Captive-in-Chief

by Murray Mcdonald

  ***

  Eric broke into a huge smile when they embraced in mid-air. He hadn’t been able to hold her like that for years. They had spent their childhood holidays together at Eric’s great grandfather’s house, the lake house a few miles away. Eric was, like his Aunt Val, a direct descendant of Hitler. He had been groomed from an early age for his ascendency to power. His charisma and ability to hold people in his rapture was, many believed, just like Hitler at the height of his power.

  The lakeside retreat had become the training ground for the youth. All of the Lebensborn were monitored and controlled carefully. The indoctrination within their families was carefully monitored and strengthened at summer camps held each year within the grounds of Hitler’s secret retreat. Their summers were spent understanding the importance of their part to deliver a new Reich. Their individual dreams and ambitions had to be set aside for the greater cause. Like Chancellor John Carlyle, who dreamt of being a pilot, yet ultimately entered teaching to help deliver their new society when the time came.

  With the help of the KKK providing fertile pure and American-born women for the Nazi seed to be propagated, the numbers, and with each generation their influence, grew as their children and their children’s children gained power and influence. Exactly as Hitler’s plan had called for. His dream was on the brink of reality. The men Hitler had escaped with carried more wealth than their plan would ever call for. Throughout the Nazis’ power, the looted gold and art that had had so many searching for the missing millions had been spent, invested in the conglomerates that would rebuild the world after the war. Tens of millions had become hundreds of millions, billions, and then hundreds of billions over the years, creating an organization with considerable power, all in the hands of Hitler’s son. Obviously no one knew his true identity other than those in the dining hall.

  Elsa, or Elsa Leipzig, was Karl Leipzig’s daughter. It was as though she and Eric had been made for one another. They had been inseparable each summer. Exactly the same age and revered by other children, as only Hitler’s offspring were, they were seen as different from the other kids in the camp. It meant they spent their time together, time they very much enjoyed and looked forward to each year. They were related, and despite on paper Elsa being Eric’s aunt, the reality was very different. Karl and his sister had different mothers. The only blood they actually shared was Hitler’s - Eric’s great grandfather and Elsa’s grandfather. The joining of the two to make children in the future was not discouraged.

  However, in order to win the election for lieutenant governor, it had been decided Eric needed a wife. A marriage of convenience had been arranged, a Latina wife garnered the Hispanic vote. It was never intended to last. Her pregnancy had been a mistake; the thought of Hitler’s seed breeding an Hispanic child was one none of them wished. Her life should have been taken in the attack at the governor’s mansion. The sympathy afterwards for Eric would have been overwhelming, but Elsa had failed. The guard had survived and would have been witness to her killing and Eric’s failure to save her. Instead, he had shown how capable he was. His selection as vice president had been masterminded brilliantly by Val, just enough hints and suggestions had planted the seed and with the impending elevation of the Baldwins, he really had no option.

  Elsa had rid Eric of the burden of Maria, finally freeing them to be together. They’d take their time to announce it publicly, but privately among their own, they would have no concerns.

  By the time Val opened the door, Eric had already disrobed Elsa. It had been many years since Val had seen what had been a young, pigtailed girl. The woman naked in her nephew’s arms was a very different proposition. Val had quickly reclosed the door.

  “I take it you’re Elsa then?” she called through the door.

  Ten minutes later, they were standing with huge grins on their faces waiting to be announced onto the top table. The shout from across the stage caught them all off guard. Eric was almost impressed at his Uncle Clay’s audacity. He reached for his pistol. It wasn’t there; then he remembered it was still on the bedside table.

  A gunshot rang out. People began to run. Eric stayed where he was, Elsa by his side. Neither flinched or even considered running.

  Chapter 92

  Ramona paced. She couldn’t believe there was nothing they could do. There had to be something they could do. Something. She racked her brain. There were thousands of soldiers around them. The vast majority were sure to be loyal to their president, they had to be. She looked at Amy tied up at the back of the aircraft, her gag still in place. Nobody wanted to hear anything the treasonous bitch had to say.

  The helplessness wasn’t helping Ramona. She didn’t do helpless, she fixed things, she made things happen, she didn’t sit back and do helpless.

  Ramona stalked to the back of the plane and ripped the gag from Amy’s mouth. A diatribe of hatred spewed out at Ramona, who was shocked at some of the words the angelic looking Amy was spouting. They were words she wouldn’t repeat, nor had heard for many years.

  “They’re racists, you know. They’re cleansing the military of blacks, Hispanics. Give it a few more months and we’ll have an entirely white force,” Daryl concluded.

  “Say what?” asked Ramona, her mind racing.

  Daryl ran through what he had uncovered about the military and the FPS.

  “Ramona gotta go now,” she announced, racing from the airplane.

  “Something I said?” asked Daryl.

  “No I think you’ll find it was her,” said Clara, motioning to Amy in the back.

  Ramona found what she was looking for. It took her a while but finally she had her man.

  “You can fly this thing?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Good. Now you get Ramona over to that island where the president is.”

  “Ma’am, I’m sorry. That’s not possible, I don’t have clearance.”

  “What’s your momma’s name?” she asked.

  “Why’d you need my mother’s name?”

  “So I know what to call her when I get the president to call and thank her for what you did for him.”

  “You can get the president to call my mother?”

  Ramona handed him her card and showed him her White House pass.

  “Hold on,” she said, reaching out of the chopper and grabbing a soldier as he walked by. “You a Marine?”

  “Army, Ma’am.”

  “Many boys like you in your unit?”

  “Like me?”

  “Black, like him and me!”

  “A few, Ma’am.”

  “Good, you go round them up and bring them back here. Now don’t go telling any white boys what you’re doing, you hear me?”

  The soldier looked at the pilot, he wore a captain’s uniform.

  He nodded. “Do as she says.”

  Five minutes later, he reappeared with eight men. “Get in, quick, we’re in a hurry,” Ramona barked. “When we land, any boys like you you find, you tell them to come with us! No white boys, you hear me? We stay clear of white boys.”

  “Captain?” The soldier looked at the ranking officer.

  He looked at Ramona.

  “Son, this is so messed up even Ramona ain’t believing it’s happening but trust me, your president needs you more than you will ever and can probably ever know.”

  “You heard the lady, our president needs us. That’s good enough for me!”

  “Hooah!” came the cry from the rear.

  “Well, get goin’!”

  “You’re coming?”

  “Are you gonna try stop me?”

  By the time they reached the lodge they had swollen their number to twenty. Picking up soldiers and a couple of Special Forces on the way. Ramona made sure only those soldiers out of earshot of white soldiers were asked.

  With the lodge ahead, she instructed them to load and lock.

  “Lock and load, Ma’am,” a soldier corrected.

  “Whatever,” she said.

  Whether
it was Ramona leading the group that freaked out the guard or just a large group of heavily armed black men walking towards a building almost entirely inhabited by KKK and Nazi racists, nobody would ever know. The moment he fired a warning shot all hell broke loose and the guard was the first of many fatalities. Ramona and her men had the cover of the darkness and the trees. The white guards protecting the lodge were standing like fools in the brightly lit open ground.

  Chapter 93

  Joe had Clay on the floor and was up with his M4 at the ready as Mike joined him. Dave followed seconds behind, his P90 sub machine gun at the ready.

  Two men rushed towards Karl Leipzig. His close protection hadn’t been close enough. Joe and Mike both fired. The two body guards crashed to the floor.

  “Give me a gun and get off of me!” shouted Clay. “You bastards aren’t having all the fun!”

  Joe moved, allowing Clay up and tossed him a gun. Clay took aim. Another guard was trying to get to Leipzig. Clay took him down.

  The four men worked as a perfect fire team. As targets arose, they shouted their intentions, identifying potential targets to each other. The guards in the hall had to worry about hitting their bosses. The four had no worries, they didn’t care who they shot in the hall. After what they had heard, they’d happily shoot every single person in there.

  The gunfire outside intensified. The flow of people from the hall slowed dramatically when they discovered there was no way out. Someone was keeping the lodge contained.

  Eric walked across the stage with a woman by his side. He was unarmed and had his hands out to prove it as he walked. Val was behind him, Charles Johnson, the president’s chief of staff didn’t follow, he turned and ran, hiding behind a curtain at the back of the stage.

  “Don’t come any closer!” Joe warned when Eric reached halfway.

  Mike and Dave were able to cover the rest of the hall. The majority of the guards were down.

  “Or what? You’ll soot an unarmed man?”

  “Yup,” said Joe. He pulled the trigger and Karl Leipzig crashed to the floor clutching his leg.

  “What the hell?”

  Joe saw the woman next to Eric move. He didn’t see what she had done but noticed a flash of movement. A yelp was his only notice that she had thrown a weapon when Sandy, who had reacted to her motion and had jumped in front of Joe and Clay, fell to floor. Joe didn’t look, he fired twice. The woman took both hits to the head. Eric fell next to her cradling her pulverized head.

  “I’m covering you!” said Clay, allowing Joe to direct his attention to Sandy. Her eyes looked up at him, bright and alert. A small knife was buried in her rear end. The equivalent of a bullet in the ass. She was going to be fine.

  Eric stood up, his hands drenched in blood from the love of his life. Joe stood to face him. Clay pushed him aside. “He’s mine.”

  “You sure?”

  Clay walked across the stage and squared up to Eric. Clay raised his pistol. Eric looked as though he was raising his hands to surrender. Clay pulled the trigger.

  “Your bitch already tried that shit,” he said as Eric fell to the floor, the knife in his hand sliding across the floor to Val’s feet.

  “Oh, please pick that up!” Clay challenged to the woman who had shattered his heart. She raised her hands very slowly.

  “Charles, come out here before I shoot your sorry ass!” shouted Clay.

  Ramona and her merry band of black soldiers burst into the dining hall having picked up Bobby and Alex on their way. They ordered everyone in the room to sit on the floor with their hands on their heads.

  Ramona followed them in, looked up at the stage, and saw Clay holding a gun to Val.

  “You have got to be shittin’ me! You white folks got some serious issues!”

  Chapter 94

  Leipzig and the grand Wizard sang like canaries, certainly after ten minutes in a room with Joe. In reality, it probably only took two minutes, but Joe wasn’t going to let them off that easy. Just because they started talking didn’t mean he believed them. Another lesson from Uday. Joe had told him from the very first minute he had no idea when the ground offensive would start. He didn’t even know if there was going to be one. He had told the truth and Uday hadn’t believed him. Whether he wanted to or not was a different matter.

  However, what Leipzig and the grand wizard divulged was the details of their master plan, which included the names, details, and skill sets of every member of their cause. Thousands of people across government—federal, state, and local, all at high levels and all with power and influence. The numbers were far fewer than expected. It was clear the positions were more critical than the numbers. The list of Secret Service agents likewise was less than expected but again, exceptionally well placed to ensure they had access to Clay at all times. In every area they had worked their way into the highest offices. It was an intricately detailed plan that had culminated in the week that would overthrow the government and change the landscape for their new dawn. They had codenamed it Blitzkrieg.

  Clay had insisted he interrogate Val personally. His marriage had been a lie from the outset. She had known about Clara from his first meeting. She was Hitler’s granddaughter; her husband was watched. She had loved him when they first met, begged her father to allow him to be her husband, but that betrayal had consigned him to be used as her puppet. She’d advised him throughout his political career, assisting him in his choices for senior positions, placing their people where they wanted them. She smiled as she told him her final secret: Tess was his, Jack wasn’t. Jack was Lebensborn, pure Nazi. A tryst between herself and Ed Baldwin had produced what was a descendant of Hitler and Himmler. As it was, Tess was also a descendant of Hitler by virtue of Val’s heritage.

  Clay left the room, his stomach wrenching at the vileness of the woman that had so roundly fooled him and he had loved with all his heart.

  Nobody had heard her words, only him. Joe was there when he came out.

  “She can never see our children again, ever. Her father and Ed Baldwin need to disappear.”

  “What about the rest of them?”

  “They wanted detention camps to detain citizens without charge. May as well let them enjoy their own doing. None of this can ever see the inside of a courtroom.”

  “You think the courts will agree?”

  “Oh, I know they will!” said Clay, knowing the chief justice would be more than happy to assist.

  Epilogue

  The funeral for the first lady, her father, and the vice president were held in private, a somber event held away from prying eyes. A tent was erected around the gravesites to protect the president and his children in their grief. Joe and his Force Recon Marines were the pallbearers. With only one actual body between the three coffins it was imperative nobody knew the truth, including the children. As far as they were concerned, their mother and grandfather really had died in a helicopter crash. In reality, they were housed in a highly secure facility where they would spend the rest of their lives in isolation. A number of implements to allow them to take their own lives were, at Clay’s insistence, always in their cells.

  With no television, reading material, or anything to pass the time, it was not anticipated that Val, her father, or Ed Baldwin would last long. However, nobody wished to dirty their hands with their blood.

  As they laid the empty coffins in the ground, Sandy limped over to Jack. Unsurprisingly, his mother’s death had hit him hardest. She laid her head on his lap. It was exactly what she would do for Joe. At times of his greatest pain she would make sure he knew she was there for him. Jack rested his hand on her head and his tears slowed a little. Although he didn’t smile, the frown that had lined his face eased slightly.

  It had been almost three weeks since Joe’s last drink. He felt good. His nightmares were nowhere near what they used to be, he had friends back in his life, and most importantly, his best friend, a man he had always been honored to call his friend, was by his side.

  When they left
the graveyard, Joe walked by Clay’s side. Sandy was by Jack’s. She knew he needed her more than Joe did at that time.

  “Do you mind if I do that thing now?”

  Clay looked around. The country was back on the right track. He had already rewritten some of the laws they had forced him to change. The detention centers, certainly enough to house the Nazis for the rest of their lives, were staying. Everyone else had already been released. Sarah Myers, the FBI executive director had, with a special task force, rounded up almost ninety percent of Lebensborn, KKK, and Nazis. The rest were on the run and their days were numbered. The troop withdrawal had been halted, as had the illegal immigrant expulsion. The wall was still going up and Clay was going to do something about the illegals, just not so brutally. The gun laws and the war on drugs were areas he was going to mull over a little more.

  “It really, in this day and age, isn’t necessary you know?”

  “Is that a yes or a no?”

  “You know my chief of staff shouldn’t be deserting me in my greatest hour of need.”

  “You know I really am not qualified for that role.”

  “Can I trust you with my life and my family’s life?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then you’re qualified.”

  “Ramona qualifies, and she’d be far better at it.”

  “I’ve got another job in mind for her.” Clay smiled.

  “So would you mind?”

  “No. There’s a car waiting for you and the new 747’s just been delivered. You can be the first to try it out.”

  Joe was already halfway to the car.

  “How much was the bus ticket again?” Clay called after him.

  “About a hundred bucks,” replied Joe.

  “Jesus, we could wire it to her in one second. Do you know how much—”

  Joe stopped and looked back to his friend with a grin. “It was a Joe Kelly promise.”