by JC Ryan
As they waited a few hours for the next show, Dalir sat in stony silence, while the others whispered among themselves. What did this mean? Why were only a few of the nukes detonated? They’d been told hundreds would utterly destroy the targets, but in fact, only one or two in each city had done so little damage as to be laughable. A few stole looks at Dalir, reading his stony features correctly as rage. Would they somehow be blamed? Were they in danger?
When the Russian attack fizzled as had the Australian, louder murmuring alerted Dalir to the fact that he may soon be faced with a mutiny. These men had contributed millions of dollars to a global attack that was beginning to look like a cheap fireworks display for a minor holiday, on the poorest of streets. Pinning all his hopes on the devastation of Washington, DC, he watched stoically as Israel reported nothing at all and London was barely touched.
Unable to face his lieutenants on the several hour wait for the nine a.m. hour to arrive on America’s east coast, he slammed out of the room for a brisk walk around the gardens. He returned to a room that had been abandoned by half of his men. The others were afraid to look at him. Jahandar knew it was over before the hour was even done in Washington. How was it possible? It was as if the enemy had known exactly where the operatives would be and had picked them up before they could launch their drones.
Jahandar was angrier than he’d ever been, even at the time when, walking away from the hospital where his dead family lay, he’d uttered the oath that led to this day. He could feel the silent condemnation of his associates. Where had he gone wrong? How had the infidels discovered the plot and more important, how had they foiled it? He needed a scapegoat, or they would turn on him. Millions of their dollars, no, billions had gone into the preparations. They’d been promised the spoils of war, and now there would be none.
“Oleg Zlatovski is responsible for this. I will find him and behead him on world television,” he declared. A snort from behind his back told him that he was losing his leadership. He turned and played his hole card.
“All is not lost. We still have the means to utterly destroy the United States, even if today’s bombs fail as they have so far.” A few faces showed interest, so he went on. “We will wait, assess the damage. But, I have learned that the US has a terrible vulnerability at its heart. We can exploit that with only a few nanonuclear devices and suicide bombers to carry them.”
As skeptical looks began to replace the interest, Dalir hurried to the punch line. “There is a chain of active volcanoes stretching from the center of their state of Wyoming nearly to the west coast,” he said. “Their Yellowstone National Park is in the center of a massive caldera that rises and falls with the magma underneath. If we were to drop a few of our nukes into the naturally-occurring fissures within the park and trigger them, it would annihilate the US. I can show you the research that their own scientists have done to map this super volcano, as they call it.”
Dalir’s most trusted lieutenant came to his support. “Only a fool would brag about a vulnerability under his country,” he said. “Infidels are so arrogant.”
“Just so,” agreed Dalir. Assured that he’d bought some time, he returned to the study of what little destruction his attack had created so far. It would be quiet for a few hours now, as they waited for the nine a.m. mark in the rest of the US, but he had little hope of any difference.
By the time the day ended in LA the Sword of Cyrus was a defeated group of people.
All clear
Sam Lewis was the one who called and gave the all-clear when several hours had passed with no further incidents.
President Harper emerged first, to be whisked away immediately by Secret Service agents. A briefing was awaiting him, though communications had been ongoing throughout the attack. The nine a.m. hour had now passed in all American time zones except Hawaii’s, which hadn’t warranted an attack, it appeared. It had been twenty-four hours since Australia caught the first wave.
The world was still shell-shocked, and recriminations were just now beginning to come in for the relatively small number of people who’d taken it on themselves to keep the rest of the world in the dark about what they knew. Leaders of some governments would be toppled by the backlash.
Harper had already planned for it, and would address the nation at 6 p.m. to explain his actions and tender his resignation if that is what the people wanted. Before that, he would have to face Congress. Ever since the administration just prior to his, the words executive action had been highly suspect, so he didn’t expect to get off lightly. Nevertheless, he stood by his decisions. He called Daniel to let him know that a grateful nation might soon be beating a path to his door.
“This evening’s address will detail what we knew, when we knew it, and the work that went into saving the day. I’ll also suggest that we concentrate on recovery and reconstruction, rather than retaliation. You’ll probably see on the ten o’clock news how it went over, so wish me luck.”
Thanks to some advance PR work among news analysts and among senior Congressional leaders, Harper’s press conference received more praise than condemnation. By the ten o’clock news broadcast in Boulder, he was being praised for avoiding mass panic and handling the threat with aplomb. Harper’s legacy would go down in the history books as an administration that had faced countless serious challenges and come out on top, every time.
As it turned out for the first time in many, many decades the American people rallied behind their president with a huge majority – polls showed an unprecedented approval rating of 85%. Harper had now led them through two of the worst crises in the recorded history over the last few years. There was some talk of repealing the Twenty-Second Amendment to the Constitution, so that he could run for president for another two terms. Good presidents were hard to come by and if you manage to get one why let him go? The American people wanted a man like Harper to take them into the future.
Harper himself would quash that notion. He was well aware that another crisis such as the last two would seriously undermine his health. Esther deserved his full attention in their golden years, and he would not deny her that. Besides, he was tired. He needed nothing more than a long vacation, say, for the rest of his life.
At about eleven, Daniel’s cell phone rang and a familiar voice greeted him.
“Thanks for always being in my corner, buddy.”
“Thanks for always being in ours, Mr. President,” Daniel laughed. “When are you going to come out for a vacation?”
“You can count on seeing me for a vacation right after I hand over the reins, buddy,” the president answered. “But, I’m afraid you and your associates will be needed here again before that.”
“Is something else wrong?” Daniel asked, concerned.
“It depends on how you look at it. Congress would like to have a word with you.” Harper had to struggle to keep his big smile out of his voice, but he succeeded.
“Uh-oh,” said Daniel. “Who all do they want there?”
“All of you,” Harper said. “You and Sarah, Luke, Raj, that crazy Irishman and the mad scientist…you’d better have them all bring their wives, too. They could be here for a while.”
Daniel couldn’t imagine why all of them would be summoned, but if the president said so, it was good enough for him. “We’ll be there as soon as we can, Nigel. Will you put in a good word for us? We didn’t mean to cause all this havoc.”
“I’ll do what I can. When can we expect you here?”
“We’ll be there tomorrow afternoon. I think we might as well charter a plane, with so many of us, I’ll call you when we get there.”
“See you then.”
Harper directed his Chief of Staff to be on the alert for a chartered plane with a flight plan to the capital. There were arrangements to make.
~~~
At three p.m. on the following afternoon, Daniel stepped off the chartered plane first, with Sarah right behind him, little Nick in her arms. They had decided to take a trip to Asheville to see Daniel�
��s parents when this was done, assuming Daniel was still a free man after Congress got through with him. One by one, the others descended the short flight of stairs, gathering at the bottom where a military escort in dress uniform waited with several limousines.
Daniel looked at the cars in confusion. The military escort suggested they were being taken in to custody, but he would have expected Suburbans, not limos, in that case. As Roy, the last to leave the plane, reached the bottom of the stairs, the ranking officer, a general if Daniel knew his insignia, snapped off a perfect salute. Now Daniel was baffled. That wasn’t military protocol.
The officer spoke. “Mr. Rossler, please take this car.” He then began efficiently directing each individual or couple to separate cars. When he came to Raj, he asked, “Where is Mrs. Sankaran?”
Defensively, Raj growled that she was due to deliver their first child any day, and he would hope to be home to welcome the baby. The general directed him and Raj into a car by themselves.
Daniel found the President of the United States waiting in his car. After an exclamation of surprise, he took Nick from Sarah and handed him to Harper, then helped Sarah in, finally following himself. “Nigel, what is this?”
“You’ll see,” said Harper, keeping a straight face with difficulty. Before any further words were exchanged, the limos made a wide U-turn and fell into a line, heading for a destination that Harper refused to reveal.
Less than an hour later, they were dropped off at the Capitol building. “Straight into the lion’s den, huh?” remarked Daniel, who by now had relaxed somewhat. This didn’t seem to be an arrest. Perhaps Congress just wanted to know how they had allowed such an egregious security lapse. It was too bad the wives would be forced to sit and watch their husbands be grilled. Sarah, of course, would be by his side as co-founder of the Rossler Foundation. He only hoped that little Nick wouldn’t start a ruckus after his long plane ride. So far, he just looked in need of a nap. The rest of the Rosslerites looked as baffled as he felt, but it seemed they would soon know what this was all about.
A Congressional page escorted them into the chamber of the House of Representatives, where a throng that looked too large for the room was gathered. A hush fell over the room as Daniel, leading his cortege, stepped in. Feeling more self-conscious than he’d ever felt before, Daniel silently followed the page toward the front of the room. As soon as the last Rosslerite had entered, the doors were shut and thunderous applause broke out, frightening Nick into crying out.
By the time they reached the front of the enormous room, the applause had died away to polite clapping. Daniel and his group stepped up and gathered center stage, directed by the page. He looked around, aware for the first time that the president had slipped away somewhere.
From the wings, President and Mrs. Harper emerged, carrying a large tray, on which were several objects that glinted gold. Daniel couldn’t make them out until the president stepped in front of him, facing him and away from the audience.
“Daniel Rossler, for especially meritorious contributions to the security and national interests of the United States and world peace, you are hereby awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom, with distinction.” Daniel fought to keep his jaw from dropping as the president pinned a blue ribbon with white edges, bearing a silver eagle with its wings spread, and from it dangling a gold medal of five spread-winged eagles in a pentagon. Each eagle stood upon a red enamel over gold pentagon, with a white star superimposed. Within the star, the center was a blue circle, with a pattern of thirteen gold stars representing the original thirteen colonies.
Tears came to Daniel’s eyes as the president moved to Sarah, took Nick from her and handed him to Daniel, and repeated the ceremony. One by one, he presented the medals to Luke, Sinclair, Raj and Roy. Sally and Martha each kissed their husbands right after their medals were pinned on, to applause from the floor. Raj was stunned when his medal was awarded. In one part of his mind, he wished that Sushma had been beside him for this moment, and in another, he regretted that his hacker friends, two of whom had been especially helpful in averting the latest crisis, weren’t here to share in the honors. Roy couldn’t keep a boyish grin off his face as his medal was pinned on. From nowhere, Salome appeared to give him a kiss on the cheek.
With no other medals to award today, though the government employees, including Salome would all receive special recognition from their agencies, Harper stood and faced the joint session of Congress, with the First Lady at his side, smiling brilliantly. On his signal, the applause broke out again and continued for several minutes. Harper used the cover of the noise to speak in Roy’s ear.
“I hope I’ll get an invitation?
Confused, Roy asked, “Invitation to what?”
Harper flicked his eyes to Salome, standing on Roy’s other side. “To the wedding, of course! Esther and I love weddings.”
As the applause died down, Roy looked wildly to his right and left, and out into the audience. Could he do it? Would it be appropriate? Would he be able to get the words out without stuttering and embarrassing himself? Almost without realizing it, he was sinking to one knee, holding Salome’s hand. Her face registered shock. What was he doing?
In a fog, Roy captured Salome’s other hand, and in a sudden hush, said, “Salome, w-will you m-marry me?” He was so relieved to get the words out with just a minor stumble that he was startled when she shouted Yes! And pulled him up to kiss her. The world faded for a moment, and when his ears began to work again, the room had erupted in a standing ovation for the first proposal ever to be made by Presidential decree.
July 30, 2020; D-day for the New Persian Empire
The Ayatollah Khorasani was pacing the room, his hands crossed behind his back, when the Director of Reconstruction, Ahmad Ahmadi and twelve others were shown into his presence.
Khorasani looked gray, Dalir thought. He turned gray himself at the first words from Khorasani’s mouth.
“What have you done, Ahmadi? I’ve just heard from President Harper. These are very troublesome accusations.”
Jahandar had no doubts about their future, especially when Khorasani rang an old-fashioned hand bell and thirteen men with wickedly sharp scimitars appeared from a side entrance.
**********************
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The Rossler Foundation Mysteries
The Tenth Cycle
A CONSPIRACY THRILLER
THE TRUTH ABOUT HUMAN HISTORY IS ABOUT TO BE REVEALED
WILL WE BE ALLOWED TO KNOW THE TRUTH?
The First Book in the Rossler Foundation Mysteries “The Tenth Cycle” is a full-length novel, a provocative techno thriller about human history, conspiracies and an ancient society with power and money that will stop at nothing to reach their sinister goals.
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Ninth Cycle Antarctica
WAS THERE A HUMAN CIVILIZATION IN ANTARCTICA IN THE PAST?
WILL WE EVER KNOW?
Is There An Ancient City Under The Ice Of Antarctica?
The Second Book “Ninth Cycle Antarctica” is a full-length novel, a stimulating thriller about an attempt at uncovering true human history in the face of adversity and is a follow on from The Tenth Cycle.
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Genetic Bullets
A Catastrophe Of Biblical Proportions 35,000 Years In The Making.
The World We Know Is On The Verge Of Destruction ...
There Is No Escape. Or Is There?
The third book Genetic Bullets is a full-length novel, a stimulating medical thriller about genetic engineering human persistence and resolution in the face of destruction.
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