Crimson: The Second in the Trinity Series Novels

by Blade, CG

  “Honey, are you okay?”

  “Yes I’m okay. I am fine Stacey. I need to talk to Captain Dace alone for a moment. I will be done here shortly dear.”

  “Okay Roger. Hi Petra nice to see you again.” she forced a smile out as she waved to Petra. Her beautiful blue pinstriped suit accented her features and complimented her face.

  “Nice to see you ma’am, I won’t keep him long.”

  The secret service agents and Harrison’s wife left the Oval Office, shutting the door behind them.

  “Captain you have to be damn sure that you’re right, about everything!” he sprang up from his chair and stood next to the South Lawn window. Petra followed suit standing next to him, silent. The indentation in the lawn from the previous ‘dish’ incident filled in and covered with bright green sod. “This is treason and mass murder we are talking about here Captain. I cannot have you going off half-cocked chasing after him if he is innocent. We are dealing with other nations here as well. This whole thing smells like a set-up to me. I am getting ready to go analog from what the staff tells me when I put out the State of the Nation Address tomorrow morning. I hope that someone out there will hear me. We have millions of displaced people who are scared, hungry, and fearful. I believe in you Captain Dace, but make damn sure you are right! If you are right, I will pin so many damn medals to your chest you will fall over from the weight. If you are wrong about this, I will denounce you, cast you out, and expatriate you. Do you understand?”

  “Yes sir. I understand completely.” Petra saluted President Harrison and returned her cap to her head. She turned and started to walk across the Oval Office, past the white sofa to the door.

  “Captain.” Harrison said turning towards her.

  “Yes sir?” She turned to look back at him.

  “God bless you Captain Dace and good luck.” He returned the earlier salutation.

  “God sir?”

  “Yes, Captain Dace, God bless you and Ter.”

  “God—she’s going to sit this one out sir.”

  ***

  Petra landed the F-35B a quarter of a mile away from the ornate rusty iron gates with the letters ‘RC’ welded into the center of them in Dublin, Ohio. Using a small patch of woods for cover on the right side of the mansion, she snuck onto the property of a man she once trusted. Now a fugitive from the law and the recipient of an ‘All Points Bulletin’ Vice President Rick Connley had a lot of explaining to do. Morning dew was covering the landscape of tall grass and rotting plants surrounding the front flowerbeds. Petra noticed a distinct smell in the air as she unwrapped a Twinkie hiding around a corner under the front balcony.

  “Petra must you always eat a Twinkie before a firefight?”

  “I don’t always eat a Twinkie before a fight Ter and how do you know there is going to be a firefight?”

  “The probability of you getting into a firefight with Vice President Rick Connley is ninety-six point four seven percent.”

  “Well, we will just see about that won’t we?”

  “Yes Petra we will.”

  “Those smells in the air, it’s like—barbecue?”

  “He is probably hungry, that sonofabitch.”

  “Remind me never to piss you off.”

  “That would be wise Petra.”

  Walking up the front porch Petra modified her appearance changing into her cobalt armor, face shield, HUD up and running. There would be no surprises this time. She passed by two halves of a door lying broken in the grass. Six months of unkempt lawns and lack of care was starting to conceal the wooden pieces. Clouds shuffled by casting shadows on the angles of the mansion. She poked her head inside of the dark house with a Peacemaker held tight against her face dividing her nose.

  “Oh Rick—come out, come out wherever you are!” She yelled towards the center of the house. “Come on out buddy we can discuss this like intelligent beings, why did you do it Rick?” Petra slipped inside the front room of the mansion past a couple of years of dust and trash. The smell of barbecue was getting stronger as she inched her way through the living room around dirty chairs and tables towards the kitchen. Peeking her head around a corner, she noticed a large silver pot on a stove. It had steam rising from it. The steam was 198.6 degrees. He is here somewhere. Glancing out the back window of the kitchen, she noticed a trail of smoke puffing by. “Rick you know I won’t leave. I won’t go away—ever—until you come out.” There was silence. Petra walked to the back of the kitchen and looked through the dirty window. A brick smoker was pumping thick grey smoke out of a black tipped chimney. She could see an oven mit, a pair of tongs, and an apron lying on a table next to the smoker. “If you come out Rick I will let you finish your dinner, smells mighty tasty.” She yelled hoping to appeal to his carnivorous side.

  “He would be great at hide-and-seek Petra.”

  “I have had about enough of this Ter.” Petra put her right two forefingers together and let out and ear-piercing whistle. In the distance, rumbling and cracking sounds were rapidly becoming louder. “Rick, you have approximately one minute to enjoy your dinner give or take a second or two depending on traffic.” There was silence again. “Okay Rick, have it your way.” Petra opened the back door of the kitchen, stepped outside, and stood next to the smoker. She pulled a metal ring on the small square black front door of the barbecue held on with two rusty hinges, peeking inside. Smoke escaped from the hole and she reached inside and grabbed a hot piece of meat. Holding it up in front of her, she dangled it like a carrot in front of a donkey. “Rick last chance, this brisket sure looks good!” Eyeing it for a moment she thought hard about chomping into it. Nah, I am more of a Twinkie girl now anyways. Setting the one-pound piece of meat down on the table, Petra turned towards the loud crunching noises and walked around the back corner of the mansion. Coming through the field was Patrick and the boys. The sixty-two metric ton M1A1 Abrams cobalt swirled tank had cleared a swath of destruction as it destroyed a twelve-foot wide path of trees through the woods surrounding the mansion. Before it arrived at its destination, it rolled over the six-foot high brick wall encompassing the property, smashing it to dust under its massive treads. The 1,500 horsepower Lycoming Textron Gas Turbine engine came to a slow idle as the tank stopped a foot from where Petra was now standing. The tank chirped a familiar binary acknowledgement to Petra as she hopped up on top of it and opened a hatch. Reaching inside she pulled a microphone attached to a cord out of the hole and put it to her lips. A megaphone flipped up on the front deck of the tank.

  “Rick—Rick—are you still listening? I hope so! If you aren’t then you are in for a big surprise!” The sound coming from the megaphone echoed throughout the property bouncing off the mansion and the woods. The M256 120mm smoothbore main gun turret rotated down and centered itself with the mansions first floor in mind. Although this tank was known to have a wide variety of armament at its disposal, Petra thought that one type of shell might do the trick. Her HUD pages were flying by her eyes as she picked out the projectile that she thought would finish the job. The M908 Obstacle Reduction round would destroy any barrier, penetrating before it exploded. She lay back against the front of the tank turret crossing her arms behind her head one-hundred feet from the mansion, as if she were watching cloud formations go by on a bright sunny day. She could feel the massive shell loading into the main turret’s battle gun. The robust machinery under her vibrated and shook.

  BOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM!

  Cobalt blue smoke poured out of the end of the gun as a muzzle flash of bright blue fire emerged from the barrel. The instantaneous recoil of the barrel shook Petra slightly as she unwrapped a Twinkie and began chewing it. The entire tank jolted backwards slightly from the shot as the projectile pierced the west wall of the mansion and landed in the center of the living room next to a set of stairs.

  BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM!

  The shell exploded with a reverberation that rattled the ground and shook the entire area. The main gas line became collateral damage as the
entire house exploded sending pieces of wood, plaster, and metal flying in every direction for hundreds of feet. A bright flaming orange mushroom cloud followed the blast. Every wall of the mansion caved in on top of themselves. Debris covered the top of the tank as Petra brushed herself off. Several small fires broke out as smoke and fumes funneled out of what was left of the second floor, which was now lying on the top of the first floor. Looking down to her left next to her leg on top of the tank was the brisket, now a charred piece of history.

  “I have ruined a perfectly good piece of meat, what a shame.”

  “Yes Petra I will notify the Beef Council when we get back home, wherever that may be now.”

  Jumping down off the tank Petra put her right arm over the top of the end of the hot main gun barrel, turned her head towards the 120mm diameter hole, and blew some of the cobalt smoke away. She leaned against the barrel with her arms crossed against her chest. Movement was coming from the center of the wreckage as planks of singed wood and a hand sticking up through the rubble was tossing around fragments of furniture. A metal trap door buried underneath of the scrap was slowly opening.

  “You crazy bitch what the fuck did you just do to my house?”

  “Rick! You are home! Oh what a relief!” she said sarcastically.

  “What the fuck do you want?”

  “I want what everyone wants, truth, liberty, justice, oh—and your head on a stick!”

  The trap door slammed shut.

  “I told you there was going to be a firefight.”

  “That was not a fight Ter, it wasn’t even close.”

  Chapter 18

  CRACKABLE

  Friday October 19th 11:46 AM

  There are many definitions for the phrase ‘hog-tie’. The forms of some of these definitions range from BDSM, to impede or to hinder, and even torture. The act of hog-tying someone correctly takes patience and practice. Using approximately thirty-feet of rope and a quick hand, you must bind the hog’s front and back feet before tying both of them together especially if your hog is fighting back. Ter instructed Petra on the proper binding techniques of this art as she casually prepared Rick for his trip. Staring down his business end, Petra flew the F-35B to Washington D.C. looking out of the front of the canopy at the man wrapped around the nose of the jet. Tattered and torn from the first class seat he was strapped to, the g-forces, cold temperature, and turbulent wind took its toll on his body and he passed out.

  Built to commemorate George Washington and completed in 1884, the obelisk on the National Mall in Washington D.C. made of marble, granite, and bluestone gneiss was better known to the world as the Washington Monument. Standing a little over 554 feet high it is the world’s tallest monumental column. Using Patrick and Thomas as a trick rider uses two horses at a rodeo Petra stood patiently waiting for Connley to wake from his slumber. The two drones under her feet were holding her steady 545 feet off the ground as she stared at the man who was hanging from the point on top of the monument by a rope she used to lasso the mammoth stone structure. Patrick and Thomas compensating for high winds and elevation hovered gently in their dark blue and silver casings, never faltering.

  “What—where, what the hell are you doing?” Rick finally woke up realizing the ‘gravity’ of his situation. Bound tightly, his hands and feet were practically touching each other behind his back. A single rope tied him to the monument as he hung from the top. The skin on his wrists and ankles bled from the chafing rope.

  “I think it’s about time you came clean Rick.” Petra told him as she removed a Peacemaker from her right hip. His once perfectly styled brown hair seemed as if it went through a washer set on the spin cycle. His face was bleeding profusely from the trip receiving impacts of flying particles consisting of bird droppings, insects, and other airborne fragments.

  “Why aren’t you dead? You should have died from that virus. Fuck you bitch I don’t have to tell you shit! Now cut me free from here!” He was wiggling unsuccessfully, desperately trying to free himself from the bindings.

  “Okay I will cut you down Rick. I hope you enjoy the view on your way down.”

  “Fuck you!”

  “Ter what is the thread count on a one-inch rope?”

  “Approximately 2,000 thread wraps Petra, give or take a couple.”

  “Oh we’re guessing now?”

  “Yes Petra. I do not have access to our main satellites so I am using old data. So I am guessing.”

  “Okay I can live with that.” Petra pulled back the hammer of the Peacemaker and pulled the trigger. A loud pop followed. A cobalt bullet struck the monument slicing a small percentage of the rope that held Connley in place apart. Small pieces of stone cracked off the top that formed the pyramid and went flying leaving a small chip. The high winds had spoiled Petra’s attempts to blow the smoke off the end of the barrel.

  “Okay—okay! Stop it already! I will talk. Just promise me you won’t kill me!” Braids of the rope were now slowly unraveling between him and the top where the bullet had sliced the rope.

  “Start talking Rick!”

  “Okay dammit,” he began to confess his sins, “yes I was the one who helped orchestrate the country’s meltdown. I was the middleman though. I had help, a lot of help. Now let me down!”

  “Who gave the orders Rick, who helped you, who was it?” Petra started aiming her Peacemaker at the frayed rope again.

  “It was the Chinese dammit the Chinese and the North Koreans!” He started to tear up, “The Yinying, the Yinbi Yinying.”

  “What the hell are you talking about Rick?”

  “Petra Yinbi Yinying’s language translation is Concealed Shadow.”

  “Concealed shadow?”

  “Yes! That’s them,” Rick yelled at her, “they are trying to start a war; they have been for decades, centuries, so they are involving other countries. They invented the Crimson Alliance.”

  “Why Rick what do they want?”

  “This country, they want this country!” he began to sob, “They already own it dammit don’t you see?”

  “Why don’t you enlighten me Rick?”

  “We already owe the Chinese government 1.5 quadrillion dollars. They own us, they own everything,” the rope was beginning to unravel a little more as Connley sobbed spitting as he spoke, “they already have all of our secrets, our technology, they feed us their GMO enhanced food to weaken us and sicken our children. They needed us helpless for the next phase so we won’t be able to fight back. They needed us to be helpless like sheep.”

  “What’s the next phase Rick? What are they planning?”

  “I don’t know!”

  Petra pulled back the hammers of the Peacemakers.

  “I DON’T KNOW! I am telling you the truth! They’re a shadow group within the Chinese government. The Chinese government is fully aware of them but they don’t stop them. They won’t fund them. That’s where all the money went to last year, that’s why they needed the money.” His head was the only thing that could move on him and now it was hanging—low.

  “Where is the signal coming from Rick? How are they controlling the GPS beacon and the Home Link networks, the Military Network, our satellites?”

  “Hawaii—the signal is coming from Hawaii. They own most of Hawaii so they put the new dish someplace hidden away from the mainland.” He tried to suck the snot and phlegm back into his nose snorting and sniffing loudly.

  “Why’d you do it Rick, why did you kill all those innocent people at Meredith, you murdered good helpless people Rick, WHY? Jackie had feelings for you. You got angry at Meredith when your murdering cohorts couldn’t find her didn’t you Rick!” Petra was furious now. Her cobalt hair was flying in the wind as Patrick and Thomas held steadfast under her feet. She stared at the rope knowing he only had minute’s maybe seconds to live.

  “Yes—I thought they had killed her—why do you think Petra—why do you think I did it?”

  “You bastard, you did it for money didn’t you? You sold out didn’t y
ou—didn’t you?” Petra looked down at the ground 545 feet below her at the monuments concrete footing. It was barren and devoid of people.

  “They needed your Cobalt program taken out of the equation. They know you’re the only thing standing in their path to success. After you revealed the Pseudosynths to the world they got worried, really worried.”

  “Who’s your contact Rick, who gave the orders?”

  “I don’t know.” He was mumbling now. Drool was dripping out from between his lips.

  “Tell me!”

  “I dont know! They used cryptic messages hidden in videos of cats doing cute stuff…”

  “How much did they pay you Rick? How much blood money is on your hands?” Petra asked yelling at him gritting her teeth. The harder he wiggled the more threads of rope were tearing and breaking away from the main bunch.

  “Yes—yes I did it for…money—oh God I’m so sorry! Please forgive me Petra, please—forgive me.”

  “That’s not my decision to make you sonofabitch. You chose your path. I hope it was worth it.” Petra turned the drones away from the monument and started to glide downwards.

  “How did you know? How did you know it was me?” He asked screaming at her.

  Petra stopped and turned the drones towards him. She made a fist with her right arm, and rotated her shoulder at the joint mockingly. “You should have had that looked at Rick it looks painful.” She turned the drones away from him and resumed her descent downward. She heard Connley screaming at the top of his lungs. He had changed his tune again calling her every cuss word ever logged in, documented, and written by the good people at Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary. She reached the Washington Monument Lodge near 15th street to meet up with the other drones when she heard the long drawn out scream and the ‘thump’ that followed.