The Rowen (A Rossler Foundation Mystery Book 7)

by JC Ryan

  “Tell me he didn’t,” Siasha shivered.

  Tawndo nodded sadly. “I’m afraid he did.”

  “Oh no!” Linkola looked as if he was about to be sick.

  “What am I missing?” asked Korda.

  Tawndo explained. “Viktor ordered the discreet capture of people outside their facility, who were brought back to the facility, killed, and then reanimated as Re’an soldiers.”

  “How many?” A dismayed Korda asked softly.

  “Their numbers had grown to about two-hundred and thirty when the next disaster struck.”

  “What was that?” Siasha asked.

  “About seventy years ago, the military people living on that part of the continent, called Russians, started testing nuclear weapons in the area near the facility. In the year 1954, they exploded a bomb that caused a secondary explosion at the L’gundo site severely damaging it again. It killed many of the Re’an, dropping their numbers back to one hundred twenty.”

  “And let me guess,” Siasha interjected. “they went back to capturing and reanimating people again.”

  “Well, not immediately. Apparently, that explosion damaged their reanimation technology, and it took them many years to rebuild it. They are still repairing the facility, although my understanding is that it is nearly finished now.”

  “As horrendous and primitive as nuclear weapons might be—it seems as if that explosion was actually a good thing,” Linkola commented with a wry smile.

  “That remains to be seen, Linkola. I am still trying to find out how many of them there are now. And what their plans are. I suspect that sooner or later they are going to try and make their way back here.”

  For a long time, they sat in stunned silence, watching while the simulated sun dipped low over the trees and dusk descended upon them. At last, Linkola stood and announced he was returning inside; Korda followed him leaving Tawndo and Siasha behind.

  ***

  “I can’t believe what has happened at the L’gundo site, Tawndo. It’s terrible.” Siasha moved to sit beside him; he put his arm around her in comfort.

  “Neither can I,” he whispered as he tenderly kissed her forehead.

  “Was there anything, any mention of which L’gundo survived?”

  “Yes, there was a list of names—your sister and her son are still alive.”

  Tears streamed down her face. “What about our son? Is he mentioned?”

  Slowly, he shook his head. “No mention of him.”

  Her body was shaking. “Oh, Tawndo—”

  He smoothed her hair with his hands, kissed her again, and held her gently while she wept out her grief. The simulated sun had long since set, and they lay back on the grass to watch the lesser light of a simulated moon rise.

  At last, Siasha rose and walked into the lake to swim again. Tawndo watched her trim body glide through the water before he got up to join her. She swam to him and, when close, stood and faced him reaching up to kiss him. He returned it eagerly, drawing her in close to his body. After a while, she stepped away, loosened her top, and let it drop into the water.

  Tawndo pulled her in and fondled the softness of her skin; she returned his kiss with passion. He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bank, kneeled on the grass to gently lie her down; then he lay down beside her.

  PART 2 – The Rowen

  Chapter 11- The nomination

  Three years later

  When former President Nigel Harper finished his speech to John Brideaux and the members of his Supreme Council, the cameras turned to the stunned faces of the council members in the meeting room of The Berlaymont in Brussels—the people who thought they were superior, the untouchables.

  In the background, Jack Symonds’s voice could be heard instructing his men to handcuff Brideaux and the councilors and take them out to the waiting police vehicles. Jack, a former Delta Force operator, led the mission to Brussels to overthrow Brideaux and his council’s world government, arrest them all, and bring them to America.

  Jack’s team and their prisoners would be escorted by Chief Detective Pierre Bertrand to the Brussels International Airport, about six miles northeast of the city, from there they would fly to Washington DC onboard Air Force One.

  JR signaled to a few of the men to follow him to the communications center where the Central Control Unit also known as ‘The Beast,’ was located. On arrival at the center, JR ordered all the staff out, and he and his team went to work dismantling the Beast. Some of the team took the hard drives out from all the servers and computers in the facility, carefully wrapping and packing them in metal boxes and carried them out to the trucks waiting to transport them to the airport.

  At the Rossler Foundation’s hidden cave facility in the Gallatin Mountains of Montana, ‘the Rabbit Hole’, chaotic scenes of triumph erupted in the Robert Cartwright community hall when Jack reported that they were airborne and en route to DC. Foundation members and their families had fled to the cave in silence, disappearing without a trace, to live and operate hidden from Brideaux and his New World Government. With Jack’s success, perhaps their days of hiding would soon be over.

  It took almost an hour before the Rosslerites started to calm down and then all of a sudden, almost as quickly as the onset of the jubilations, it went quiet, and everyone was looking at their leader, the founder of the Rossler Foundation, Daniel Rossler and Nigel Harper.

  The two of them stopped talking when they became aware of the silence and the people staring at them with a what-do-we-do-next look on their faces.

  Daniel looked at Nigel and said, “You know Nigel, now I know what it feels like to be the dog that chases a car. We won the war, now we have to win the peace, and I am of the opinion that’s going to require political expertise.”

  Nigel nodded. “Yes, and a lot of it.”

  “So, as our resident political expert—what’s next?” Everyone was listening to them now.

  “That was the quickest cop-out I have seen in my life!” Nigel laughed and shook his head, pointing his finger at Daniel. “You are not getting off the hook so easily my friend. You just wait and see.”

  The group of older men known as the Musketeers were smiling; they knew what those words meant, but they all took an oath to say nothing about it until the time was right.

  Nigel continued. “Daniel is correct. We did win the war—no doubt about that. The next challenge is to win the peace, and I’m afraid it’s not going to be a road paved with roses. The world is in chaos, and it is going to require wisdom and patience to restore order.”

  “Do you have any ideas, Nigel?” Daniel’s wife and Rossler Foundation co-founder, Sarah asked. “I’m sure a new government will be elected in due time, but in the meantime, the United States is without a government; some sort of interim measures will have to be put in place. Won’t they?”

  “I don’t agree with you that we are without a government at the moment,” Nigel replied. “The only issue is that our legitimate government has not been operational for a while. My assessment of the situation is that we had a legitimate government, duly elected, at the time of Brideaux’s coup d’état. The elected government has to return to their positions and become operational as quickly as possible.”

  “Okay Nigel, it sounds easy enough when you explain it like that. The problem is that the elected President has been arrested—by us, I would like to add,” Luke, Sarah’s uncle and former CIA field agent, said as everyone exploded in laughter. “And the Vice President has been killed—not by us I would like to add,” Luke continued. “So, who is now President?”

  Nigel replied. “Our constitution is clear about the line of succession. The President is followed by the Vice President, failing the Vice President, the Speaker of the House of Representatives becomes President, failing which the president pro tempore of the Senate, becomes President. After that, it falls to each of the appointed cabinet members in turn, based on when their respective departments were established. Seeing that the Speaker of the Ho
use of Representatives has recently died—of natural causes I would like to add, the next in line is Senator Laurie Campbell, president pro tempore of the Senate.”

  “Habemus Papam! (We Have a Pope!),” Daniel shouted, quoting the Latin announcement usually given by the senior Cardinal Deacon when a new Roman Catholic pope was elected.

  When the laughter subsided Daniel said, “Nigel, I am just wondering if it would be a good idea to give Senator Laurie Campbell a call to offer our assistance in any way we can?”

  “Exactly what I had in mind, Daniel. If someone can get me her number, I will call her right away.”

  It took Sam Lewis, former head of the CIA under President Nigel Harper less than thirty minutes to get hold of Brad Johnston, the former Director of Security in America, under the Supreme Council, and get Senator Campbell’s personal number.

  Senator Laurie Campbell was awake when her phone rang. She had been following the events as they unfolded from the moment when all TV channels went blank, and Nigel Harper’s face appeared as he addressed the Supreme Council. She knew that the Supreme Council was history and quickly came to the same conclusion as Nigel, she was the new President of the United States—whether she liked it or not. And she had no illusions about the mountain of adversities that faced her.

  Half of my kingdom to have Nigel Harper by my side at a time like this.

  She pushed the green button and answered, “Laurie Campbell.”

  “Madame President, it’s Nigel Harper, allow me to be the first one to congratulate you.” Nigel chuckled.

  “Nigel! You must have read my mind! First of all, I’m not the President yet; second, if I do become the President, and you ever call me Madam President I will have you arrested. I grew up with you, Nigel; I will never allow you to call me Madame President. Third, where have you been? We need you in DC like yesterday.”

  Nigel laughed. “Wow, slow down Laurie. Let me address your points. First, I’m sure you will be sworn in as President in the next day or two. Two, I won’t call you Madame President any longer, you know me, I’ve never been one to stand on protocol either. Three, I will be in DC tomorrow, and I’ll tell you everything then.”

  “Nigel, can I count on you to be my personal advisor. At least during the transition period?”

  “Yes, that goes without saying, Laurie. I’ll do whatever is required of me. And the other reason for my call is to let you know that you can also count on the support of the Rossler Foundation.”

  Thank you, Nigel, you will never know how much that means to me right now. Just before your call came through while I was watching you on the TV, and thinking about what’s ahead, I said to myself ‘half of my kingdom to have Nigel Harper by my side at a time like this’ and then you called.”

  Nigel laughed. “Laurie, you must remember I’m an old man now; I don’t have the strength and energy I had when I was in office—it feels like a lifetime ago. Is there anything at all I can help you with right now? I have to catch a plane to DC to be there when the Supreme Council and our team members arrive.”

  “Your team? Are you saying it’s your team who did this?”

  “No, not my team, Laurie. I am part of the team—the Rossler Foundation team.”

  “And I guess I’ll hear all about it tomorrow?”

  “Yes, you will, that’s a promise.”

  “Okay Nigel, before we hang up. What are your initial thoughts? How should I approach this? I have some ideas but would like to hear what you think.”

  “I suggest you get the Attorney General, Secretary of Defense, Secretary of Homeland Security, Chief of Staff and as many of the other senior appointed and elected officials into a meeting as soon as possible and put them to work. Get your inauguration done right away; the country needs to see their President, immediately. With that out of the way, you will have the power to make decisions and start to rebuild government and the country.”

  “Thanks, Nigel, that serves to confirm what I have been thinking. One more question. I’ll need a Vice President. Any recommendations?”

  Nigel had a hard time not to let Laurie sense his big smile. “Yes, in fact, I have, but that can wait until tomorrow. Just one last thought—I don’t have to tell you that you have a gargantuan task in front of you. However, I have all the confidence in the world that you will be successful. You are in our prayers, and we will support you all the way.”

  “Thanks, Nigel. It was really good to hear from you. I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. Have a safe trip.”

  “Thank you, Laurie. See you at the airport tomorrow.”

  When the call ended, Laurie Campbell sat back in her chair and sighed. “Oh, Will, how I wish you were still alive to be with me now.” She whispered.

  She and Will Campbell got married shortly after they both finished University, almost thirty-three years ago. Will was diagnosed with an aggressive type of brain cancer eighteen months ago and died six months later. They had two sons, both of them West Point graduates and officers in the military. Both of them happily married and three lovely grandchildren—Laurie’s pride and joy.

  ***

  Fifteen minutes before the Presidential aircraft commonly known as Air Force One touched down, Nigel was able to meet with Laurie Campbell to give her a quick heads-up of what he was going to say in his speech and get her agreement. Laurie still had a lot to talk about but was happy with Nigel’s suggestion and invited him and a few others to continue the discussions as soon as the event was over.

  When the Presidential plane arrived, Nigel and Esther Harper were waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Next to him stood Daniel and Sarah, Sam and Susan Lewis, and the rest of the Rosslerites. They had tears of joy in their eyes as they looked up to the five men who’d taken the Supreme Council into custody—the numbers of the Rosslerites were full again.

  Their waiting loved ones embraced Jack and his team, and then Nigel Harper walked over to the podium while every news camera in the world followed him.

  “My fellow Americans and citizens of the world. A very wise man once wrote the following:

  There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:

  a time to be born and a time to die,

  a time to plant and a time to uproot,

  a time to kill and a time to heal,

  a time to tear down and a time to build,

  a time to weep and a time to laugh,

  a time to mourn and a time to dance,

  a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

  a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,

  a time to search and a time to give up,

  a time to keep and a time to throw away,

  a time to tear and a time to mend,

  a time to be silent and a time to speak,

  a time to love and a time to hate,

  a time for war and a time for peace.

  Today is the beginning of the time to be born, to plant, to heal, to build, to laugh, to dance, to gather, to embrace, to search, to mend, to speak, to love, and above all, it is time for peace.”

  The crowd was absolutely quiet until his last words reached their ears and their minds. They began to chant – “Harper for president, Harper for president!”

  Nigel held his hand up, and the crowd went quiet again.

  “My friends, there is also a time to come and a time to go. I had my time. I am an old man, and the days that God has granted me to remain on this earth are few. It is my time to go. Our country and the world need new leaders to take us into the future. We need people who get courage from their deeply-held beliefs—people who will not waver in the face of adversity.”

  The crowd exploded in applause while Nigel waited for them to calm down and for the Musketeers to do as they’d agreed.

  Daniel and Sarah didn’t know what was happening when the Musketeers and their spouses who formed a half-circle around them moved closer and gently started pushing the two of them towards the podium five yard
s away. They looked around in bewilderment at the smiling faces. They were holding on to each other as their legs began to feel jittery.

  “Sarah, what’s going on?”

  “I have no idea, Daniel.”

  When they were close enough, Nigel took their hands and pulled them towards him and the microphones.

  “It is today my privilege and honor to introduce to you two of those people. They are half my age, but over the past few months, they taught me two things:

  “One. Our present circumstances will not determine where we will go; it merely dictates where we will start.

  “Two. Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.

  “I present to you Daniel and Sarah Rossler, the next President and First Lady of the United States of America.”

  ***

  Nigel Harper’s last words lingered in the air. The crowd had gone quiet. Cameras started flashing incessantly, and reporters descended on the podium where Nigel stood next to Daniel and Sarah smiling broadly.

  Daniel and Sarah’s mouths were agape—they looked bamboozled.

  “Please, let there be no misunderstanding about what I’ve said.” Nigel continued. “In terms of our constitution, Laurie Campbell is the new President of the United States of America. I’ve known her for many years, and I have full confidence in her abilities. I hereby give my full and unwavering support to her as President, and I ask that you follow suit with me, and the Rossler Foundation, and give her and her new administration your unequivocal support as well.

  “President Campbell however, has indicated to me that she will complete the remaining term but will not be running for office after that.

  “Our next election is in two years, and I firmly believe Daniel and Sarah Rossler will make a fine President and First Lady.”

  The crowd came to life again, and a person could be heard shouting, “Campbell and Rossler to the White House!” He was soon joined by others, within seconds; the single voice had grown into a thunderous roar of thousands chanting loudly, “Campbell and Rossler, Campbell and Rossler!”