Selected: A Thriller

by J. Allen Wolfrum

  The police officer shook his head. “Asphyxiation fetish… took it too far. We get about two of these a month.”

  Agent Larov nodded but remained suspicious. “Dust the entire apartment for prints and do a thorough search for hair follicles. I don’t believe he was here alone. When you’re finished, send the report directly to KGB Director Tremonov.”

  The Soviet media reported President Rosinski’s death as a heart attack. By the time President Rosinski’s body was discovered, Dominika was celebrating a successful mission with a glass of champagne and a cigarette in her apartment overlooking Lake Montreux in Geneva.

  After learning of President Rosinski’s death, Director Tremonov immediately began making preparations. He’d witnessed several regime changes during his KGB career and knew that swift action would be his only chance to seize control. Often only a few minutes separated the winners and losers in this type of power struggle. The stakes of the game were life and death; the party who ultimately gained and held control survived, and their opponents were eliminated. It was brutal but necessary.

  Susan awoke to disturbing news from two fronts: the death of President Rosinski and a swell of hatred from the media about her State of the Union speech. Throughout her presidency, Susan did her best to isolate herself from the scrutiny of the media. From time to time, she checked in on the twenty-four-hour news stations to get a pulse on the American people. It was lonely at the top.

  She confided in very few people in the administration. Mason Adams, Vice President Wilkes, Senator Reynolds, and General LeMae were the exceptions. It seemed odd to Susan that Vice President Wilkes spent so much of his time outside the White House. When she casually questioned him about his minimal presence in the White House, he awkwardly confessed to her that he was writing a memoir about his time as president. She accepted the explanation as valid and encouraged him to continue the work. In her mind, anyone who did this job for two years earned the right to take some time for themselves.

  Susan grew to despise the Oval Office. It felt like her own prison. Leaving the White House required enormous effort and needed to be planned out days in advance. She refused to put Mason, her staff, and the Secret Service through the extra effort simply for her to have a change of scenery.

  After breakfast and her daily room inspection with Greg and Tommy, Susan met with General LeMae and Senator Reynolds in the Oval Office. Senator Reynolds cocked his head and furrowed his brow. “Hold on. So we’re going to roll over and give the Soviets what they want?”

  Susan raised her hand. “Your listening skills need some work.” Susan raised her eyebrows. “We’re going to ask them what they want. I didn’t say we are going to give it to them. Tensions have been escalating far too fast without any dialogue. I am not starting a war that will alter the course of human history because of a misunderstanding.”

  General LeMae grabbed a glass of water from the coffee table. “I can’t say I disagree. Wars have been started over less. This goes against every tactic we’ve ever used against the Soviets, but given the circumstances, I don’t see how it can hurt.”

  Susan smiled. “Good, I’m glad you agree. The United Nations conference in Geneva starts in four days. We’ll do it there. I need both of you with me. Vice President Wilkes and Mason will be staying here to make sure I don’t get impeached or put on trial for treason.”

  Senator Reynolds and General LeMae stared at her in shock.

  “Come on. It was a joke, nobody is putting me on trial for treason. At least not yet.”

  General LeMae moved past the awkward moment. “If you say so. But either way, it isn’t a pretty thought. Anything in particular you want us to do before the conference?”

  “Not yet. I don’t even know who I’m talking to.”

  “I just came from a Foreign Relations Committee meeting—they’re in the same state of confusion,” replied Senator Reynolds.

  General LeMae threw in his opinion. “My money’s on Tremonov. He runs the dark side of the Soviet Union—no way he’s giving up that power. You don’t get to be the director of the KGB by playing nice. He’ll do what is necessary to take control.”

  Later that morning, Susan and Mason walked down the halls of the Pentagon toward the Direct Link Communication room to send another message to the Soviet Union. Mason looked down at his vibrating phone. He checked the message and abruptly stopped in the hallway. He immediately put the phone to his ear. “Find me a secure conference room in the Pentagon, I’m in Corridor 4, Ring C.” Mason waited for the response, then abruptly shoved the phone in his pocket and began quickly walking forward. He led the group to a secure conference room. Susan could feel the tension in his stride; whatever had happened, it was too serious for a discussion in the hallway.

  As soon as the door closed on the conference room in the Pentagon, Mason blurted, “There is another document leak. An internal memo from the British MI6 with evidence that the terrorist attacks were planned and executed by a domestic U.S. terrorist group.”

  Susan sunk down in her chair and let her head roll back. She stared at the ceiling while processing the news. “I have no idea what to believe anymore.”

  General Gillingham walked through the door and sat down at the conference room table. He was followed by three NSA intelligence analysts.

  Before General Gillingham could open his briefing folder, Susan asked, “Is the document real?”

  “Madam President—”

  Susan cut him off. “Stop with the ‘Madam President’ bullshit. I know you’re not telling me everything, so now’s the time to come clean.”

  General Gillingham cleared his throat and ignored Susan’s statement. “We have no way of verifying the legitimacy of the documents. There are no immediate signs of forgery.”

  Susan shot back, “So you’re telling me the British MI6 analysts know more than we do about who set off those bombs?”

  “Those were not my words.”

  Susan snarled; she had no patience for banter. “Do we know who set off the bombs?” She gripped the edge of her hair with both hands to stop herself from taking a swing at General Gillingham.

  “Our forensics team is still working on the evidence. Right now we don’t have any strong leads.”

  Susan looked around the room twice before responding. Each time she locked eyes with General Gillingham, intense contempt for her radiated from his gaze. “Thank you, General, that will be all. You should leave.”

  Without saying another word, General Gillingham and the NSA analysts got up and walked out of the room. After they left, the Secret Service agent sitting next to Susan took a handkerchief out of his suit jacket and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

  Susan took a moment to recover from the brief and tense meeting with General Gillingham and continued on her mission to send a message to the Soviet Union. She sent a repeat of her previous message, she needed to be sure the message made it to the new Soviet president.

  To: President of the Soviet Union

  From: Susan Turner, President of the United States of America

  Subject: Peaceful Meeting in Geneva

  I hope to maintain a peaceful and prosperous relationship between the United States, the Soviet Union, and the rest of the world. I believe that the diplomatic cables that were leaked to the public have been falsified. I do not believe the Soviet Union is responsible for the terror attacks against the United States.

  Within our government there are many who blame the Soviet Union for these events and they are attempting to persuade the public that military intervention is necessary. I may not have the political power to stop them.

  To avoid a military conflict that will inevitably alter the course of human history and destroy millions of lives on both sides, we must work together to maintain peace.

  Please accept my invitation to discuss a peaceful resolution in Geneva during the week of the United Nations conference. The details will be arranged through Ambassador Dashkov.

  Sincerely,


  Susan Turner, President of the United States of America

  Former KGB Director Nikolai Tremonov, now president of the Soviet Union, received the message from Susan. After reading the message, he unlocked the bottom left-side desk drawer and pulled out the intelligence folder labeled SUSAN TURNER, PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. President Tremonov paid particular attention to Boris Rosinski’s handwritten notes scribbled in the margins.

  43

  Greg Turner looked up at the clock from his history text book, one more minute until the recess bell. He and John exchanged glances at the risk of being caught goofing off by Mrs. Daughtry. The short soccer matches at lunch had become much more important since the girls started watching.

  The recess bell rang, Greg shoved the history textbook into his backpack and headed for the door. Three steps from the doorway he heard Mrs. Daughtry’s voice.

  “Greg Turner, don’t forget to see Nurse Freemont before you go out to recess.”

  Greg shouted over his shoulder, “I will.”

  Greg and John strategized for the game while they walked down the hallway towards the exit doors to the playground. At the corner John made a right towards the doors and Greg stopped.

  “What are you doing? Let’s go,” said John.

  “I’ll be right there, I have to get my allergy shot from Nurse Freemont.”

  “Skip it, who cares. We need you there when we pick teams.”

  Greg sighed. “I can’t my mom will freak out if I miss my shot. I’ll be there in like two minutes.”

  “Alright, hurry up.”

  Greg turned and jogged down the hallway toward Nurse Freemont’s office. He shoved open the door without knocking. “Nurse Freemont?” He heard a dragging noise from the supply closet in the back of the room. A man in work clothes and a baseball hat walked out of the supply closet. The man continued to breathe heavily as he walked towards Greg. Greg stopped, the man’s behavior seemed strange for what appeared to be a maintenance worker. Greg noticed that the man’s eyes were focused on him like a laser.

  “Nurse Freemont isn’t here today,” said the man as he walked closer to Greg.

  The man continued to walk towards him without speaking.

  After hearing that Nurse Freemont wasn’t in the office, his mind quickly moved back to the soccer match he was missing on the playground.

  Greg shrugged, took off his backpack and held it out towards the man. “Can you hold my backpack? Tell Nurse Freemont I’ll be back after recess.”

  The man reached out and grabbed his backpack.

  Greg turned and shouted over his shoulder, “thanks,” as he jogged out of the office.

  Mr. Jones watched Greg Turner leave the office while holding Greg’s backpack in his right hand. He slumped into a chair, closed his eyes and put his head in his hands. He did everything he could to mentally prepare for kidnapping the Turner boy. It was the backpack that threw him off. The look in the boy’s eye as he handed him the backpack triggered a flashback to his own daughter. He couldn’t go through with it, hurting a child was taking things too far.

  Mr. Jones snapped back to reality. He needed to get out of the school and quickly. Nurse Freemont would wake up from the anesthetic in twenty minutes. He looked around the room and took a moment to clear his thoughts. The boy was gone; nothing he could do about that now. He knew the next few decisions would determine whether he would live or die.

  He walked into the supply closet and scanned the room. He checked Nurse Freemont’s pulse; she was out cold but she would be fine in an hour. He closed the door on the rolling tool box and pushed it out of the office. He walked down the empty hallway just like he practiced in the dry run a few months ago. He cursed himself for letting his conscience get in the way of work.

  He loaded the rolling toolbox into the van and waived at the Secret Service agents as he drove out the front gate of the school. Getting out of the school was the easy part, explaining his failure to Mr. Anderson was much more dangerous.

  On the drive to the warehouse where they planned to hold Greg, Mr. Jones kept repeating to himself out-loud, “Just tell him the kid didn’t show up in the Nurse’s office. You can come up with another plan.” He repeated those two sentences to himself until he actually believed they were true.

  His phone rang five minutes into the drive to the safe house . He picked it up, saw a familiar number and answered, “This is Jones.”

  Mr. Anderson asked, “Do you have the boy?”

  “He didn’t show up for his appointment. It was too risky to attempt a snatch and grab. Too many people around.”

  “Alright, I’ll meet you at the warehouse. We need to come up with an alternative plan.”

  “Sounds good see you there.” Mr. Jones hung up the phone and took a deep sigh of relief.

  Mr. Jones pulled up the loading dock at the back of the warehouse and walked inside.

  Two men he had never seen before stood in the center of the main warehouse. Mr. Jones walked towards them, “who are you?”

  The man on the right pointed toward two double doors, “Mr. Anderson is waiting for you.”

  Mr. Anderson leaned against a desk in the middle of the room while he waited for Mr. Jones, who was once his most trusted Lieutenant. He closely monitored the nervous look on Mr. Jones’ face as he walked into the room. He gently leaned back on the desk and allowed Mr. Jones to walk toward him before asking, “Ed, how long have we known each other?”

  Ed Jones’ eyes darted around the room. “Must be over a decade now. There wasn’t anything I could do, the kid didn’t show up. The anesthetic was wearing off on the nurse. I had to get out of there. I’ll figure out another way.”

  Mr. Anderson shook his head. “It’s too late now. Timing was everything on this mission. You knew that. I don’t know what to say.” He raised his hands in frustration before continuing. “You lied to me. I just can’t tolerate it —”

  “I told you. The boy didn’t show up. What was I supposed to do?”

  Mr. Anderson recognized the desperation in his voice and raised his hand to stop the pathetic groveling. “Don’t try to cover up for yourself. Do you really think I don’t know the truth?” He looked toward the door at the back of the room. “Bring them in here.”

  Mr. Anderson focused on the eyes of Mr. Jones as two people were shoved into the room. He watched the vein in Mr. Jones’s neck throb. The panic in Mr. Jones’ eyes was replaced with the pale look of horror. Mr. Anderson glanced over at the two women. They both had their hans zip-tied behind them and black hoods over their heads.

  Mr. Anderson nodded toward the two men holding the hostages and they pulled the hood’s from their heads.

  Mr. Anderson watched the horror turn to rage in Mr. Jones’ eyes.

  Before Mr. Jones could react, Mr. Anderson picked up the pistol from the desk and pointed it at Mr. Jones.

  “I want you to die knowing that their death will be much more painful than yours.”

  Mr. Anderson paused for a moment to allow the thought to sink into the psyche of Mr. Jones before pulling the trigger twice. Mr. Jones dropped to the floor in a puddle of blood. Mr. Anderson ignored the screams of the women and focused on the stream of blood running across the floor. He looked at the two men struggling to hold Mr. Jones’ wife and daughter. “Get them out of here.”

  44

  After dinner, Susan found Greg and Tommy in the White House Map Room. Earl and Rose were helping them with their history homework. Susan hugged the boys and explained that she would be back in a few days. She promised to bring the boys Swiss Army knives and chocolate.

  “Mom… why do you have to leave? Are you fighting the terrorists?” asked Greg.

  “No honey, I don’t want to fight anyone. I just want everyone to get along.”

  “Me, too,” replied Greg.

  She hugged the boys and headed for Air Force One. Senator Reynolds and General LeMae were already on the plane when she arrived.

  General LeMae tapped the wa
tch on his wrist. “You’re late.”

  Susan pulled her head back and stood up straight. “Pretty sure I’m your boss now and the boss can’t be late.” Susan smiled and sat down in her seat.

  General LeMae looked over at Senator Reynolds and raised his eyebrows. “Sure you can keep up with her?”

  Senator Reynolds smiled and shrugged. “I haven’t met anyone who can keep up with her yet.”

  Susan ended the conversation. “All right boys, settle down.”

  After reaching cruising altitude, they gathered in the conference room to discuss the plan.

  “My best guess is that the Soviets want to build a pipeline to get natural gas and oil out of the Ukraine,” said Susan.

  Senator Reynolds and General LeMae nodded in agreement.

  Susan continued, “And to make it happen they’re going to take land in Latvia, Belarus, and the Ukraine. They’ll do it by force if they have to.”

  General LeMae interjected, “The UN is supposed to stop situations like this from happening but they’ll ignore the problem for a while. Then we’ll have to step in with military force. And that is what the history books refer to as war by negligence.”

  Susan stopped the negativity. “Before we get too far down the rabbit hole, I need to find out what the Soviets want. And if it has to do with these pipelines, I think we can come up with a deal that makes everyone happy.”

  The discussion with Senator Reynolds and General LeMae continued. Afterward, Susan got on the satellite phone with Ambassador Dashkov and set up the meeting details. She would meet the new Soviet president two hours after they landed in Geneva, and she would do it alone.

  While Susan was sleeping on Air Force One flying over the Atlantic Ocean, Mr. Anderson met with President Tremonov in Geneva at the Pacific International office.