Vera turned and locked eyes on him, and as far as she could tell he was thinking about her as he always was. But as usual, Matt was only showing her the emotion he wanted her to see. Inside his pocket he pushed the button with nothing more than a muscle twitch of a finger. Everything else, especially all fearful emotion, was tucked away.
* * *
The way Gustavo burst in scared the hell out of Vincente. He then jubilantly announced, “Time to take a road trip!”
“What?! Are you out of your mind? We’re just about to move in on Otavalo. There is so much unrest, they’ll flip my car over on sight! I just heard that the Military is taxed to the limit out there and barely keeping a lid on things. I have my finger in the dike here and you want me to go out. Where?”
“For a walk.”
“Get out of my office, you’ve lost your mind! Seriously, get out! I have no time for you.”
“Well, you’ll have to fire me because I called off the occupation of Otavalo.”
“What? Why? That was a direct order! Gustavo Enrique Perez, you have seriously lost it and I have no choice but to fire you and have Security remove you.” Vincente rose from his chair, his face exhibiting the betrayal.
“Now, who’s the woman, Vincente? Listen, while you were in here playing soldier, I was doing what you pay me to do. Well, at least it’s what I think you’re paying me for.” Gustavo stared at his crotch defiantly.
In response, Vincente’s cadence gave away his rage, “Continue.”
“Well, there is more going on now that a mere gathering in Otavalo.”
“Oh?”
“Yes my Bumblebee Lover, there is a pilgrimage going on in our country. People everywhere are walking off their jobs, out of their houses and schools, and heading to Otavalo. I told you, this is going to be huge!
“Now it’s time for you listen to me. I’m not just some Political Science student anymore, chasing you around being your sycophant. I’ve learned my job, and I know our people. You campaigned as a man of the people, and you never even had as much as a security detail. The people love you when you are one of them. But I’ve noticed recently that you’re not that same man of the people any more. You’re sitting high and looking low.”
Vincente knew Gustavo was right, as he felt the elitist change in him as of late. “So what’s your proposal?”
“We join the people. I’ve brought you clothes and shoes.”
“I can’t do that, I’ve got a country to run!”
“Yes, a country that two other powers are having a war in. We have no communications or ability to impact this situation one way or another. Face it, Ecuador is now “one big sheep.” So put your clothes on and become the most beloved leader this country has ever known. Vincente, I’ve had all those military units, “stand down.” They’re going to Otavalo all right, but with food and supplies and water. I also sent in the disaster relief units with their medical supplies. Now put those clothes on and let’s hit the road. You will never lose another election in this country again!”
Vincente looked into his lover’s eyes. The sun was shining through the window, catching them and changing them to that honey color that he loved so much, got lost in them so much. Vincente knew something was special about this one. He remembered when he spoke at the college years before, he picked him out right away, as Gustavo’s questions stood out and were obviously researched. The next year Gustavo applied as an intern and Vincente immediately recognized him and brought him on. “Okay Gustavo, I guess you’re right. Thanks to other people, I don’t have much of a country to run anymore.” I certainly could run things on the road for a while, he mused. Literally.
* * *
This was unprecedented. Hell, everything in my whole damn Presidency has been unprecedented. I’m beginning to hate that word. The line was ringing. Lawrence noted that the only times this line has been used throughout its history has been to stave off nuclear annihilation. So true cooperation and openness had in itself accomplished more than the SALT treaties could have ever hoped for, maybe more than the Berlin Wall coming down in some respects.
President Caulfield answered the call and immediately informed the Russian President, “We have failed too, Miroslav. It must have had a titanium hull to withstand the thirty seconds of direct laser contact it had. They must have heat sensors and used thrusters to get out of the laser’s path.”
“Then that leaves us no choice,” grimly stated the Russian
President.
“So who shoots the missile?”
“I believe we both do, Lawrence. The laser can’t shoot down two ‘inbounds’ at once. We have less than an hour until the next burst. We’re very concerned and sorry for your losses with the Bush Fleet. It doesn’t look like we can fail on this one Lawrence or your carrier is going to pay the price.”
“If that happens, Miroslav, it will leave us very little choice but to eliminate the region.”
Those words hung. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t,” was his final somber response. “We see your friends in Ecuador have given you control of their country.”
“What do you mean, Miroslav?”
“We just got word from one of our field agents. Your friend Vincente Herrera disarmed his military and ordered all Government staffers to walk the Pilgrimage to Otavalo, Vincente included. There’s no one left to run things there.”
Just then Kim came into the room with the same information —a day late. “We’ll have to get back to you on that one, Miroslav, as we are caught off guard by that. We have scant minutes, let’s reconvene in twenty minutes.”
Lawrence extricated himself from the call to immediately burst out, “What in the Sam Hill is going on?!”
* * *
Their command center was much like the American’s, with all the great military minds gathered in one place to make the calls that truthfully decide for the world (whether they like it or not) if it’s to continue or not. That’s the honest truth. China’s latest advancements aside, their two countries have been the ones that have the power to end the World, and several times they almost have. But Miroslav felt something different this time and he wanted desperately to spread it amongst his cabinet.
Unfortunately, he had detractors and they were going to have a field day with this betrayal of military secrets and the failure of the missile. Thion was the first to bring him out of his deep thought. He had a few powerful supporters here too, and he was sure they’d be the first to speak.
General Petrowa asked, “Well, Miro?”
Before he could reply, one of his advocates was already standing in the path to get to him—apparently it was going to be like that.
“It’s obvious he’s telling the truth with us,” General Igorek Pompova spoke first and it didn’t take long for the teams and battle lines to get drawn.
General Feodor Petrowa shot back immediately with the kind of passion that Khrushchev himself would have been proud of, “You can’t be sure of that! It’s outrageous that you’ve given them information!”
Seeing it was directed at him, he sidestepped his supporting general and answered his detracting one. “Feodor, face it, the Cold War is over. We’re facing a new kind of World Power, one that can spring into action by corporations. Now you heard the American President, his response was honest. He couldn’t have known we had that South American Flea’s office bugged. We might not ever have the ability to forge this type of relationship with them again.
“So I say now is the time we need to decide as a group if we are going to usher in a new era of trust or stay the way we’ve been. My vote is we forge a new alliance with them and keep our very vigilant eyes open. We’re battling a new kind of enemy. Many of you think this missile launch will be the end of it, but I don’t think so.
“Pablo Manuel’s cult started something here and it’s not getting smaller. We’ve seen this before Comrades and there’s no oppression that can stop it.”
General Aleksandor Kovalevski of the Army came into the convers
ation. “I agree with Miro, it’s time for real change.”
That floored the room, as Kovalevski had known Breshnev himself. He was also a staunch Anti-West advocate, his party had challenged Miro in the last election and to this date, he had never agreed with anything that ever came out of his President’s mouth. He was the true “Devil’s Advocate” on many levels.
“Why do you say this, Comrade General?” It was Feodor Petrowa again, he was the Major General of the Russian Air Force and Miro could see, a lousy poker player because he just got wounded by that statement and did not hide it well. He was the one that Miro had to watch out for other than Kovalevski.
“Because he’s right!” said Kovalevski. “What would you have done different, Major General? The Americans did as we would have done and they lost. Both our countries had better rethink our strategies in a hurry because someone out there has just passed us by.”
Petrowa was still trying to figure out his mentor’s angle in all this. This was not discussed beforehand.
Miro watched as his biggest foe took the meeting over as if he was the pro side of the argument and everyone was as stunned as the man at the head of the table. “Feodor, if I am wrong, if Miro is wrong, and the worst-case scenario happens, won’t our Impenetrable Mountain have the last say? What is our fear of taking the next step except fear itself?”
His protégé finally got that this was real and that one could not have the decked stacked in their favor all the time. Sometimes a man had to take a stand and Aleksandor could see it was killing his Major General. Aleksandor saw the wheels spinning in Feodor’s head. Feodor could break off now, divide the group and let attrition play out the power struggles, Feodor’s alliance being the younger sect.
Aleksandor thought, poor Feodor. He never saw this coming. That’s because until last week, neither did I. It’s amazing how one discovering a terminal illness will readjust one’s thinking. Aleksandor thought back on a lifetime of smoking those horrid things and his body resisting. In his twenties, he still ran ten miles a day. In his thirties and forties, it was five. He stopped running in his mid-fifties. Well, he’ll fight them no more, “Inoperable.” The words hung over him like hammers and intermittently they would crack him a good one. Now was one of those times.
He didn’t know why he hated Miroslav so much, as the man had vision. At least he’d finally recognized it, albeit in the eleventh hour. He was just an old warmonger who only had the past to draw upon as a reference, a past that was filled with a rich history of hating his enemy—and his body—as the fighting, the drinking, and the smoking rarely stopped. This was his way of setting it right—if Feodor does the right thing.
Feodor looked at his mentor for some sign that this was a ruse, but it was not. His choice was to go against the man who taught him everything and make a grab for power or he could make change now that could bring in a new era.
His Major General finally capitulated, “If you say so also,
Aleksandor, then let’s reach out.” Aleksandor tried to hide his absolute shock as did Miro, who also never saw this coming. All seemed to be in concurrence that there’s a time for all things to happen, including a changing of the guard. They were all part of it now; they had broken a long-standing state of distrust and together they were going to move their nation into a new era with the United States.
* * *
“I don’t get the significance of this, Kim. The why?”
“We really don’t know. He called all staff to join and walk. He literally locked up their Capitol Building.”
“And you say he’s walking a hundred kilometers to Otavalo?”
“That’s the story every newsman in their country is running.”
“Did they send you the speech that Ray wants me to read? When did Ray Callahan start dictating Foreign Policy?”
She pulled him more aside from where they were. “I trust Ray.”
She and that damn eye contact, “Okay, so?”
“So he does a lot more there than anyone knows. Just like me.” She smiled an uneasy smile at her boss and let that sink in. Then she continued, “This has to be a good one, Chief. The Middle East is coming unglued, the stock markets are crashing, baseball was cancelled again today, and there’s unrest all over the country.”
He looked at her stoically, “Well, there is one good thing in all this.”
“What’s that?”
“No one is talking about jobs for once.”
She gave him a look of admonishment as she witnessed the man she supported go out to talk to the people of the country that elected him. His speech was not going to be happy one. He was about to tell the American people that we’re at war, WITH A SINGLE PERSON.
* * *
Captain Andrada had brought the USS Phoenix to the coordinates where he was ordered. They had been tracking a Russian trawler off the coast of Iceland when he was ordered to the Greenland Sea. Skip could feel this was no exercise. Something in his bones told him that they had a target to avenge the Bush Group. Well, he had just the boat to do it!
Stealth, it was designed to creep up on the enemy’s coast and deliver its deadly payload in the event of a sneak attack. In his humble opinion, he operated the single deadliest thing on earth and now he believed he was going to unleash it on someone.
His Los Angeles Class Submarine was capable of not only hiding under the ice from satellites, but it was capable of smashing through it to deliver an assortment of different weapons. His was one of the few that had been designed to include intercontinental ballistic missiles. Because his were launched by sub, they were considered SCBMs. The science was basically the same, the launching platform was the only big difference.
Without his crew and himself, the United States could be wiped out at any time by an unprovoked attack that could never be avenged. At least with him and thirty others like him, no enemy could claim total victory over his nation and go unscathed.
People slept in their beds every night having no clue that they were even here. But without the assurance of retaliatory destruction, there surely would have been an accidental nuclear war in the last fifty years. Some “yahoo” would have had a bad sensor board, or there would been some other false reading that would have started it all. But with the thought that it would be suicide on the minds of their enemy, hesitations were made.
No doubt about it, he thought, the world would be a much less certain place without my boat and me.
* * *
João was quickly learning that one problem with being in a nearly empty facility was that no one could hear you scream. He trudged up toward the lobby via the stairwell and thought angrily that there was no better way to ruin a good high than climbing some stairs. After reaching the top he realized he had another problem. He could get into the front lobby, but that was it. Only the top stairwell doors were unlocked from inside the stairwell.
The elevator needed a key for his floor that he didn’t have and the stairwell was out because a key was needed to enter from the lobby. João thought about Felipe’s key box; maybe there would be a key there, but he’d have to break the perimeter door to even check. That would be noticed. He had no other option other than to pick up the phone at the only desk in the lobby.
The lobby was an odd place, as it was cut out of the mountain, with black rock walls that sparkled with minerals and was deeply rutted in many places. The lobby was only used to get from the entrance tunnel to either the top or the bottom. When you came from the tunnel into the room, you parked in front of a bank of glass doors. There were no locks on these doors and they immediately brought you into the lobby. There was a single steel elevator door straight across and the two stairwells flanking it.
He came out into the lobby and sat down on the desk that was to the left. He then realized something else a second ago as he looked up at the camera; he wouldn’t need to pick up the phone after all. They could see him.
* * *
Pablo looked into Vera’s eyes. “Two years ago you risked
everything to get this to me. What I did with it was create in the Cyber World what the satellite is doing for Space. Once we do this, every single bank, stock exchange, military, and intelligence service in the world will be wiped out, as the worm cannot be stopped until it’s all gone. The paper tiger will exist no more.”
Pablo and Vera placed their hands on their buttons, bringing Matt to his most heightened state of being yet, action being a microsecond from initiation. Then fate stepped in. Something had drawn Felipe’s attention from his guard position. He was staring at a monitor on the left hand side of Pablo’s console. Matt saw one of Felipe’s Ants was in the lobby down below, and it was just the break he needed.
With his guards attention off of him, Matt quickly and stealthy took out his knife and took a careful step toward his prey. Deftly, he reached in with his left hand and grabbed Felipe’s chin, pulling it to the left with power. The move exposed the right side of his neck and that’s where the blade went in, just under the jawbone, below the ear. After scrambling the knife, all Matt had left was a lifeless piece of deadweight. The life that had been the killer, Felipe, was now over.
Matt laid him down as quietly as possible before bringing out the Walther and announcing, “Don’t push that button!” It startled the two of them at the moment they were about to irrevocably put into motion so many heinous things that Matt couldn’t begin to quantify them all.
* * *
Sergio was not feeling well. He just started the game and was heading for the carrier with his Grouper—but suddenly his head was spinning. His hand shook on the controller, the one thing he was trained not to do. It had to be smooth and move, “like a fish.” Vomit involuntarily came up a little so he moved his wastebasket nearer to him. It was a good thing because he suddenly became very nauseous and started throwing up violently.
He grabbed his wastebasket and went out into the hallway to finish, not wanting to have to smell that in his lair later on. On the last heave he nearly fainted. His Grouper, left to its own devices in attack mode, started swimming very unlike a fish . . .
And the Meek Shall Inherit (Harbinger of Change Book 2) Page 15
