in the sunlight. Dense forest covered the far shore. Ethel imagined herself swimming in the waters or resting under a tree on a hot day.
Tawni was driving. She worked her way across taxiways and runways until she arrived at an asphalt pad very near the river. A helicopter was parked there.
She, Ethel, Atalanta, and Boreas got out. They were dressed as Marines in standard combat gear. Boreas was carrying two gray duffle bags containing non-standard equipment such as swords.
Ethel was wearing the silver eagle of a colonel. She didn't like the bulky body armor with its many pockets and flaps. It hindered her movement too much. The leather boots also made her feet feel heavy.
She recognized the helicopter as a venerable Sikorsky CH-53 Sea Stallion. It was still the standard aircraft used by the Marines for moving people and cargo even though new ones hadn't been produced in decades. The helicopter had a thick, bulbous body with plenty of space inside. Two engines were mounted high on the sides. A big ramp in back allowed rapid loading and unloading.
This particular helicopter had been modified. A device that looked like a big searchlight was attached to the side. Dark red glass covered the face of the device. Condensation was dripping from thick, insulated pipes.
A crew of two men and two women were standing near the helicopter. They were wearing light tan flight suits with patches on the breasts and shoulders. They all had helmets, but only one was wearing a vest.
One of the men walked up to greet Ethel and her team. His name tag read, "Lt. Towle."
"Are you the special rescue team?" he said.
Ethel nodded. "That's right. We're here to save the President."
He frowned at her. "No offense, ma'am, but you look a little old to be leading a search and rescue operation."
"I don't see how I can interpret that statement as anything but offensive." She raised her eyebrows. "I'll tell you what, junior. If you can touch me, I'll admit I'm old."
He cautiously reached for her shoulder.
She grabbed his arm and swept his feet with a hook kick at the same time. He fell flat on his face. She bent his arm around behind his back.
"Respect your elders." She gave his wrist a hard twist.
He winced. "Yes, ma'am!"
She released him. He stood up and brushed himself off while giving her a wary look.
"Let's move out," Ethel said.
The whole group went up the ramp at the back of the helicopter. Sophisticated equipment was inside. The "Fast Automated Infrared Detection System" included a plumber's nightmare of pumps and pipes, and icicles hung from some of the pipes. There seemed to be at least two computers involved. Ethel was very glad experts would be operating the device.
"The search pattern is already loaded into the computer," Lieutenant Towle said. "We're ready to go if you are."
"Go!" Ethel said.
The pilots went up front, and everybody else found a seat. A couple of minutes later, they were in the air.
* * *
"Commander," Perry said, "we got another hot piece of intel."
Aaron got up from his desk and walked over to Perry's workstation. Charles remained seated by the desk.
It had been a long morning of watching and waiting. The Army was slowly getting organized despite deadly harassment by Leonardo and his group. Aaron estimated that the main attack would occur early in the afternoon, but he wasn't confident in that guess. Hopefully, it would be much later.
"What?" he said.
"A train loaded with tanks will be arriving in Chicago soon," Perry said. "It will unload at a depot in Elmwood Park. Leonardo can get there first if he hurries."
Aaron smiled and called Leonardo.
"Sir?" Leonardo said.
"I have another high value target for you," Aaron said. "A trainload of tanks. Hurry down to Elmwood Park and make sure those tanks never get off the train. Perry will send you the details."
"Yes, sir."
Aaron hung up and patted Perry on the shoulder. "Having you around almost feels like cheating."
Perry grinned. "Thank you."
"I think I'll go check on the Dragon. Hold down the fort until I get back."
Aaron left his office. Charles hopped to his feet and ran to catch up. The two men walked through the messy headquarters and reached the entry chamber.
While he waited for the elevator, Aaron looked at Jack in the security booth. The computer never needed to eat or sleep. It never grew bored. It could stand watch for a million years and not become distracted. Aaron realized he would be the same after he passed through the aperture. The twins had built Jack as the prototype for the ne
w Society. It made perfect sense in retrospect.
The elevator doors opened. Aaron and Charles entered and rode the elevator down. They eventually reached the lobby.
Twenty legionnaires were standing guard in the lobby. They were wearing body armor made for American soldiers and were carrying M16's.
"Where is the Dragon?" Aaron said.
"In there, sir." A legionnaire pointed at a doorway.
Aaron went through the door and entered a medium-size conference room. The hotel had conference rooms of all sizes. This one had an elongated, hexagonal table made of black wood. The thick carpet was colored light gold, and the walls were sky blue. An abundance of brass fixtures provided plenty of light.
The Dragon was seated behind the table with her bodyguard. Both of them were wearing the advanced body armor the Society used for serious combat missions. The armor was made of tough fibers woven together to form a mat as thick as a rug. Ceramic plates provided added protection for critical areas. The black and gray, striped camouflage pattern was standard in the Society, but the Dragon had augmented her armor with small illustrations of dragons. The pictures were drawn with red thread sewn into the fibers.
"Is this your command post?" Aaron said.
"Yes, sir," the Dragon said, "but I haven't needed it. It's been a very dull day so far. When will we actually fight?"
"Soon. It hasn't been dull for Leonardo. His group has caused all kinds of havoc."
"I'm jealous." She snorted, and flames shot out of her nostrils.
"I've been thinking. Keeping all these legionnaires in the hotel is pretty stupid. Frankly, the Rosemont Tower Hotel can defend itself just fine without your help. It would be better if you were outside and mobile. Then I can bring you in as a surprise ambush at just the right moment."
"I agree, sir. I've never been comfortable with risking our lives to defend an empty building. We are naturally aggressive, not defensive."
That's a polite way of saying I told you so, Aaron thought. "There is a large forest preserve just east of here. You can walk there easily. Take my entire group and hide in the woods. The weather is improving, so you shouldn't be too cold. Leave immediately. I'll call you when it's time to attack."
"Yes, sir." The Dragon stood up.
Aaron went back out into the lobby. He noticed a young, female clerk behind the front desk. Seeing a loyal employee at her job under these circumstances warmed his heart. He realized he had to do something he thought he would never do. He was about to break a cardinal rule of the Society.
He went past the front desk to the managerial offices in back. He found the door marked "Mr. Rosenblum" and knocked.
"Come in," Rosenblum yelled from the other side.
Aaron went into the office. It was surprisingly small considering Rosenblum was the general manager of the hotel. Paperwork formed neat piles on a wooden desk. There was a large computer screen, but the computer was hidden. A real rosebush was growing in a pot under a sunlamp in the corner. Black file cabinets stood together against the wall.
"Mr. Berrycloth!" Rosenblum said. "To what do I owe this honor?"
"The name is Aaron, or you can call me Lord of the Society. Your choice. I have to move you and the entire hotel staff up to my secret headquarters. The U.S. Army could be busting down the doors pretty soon. There will be a lot of bullets and poison gas in the air. If you stay down here, you'll die."
Rosenblum stared at Aaron.
"I'm not kidding," Aaron said. "Let's go. I'll give you a private tour. Then you can bring the rest of the staff up."
Rosenblum stood cautiously and followed Aaron out. Charles hovered in the background. They went to the lobby. Rosenblum frowned when he saw the heavily armed legionnaires.
The three men went down a side hallway to a conference room that seemed no different than the others. Aaron waved at a tall, wooden sculpture in the corner. It looked like it had been chewed up by termites. The room began to rise.
"Whoa!" Rosenblum said as he grabbed a chair.
The conference room emerged into a concrete chamber with a domed roof. They walked over to a second elevator.
"Pay attention," Aaron said.
He typed in a secret code on a number pad while Rosenblum was watching. The elevator shot up.
Rosenblum looked around in wonder. "A secret elevator. I never imagined. I always assumed you went underground. So much of the basement is off limits."
"That would've been a better idea," Aaron said. "In the end, it worked out well, just not for the reasons I expected."
The doors opened, and they stepped into the white entry chamber.
"Hello, Mr. Rosenblum," Jack said. "It's a pleasure to finally greet you. I've been watching you for so long."
Rosenblum looked around. "Who is that?"
"I'm the computer in front of you."
Rosenblum stared through the bulletproof glass into the security booth. "Really?"
"Jack," Aaron said, "I'm going to bring the entire hotel staff up here."
"I heard the conversation, sir," Jack said. "I understand your reasoning, but I'm not sure if it's permitted."
"They're members of the Society now. Wesley made them all assistants yesterday morning. They're allowed to come up. Regardless, it's my decision, and I'm in charge."
"Yes, sir."
The side door buzzed. Aaron held it open for Rosenblum and Charles, and they went through.
Rosenblum looked at the garbage on the floor in the hallway. "What happened here?"
"I apologize. Some of my people had to move out in a hurry, and we haven't had a chance to clean up. Just try to ignore the mess. Follow me. The first room is the science laboratory." Aaron pointed as he walked. "This next room is another science laboratory, but it used to be the conference room..."
The tour continued through headquarters. Rosenblum's eyes were wide the entire time. When he saw the armory full of guns, he almost choked.
"You're sure you're not criminals?" he said.
Aaron chuckled. "Quite sure."
They finished the tour in Aaron's office.
Rosenblum looked at the blank walls and said, "At least this room is clean."
Perry stood up from his workstation and shook Rosenblum's hand. "Greetings. I never expected to see you up here, but it's nice that you are."
Rosenblum furrowed his brow. "I've seen you walk through the lobby many times, but I never got your name."
"Perry. I'm the computer expert on the team." Perry pointed at his giant computer screens.
"Now you've seen the secret hideout," Aaron said. "Is it what you expected?"
"Not at all." Rosenblum shook his head. "It's bigger for one thing. There's a lot more of it than I imagined. It's amazing you were able to hide an entire floor for so long."
"I built this hotel with that specific goal in mind. We used every architectural trick in the book to make people think there are twenty floors instead of twenty-two."
"What's on the twenty-first floor?"
"Death," Aaron said. "The last line of defense. If the enemy gets that far, they'll be very sorry they did. Now go back downstairs and bring everybody else up. They might as well clean up the place while they wait for all hell to break loose. It will give them something to do."
"Yes, sir," Rosenblum said. "Thank you for finally showing this to me."
"Thank you for being such a great general manager."
Rosenblum smiled and hurried off.
* * *
Everybody in the underground command bunker cheered as the live video feed turned on. It was being projected onto the big screen at the front of the room.
A high-altitude reconnaissance drone was sending the video which showed Elmwood Park in glorious detail. The suburb was a dense, rectangular grid. Almost everything went perfectly north-south or east-west. Major avenues formed a monotonous, square pattern.
The image was boring, but the effort behind it hadn't been. Teams of technicians had wiped and reinstalled every bit of softwa
re to eradicate all the viruses. They had constructed a new, isolated network which the Gray Spear Society didn't know about. That solitary drone represented hundreds of man-hours of frantic effort.
It was worth it. Walker now had eyes in the sky which could tell him what was happening in real time. The battlefield was no longer a dark fog full of question marks. He had returned to the modern era of warfare.
"Zoom in on the depot," he ordered.
The image switched to a close-up view of a triangular section of land bordered by roads on two sides and diagonal train tracks on the third. A warehouse occupied a corner of the property. Empty shipping containers were stacked neatly to form big blocks. Fixed cranes provided a way to move heavy items on and off the trains. There was a parking lot, but it was empty. The nearest houses were small and had tiny yards.
A line of ten city buses appeared in the video. They slowly approached the depot and stopped behind the white warehouse.
"Look at that!" Walker said excitedly. "Get closer!"
The image enlarged again. The buses were parked close together. People started to file out of the doors, and most were dressed like soldiers, but they certainly weren't U.S. Army soldiers. A few wore the exotic body armor he remembered from the battle between the Gray Spear Society and Unit K.
"Where's my bomber?" Walker said.
"Five minutes, sir," the air and space officer called out.
Walker was grinning broadly. The enemy finished exiting the buses and started to get organized. He would get an exact count later, but it looked like there were around three hundred of them. It was a much larger number than he had expected. It had to represent a substantial fraction of the entire Society. No wonder that group had been able to cause so much death and destruction.
Erika appeared at his side, startling him. He still wasn't used to seeing her out of her enclosure. She was the kind of person who belonged in a cage. She looked up at the big screen with interest.
"So many," she murmured.
The enemy began to spread out and break apart into distinct squads. Some squads hid behind shipping containers and heavy equipment. A squad armed with sniper rifles climbed onto the roof of the warehouse. One man went to the tracks and planted something that looked like a bomb. Everybody seemed to know what they were doing.
