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“We let the terrorists carry out their attack tomorrow. When they see a few dozen bombs go off, they’ll know we weren’t lying or making this crap up,” the FBI Director responded flippantly. He immediately regretted that he’d said that thought out loud instead of keeping it in his head.
Malcolm’s jaw dropped in shock.
Director Polanski held up a hand. “I’m sorry—I didn’t really mean that. I’ve gone over the TEDAC report on the truck bomb we’ve already captured. These are horrific bombs if they do end up going off.”
Malcolm shook his head, obviously angry and disgusted. “Look, Nolan, I know we’re all under a ton of pressure, but pull it together, man. You’ve got thousands of agents looking to you for leadership right now. I may be out of a job, depending on how the election goes tomorrow, but you’ll still be here, and we need you to finish this job.
“You’ve got to find out who all is involved in this conspiracy. Someone deliberately poisoned the Supreme Court justices just as they were about to hear perhaps the most important case in our generation. There are a series of terrorist attacks planned against our country, they weaponized social media to turn citizens against each other, and now we discover postal workers stealing the absentee ballots? You couldn’t make this stuff up if you tried, and yet, it’s all happening right before our very eyes.”
Malcolm paused, and leaned forward. “You have to figure out who’s behind all this before it’s too late. The fate of our entire republic is hanging in the balance…”
Chapter 19
Election Day
November 3, 2020
White Settlement, Texas
White Settlement Public Library
It was 9:03 a.m. and the line was only just now moving. Dwight Larson stood patiently in line with the dozens of other folks who must’ve had the same idea he’d had—to vote as soon as the polls opened and save himself the hassle of waiting in what he thought would be a much longer, slower-moving line later in the afternoon.
Under any normal circumstance, Dwight would already be at work. His shift at the Lockheed Martin plant just down the road started at 8 a.m. However, he had already told his boss the day before that he’d be late coming into work today so he could vote. While his shift would usually end early enough for him to cast his vote before the polls closed, no one wanted to wait around to the last minute, when the lines were usually longest. No, today he wanted to get in and get out—especially with all the warnings about a possible terrorist attack.
Steadily, the line that had snaked around the library moved forward. For perhaps the first time, Dwight noticed five heavily armed soldiers standing near the door. They weren’t checking people’s IDs, but they were giving everyone the once-over, probably trying to make sure no one stuck out.
Well, at least the government placed armed security at the voting station, Dwight thought as he inched closer to the door. It was on every voter’s mind that they didn’t want to experience an attack like what had happened during early voting.
A few more minutes went by, and then Dwight was able to make his way into the library. He walked up to the registration table and handed the elderly volunteer his voter ID card. She asked him several questions and then had him sign the electronic signature pad. She compared the signature to his ID and voter registration card and then smiled warmly as she handed back his cards.
When he’d put away his cards, she handed him his ballot. “Here you go, Mr. Larson. Just pick an open station, fill in the circles and place your voting card in the scanner at the far end of the room,” she instructed.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he replied before taking his ballot and making his way to one of the voting booths.
Dwight used the provided marker to fill in the circle selecting Sachs for president and then he voted for the sitting senator and congressman from his district. Despite what was going on in the world, things were generally going well for the Larson household, so in Dwight’s mind, if things were good, why change it up?
Just as he finished filling in the last ballot measure, which took him forever to read through, he heard a loud screeching of tires and then some excited shouting. A woman screamed and then gunfire punctured the eerie silence.
Pop, pop, pop, pop.
Then the loudest, most earth-shattering explosion rocked Dwight’s world as the windows overlooking the parking lot exploded into a million tiny shards. The wall itself imploded with a force Dwight did not think possible as chunks of wood, cinderblock and other debris slammed into every possible part of his body, hurling him backwards.
For a few moments, Dwight found himself staring at the ceiling, but somehow seeing burning pieces of paper raining down and the occasional flash of the morning sky. He crinkled his forehead.
How am I seeing the sky if I’m still inside the library? he wondered. His mind had not yet registered that close to half of the library had just been completely torn apart—the roof of the building had been ripped off like a metal can being peeled open.
Moments later, the morning sky started to turn dark as Dwight’s world slipped away into oblivion.
*******
River Oaks, Texas
River Oaks City Hall
The parking lot at City Hall was jam-packed this morning and it was only 9:06 a.m. Kimberly Wilson had finally given up on finding a parking spot and just parked in front of someone’s house a block away. She hoped the owner wouldn’t be too mad at her parking her car there. She wanted to cast her vote and get on to work. Granted, she didn’t have to be at the hair salon until 10 a.m., but judging by the number of people already in line, it might take her more than a few minutes to get through and vote.
As she walked toward City Hall, she spotted what she thought was the end of the line, so she started walking in that direction. When she neared the end of the gaggle of people, Kimberly heard a series of soft popping sounds, almost like someone was lighting off some firecrackers. Everyone turned their heads toward the noise. Kimberly and several others instinctively dove to the ground, seeking cover. Then she reached into her purse and pulled out her concealed carry weapon. She looked up to see several other men and women from the line reaching into their sweaters, jackets, and handbags for their pistols.
This is Texas, after all, she thought.
“Look over there!” shouted one of the men.
A woman let out a scream. A plume of inky black smoke rose into the sky, a stark contrast to the bright blues of the midmorning.
“Everyone, stay calm!” shouted a police officer who was now walking down the row of people toward the smoke. “If I could get everyone to put their personal weapons away, that would greatly help us in making sure we don’t accidentally shoot someone,” the officer announced loud enough for everyone to hear. The crowd began to react to what he had said, holstering their guns.
A moment later, several armed soldiers came trotting toward the crowd from around the front of City Hall. “If we could get everyone to leave the area—we’re not sure if this polling station may be attacked next,” shouted what appeared to be a sergeant.
“If we leave now, when are we going to be able to vote?” shouted an angry older man who was sporting a hat from the President’s party.
With a look of concern written on his face, the soldier replied, “I don’t know, sir. Maybe if you’re willing to wait a little while, we can get you guys in. However, right now, I don’t know if our polling station is next,” he reiterated. His explanation was more than enough for a large swath of the crowd to start dispersing quickly to get out of there.
Kimberly debated whether to leave. She wouldn’t be able to leave work to vote later, so this was really her only chance. A few folks continued arguing with the soldier and the police officer, and she and a few others sort of milled about, unsure what to do.
Suddenly, from around the corner, she heard the sound of automatic rifle fire. The soldiers immediately ran around the corner to find out what the heck was going on, and Kimberly found h
erself following the remaining people in line to see what had happened. The lone police officer gave up trying to tell people to stay back and joined the crowd.
When she came around the corner, she saw a white cargo van riddled with bullet holes. There was a bright red blood splotch splattered across the remains of the shattered windshield.
A lone soldier stood next to the front of a Toyota Camry, his M240 Gulf set up with its bipod extended on the hood of the car and a slew of spent shell casings at his feet. He still had the machine gun trained on the van as another soldier, his rifle at the ready, moved in to make sure the driver was dead.
*******
Specialist Jose Ramirez held his M4 tight to his shoulder, his finger on the trigger, ready to send a fury of bullets into the driver side of the van if he thought he saw movement.
How’d I draw the short stick to go check and see if this freaking terrorist is dead? he thought to himself as he inched ever closer to the driver side door of the van.
When Jose got to within maybe ten feet of the van, he saw the driver, bleeding from multiple gunshots. Looking at his face, he saw blood coming from his mouth.
Thank God, he’s dead, he thought.
Just then, the man moved his head and looked directly at him. While spitting up blood, the terrorist smiled before he detonated the bomb in the van.
In the blink of an eye, a massive blast tore Specialist Jose Ramirez into a fine red mist as he disappeared in the conflagration that consumed the nearby vehicles and building. Thousands of steel ball bearings were thrown in every direction, cutting down anyone in their path, killing and injuring dozens of people who had thought they were safe just moments ago.
Within minutes, the Islamic State in Serbia had attacked two different voting stations in the Fort Worth area of Texas, striking fear into the heart of every American as they began to head to the polls to choose the next president.
*******
Arlington, Virginia
Pentagon
Secretary of Defense Chuck McElroy couldn’t believe what he was seeing unfold across the various news outlets. When he heard of the first attack, he immediately ran down to the ops center in the bowels of the Pentagon. They had two of the monitors there tuned to the news outlets as they described what appeared to be a pair of bombings in the Fort Worth area.
Before McElroy could even ask for a SITREP, reports came in of a similar pair of attacks in Florida, one in Tampa and another in Kissimmee.
That’s just miles away from Disney World, thought McElroy.
Seconds after those attacks happened, several more took place in Ohio, and then Pennsylvania and North Carolina. The country was under attack, and his forces had proven powerless to stop them.
The red phone near the head of the table in the ops center rang. Everyone knew this was the direct hotline between the President and the SecDef, and all eyes turned to him as he reached for the phone.
“This is McElroy,” he said, very matter-of-fact.
“I want the alert level raised across the country to Threat Condition Delta!”
“Yes, Mr. President. I agree.”
“Start executing whatever operations you can in the Balkans, regardless of whatever the host nations think about it. I don’t care what those leaders think anymore.”
“I agree. I think the situation has changed. We’ll make the adjustment, Mr. President,” McElroy responded. “Shall I move us from DEFCON 5 to DEFCON 3?”
“What do you think?” Sachs asked sarcastically. “Obviously. Ground all the air traffic immediately, and close all land and sea ports.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “Chuck, I’m authorizing the use of deadly force to defend our installations and strategic assets. If you see something suspicious, I don’t want you to think about it—just shoot it. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“Good. Now get the Air Force to spin up some fighters and start flying combat patrols over all of our strategic assets and major cities. That includes oil and natural gas terminals, ports, the works—not just the military installations, OK?”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“All right, Chuck, I’ll leave you to it, then.” The line went dead, and McElroy hung up the receiver.
The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, General Austin Peterson, asked, “What did he say? What are our orders?”
McElroy relayed the details of the conversation. General Peterson and the Air Force Chief acknowledged the orders and rushed off to get the ball rolling. The nation was moving to a war footing. As soon as they had a target to blow up or shoot, they’d hammer it.
*******
Washington, D.C.
J. Edgar Hoover Building
FBI Headquarters
Ashley walked into Deputy Director Joseph Latrell’s office with a purpose. She needed to speak to him immediately. When she walked in, he shot her a look of contempt before he held up a hand and pointed at the phone in his other hand. She nodded and bit her lip to keep herself from speaking.
“Yes, sir.…I know we failed to find the bombers. They’re detonating bombs across half a dozen cities right now!”
Audible yelling could be heard from the receiver as Joe held it back from his ear just a bit.
Whoever is on the other end of that call is really laying into Joe right now, Ashley thought. She felt a bit relieved that it wasn’t her on the receiving end.
“No, sir. I cannot say with certainty that there are no more attacks. The attacks took place within the first thirty minutes of the polls opening. For all we know, the terrorists could be staggering their attacks. This could continue to take place throughout the entire day.”
Joe not only looked defeated at having failed in preventing these attacks from happening, he seemed apoplectic at the fact that he couldn’t even strike back at the people responsible for this horrific carnage.
“I don’t know if we’ll be ready to deliver our report by tomorrow,” he said.
Ashley scrunched up her face at the comment.
Is he talking about my report? she wondered. She had been close to being done before she’d just uncovered a whole new angle to this plot.
Joe let out an audible sigh as he nodded, more to himself than the person he was speaking to on the other end. “Yes, sir. We’ll personally deliver the report to the White House tomorrow by ten a.m. and will be ready to brief it to the President and whoever you believe should hear it.”
Now Ashley was concerned. If they wanted to brief her report to the President…it just wasn’t ready yet.
“I understand. We’ll plan on being at the White House for the rest of the day, then.…Yes, we’ll be ready to brief the press if the President asks us to.…Yes, sir. I’ll call you if we have anything else new to report to you before the end of the day,” Joe said. Then he hung up the phone.
He looked at Ashley and shook his head. Before she could say anything, he got up and walked over to the window that looked out onto the city. It was a dreary day. Low clouds hung dark and ominously across the city, threatening to unload a torrent of rain or sleet. Ashley imagined that the sky looked how he felt, dark and depressed.
“Who was that on the phone giving you the third degree?” Ashley finally asked, breaking the silence.
Turning around, Joe took a deep breath and straightened his back. “That was the Attorney General. He couldn’t get through to the Director, so I was the next best thing.”
“Where’s the Director?” asked Ashley.
“In a plane, heading down to Orlando with several dozen agents. Apparently, one of the attackers was captured during a shoot-out with the police. He’s injured, but not critically, so the Director is headed there with an enhanced interrogation team and additional agents.”
Ashley shook her head. “Geez, this is terrible. I can’t believe what’s going on.”
Brushing the comment aside, Joe asked, “What did you need, Ashley? You came in here looking like you were ready to unload on me.”
“Oh, man,” said Joe. “Please tell me it’s not falling apart on us.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s actually getting more complicated.”
Pointing to the two chairs opposite his desk, he led her over to sit down and talk about it.
“What more have you found?” he asked.
“You remember how the AG and the President had a special EO signed, unleashing the NSA and all of its capabilities to track down the October 31st attackers?” she asked.
Joe nodded. “Yeah. To be honest, I was a bit concerned about taking the leash off the NSA. What did they come up with?” he asked.
“Without exception, all of the attackers—the October 24th group, the Halloween cohort, and I’ll wager the group that’s carrying out the current attack will fall into this group as well—all entered the US using EU passports, German passports to be more precise.” She pulled some papers out of her folder and showed him copies of the passports.
“They could’ve obtained stolen passports or bought them illegally. It does happen, Ashley.”
She nodded. “It does. But what doesn’t happen is that these individuals also used spoofed biometrics.”
He lifted his head in surprise. “Explain,” he ordered.
“The other day, I met with National Security Advisor Robert Grey. He had another person from the NSA, Leah Riesling, brief me as well. She’s apparently their counterintelligence department chief. She walked me through the process of how the attackers gained entry into the country.