Agent of Influence: A Thriller

by Russell Hamilton

  The crowd sat in rapt silence. Only the press, who experienced this every few years, continued milling about. All eyes were focused upwards at the steps of the Capitol. The stoic figure of Zachariah Hardin stepped into view behind the clear, bulletproof glass that surrounded the two administrations; one group standing down from power, and the other coming forward to take history by the throat. Zachariah was dressed in a full-length coat and classic dark suit, a grey sweater vest, and green tie completing the ensemble.

  The black robed figure of the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court stepped forward with Zachariah and offered the Bible for his right hand. He placed his hand reverently on it, and recited the words that all his predecessors spoke over the years and centuries before him. He spoke the Oath of the Presidency authoritatively. The cold air gave tangible life to the passion and precision of his words. Once Zachariah finished, the military band immediately began playing. A sea of hands came forward to offer congratulations. The last hand offered was the now-former President. Mr. Gray grabbed Zachariah’s hand and squeezed it as hard as he could. The offer of congratulations was friendly, but it was at odds with the piercing stare. For a moment Zachariah thought the man was about to do something crazy. Allan finally released his grip and took his seat. With the sea of hands now parted Zachariah stepped to the front of the podium. The crowd waived their hands enthusiastically and thousands of camera shudders flickered in unison. He acknowledged the clamoring crowd, and after calming them down with some hand gestures he launched into his inauguration address.

  ***

  Inside the White House Malcolm and Anna lay flat on their stomachs on the floor, watching the speech on a small television that sat on the dresser. The TV was muted so as not to attract any unwanted attention. It was just as well. Neither of them wanted to listen to the man on the television . Because Anna had never been inside the White House before that day Malcolm spent a great deal of time giving her a rundown of the schematics of the mansion, and discussing possible opportunities where they could hope to catch Zachariah Hardin in a treasonous act. He drew a rough diagram on a piece of White House stationary and told her to memorize it. The whole exercise was surreal. They were drawing up plans for a potential guerilla attack inside the confines of the White House.

  “So you think these two areas are the most likely spots?” Anna pointed to two different rooms that were circled on the handwritten diagram.

  “Yes, I think they make the most sense. The Situation Room would be ideal in normal circumstances, but I don’t see how he could possibly come up with an excuse to go in there in the middle of all these parties. Unless, of course, he wants to disappear for a while with one of his harem.” Malcolm threw in the sarcastic remark as an afterthought.

  Anna started field stripping her pistol, making sure there were no obvious defects. She wanted to be ready when the unthinkable happened. After satisfying herself she slammed a magazine into the butt of the weapon and stowed it away inside her oversized purse.

  “Anything else you can think of that I need to know?” She looked inside her purse again to make sure the extra magazines were where they should be.

  “No, I think we’re good. We just sit tight for now. President Gray told me that from the way Zachariah had spoken to him he got the impression that Mr. Hardin wants to take his time strolling down the street and shaking hands since he sees himself as a real man of the people. Sometimes it’s hard for me to see him as a real danger. He sounds and acts too much like a true politician.”

  Anna picked up the remote control and started flipping through the channels in a desperate attempt to find something else to watch besides the inauguration speech. She was about to give up when she stopped at one of the twenty-four hour news networks. Zachariah Hardin was continuing to give his passionate address, but below his dashing figure a news scroll flashed across the bottom of the monitor.

  “BREAKING NEWS,” the familiar headline blared. “MULTIPLE EXPLOSIONS ROCK GOVERNMENT BUILDINGS IN CAIRO. AMERICAN EMBASSY ALSO STRUCK. EYE WITNESSES CLAIM TO HAVE SEEN SUICIDE BOMBERS AT SEVERAL LOCATIONS.”

  “Malcolm, Look!” Anna’s urgent tone brought Malcolm’s attention to the television, and they both read the scrolling headline in shock.

  “Could this have been part of Aman’s plan?” Anna remained calm and composed.

  “It’s possible. Let’s just sit tight and see what happens. Aman was supposed to be heading back to Cairo, but that doesn’t prove anything.”

  Despite the lack of proof Malcolm’s gut told him that somehow the incident was connected to Zachariah. Aman, Jamal, Zachariah, and Aziz were all from Cairo. The Brotherhood of the Caliphate had its roots in the city, as well. Every move they made seemed to originate from the ancient city. He grabbed his cell phone and called in to Langley on one of the encrypted lines. His deputy picked up on the first ring, but refused to divulge any information. Malcolm had technically been fired thirty minutes earlier, and his deputy was in command for now. The Deputy Director apologized profusely, but the new administration specifically forbade any contact with Malcolm Ray.

  On the steps of the Capitol President Zachariah Hardin finished his speech and soaked in the thunderous applause from the crowd. Anna thought it was the perfect elixir for his ego. She continued to watch even though she found the charade disgusting. Zachariah Hardin stepped away from the podium to more congratulatory handshakes and hugs. The military band started up again, and the sea of dignitaries began to split up. They would take different routes back to the White House for the celebrations that would soon follow.

  ***

  Inside his limousine Zachariah Hardin struggled with a range of emotions beginning to well up inside of him. The power he felt while standing on the podium was intoxicating. His newly minted National Security Advisor rudely interrupted his thoughts. The impish, Ivy League educated man received his job due to party loyalty rather than any knowledge of foreign affairs. He grabbed Zachariah by the arm and yelled, “What the hell is that?” He pointed frantically at the small television mounted in the limo.

  The new secretaries of Defense and State, both of whom served in previous administrations, remained calm as they watched the carnage unfold in Cairo.

  “Shut the fuck up, Larry,” The Defense Secretary demanded as he closely scrutinized the television. He adjusted the monitor so he could see what was happening.

  The Defense Secretary was a long time military man whose strong national defense credentials made him an easy choice for his new role. Zach spent much of his campaign dropping not-so-subtle hints that he would appoint him as his secretary of defense if he were elected. It helped to shore up the fear of many of the independents that Zach would be a president who was weak on defense. He was also the only member of his cabinet from the opposite political party.

  “Mr. President, this looks bad. A government friendly with the U.S. has been attacked along with our embassy. The first reports are saying the embassy is mostly rubble. We probably have hundreds of people dead. I suggest you head straight back to the White House to make a speech condemning this barbaric act. Once there, we can try to collect as much information as possible and decide on a course of action.” The baritone voice of the Defense Secretary was calm and level.

  Zach looked around at the rest of the group who all nodded their approval. “Okay. Let’s move. John?” Zach rolled down the window on the limousine door.

  “Yes, sir?” One of his Secret Service agents who were walking beside the slow moving vehicle leaned down to take the order.

  “Get us back to the White House immediately. We will have to skip the parade,” Zach’s voice sounded disappointed. He spent the last few minutes in the limo feigning interest in continuing the parade. The plan was working flawlessly, and the sooner he could get back inside the White House to meet up with Jamal the better.

  “Yes, sir,” The agent began barking instructions into his earpiece.

  The limousine picked up speed and raced down the street as a r
owdy crowd suddenly fell silent. People looked at one another with quizzical expressions on their faces. The news slowly began to filter through the crowd. Some of the spectators began running hysterically to call families. A large portion of the crowd began to make their way towards the White House to show solidarity with their new Commander in Chief.

  Chapter 61

  “Several sources at two of the buildings where the bombs exploded reported hearing the suicide bombers yell, ‘Khalifah, Khilahah.’ The blonde reporter struggled to get the phrase out. “We have been told this means Caliphate Creation. Back to you Mike.” She finished her statement to the viewing crowd back home in the U.S. Anna noticed that the reporter was standing on an unknown street in Cairo, just a few blocks from the American embassy. A swirling mass of people could be seen darting behind her.

  “Do you know what that could mean, Rachael?” The anchorman for the twenty-four hour news network asked from the safe confines of his New York City studio. Anna put the TV on mute and looked at Malcolm.

  “Now that is no coincidence,” Malcolm spoke with a stern voice. He began his ritual of making sure his pistol was ready to go. Each one stashed extra clips of ammunition in every pocket they had. They both looked back to the television as nervous reporters breathlessly described the situation. The view on the television was a shot from above of the Presidential limousine as it raced towards the White House at a dangerously high speed. Anna’s face flashed back and forth between anger and tension, each one trying to establish its dominance. She felt odd. Their quest, which seemed so far fetched and ridiculous, was now coming to a conclusion. She could easily be dead within the hour, yet she felt an inner peace that seemed out of place in the midst of all the chaos around her.

  ***

  The limousine came to a violent stop in front of the East Portico of the White House. Zachariah Hardin stepped out, flanked on both sides by Secret Service agents. He did not acknowledge the cameras that stood nearby. Jamal met him at the entrance and ushered him inside. His national security team followed on his heels. The podium in the East Room was set up per Zachariah’s instructions, and he strode purposefully down the Cross Hall towards the room. The cameras were ready, and the feeds to the networks were rolling. For the second time in less than an hour he stepped to a podium to address the American people.

  “My fellow Americans. What should have been a glorious day for our country has been wrecked by crazed madmen.” He stared into the camera and continued. “A series of terrorist attacks have been launched in Cairo. They have struck our friends in the Egyptian government and our own embassy, most likely killing hundreds. This barbarianism will not stand. America and Egypt will rise from this tragedy together, and we will hunt down the people responsible for this carnage. I have cancelled all inauguration celebrations until further notice. I am sorry, but I need to confer with my Cabinet so we can immediately begin the process of hunting down these common criminals. I can assure you I do not fear these monsters who glorify murder. I promise to provide you with every shred of information I am allowed to. Please keep your televisions on and pray for the victims. We will have more information to you as soon as possible. May God bless you, and may God bless America.”

  The anchorman appeared back on the screen and the odd soliloquy came to an end. The reporters in the room began shouting questions even though they were no longer on a live feed. The strange speech had the Washington establishment befuddled.

  “No questions,” Jamal yelled as he and another agent immediately took Zachariah under their protection, and headed off towards the situation room. The Military Officer carrying the nuclear football trailed close behind.

  Chapter 62

  Zachariah took the offered bottle of water from one of his underlings, and strode down the hallway. He was now minutes away from his destiny. He barked out orders as they passed different rooms that were filled with his friends, benefactors, and colleagues. They were all still milling about with dazed looks on their faces. Jamal stayed close to him. He glanced back to make sure the Military Officer was still near. He was right behind them. Jamal spoke feverishly into his headset, and instructed other agents around the building to get all unnecessary personnel out of the building.

  “Where is the Defense Secretary?” Zach asked.

  “He’s already in the Situation Room sir. He’s waiting for you,” Jamal responded.

  They reverted back to silence. Two more turns and Zach, Jamal, and the Military Officer came upon the secure stairwell that led to the Situation Room below ground. Jamal issued more instructions to another agent to remain at the top of the stairs.

  “No one is allowed down after us unless the President personally requests it,” Jamal barked. As a precaution he called in a second agent to guard the stairwell. They headed down into the sub-level of the White House with no one left to stop them.

  “Hand me a weapon.” The sinister tone of Zachariah’s voice was unmasked as soon as the door closed behind them. They stopped halfway down the stairwell. Jamal quickly, but calmly extracted a Walter PPK from the inside of his sport coat, threaded the silencer onto it, and handed it to the President.

  The Military Officer stood dumbfounded on the step above them, his eyes registering a scene that his mind told him was absolutely impossible. He tried to comprehend what was happening, but his words stumbled out of his mouth. “Sir, what is this… I mean, what’s going on?” He watched in horror as the President swiveled the weapon until its black hole pointed at the officer’s chest.

  “You are sure you know how to operate the codes?” Zach asked Jamal one last time. He was about to reach the point of no return.

  “Absolutely positive my Caliphate. Kill this man.” Jamal said it with disdain, as if the Military Officer’s life meant nothing to him. Zach put two shots into the man’s chest. Jamal then picked up the black suitcase that would provide them with instant immortality, and they bounded down the stairs. A few more deaths to dish out in the Situation Room, and then they could deal the U.S. a blow from which it would never recover.

  Chapter 63

  “Okay, they should almost be in the Situation Room by now. Let’s go,” Malcolm said tersely.

  They watched Zach’s second speech from the Lincoln bedroom and waited patiently for a few more minutes. They needed perfect timing. He had to be caught in the act. Nothing else would suffice. It was the only way anyone would believe it. Anna stepped cautiously out the door and peered down the empty hallway. She pushed the door open and motioned for Malcolm to take the lead. They still kept their weapons holstered and hidden. It was risky, but they would have to catch any Secret Service agents off guard. They had no desire to initiate a firefight. They were severely outgunned, and it would probably get them killed.

  The first guard was stationed at the elevator that would take them from the living quarters down to the main floor of the West Wing. Malcolm stepped around the corner and into the man’s view, Anna trailing right behind him. Malcolm saw the suspicious look on the man’s face.

  “Call down and tell the President I’m on my way down. He just called for us,” Malcolm said with authority as they both strode right up to the guard. An agent’s first instinct was always to follow orders without question, and he hesitated for just a second. Anna’s elbow flashed forward, catching him in the jaw, followed immediately by a chop to the neck from Malcolm which rendered him unconscious.

  ***

  The guns fired simultaneously and the bodies of presidential advisors crashed to the floor. The advisors had been in the process of putting together briefing papers for the new President. That very man was now spraying them with bullets. The National Security Advisor screeched like a wounded animal when Zach’s shot rammed him in the chest. The searing pain in his chest quickly ended with a perfectly placed bullet from Jamal’s weapon. The man’s head exploded, sending particles of blood and brain all over the long boardroom table which sat in the middle of the small room.

  “Have you lost your min
d, sir?” The Secretary of State said in horror as he stared at the body of the Secretary of Defense that lay crumpled in the corner. The body twitched slightly as blood oozed onto the dirty carpet. He was still alive for now.

  “What is this?” Tears began to stream down the Secretary of State’s face. He sat frozen in place, completely baffled by a scene that was impossible for him to accept, but was occurring nonetheless. His years of service to his country brought him into many stressful and dangerous situations, but the shock of the carnage that lay before him left him immobile with fear. His body’s only reaction was to cry.

  “What have you done?” He wailed again in a fit of anguish. He sat frozen while Jamal and Zachariah moved to the back of the room, and began meticulously making their preparations.

  Jamal turned to face the Secretary of State. The cold, uncaring face sneered before he leveled his weapon and fired. The shot landed right between the eyes. The limp body dropped to the floor, ending the hysterical screams in mid-sentence.

  “What I have been training to do all my life,” Jamal replied to the dead body. “I knew I should have done all the shooting. They were making too much noise.” He stuffed the weapon down the front of his pants, and then stepped back into the corridor to retrieve the black suitcase with the nuclear codes. When he re-entered the room Zach was laughing.

  “The place is soundproof, you idiot. Besides, we didn’t want one of them having time to trigger an alarm. I’m sure there is one here,” Zach said as he suppressed a button on the weapon, dropping the empty magazine onto the floor.

  He took the briefcase from Jamal, and walked to the head of the table at the far end of the room. He stole a look at the Presidential Seal nailed to the wall directly behind him, flipped it the bird, and then sat the nuclear football on the table. He was going to enjoy this. He yanked out the codes that he had received just a few hours earlier, and began readying the launch sequence. It would take less than thirty minutes to set the destruction in motion.