‘This man killed my men, your agents,’ Dante said, his expression fierce. ‘He almost killed me and your wife. He’s a murderer, regardless of what he says, or does in the future. You need to tell the FBI, they’re the only ones immune from the GMRC’s influence. This information can’t be kept secret, someone needs to know.’
John stood up. Dante’s right. The FBI can help. Why didn’t I think of that before? It’s so obvious. He wondered if his kidnappers had injected him with something while he was out … although he’d been given the all clear, so perhaps it was just the stress of the situation that had his head in a spin. He nodded. ‘You’re right, I will, but not yet. I want to see what the GMRC comes up with first, and our other agencies. Also, if these people contact me again and I haven’t made public their claims or identities, then it might give me a chance to gain their trust, maybe find out what they’re really after. If they’re planning some kind of attack, it could save lives.’
‘They warned half a billion Americans would die,’ Dante said. ‘Perhaps it was a clue rather than to be taken literally.’
‘Or,’ Ashley said, suddenly looking worried, ‘they’re in league with the Chinese. What if they’re planning a nuclear attack?’
John and Dante went quiet, their faces sceptical, while the wallscreen’s raised volume persisted as an unnoticed distraction.
‘I’m just saying,’ Ashley continued. ‘Occam’s Razor says the simplest answer is often correct. We’re looking for the most complicated answers, when the most obvious is staring us in the face.’
‘She’s got a point,’ Dante said. ‘China has decimated mainland Japan and South Korea, tensions between us are at an all-time high. If they’re planning something, the time could be now, when we’re at our weakest.’
‘It would account for all the resources going missing,’ Ashley said. ‘What if the GMRC is stockpiling – or worse, destroying – our food and water? What if the GMRC is in league with China?!’ Her eyes widened in shock. ‘They could be responsible for sabotaging our infrastructure in preparation for a strike.’
John held out his hands for calm. ‘Let’s not be hasty. I’ve been speaking to the Chinese Premier, there’s nothing to indicate they’re preparing for any kind of campaign. They’ve also said their attack on the Japanese and South Korea was in response to extreme military provocation, which, according to UN investigations, seems to be true. If we’re to prevent a world war, we can’t jump to conclusions.’
‘But we can’t ignore them, either,’ Dante said.
John paced over to the window and stared out into the distance.
‘What are you thinking?’ Ashley said.
John turned back to them and gestured to the media channels on the wallscreen, many of which relayed information about his recent abduction. ‘I’m thinking the nation will be worried.’
Someone knocked on the door, and John’s Chief of Staff, Paul Brown, poked his head inside.
‘How’s everyone doing?’
‘Paul.’ John turned the screen’s volume down and waved him in. ‘What news on the terrorists, anything?’
His Chief of Staff shook his head. ‘Not yet. The computer hacker has covered his tracks well.’
John sighed. ‘And the water shortage? What about that?’
Paul wrung his hands together and shot Ashley and Dante a worried look.
‘Bad news?’ John said, his heart sinking.
‘It’s a bit more than that.’ Paul produced a digital tablet and handed it to him. ‘I got this report late last night, but I’ve only just had time to look at it, what with everything else going on.’
John glanced down at the data he’d been provided, which included surveys on reservoirs and aquifers across the nation. ‘This is incomplete.’
Paul nodded. ‘We’ve had trouble getting past GMRC officials. Your administration has become enemy number one; they’re basically blocking everything we do. And since you’ve angered most of Capitol Hill, as well, more than a few State Governors have taken it upon themselves to bog us down with red tape.’
John ground his teeth. ‘Don’t they realise we’re on their side?’
‘That’s politics for you; most of the time they’ll cut their nose off to spite their face if it means getting one over on the opposition.’
‘There is some data here, though.’ John flicked through the digital pages.
‘Yes. When it became clear we weren’t getting anywhere, I told our people on the ground to bypass normal procedure. I thought the best way to get what we needed was to go off book.’
‘You mean they broke the law?’ John said.
‘Government officials can’t technically trespass on their own land. Not in this case, anyway. I checked.’
John nodded his approval and then reached the final page of the report.
His blood ran cold.
‘What is it?’ Ashley said, seeing the look on his face.
‘Three per cent capacity,’ – John looked up at Paul – ‘that can’t be.’
‘It can and it is.’
‘Where’s it all gone? There was supposed to be enough fresh water for years to come.’
‘I don’t know, but whatever’s happened, the forecast rainfall won’t be enough to replenish our stocks, and at current rates, we predict these facilities will run dry within the next two months, maybe sooner.’
‘Two months.’ John sat down on a chair.
‘The GMRC are behind this,’ Ashley said. ‘They must be storing it somewhere, like that Professor told you about.’
‘Professor?’ Paul said. ‘What Professor?’
‘It’s nothing,’ John said, giving Ashley a look.
‘It’s not nothing,’ she said, growing angry. ‘Tell Paul what you told us.’
Paul looked from Ashley to John. ‘Am I missing something? Tell me what.’
John glared at his wife. What the hell is she doing, he thought, is she trying to deliberately undermine me? He took his Chief of Staff by the arm and led him outside.
‘What’s this about?’ Paul said, concerned. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’
‘Ignore Ashley, she’s still distressed from the attack, Dante nearly died.’
‘So did you. One stray bullet ...’ Paul looked around to make sure no one could overhear them. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’
‘I’m fine, but I need you to do me a favour. Can you arrange a press conference for me? I need to address the nation.’
‘Sure. Where and when?’
As John arranged the details with Paul, Ashley emerged from the room and stalked past him like he didn’t exist.
Paul took his leave and John re-entered Dante’s room.
‘Can you believe that?’ John said. ‘I specifically asked her to keep quiet and she blurts it out to the first person she sees.’
‘She’s worried about you,’ Dante said. ‘She was beside herself after you’d been taken. I’ve never seen anyone so distressed, she was almost hysterical.’
John frowned. That didn’t sound like the Ashley he knew. Although he had seen her totally lose it for no reason over the smallest things, he just never thought she cared for him as much as he did her. Sometimes she was so cold it felt like she was punishing him. When that happened, he tried to figure out what he’d done wrong, but whenever he broached the subject it just made things worse. He loved her. God, he loved her, but sometimes doing so broke his heart. ‘Well, I’m here now,’ he said. ‘I better go talk to her while she’s still talking to me.’
‘Have you seen this?’ Dante said, pointing at the wallscreen.
John looked at the news channel and Dante turned up the sound.
‘... it’s unclear at this time if President Henry plans to keep fighting the GMRC, but many experts agree, so far his actions have made matters much worse. Rioting continues to plague many cities and despite the president’s best efforts, the water crisis has not been solved. Many high-profile Republicans and Democrats are already calling his
presidency a disaster, with some even talking about impeachment. With his recent abduction, some question whether he can lead a nation when he’s unable to even protect himself.’
The newsreader cut to a political correspondent on location at San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge, where cars whizzed past behind him on the daily commute into the city.
‘It’s been forty-eight hours since the president landed in California State,’ the man said over the noise of the traffic, ‘and he’s certainly been busy during that time. His impromptu stop off at a Berkeley water ration queue initially proved a hit with voters, who saw a president that cared, a man willing to put himself out for others in need. However, since his show of power at this very spot,’ – he gestured at the bridge on which he stood – ‘where he declared political war on the GMRC by destroying their ships, people have been questioning if he’s all that he seems, with many saying these are politically motivated stunts carefully planned to distract the nation from his lack of results, stunts that seem genuine on the surface, but that at their heart are self-serving ploys by which he can shore up his flagging reputation.’
Back in the studio, the newsreader nodded her head and glanced at the camera. ‘Perhaps the president should stop trying to impress us and actually get his hands dirty and fulfil his election pledge.’
‘I think questions need to be asked,’ the correspondent said. ‘Who is our president working for? Himself, or those he promised to protect?’
John rubbed at his temples. This was not going well at all. How could he compete when the mainstream media were against him?
‘The GMRC propaganda machine is in full flow,’ Dante said. ‘Some things never change.’
‘They’ve been waiting for me to slip up, and if I don’t, they just make it look like I have.’
Dante murmured his agreement and switched to another channel.
‘What we understand so far,’ said another political commentator, ‘is that the infamous cyberterrorist, Da Muss Ich, also known as Because I Can, was the mastermind behind the attack, although some quarters are even suggesting the president was in league with the terrorists themselves, in a staged event designed to blacken the GMRC’s name. Whatever the case, it’s clear President Henry is losing supporters hand over fist.’
‘Turn it off,’ John said wearily.
Dante muted the screen. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘The only thing I know how.’ John opened the door to the room.
The Secret Service agent’s expression turned quizzical. ‘And what’s that?’
John looked back at the wallscreen and those that sought to destroy everything he’d worked so hard to achieve. ‘What I’ve always done,’ – he looked back at Dante, his face set in grim determination – ‘fight back.’
Chapter One Hundred Ten
John paced around in a corridor as he waited for the world’s press to assemble in the room opposite; the executive suite of a large hotel. Paul, his Chief of Staff, had made the booking soon after they’d agreed to schedule his emergency press conference. Most of the team that waited with him gave him a wide berth, as he mentally readied himself for what was to come. He tried his best to be a fair leader, but interrupting his focus was a sure way to get your head bitten off, especially when he was preparing to face the ferocity of a pack of hardened journalists.
John knew he should have prepared for the questions that might be asked, along with the answers he should be giving, but time was of the essence and he always performed the best when the pressure was on. He felt like a boxer waiting for his first bout. His adrenaline pumped through his veins like quicksilver, his heart beat loud in his chest and the sweat on his palms told him he was ready for the battle.
Like all politicians knew, the mood of the nation was critical; lose the people and you lose control. The only problem was, the GMRC knew that as well, which was why they’d managed to hoodwink the populace for so long. John was always amazed at how powerful television and the mass media actually was. Repeat a message enough times, in the right way, and you literally brainwashed a large portion of society into seeing things your way. The problem came when those in power used that influence to benefit themselves and not those they served, a situation that, sadly, seemed to be the norm rather than the exception.
‘You’re on in five,’ Paul told him.
John looked up from his introspection and nodded.
‘Are you sure you don’t want more time? I could delay it.’
‘No,’ – John shook his head – ‘I’m ready. How many have turned up?’
‘Are you kidding? A Q&A with a recently kidnapped president? They’re queuing round the block.’
‘Sir,’ someone said to Paul, ‘you’re needed.’
Paul strode away and John was left to his thoughts once more.
He looked around at his retinue, the familiar and unfamiliar faces. His whole security detail was new. Since the attack, those that had survived had been put on temporary leave, as they attended counselling and assessment. He missed Dante. The man that had replaced him seemed capable enough, but there was no connection there. John glanced at the agent in question, who gave him a nod in acknowledgement.
The sound of Ashley’s voice penetrated John’s faltering focus and he found himself searching for the calming figure of his wife.
He saw her emerge from a side room with two of her team, one being the young man John had noticed her flirting with back at the concert hall prior to his abduction.
He suppressed the urge to go over and punch the man in the head. Instead, his jealousy turned to anger as a GMRC official moved in to speak to Ashley, the woman guiding his wife away from those around her.
John strode down the hall after them, before stopping off and grabbing one of his analysts. ‘I want that man fired,’ he said pointing to the young assistant who’d taken a fancy to his wife.
‘He’s been transferred onto the First Lady’s team, I don’t think I—’
‘I don’t care what you think, just get it done.’
Startled, the analyst nodded, but John was already on the move again as he followed his wife, who’d just disappeared round a corner with the GMRC official in tow.
He jogged round into the adjoining hallway and pulled up short in confusion. Ashley hugged the woman she was with, kissed her on the cheek and waved her farewell as they parted ways.
‘Oh, John,’ Ashley said in surprise. ‘Shouldn’t you be in the conference?’
‘Never mind that, who was that?’ He pointed at the woman, who was just disappearing through a distant doorway in the hotel.
‘Oh, no one. Just an old friend.’
‘A friend who works for the GMRC, I saw her with that Simon Roberts back on the bridge. What did she want?’
Ashley stepped forward and slid her hands around his waist, her sultry eyes drawing him in for a lingering kiss.
She let him go and touched his cheek. ‘She just wanted to say hi.’
Ashley went to walk away, but he grasped her wrist. ‘Don’t play games; what did you tell her?’
‘About what?’
‘About my abduction.’
She struggled to release his grip. ‘Let go of me, John, or,’ – she grasped his crotch – ‘I’ll make you wish you had.’
John gasped as she tightened her grip.
He released her arm and, maintaining her hold, she backed him up against the wall, her fingers biting into his flesh. She kissed him again and bit his lip.
She smiled at his shocked expression, let him go and stalked away, leaving him in a state of stunned disbelief.
He touched his lip and drew his fingers away to reveal blood.
He calmed himself, straightened his tie and wondered what the hell had just happened. One of his security detail lurked nearby and the man looked away as John glanced in his direction.
Feeling more than a little impotent, John walked in a daze back around the corner and down the corridor.
Paul appeared
through a door in the distance, spied John and waved to him.
John increased his pace and passed Ashley as she rejoined her retinue.
His wife gave him a knowing smile as he passed, and he almost stumbled in response.
‘They’re ready for you,’ Paul said.
John couldn’t help but glance back at his wife.
‘Are you okay?’ Paul held out a handkerchief to him. ‘Your lip’s bleeding.’
John took it and dabbed at the blood. Ashley had turned her back on him, and as he stared at her he realised he didn’t know her at all. But perhaps what worried him the most was ... he loved it.
Chapter One Hundred Eleven
John walked through a pair of double doors, into a backstage area. He waited while a woman dusted his face with make-up in preparation for the media cameras.
‘Has my lip stopped bleeding?’ John heard himself say.
Paul nodded. ‘It’s not that noticeable. Besides, you’ve just been kidnapped, they’ll expect a few cuts and bruises.’
‘Of course.’
‘John, are you sure you’re okay? You seem a bit ...’
‘A bit what?’
‘Out of it.’
John shook himself, getting his head back in the zone. ‘No.’ He stretched his neck from one side to the other. ‘I’m good. I’m good to go.’
‘You better be. They’re out for blood.’
‘Perhaps they should talk to my wife,’ John murmured.
‘What?’
‘Nothing. Let’s get this show on the road.’
Paul signalled to one of his team and the woman approached the lectern and spoke into the microphone, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, please stand for the President of the United States.’
The sound of chairs scraping backwards drifted up to John’s ears as he waited just off stage. Bracing himself, he strode out before a host of media cameras, lights, and a sea of journalists, which stretched to the back of the large room.
Reaching the lectern, he grasped its sides and scanned the room of hostile faces. Suddenly unsure of himself, he stared into the central TV camera broadcasting 32K Extreme Definition to the nation. He knew everyone could see every hair on his head, every imperfection of his skin, as though he was standing in the room with them, but worst of all, he knew they could see his indecision.
Ancient Origins: Books 4 - 6 (Ancient Origins Boxset Book 2) Page 57
