Death to America (A Special Agent Dylan Kane Thriller, Book #4)

by Kennedy, J. Robert

  “BD!” she cried as another figure appeared behind him.

  “Sherrie!” cried the voice she immediately recognized as Dylan Kane, her beloved Chris’ high school buddy and best friend. And the man responsible for getting the two of them together in the first place.

  “Oh Dylan, BD, thank God you guys are here!”

  Kane went behind her and cut the ties binding her wrists. “Can you walk?” he asked.

  She tried but cried out in pain. “I can’t,” she said, shaking her head. “I think they might have broken my left leg.”

  A woman appeared behind them, Chinese. Sherrie didn’t recognize her but the look she received told her at once this new arrival had been through what she had been through.

  “I’ll stay with her,” said the woman. “You two continue clearing the building.”

  “Sherrie, this is Lee Fang. I trust her completely,” said Kane as he gave her a quick kiss on the forehead.

  “Chris? Is he okay?”

  Kane frowned. “Last word I have is that they were holed up in The Bunker but were about to be breached.”

  Sherrie’s eyes narrowed. “The Bunker?”

  Kane smiled. “No time to explain.” He rose and pointed at Sherrie, looking at Fang. “Guard her like she was my sister.”

  Fang nodded. “Done.”

  Sherrie sighed in relief, every muscle in her body relaxing for the first time in days.

  And she fell asleep.

  Kane took up position on one side of the next door, the rest of the hallway almost cleared by the others when the lights came back on, momentarily blinding them. Kane squeezed his eyes shut and threw up the night vision goggles. He looked at Dawson who nodded he was okay, then kicked open the door.

  Dawson entered first, Glock raised high, breaking to the right as Kane went left, the room small, containing only a bed, nightstand and small desk with an empty food tray on it.

  And one President of the United States, standing in the center with a gun pressed to his head.

  “Colonel Booker, I order you to lower your weapon and surrender,” said Dawson, his weapon aimed directly at the man’s head, as was Kane’s.

  “Stand down! That’s an order!” barked Booker. “You are in violation of military law instituted by the Military Stewardship Council!”

  “Mr. President, I am Command Sergeant Major Dawson, Delta Force. What are your orders?”

  “Kill him.”

  Kane squeezed the trigger at the same moment Dawson did. The shocked expression on Booker’s face at the President’s words would be something Kane would cherish for the rest of his life. Dawson’s bullet went through the center of Booker’s forehead, Kane’s through the man’s hand then into the gun grip, forcing the weapon away from the President’s head just in case Booker’s finger reflexively pulled the trigger.

  It didn’t.

  Booker crumpled to the ground and President Starling nearly collapsed in shock. Dawson caught him before he fell then they both helped him to the bed.

  “Sit down here, sir,” said Kane as they lowered him to a sitting position. “Take a few moments to gather yourself. You’re safe now.”

  “My family?”

  “We don’t know yet, sir. This seems to be their command and control center. We’re hoping shutting it down will end this crisis. But we’re going to need your help.”

  “Name it.”

  “We need to get you on the air right away,” said Kane. “We need you to tell the country you’re alive and back in control, for military units to stand down and return to base, and for all Raven personnel to be arrested immediately.”

  “Holy shit!” exclaimed Niner from the doorway. “Mr. President, sorry for interrupting, sir,” he stammered, snapping out a quick salute. He turned to BD. “Ops Center secure. We managed to just shoot meat and not metal for a change.” He grinned, then remembered whose company he was in. “Sorry, sir, I mean, Mr. President. Operational humor. It’s twisted, I know.” He turned back to Dawson. “Looks like their primary comms were taken down but they’ve got good backups. They can still communicate with the outside world but it looks like the Pentagon and White House are down.”

  “Can we send out a video signal?” asked Kane.

  Niner shrugged. “They’ve got a camera with a nice backdrop set up in one corner. I’m guessing yes.”

  Kane turned to the President. “Are you ready?”

  The man rose then fixed his tie, buttoning his suit. “How do I look?”

  “All right, Mr. DeMille, he’s ready for his close-up,” said Niner in his best Gloria Swanson imitation. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mr. President, I just can’t stop myself.”

  Starling chuckled, placing a hand on Niner’s shoulder as they walked out of the room into the smoke filled hallway. “Son, never apologize for making an old man laugh. With the hell our country has been through these past few weeks, our sense of humor will be more important than ever.”

  They entered the Ops Center and Kane spotted the camera setup. “Anybody know how to work this stuff?”

  Atlas stepped forward. “Allow me, Mr. President.” He sat down on one of the stools, his massive frame almost looking as ridiculous as poor Ruben Studdard on an American Idol stool. He began pressing buttons then turned, nodding at the President who had already checked himself in a mirror and was standing behind the camera. “When you’re ready, Mr. President.”

  Starling nodded and Atlas hit a button, the displays for the various networks switching showing their regular broadcasts as their own signal showed on a monitor with a flashing message.

  Standby for a message from the President of the United States.

  They waited and within a few seconds ABC had switched over, then several others, within less than two minutes they had all switched over.

  “You’re on in three, two, one, now,” whispered Atlas, his voice impossibly low for a man his size, the display switching expertly to the President.

  “My fellow Americans, good evening.”

  “The Bunker”, CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia

  “Are they doing what I think they’re doing?”

  Morrison nodded at Leroux’s question. “I think so.”

  “Is that explosives?” asked Tong, their collective fear given voice. “Shouldn’t we get out of here?”

  “There’s nowhere to go,” replied Morrison. “These are strong doors, they might just hold, but in case they don’t, when they’re ready to detonate we’ll all get on the opposite side of the room.” He pointed at several tables holding terminals. “See if you can tip those over so we can use them as cover.”

  Dillard and several others jumped from their seats executing Morrison’s orders as Leroux suddenly noticed the security feed from Fort Myer. “Look, sir!” He pointed excitedly at one of the feeds showing Sherrie’s cell. She was still seated, but she was with an Asian woman and no longer bound.

  “Sir!” Leroux turned to see Dillard pointing at the bank of screens on the left that showed the various news feeds. They were all switching over to the same signal then suddenly the President appeared.

  Morrison jabbed a finger at the screens. “Let’s hear that!” Leroux stepped over to a terminal and hit a few keys, the President’s voice suddenly surrounding them. “Can you pipe that into the hallway so our guests can hear it?”

  Leroux examined the console then nodded, hitting a button. The security feed showed the men stopping and looking up.

  “—evening. This is your President speaking. I have been held captive by General Thorne’s forces at Fort Myer in Arlington and have just been freed by loyal American soldiers. I assure my fellow Americans that for the moment I am safe, and if my family is hearing this, I ask them not to worry. But the danger is not over. General Thorne’s forces, mostly in the form of Raven Defense Services personnel, have staged the attacks our country has suffered over the past several weeks in an attempt to seize power. I repeat, these attacks were not carried out by our Muslim friend
s and neighbors but by General Thorne’s forces.

  “I know you will find it hard to believe that a coup d’état has actually occurred in our country, but it has. We have fought tyranny before and won, we have fought the unjust oppressor before and won. We did it over two hundred years ago, and I’m asking you to do it once more. Fight those who would take away your freedom in the name of security, fight those who would tear up our hard won Constitution, fight those who would dishonor the over one million who have died fighting in the past to preserve our way of life.

  “It is time for all good Americans to rise up, to take to the streets, and to fight for what they know is right, and that is a country of the people, by the people, and for the people! We will not be held prisoner by the steel boot of a military dictatorship, nor will we be confined to our homes by fear of the unknown. Today we take back our freedom, take back our dignity and take back our country!

  “I hereby order all United States Military personnel to stand down and return to their bases. I also order that all Raven Defense Services employees be immediately arrested. I am also ordering the immediate release of all those forced into internment camps and the immediate repatriation of any citizens who were deported illegally.

  “I also am requesting that loyal members of the Secret Service and Capitol Hill Police retake the White House and Capitol Hill, and request that all members of Congress return to the Hill at once to rescind the recent decision to impose martial law. We were deceived, my fellow Americans, by General Thorne and his cohorts. I therefore order General Thorne’s immediate arrest as well, along with any personnel who may have been assisting him.

  “My friends, we have been through a grueling time and I ask you to endure just one more night. Take to the streets, demand them back, but remember, your military is not your enemy. The soldiers protecting you were following lawful orders; it was their commander that was corrupt. Allow them to return to their bases unmolested. These are the same soldiers you loved and supported last week, and they deserve that same love and support tonight. They were deceived just as we all were.

  “Make your feelings known, make your feelings heard. Take to the streets, peacefully. Demand those who won’t stand down to do so, demand your law enforcement agencies arrest the Raven Defense personnel and free our fellow Americans who have been so horribly imprisoned.

  “My fellow Americans, take back your country!”

  The broadcast looped and as Leroux and the others watched, he glanced over at the security feed showing the hallway outside the blast doors. The Raven personnel were retreating to the elevator shaft. Morrison noticed as well.

  “It looks like we’ve got a reprieve, ladies and gentlemen. Excellent work. Every one of you.”

  Tears of relief and joy flowed down many of the faces as Leroux turned his attention to the screen showing Sherrie and what he assumed was the Chinese woman Kane had been sent to collect.

  “It looks like it’s working,” said Dillard, pointing at the feeds showing the main gates surrounding CIA Headquarters. Dozens of Raven personnel were being corralled by soldiers, CIA uniformed officers slowly taking over as they were freed and rearmed. As the soldiers secured the scene their heavy equipment began to roll out, and as their presence deescalated, Leroux felt his own heart rate begin to lower slightly.

  We just might make it through this alive.

  Approaching Fort Myer, Arlington, Virginia

  Communications were still down as Captain Mike Howards’ column made the final turn to Fort Myer. Sporadic gunfire flared and he realized they were going in hot. He stood up in his Humvee and motioned for the column to split, several platoons deploying to the rear, the rest to the front, the layout of the installation a narrow strip between the road they were on and the cemetery behind it.

  Muzzle flashes from multiple positions burst from the defenders and the terrorists apparently on the rooftops lining the road. He pointed and several .50 caliber machineguns opened up, silencing the attackers’ weapons. They rolled through the main gates, held open by private security, the military personnel he assumed would be assigned nowhere in sight.

  And the gunfire from the enemy was curiously silent.

  “Cease fire!” he ordered, listening. There were still the sounds of gunfire from the other side of the installation including what sounded like some serious firepower. Sniper rifles? He found it hard to believe that terrorists would have these types of weapons, but then again, they had apparently been using military grade explosives so anything was possible.

  “Thank God you guys arrived,” said one of the Raven men, approaching him and saluting.

  Captain Howards didn’t return the salute. I don’t salute civilians. He had no time or respect for Raven personnel or their types. Too often he had met men like this in Iraq who were there for the money and the legal right to kill someone. True soldiers served their country, these men far too often served themselves. He knew they all weren’t like that, some having put in their time honorably with the regular forces then going private to continue doing good work for good money.

  But too many did it for the wrong reasons.

  “Status?” he said, still eyeing the silent rooftops.

  “We’ve been attacked from the front and rear, our HQ has gone silent.”

  “Where are the military personnel?”

  The man shrugged. “Not sure, they retreated pretty quickly. Inexperienced maybe?”

  Howards didn’t buy that explanation, but the gunfire he continued to hear certainly confirmed that an attack was still underway.

  “I’m unarmed!”

  The voice came from the shadows across the street. Somebody was slowly walking toward them, his hands raised, something white held in his hand.

  “Stay where you are or we will open fire!” shouted Howards, taking cover behind the hood of his Humvee. This was exactly what they were told to expect. Civilians coerced into becoming suicide bombers.

  And this was the first.

  The man stopped.

  “My name is Senior Chief Sandy Jacob. I’m with SEAL Team Three. Have you seen the President’s speech?”

  Howards paused, not sure what to make of this new turn. The man might be an imposter, but there was something about his bearing that made him think he just could be who he claimed to be.

  A single shot from his right had him ducking, the man spinning, dropping to the ground. Howards turned on the Raven employee who had fired. “Who the hell gave you permission to shoot?”

  “I don’t take my orders from you,” sneered the man.

  Suddenly a hole the size of a fist opened in the man’s chest as he was shoved backward, into the ground, a single round from what was clearly a sniper rifle eliminating the offender.

  Howards stood up, raising his hands. “Nobody shoot! We’re going to check on your man!” He motioned for two of his team to check on the downed SEAL. He turned to those around him. “Does anybody know what speech he’s talking about?” he shouted.

  “I do!” yelled a voice. He turned toward the voice and saw a man hanging out his window from an apartment across the street. “We were lied to by your General Thorne. This whole things a scam!”

  More windows started to open, people shouting similar things as his men dragged the body of the SEAL to the safety of Fort Myer. Howards knelt down beside him. “Is he okay?”

  “Yes, sir. He’s wearing a vest. Maybe some cracked ribs.”

  The man reached up and grabbed Howards by the arm. “Front pocket. Cellphone. Watch the speech.”

  Howards carefully, almost reluctantly reached into the pocket and pulled out the man’s cellphone. The man pressed his thumb on the pad to unlock it, the video already queued up.

  And Howards jaw dropped as he and his men listened.

  The Oval Office, The White House, Washington, DC

  The next day

  President Starling shook the hand of the Supreme Court Justice, once again officially President of the United States, it having tak
en until morning to get a quorum together to rescind the previous idiocy they had implemented. His speech had worked, however. Military units across the country had immediately stood down, crowds had filled the streets in mostly peaceful protest, and FBI supported by local and military authorities had rounded up much of the Raven Defense Services personnel, many however having stripped out of their paramilitary uniforms and slipped off into the night.

  They’d be found eventually.

  Television stations were reporting the news again and though life was far from normal, people were in the streets again. He had actually heard laughter in the halls this morning, something that had been missing for too long.

  Once word of the speech had spread, Capitol Hill and the White House were quickly taken back and though security was very heavy, they were all wearing the proper uniforms.

  He pointed at Thorne’s portrait on the wall. “Get that piece of shit out of here,” he said.

  One of the Delta operators who had help free him, Command Sergeant Major Dawson, motioned to one of his men Starling believed was named Niner. What the hell that meant, he didn’t know, and he wasn’t about to ask. Niner stepped over to the portrait and tore his fingers through the faux painting, tearing it in half, then shoving his arm up and around the frame, lifting it from the wall. He paused, looking at Starling.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. President. You didn’t want this preserved intact, did you?”

  Starling chuckled. “No, Sergeant. I’d say burn it, but someday people will learn about this in history class and will want to see the portrait of the first military dictator in American history.” He smiled. “And now your name will live on forever as the man who ripped it from the wall.”

  Niner winked at Dawson. “I always knew I’d be remembered.”

  Dawson rolled his eyes, looking at Starling. “Mr. President, he’ll be impossible to live with now.”