The president gazed at the rich and the beautiful, children of the elites whom he despised. Rich off the suffering of others, John thought to himself, rich through ruthless protection of their double standards. The dark world of the self-obsessed, status-driven few that held the heads of everyone else just beneath the surface, struggling for breath. Everything was set up for debt, which enriched the wealthy and enslaved the many. It had been said for years that the system was broken, that money was no longer real. The façade of its value was faltering and yet people carried on accepting it, wanting it, using it.
Like many presidents before him, John wanted to make a difference, to make a change, and if anything needed changing it was the financial system and those that ruled it. It had been tried before in the distant past, a finite monetary system, and it had worked to great effect until those that wanted power found ways to undermine it and replace it with the debt model that had ruled ever since. And it was this subject he wanted to discuss tonight, that and the crucial matter of extracting key U.S. personnel from the GMRC’s upper echelons, including the Directorate itself.
John squeezed Ashley’s hand to get her attention over the noise. ‘I’ll be right back!’
She nodded and he slipped away, with the formidable Dante following close behind. Eight more of John’s personal guard fell into step with him, as he made his way down a corridor to a quieter part of the building. A door to a backstage room banged open and four scantily clad young women with ornate face masks moved into the hallway, before stopping at the sight of John and his retinue.
‘Ladies,’ John said as he walked past.
‘Mr President.’ One of the women stepped out to greet him, but Dante was there to bar her way.
The woman looked taken aback and scared by the aggressive movement, but John was quick to intervene.
He laid a hand on his protector’s arm. ‘It’s fine, I don’t think I’m in any danger.’
Dante relented, perhaps realising the woman’s attire was not conducive to concealing a weapon of any kind.
The dancing girl stepped closer and shook his hand. ‘It’s an honour, Mr President,’ she said, her English accent sounding quaint. She moved in closer and kissed him on the cheek and he felt her slip something into his shirt pocket.
As she retreated he realised she was older than her peers, and he found himself watching her walk away as she chased after her colleagues, who’d failed to wait for her.
‘Do you want me to find out who she is?’ Dante said.
John turned back to him. ‘What?’ He felt his cheeks filling with heat. ‘No, not at all.’ He held up his ring finger. ‘I’m married now, remember.’
‘Of course, sir.’ Dante nodded, but John thought he could sense his disbelief.
He can think what he likes, John thought, that part of my life is over now.
They continued on and entered the VIP suite, where some of John’s team waited for him, including his Chief of Staff, Paul Brown.
‘Where is he?’ John said. ‘You said he’d be here.’
‘I’m not sure.’ Paul gave him an apologetic look. ‘I can’t get hold of him.’
‘What about his wife?’
‘I tried her, too. No joy.’
John cursed. The predecessor of the current Chairman of the Federal Reserve was key to his plans in gaining valuable insight into the GMRC, the man having served on the Directorate six years previous. Without his inside knowledge John felt exposed to the countermeasures the Council would surely activate in response to his latest attack.
‘What news from Washington?’
‘The GMRC are already moving to block you,’ said his Chief of Staff. ‘They’ve called an emergency meeting. We can expect a challenge to your executive order within the hour.’
‘The Supreme Court?’ John said, fearing the worst.
‘It may come to that, and from what I’ve heard Congress will move to block you as well. I don’t have to tell you, but being an independent is a significant disadvantage, as Democrats and Republicans will work together unless it’s in their interests not to. If you thought it was hard assembling your administration, then your presidency is going to be ten times harder. Especially considering this country and the entire world is experiencing its greatest upheaval in a generation, probably of all time.’
John nodded. He knew it to be the case; he was under no illusions, but since the influx of other independents into the House of Representatives he had hoped for an easier ride. It appears I’m going to be disappointed, he thought. The feeling sparked a memory of similar disappointment at the hands of his late parents. In their eyes he was never good enough, no matter what he did. No matter how much he achieved, their criticism robbed him of any sense of accomplishment and he was left with an emptiness that never seemed to heal, no matter what he did or where he went. He’d thought marrying Ashley would finally cure the sensation, remove the hole in his heart, but to his horror the feeling remained and on occasions when his wife became distant, the agony of loneliness was worse than it had ever been.
As if on cue the First Lady entered the room, chaperoned by her own security detail. She failed to acknowledge him, as was sometimes her way, and moved to the far side of the room to where her small team had set up shop.
‘What news on the water shortage?’ John said, looking back at Paul. ‘Did the new survey on the reservoirs and aquifers reveal anything?’
‘We’re still waiting for the report, sir,’ another advisor said.
‘That’s not good enough, I need that report yesterday.’ John couldn’t help but glance back over at the woman he loved, who now chatted to one of his advisor’s assistants, a young, good-looking man who seemed far too close to Ashley than was acceptable. The stirring of jealousy clouded his thoughts before he returned to the present.
The advisor proceeded to inform him of the reasons behind the non-delivery of the report, which John barely heard. His gaze drifted back to his wife, whose hand now touched the assistant’s arm, the contact overly familiar.
John’s Chief of Staff moved into his eyeline and said, ‘Do you want me to chase it up?’
Ashley flicked back her hair, like she used to do with John when they’d first met, the movement sending his stomach into a knot.
‘Mr President?’ Paul said, trying to get his attention. He moved closer. ‘John?’
‘GOD DAMN IT! Of course I want you to chase it up!!’ John’s eyes flared wide as he homed in on his Chief of Staff.
The room fell silent as everyone looked in his direction.
‘I want that report within the day,’ John said, still seething, ‘do you understand? Or perhaps I need to find someone else that can get me the results I need.’
Paul’s wounded expression switched to humiliation, then to anger as he struggled to accept his leader’s verbal assault.
‘I’ll get it done.’ His Chief of Staff moved away and the room once more filled with the chatter of governmental minutia, albeit with the odd wary glance in their president’s direction.
John made eye contact with Ashley, whose expression showed disapproval at his public castigation of his most loyal of friends.
A deep sense of shame settled upon him like a cloud.
‘Mr President.’
John turned to see his Senior Analyst holding out a digital display.
‘What’s this?’ John said, taking the device.
‘The other data you requested.’
‘Ah, yes.’ He scrolled through the information, pleased at the distraction and that someone had achieved some actual results.
He frowned, his momentary calm cut short. He looked up at the man before him, then back down at the figures. ‘This can’t be right.’
‘The figures are accurate,’ the analyst said. ‘I had them checked five times to make sure.’
‘But this says food shortages are getting worse, not better.’
‘Yes, and that’s not all: sporadic rioting has broken out across half th
e states. The National Guard is having trouble keeping a lid on it now that the GMRC has temporarily suspended cooperation since your attempted—’ The analyst paused.
‘I think “coup” is the word you’re looking for,’ John said, continuing to pore through the data.
‘It’s not a coup when you try to liberate your own country,’ Ashley said, coming to stand by his side.
John avoided her penetrating gaze and continued to peruse the figures. ‘Suicides up four thousand per cent,’ he said, reading aloud, ‘assaults up, murders up. Unemployment rising, inflation at forty per cent. Markets down across the board.’
‘That’s in response to your threat against the GMRC,’ the analyst said. ‘The markets, not the inflation or murders.’
‘Yes, I gathered that. Is there any good news in here?’
The analyst nodded his head. ‘Plant and animal life continues to recover. Mass bird and animal deaths have also dropped to negligible levels, and the predicted collapse of the food chain has been averted.’
‘But if the crops and livestock are …’ – John flicked through to a previous page on the device – ‘… are beyond expectations, why are things still getting worse? The dust cloud from the meteorite impact has all but gone in most parts of the world, and if the ecosystems and farms are responding to clear skies and sunshine … what am I missing?’
‘It’s not as simple as that, Mr President,’ his Chief of Staff said, returning to the fray.
John wanted to apologise to Paul for his previous outburst, but it wasn’t the time or place. He was also told early on in his tenure that the president never apologises, at least not when it was avoidable, anyway, and certainly not in public.
‘Output may have increased exponentially in the last eight months,’ Paul said, ‘but demand has risen. Other nations we rely on for precious resources still require food aid, and despite the increase in unnatural deaths, the boom in the birth rate outstrips it tenfold.’
‘Pregnancies are up?’ John said.
‘Like you wouldn’t believe; a baby boom to end all baby booms. The end of the impact winter was good news, the best news; people tend to celebrate when good things happen.’
John handed the device back to his analyst, then looked Paul in the eye. ‘And the water?’
‘I’ll have the report by the end of the day.’
‘Okay.’ John heaved a sigh and looked around the room at the rest of his staff, engrossed in their computers or in video calls to various parts of the world. ‘I need a break.’ He ran his hand through his hair.
‘Why don’t you come back to the concert,’ Ashley said, taking his arm. ‘The main act’s yet to perform.’
John shook his head, his irritation rising. ‘I didn’t come here to watch a performance; I came here to meet a contact. I don’t know why I ever agreed to it, why here of all places, anyway?’
Ashley sighed. ‘Don’t you listen to anything I say? He arranged it here because it’s his daughter performing tonight, you know, the most famous pop star in the world?’
‘She’s his daughter?’
Ashley nodded.
The last few weeks have been a blur, John thought, it’s not surprising I forgot. What are you talking about? his inner voice said. The last few years have been a blur.
‘Well, if you’re not coming, I’ll go on my own.’ Ashley made for the door, waited for him to say something, frowned in annoyance when he didn’t, then disappeared from view.
John waited a moment, torn as to what to do next, before following after her. When he entered the hallway, his wife and team were just rounding the corner at the far end.
Dante waved his men forward, but John turned away from the noise of the music and made for the restroom, in the opposite direction. His security agents rushed to catch up and secured the area, but John held up his hand to stop Dante and two of his men from following him inside.
‘Just this once can I have some time to myself?’
Dante hesitated.
‘You’ve just searched the room, haven’t you?’
Dante motioned for his men to stand down.
John went inside and Dante followed, much to his president’s ire.
‘I’ll wait by the door,’ Dante said, closing it behind them. ‘You won’t even know I’m here.’
John felt like screaming, but he suppressed the emotion, gritted his teeth and moved further into the pristine bathroom. He stood in front of one of the large mirrors and turned the tap on to wash his hands. You need a shave, he told himself, rubbing a hand against rough stubble. He noted the greying hair at his temples, and the worry lines etched deep into his face. I am so old already? Life moved so fast, it seemed. Turning away from his middle-aged self, he entered a cubicle, not to use it, but to escape Dante’s prying eyes for a few blessed seconds. He just wanted some time alone, completely alone. Was that too much to ask?
He lowered the toilet seat and sat down, then closed his eyes. Silence, he thought, at last. As he sat there, clearing his mind, the distant thump of the concert intruded on his peace. An image of Ashley dancing in time to the beat popped into his mind, then he remembered the performer in the hall and his hand went to his breast pocket.
He removed a small digital card and held it up to the light.
John was surprised, he’d expected a piece of paper with the woman’s number on it. Not that he was conceited, but he’d learnt over the years some women couldn’t resist a man in power. He could relate, as most of the time he couldn’t resist sexually aggressive women. He thought about the shapely figure of the dancer and felt a twinge of regret.
Stop being a horny bastard, he thought, you have Ashley now.
He removed his mobile computer from his trouser pocket and inserted the card into a slot.
The holographic screen powered up, revealing a background image taken on his wedding day. He smiled at the memory, before a black window popped open to fill the screen. He frowned as he hadn’t touched a thing. The installed artificial intelligence hadn’t indicated the card had a virus on it, but he couldn’t take any chances. He went to remove the card, but a white cursor flickered across the screen, making him pause. John stared at the message which had appeared, and then, despite his concealed location, looked around to see if he was being watched.
He looked back at the screen and read the message again.
Good evening, Mr President. How are you today? _
John wasn’t sure how to proceed. Did the dancer want to arrange some kind of elicit rendezvous? The idea was tempting but his marriage came first. Despite what he’d witnessed some moments before, he knew Ashley wouldn’t cheat on him, she wasn’t the type. Was she? And if she was, did that give him the green light to do likewise? You’re being paranoid, he thought, get over it.
Your executive order will fail, Mr President. Do you want to know why? _
John felt his heart rate quicken. Whoever this was, it wasn’t the dancer who’d given him the card. At least, if it was, she wasn’t what she seemed. He typed in a reply:
Who is this?
I am the ghost in the machine, Mr President. And if you want to know how to eradicate the GMRC from your shores, then meet me at the following location WITHOUT your security detail _
A map of a San Francisco residential address appeared at the bottom of the screen.
John considered his options, and then tapped in another response:
Impossible. They go everywhere with me. I also have no idea who you are.
I am your greatest and only hope, Mr President. The GMRC are preparing for a disaster you know nothing about _
John got up and opened the cubicle door. ‘Dante, come here will you.’
‘Sir?’ Dante said, walking over.
‘Take a look at this.’ He showed Dante the screen.
Dante’s expression turned from mild interest to concern. He touched a device at his ear. ‘Code red. Digital intruder. Target is Gate Keeper. I say again, target is Gate Keeper.’
&
nbsp; John recognised his codename and made to hand his computer to Dante, but the burly agent shook his head. ‘Keep them talking.’
John turned his attention back to the messages as Dante escorted him into the hallway, where the rest of the agents now had weapons drawn.
‘Secure Sundance at Echo extraction,’ Dante said into his com. ‘Gate Keeper en route.’
The security detail led the president in a fast walk along a series of interconnecting corridors.
John typed a new message into his computer:
What disaster?
In less than four weeks you and half a billion Americans will be dead _
John felt a shiver of unease before replying:
How?
If you want to know more, you’ll need to meet me ... alone _
I’m not sure that’s possible
I understand. That leaves me with just one option _
And what’s that?
If the mountain won't come to Muhammad ... _
The black command screen vanished and John’s computer powered down just as Ashley appeared around the next corner, her armed escort merging with his.
‘John, what’s happening?’ she said, looking scared.
‘It’s fine, just a small security breach.’
The lights in the corridor flickered and died and he felt Ashley cling to his arm, as everyone came to an abrupt halt.
Flashlights flared. Dante and his men had activated their weapon systems. Red targeting lasers crisscrossed the pitch-black corridor and radio chatter fell silent.
Nothing stirred as the team scanned the area in front and behind.
‘Coms down,’ Dante said. ‘Let’s move.’
The party moved forward once more, their speed increased. Hallways came and went, dark apertures looming large.
Unseen, a large figure stayed hidden in the shadows, its armoured form masked by a high-tech cloaking device. As the presidential party passed, it waited before leaving its place of concealment, a pair of glowing eyes the only clue to its presence.
Ancient Origins: Books 4 - 6 (Ancient Origins Boxset Book 2) Page 47
