The Plan: How the Bug Out! War Began

by Boren, Robert

  “People are going to get hurt,” Simpson said.

  “This is true,” Mertins said, “but it will be minimal, and we will use the situation to make changes that most of the population in those areas are for anyway.”

  “So let’s say we declare martial law in all of the larger cities,” Simpson said. “I don’t see what it buys you. We would need it to be state-wide. The people most difficult to control are in the suburbs and rural areas.”

  “We’ll have to address that afterward,” Mertins said. “Saladin has plans for some targeted incidents which will bring that about.”

  Simpson leaned back in his chair, looking into space as he thought. “You go poking at the rednecks in the hinterlands, and you’ll end up with a shooting war you might not be able to handle.”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what we hope will happen,” Mertins said. “That will allow us to bring in UN Peacekeepers to save the day.”

  “Oh, I get it,” Blake said. “The central organization of the globalist movement rides in on a white horse to save the day.”

  “This is an extremely risky plan,” Simpson said. “I don’t like it.”

  “Give it some thought,” Mertins said. “We don’t have to decide right this minute, and we can continue to have dialog over the coming weeks. You are in the driver’s seat, Mr. President. We’re simply making a recommendation based on the request we got.”

  “Okay, I understand,” Simpson said. “I’ll consider it with a few select advisors and get back with you.”

  “You understand we need to be discrete, of course?” Mertins asked.

  “Of course,” Simpson said. “I won’t bring in a lot of people. Only a select few.”

  “I expected no less,” Mertins said. “Come, Saladin, we should take our leave and let Governor Sable and the president have a brief discussion.”

  Saladin nodded and got up. “Thank you for your time, Mr. President,” he said.

  “Thank you,” Simpson said.

  “I’ll see you both in a few minutes,” Sable said. “There are refreshments in the limo.”

  They nodded as they left the plane.

  “You really think this is a good idea?” Simpson asked.

  Governor Sable sat silently for a moment.

  “I think he…” Blake started to say. Simpson glared at him.

  “I want to know what the governor thinks, Blake.”

  “Sorry, Mr. President,” Blake said.

  “I agree with you that this is risky,” Governor Sable said. “We have a standoff on most of the issues, but over time we’ll continue to make progress. We’ll eventually reach the tipping point we need.”

  “If the other side takes the White House, they’ll dial everything back,” Blake said. “We’ll have to start over when we can get them out.”

  “You think I’m going to lose the election?” Simpson asked.

  “No, no,” Blake said. “I’m not saying that, but we need to remember history. It’s rare that a two term President of one party is followed by a president of the same party. You know that. People get tired, and want a change.”

  “He’s right,” Governor Sable said. “We need to think very carefully about this plan. I understand that. We shouldn’t dismiss it out of hand, though. The stakes are high, and our partners in the EU are getting antsy. We don’t want them proceeding without our leadership.”

  Simpson sat back, his mind rolling through all of the disasters which could happen with the plan.

  “You’re far from convinced,” Governor Sable said. “We can forget it.”

  “No, I’m not ready to do that,” Simpson said. “I think the plan has merit if it can be controlled tightly enough, but if it goes wrong, or if the population gets any proof of what we’ve done, it’ll probably be jail time for all of us. Please keep that in mind while thinking about this.”

  “Of course,” Sable said. “How do you want to proceed?”

  “You go ahead and deal with Mertins, assuming that the manufacturing plant deal is real.”

  “It is,” Sable said.

  “Good,” Simpson said. “I’ll chat with my people and get back to you. It may take a week or two.”

  “I understand,” Sable said. “Thank you.” He got up, shook hands, and left the plane.

  Blake looked at Simpson cautiously. “You’re leaning away from this, aren’t you?”

  “Do you trust Mertins? Saladin?”

  “Without control?” Blake asked. “Not for a minute.”

  “Are you confident we can control them?”

  “Yes, but we can’t leave it to Sable,” Blake said.

  “Yeah, we need to keep close tabs on him if we go forward with this,” Simpson said. “If he gets cold feet in the middle, he could sink us all.”

  “Understand,” Blake said.

  “Okay, let’s get out of here,” Simpson said. “We need to be in Jersey tonight.”

  “Yes sir,” Blake said.

  Chapter 10 – The Plan - Hunted

  General Walker texted the privates as General Hogan drove away from the gas pump. His phone dinged with replies as they got onto the street.

  “Something’s not right,” Hogan said. “Look at those two cars over there. See them? Black SUVs. Across the street.”

  “I see them,” Walker said. He frantically texted the others when the black SUVs moved onto the street, getting behind them. Suddenly gunfire erupted, shattering the rear window of the Humvee.

  “Son of a bitch!” shouted Hogan. “Shoot those assholes!”

  Walker pointed his rifle out the back window and fired, just as he heard gunfire coming from the other Humvee. One of the black SUVs rolled into a ditch, it’s driver dead. The second one kept going, returning fire at the Humvees and the Jeep.

  “Dammit, stop that guy!” shouted Hogan as Walker continued to fire.

  The second SUV went out of control and hit the center median, tipping, then rolling down the street. It caught on fire.

  “Scratch one,” Hogan said.

  “We hit the other one,” Walker said.

  “Yeah, and we’re going back to make sure they’re all dead,” Hogan said as he turned around. The other two vehicles were already racing towards the SUV, opening fire, flooding the windows with lead.

  “That ought to do it,” Walker said as they pulled up. They both jumped out, rushing over to the young men, who had their rifles pointed into the vehicle.

  “Don’t shoot,” Hogan shouted. “We need to see if any are alive. We need to know who this is.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I figured,” Ken said. “We got this.”

  Hogan and Walker rushed to the vehicle and looked inside. Everybody was dead except one man, who was wounded in both shoulders. He said something in Spanish, his eyes terrified.

  “Jose, get over here,” Hogan said. “See who this guy is.”

  “Yes sir,” he said as he rushed over. He talked to the man for a moment, and then looked at Hogan.

  “Well?” Hogan asked.

  “He won’t tell me anything, but I recognize the accent,” Jose said. “He’s from Venezuela.”

  “Figures,” Hogan said.

  “Watch out, he’s reaching for that pistol!” Jose said. He aimed his rifle and shot the young man in the face.

  “Dammit,” Hogan said.

  “How the hell did they track us?” Walker asked.

  “Yeah, that’s what I’d like to know,” Ken said.

  “Listen,” Troy said. “Sirens. We’d better get out of here.”

  “Yeah, let’s leave now,” Walker said.

  All of them sprinted back to their vehicles and took off, heading for route 70. They got on the road and floored it, flying along at more than eighty, leaving the town behind.

  “Okay, what now?” Walker asked. “That probably won’t be the last of the attacks.”

  “We stick with the plan,” Hogan said. “Make for Utah. The place I know of is way out in the boonies. Miles of dirt road to get th
ere.”

  “If they’re tracking us, we’ll get nailed,” Walker said.

  “Don’t you think I know that?”

  “What the hell are men from Venezuela doing here, anyway?” Walker said. “You see their weapons. That was US Army stuff.”

  “I noticed,” Hogan said. “Same folks who took over Yuma, probably.”

  “Maybe they’ll lose interest if we aren’t still going that way,” Walker said.

  “Maybe, but I wouldn’t bet my life on it.”

  “No, neither would I,” Walker said.

  “Maybe I should be in the back. It’d be easier to shoot behind us.”

  “Just watch,” Hogan said. “Just watch.”

  “What are we gonna do?” Walker asked.

  “For now? Disappear.”

  Chapter 11 – The Plan - Chips

  “He’s not going to go for it,” Daan Mertins said, pacing in the hotel room. Saladin watched him with a bored expression.

  “It’s only been a week since the meeting,” he said. “Relax. We’ve got people in Simpson’s administration. Don’t worry. He’ll get the right advice.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Mertins said, “and we’d better keep this secret. No leaks. You know what will happen if there are leaks.”

  “We’ll have to kill the leaker and everybody they talked to,” Saladin said, getting up from his chair. He looked out the window of the hotel room, over the city of Brussels. “That reminds me. Did your people find those two rogue Generals yet?”

  “No,” Mertins said. “They’ve disappeared into the woodwork.”

  “Find them,” Saladin said. “If you don’t, I’ll get involved. You’re worried about leaks, but we have that hanging over our head.”

  “Don’t start throwing your weight around until we’ve gotten agreement on the deal with Simpson,” Mertins said. “I mean it.”

  Saladin walked towards him, eyes wild. “You dare talk to me like that?”

  They stared at each other, eyeball to eyeball. Mertins backed down.

  “Okay, okay, cool your jets. I’m just nervous, that’s all. This is risky business. Things could go wrong.”

  “Did you bring the RFID devices?” Saladin asked.

  “There’s two boxes of chips in the back of my car,” Mertins said. “More where those came from.”

  “Where did you get the technology again?” Saladin asked.

  “Some guy named Frank Johnson,” Mertins said. “He was an acquaintance of mine. Brilliant man. I met with him on this subject before he retired.”

  “Is he going to be a risk when we go forward?” Saladin asked.

  “Possibly,” Mertins said. “We’ve already got people tasked with watching him. After we launch the project, we’ll probably take him out.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He lives with his wife in the coastal area of Southern California, in a town called Redondo Beach,” Mertins said. “That area should be covered by martial law when things get going, so we can nab him then.”

  “Make sure you do,” Saladin said. “Does he have family?”

  “A son and a daughter,” Mertins said.

  “Nearby?”

  “The daughter lives up in Portland, Oregon. The son lives nearby, in a city called Torrance.”

  “Where the card clubs are?” Saladin asked. “Been there many times.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Mertins said. “Forgot you were a poker player. How does gambling square with your religion?”

  “Perfectly,” Saladin said. He smirked at Mertins as he sat at the table. “You have a sample of the devices?”

  “Yes,” Mertins said. He went to his suitcase and grabbed a small plastic envelope. “It’s in here.”

  Saladin took the device. It was a plastic capsule. “Good, nice and small. It’ll be easy to insert.”

  “It doesn’t need to go very deep. Upper arm, in the muscle. I can provide a team from the UN to implant them.”

  “My organization will do it,” Saladin said. “I don’t trust large organizations. Somebody always talks.”

  “No problem,” Mertins said, “as long as you can get it done quickly enough.”

  “No problem there,” Saladin said. “Are you sure this will convince the president that we can track everybody we bring in here?”

  “Yes,” Mertins said. “We’ll give him a demonstration. Show off the software.”

  Saladin leaned back in his chair, pushing the sample back at Mertins. “We’re going to put these in deep.”

  “Why?” Mertins asked.

  “So the president doesn’t worry about my men removing them,” Saladin said.

  “That will help us later.”

  “Shut up about that,” Saladin said. “Not a damn word. Understand? The walls could always have ears. Trust no one.”

  “I get it,” Mertins said. “This hotel belongs to my family. We’re okay here. Trust me.”

  Saladin laughed. “Didn’t you hear what I just said?”

  “Oh, come on, it’s just a figure of speech,” Mertins said. “Don’t make me sorry I brought you into this.”

  Saladin glared at him, but then sighed. “Sorry. This bickering isn’t good. When do you talk to Blake?”

  “Tomorrow morning,” Mertins said.

  “Good. How many devices do you have downstairs?”

  “One hundred thousand,” Mertins said. “I know that’s overkill, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

  “I may want more of these later,” Saladin said. “Can you provide them?”

  “Why?” Mertins asked.

  “I was just thinking about command and control. We could monitor and manage our force remotely with these devices, from anywhere in the world.”

  “Well, we have a production line in California, thanks to Governor Sable,” Mertins said. “I could crank out a hundred thousand of these in a few days.”

  “What’s the production line for?” Saladin asked.

  “Livestock tracking devices,” Mertins said. “We have cattle ranchers all over the world using them. Not with the advanced capabilities we’re using here, of course, but that’s no big deal. It’s all about the programming.”

  “Good,” Saladin said. “I might want a lot. Say six hundred thousand. Maybe more.”

  Mertins flashed him a surprised look. “That many?”

  “I have people all over the world,” Saladin said. “Many theaters of battle. You think you could supply me?”

  “Sure,” Mertins said, “but I’ll have to charge you for an order that large.”

  “No problem,” Saladin said. “No problem at all.”

  Chapter 12 – The Plan - A Toast

  “Mr. President, we’re arriving in ten minutes,” the pilot said over the intercom.

  “Good,” Simpson said to Blake. He got out of his chair and looked out the window of Airforce One. “I’ll be glad when this meeting is over.”

  “You’re still not sure, are you?” Blake asked.

  “No,” Simpson said. “You buy this story about the tracking chips?”

  “Yes, I had some of our people check it out,” Blake said. “It’s pretty solid. Good technology.”

  “From Daan’s company, I assume.”

  Blake chuckled. “They’re manufacturing those in the San Jose plant.”

  “Well, that’s just dandy for Governor Sable, then isn’t it?”

  “You really hate that guy, don’t you, Mr. President?”

  “Only enough to kill him,” Simpson said. “I’m just kidding.”

  “I hope so,” Blake said, “He’s on our side, you know. On this, and on just about every issue out there.”

  “Yes, I know he’s a good progressive,” Simpson said.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t roll your eyes.”

  Both men laughed. The seatbelt light came on in the room.

  “Looks like we’d better get seated for landing,” Simpson said. The two men took their seats in the area outside of the conference room
and strapped in.

  “Where we meeting again?” Simpson said.

  “One of the hotels that Daan’s family owns,” Blake said. “We already have people there. It’s well set up. They’ve hosted presidents there before.”

  “Maybe I’ve been there before,” Simpson said. “All these hotels run together after a while.”

  The plane touched down and taxied to a secure terminal. Rain was falling from the night sky.

  “I hate northern Europe,” Simpson said. He stood by the door as the Secret Service detail handled the door and checked the hall into the terminal.

  “At least we don’t have to wade through the tarmac in the rain,” Blake said.

  “Right this way, sir,” the Secret Service leader said.

  “Thanks, David,” Simpson said.

  The group walked through the deserted terminal to an elevator, and rode it down to the ground floor. There was a motorcade waiting at the street and Secret Service agents all around, watching nervously.

  “Off we go,” Simpson said as he got into the limo. Blake slid in next to him. The motorcade took off, arriving at the hotel in less than ten minutes. The group was ushered into the back of the hotel by Belgian security forces.

  “Is this the servant’s entrance?” Simpson quipped.

  Blake laughed nervously. “Remember, this is a low profile meeting.”

  “I know,” Simpson said.

  “Right this way, gentlemen,” David said. He stood by the open doors of the elevator, holding his hand on the door. They rode to the penthouse suite.

  “Nice,” Blake said.

  Simpson shrugged as they waited for the door to open.

  “Mr. President, so nice to see you,” Daan Mertins said, extending his hand as they walked in. Simpson shook it, and followed Mertins into a posh living room. “Something to drink?”

  “After we’ve talked,” Simpson said. “If you don’t mind.”

  Mertins flashed him a nervous glance. “Sure, no problem, Mr. President.”

  Saladin walked into the room. “Good evening, gentlemen,” he said.