The respite in the GMRC’s meddling – which didn’t include the relentless propaganda or international sanctions, which continued to blight John’s presidency – did at least allow him time to deal with other pressing matters.
‘What news from the FBI?’ John said, as he continued to gaze out into grey skies.
Paul came to stand by his side. ‘They’ve drawn a blank on Ashley. They dug into her past, like you wanted, but found nothing.’
‘There must be something.’
‘They say there’s enough information about schooling, recent jobs and family, enough to pass a cursory, or even a detailed check, but nothing that ties her to the GMRC, and nothing that suggests she worked in any of the seedier industries.’
John frowned. ‘What about the adult video Bic streamed at the press conference?’
‘They can find no record of it, anywhere.’
‘Which in itself is suspect,’ – John looked at his friend – ‘isn’t it?’
‘The FBI seems to think so.’
John’s heart sank. ‘Then she is a GMRC mole.’
‘Maybe, or worse.’
‘How could it be worse?’
‘She’s working for the North Koreans or China, or she’s a double or triple agent.’
John laughed, but Paul wasn’t smiling.
‘You can’t be serious?’
‘Why not? If someone has covered up her past, the GMRC might not be the only ones involved.’
The idea Ashley was working for the GMRC was bad enough, but to think she was some kind of super spy was a stretch. She could hardly keep her own life together, let alone juggle multiple contacts. It was absurd, beyond absurd.
‘There’s more bad news,’ Paul said. ‘The FBI still hasn’t been able to trace where the water and food stocks have gone, and that’s in spite of them having full access to aquifers that were under GMRC control. They think seizing back control from the Council has only delayed the inevitable.’
‘Which is?’
‘In a couple of months, maybe less, we’ll be back to where we started.’
‘Another water crisis, even with the rationing?’
‘Looks that way.’
John shook his head. ‘I gave the bureau extra funding, extra manpower. They’ve come up blank on my abduction, Ashley, and now this. How hard is it to find millions of gallons of water? It can’t have just disappeared into thin air.’
‘Well actually, some have suggested that’s exactly what’s happened.’
John gave him an odd look.
‘Evaporation,’ Paul said.
‘Is that even possible, on that scale?’
‘Some say yes, others say no.’
‘And what do you say?
‘That they’re clutching at straws.’
John rubbed at the stubble on his chin, deep in thought. His mind returned to his abduction and the words of the man called Professor Steiner: ‘Subterranean bases, massive underground cities with their own ecosystems, buried deep in the Earth’s crust, located all around the world.’
Could he have been telling the truth? John wondered. Not the second asteroid claim, which was crazier than millions of tonnes of water evaporating almost overnight, but about the bases. What if the GMRC does have underground bases, not for people, but for water and food: secret underground reservoirs and warehouses? It would explain where all the resources had gone. But what would be the point? In case the dust cloud from AG5’s impact wasn’t temporary? It made perfect sense when looked at in the cold light of day, but if it was true, why was the GMRC still hanging onto the secret aquifers? The answer was simple: to maintain their grip on power. It was as John had always known: the GMRC’s end game was a global government, ruled by, and set up in favour of, the super elite. An elite who divided their debt slaves through the divisive construct known as countries, while they shared their spoils with their kin, regardless of religion, colour or creed. It was the ultimate game of smoke and mirrors. Preach and teach patriotism to the masses, while doing the complete opposite behind the scenes.
Another knock on the living room door made John turn round to see a welcome sight.
‘Dante!’ John walked over to shake his hand. ‘When did they let you out of the hospital?’
The Secret Service agent grimaced. ‘Two days ago, didn’t Ashley tell you?’
‘We’re not talking at the moment. Or she’s not talking to me, to be more accurate.’ John pointed to his shoulder. ‘How’s the wound?’
Dante flexed his arm. ‘Sore, but I’ve been cleared for light duty, if you’ll have me?’
‘So soon?’
‘He’s a tough son of a bitch,’ Paul said.
Dante grinned and then his smile faded. ‘I’m sorry about Diane, she was a good woman.’
John nodded, but didn’t trust himself to say anything more.
An uncomfortable silence followed before a pair of double doors burst open into the living room, drawing everyone’s attention. The first lady stood framed in the doorway, her eyes wide with fear.
‘What is it?’ Paul said in concern.
Ashley avoided John’s gaze. ‘Something’s happening on the news.’
John frowned as Ashley disappeared back into the adjoining room.
Dante and Paul followed her inside, with John reluctantly bringing up the rear.
Ashley pointed to the wallscreen.
‘And you’re quite certain,’ said a newsreader, ‘the Russian and European fleets are entering the Atlantic?’
‘I am, Sally. If you look out of the window you’ll see quite clearly the size of the force that’s been amassed.’
‘Why am I hearing about this on the news?’ John said, watching the on-screen camera pan to an armada cutting through the mid-Atlantic swell.
‘Is it war?’ Ashley said, sounding scared.
John tensed as his wife looked at him, her eyes asking the question.
‘Where are my military advisors, where’s General Andrews?!’
As if on cue, Paul’s phone rang and the Chief of Staff held up his hand for quiet. ‘I see – yes – I’ll let him know.’
‘Well?’ John said, losing patience.
Paul listened for a moment longer. ‘When?’ He gave a nod. ‘He’ll be there.’ He hung up and turned to John. ‘The general’s been trying to get through to us. NORAD’s experiencing problems, their early warning system has been compromised.’
‘The GMRC?’
‘They think so. What’s more, the cyberterrorist has chosen this opportunity to launch a denial of service attack on all our communications. They’re only just coming back online.’
John cursed. ‘He’s working for the GMRC?’
‘For now, he is, whether they like it or not.’
‘How can he cripple all communications?’ Ashley said. ‘How is that even possible?’
‘They think he’s using the GMRC’s mainframe,’ Paul told her. ‘They reckon he trialled a smaller attack against the GMRC a couple of weeks ago. They thought it was his endgame, as it was a major breach.’
‘But it was just a test,’ John said.
‘Sir,’ – Dante touched his arm – ‘we should move you to the bunker.’
John shook his head. ‘It’s the GMRC trying to force my hand.’
‘For what purpose?’ Ashley said, coming to stand by John’s side.
Confused by the sudden thawing in their relations, John was about to answer when a team of Secret Service agents entered the room, headed up by his National Security Advisor.
‘Mr President, you’ve heard the news?’
‘I’ve just briefed him,’ Paul said.
‘Good. Then you know what’s at stake. The Joint Chiefs have been assembled, your presence is required.’
John nodded and followed his security advisor out of the room, with Paul and Ashley by his side.
Dante led his team in close formation behind, and in their midst walked the ever-present military aide who held in his hand th
e infamous black briefcase containing the nation’s nuclear launch codes.
‘Have we heard from the Russian or EU leaders?’ John said, as the party swept down the stairs.
The National Security Advisor shook his head. ‘Not yet, Mr President.’
Moments later they were walking towards the West Wing, with John pressing ahead to take the lead.
John felt Ashley take his hand.
‘What’s happening?’ she said, sounding scared.
John slowed as they approached the Situation Room. He drew Ashley to one side. ‘I’ll let you know.’
‘You’re leaving me out here?’ she said, her eyes growing wide.
‘Dante, stay with her.’
‘Mr President.’ His National Security Advisor held out his hand in a gesture to get John into the room.
‘I’ll be with you soon.’ Not knowing what else to do, John kissed his estranged wife on the forehead and left her standing in the corridor with Dante by her side. He had work to do.
Chapter One Hundred Fifty-One
John entered the West Wing’s Situation Room and took a seat at the end of the elongated desk, around which sat the Secretary of Defense, Secretary of State, the Vice President, the Deputy Director of National Intelligence, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the newly promoted Chief of Staff of the Army, General Andrews.
On a wraparound wallscreen, the rest of the Joint Chiefs could be seen sitting at a similar desk in the Pentagon’s National Military Command Center.
Paul closed the door and came to stand behind John’s chair.
‘Mr President.’
John looked to his Secretary of Defense, who said, ‘This is what we know ...’
♦
The first lady wrung her hands together as she waited for news on the impending disaster. How could he leave me out here? she wondered. I was the one who told him about the ships! Because he thinks you’re a spy, she thought. Paul told him as much. You can’t trust Paul, you can’t trust John. You can’t trust anyone. John hasn’t spoken to you in days; he must have been with another woman. You should never have married him. Ashley glanced at Dante, who paced the corridor. Does he know? she wondered. Do any of them?
She looked at her watch. What’s going on in there?!
♦
‘So, they’re holding their position?’ John said. That’s good, isn’t it?’
‘A show of strength of this magnitude is never good, Mr President,’ said the Secretary of Defense, a grizzled military veteran John had appointed due to the lack of any other credible candidates.
The National Security Advisor crossed his arms. ‘We suspect they’re ensuring our Atlantic fleets cannot return to their previous stations, Mr President.’
‘The GMRC is hemming us in,’ John said more to himself than anyone else.
‘They want you out of office,’ Paul told him. ‘They’re trying to influence Capitol Hill.’
‘It’s martial law,’ John said. ‘Politics is suspended, my authority is absolute.’ He looked around the room. ‘Isn’t it?’
Paul glanced at the screen, where the majority of the Joint Chiefs listened in from the Pentagon. ‘To a point,’ he said.
‘A threat of war is the biggest political statement you can make, Mr President,’ said the Secretary of State.
‘Besides war itself,’ said the Secretary of Defense.
Shocked, John stared at him. ‘You think we should attack?’
‘We have the firepower. At the very least, we need to show them we mean business. The time for diplomacy has come and gone, Mr President.’
John pondered his options, as those around him entered into a heated debate about what they should do next.
Could it be war? John thought. Should it be war?
‘If the water shortage is to return,’ Paul said, ‘the only option left is to wage a military campaign against the GMRC.’
John shook his head. ‘That means a campaign against the rest of the world. There would be no victors in such a move.’
‘Then what do you suggest – we just roll over and die?’
John frowned. Paul was usually so cautious, and yet now he pushed for the ultimate action. John felt a stirring of unease. This was not where he wanted to be. Was martial law a mistake? He was beginning to wonder.
‘Perhaps you should consider stepping down, Mr President,’ said his security advisor. ‘It would defuse the situation.’ He looked around at those gathered. ‘Don’t you agree?’
‘It might work,’ said the Vice President.
‘For you, maybe,’ Paul said, furious at the suggestion.
‘Are you insane?’ The Secretary of Defense stood up. ‘It’s out of the question! It’s giving them exactly what they want. Send out the Atlantic fleets, we’ll send them packing, Mr President.’
‘What do you want me to do, Mr President?’ said Admiral Milley, from within the Pentagon.
John looked up at the big screen.
‘I can have the sixth fleet engage within the hour, with the fourth and fifth fleets joining them within two.’
Paul touched John’s arm. ‘We have an emergency video call coming through from the CIA.’
John tensed. ‘Put it through.’
A separate feed appeared on the right-hand side of the wallscreen. John had expected to see Malcolm Joiner appear, but instead it was the senior agent John had dealt with previously.
‘Agent Myers,’ John said. ‘Where’s my Director of National Intelligence?’
‘Joiner is indisposed,’ Myers said. ‘I’ve been put forward by the GMRC as an intermediary in his absence.’
‘It’s not too late to defect, Agent Myers,’ Paul said. ‘Why don’t you come to the White House and we can talk about it.’
Myers laughed. ‘Because as soon as I set foot outside my building, the military will have me arrested.’
John stood up. ‘That’s what happens to traitors. You’re lucky we haven’t already stormed the building.’
‘I’d advise against it, Mr President,’ Myers said. ‘Things could get ... ugly.’
‘If you’re not calling to renounce your allegiance to the GMRC,’ John said, growing angry, ‘you’re of no use to us. Say your piece and crawl back into the hole you came from.’
‘I’m here to tell you to listen to your security advisor. Step down, Mr President, and the GMRC will call off its dogs.’
‘Is the Directorate too cowardly to speak for themselves?’ John said.
‘How did you know what the advisor said?’ Paul looked at the man standing next to him.
‘Because the security advisor works for the GMRC,’ Myers said. ‘Isn’t that so, Mark?’
Everyone in the room turned to look at John’s National Security Advisor.
‘No, he’s lying!’ Mark backed away towards the door. ‘They must have me bugged, or this room is!’
Paul gave John a shake of his head.
‘Cut the call!’ John said, pointing at his new communications officer.
Myers’ image vanished from the wall and John motioned to two of Dante’s Secret Service agents. ‘Take him into custody until we sort this out.’
The agents drew their weapons and moments later the National Security Advisor was led from the room in handcuffs.
‘Why would Myers expose one of his own?’ Paul said, confused.
‘It’s either true,’ John said, ‘or a double bluff. Either way he knew it would weaken us, as we have to ensure he’s not a threat.’
John rubbed at his face. Things were going from bad to worse. If his security advisor worked for the GMRC, who could he trust? He looked around the room at worried faces. ‘Admiral Milley.’
‘Yes, Mr President.’
‘Block the approaching ships with our fleets, but don’t engage unless fired upon.’ John looked around the room. ‘Are we agreed?’
Everyone nodded their acceptance. The order was made and a war averted ... for now.
Chapter One Hundred F
ifty-Two
‘Mark Dunsford, your National Security Advisor?’ Dante shook his head. ‘If the GMRC have infiltrated your inner circle, there’s no knowing what they know.’
‘Or could do,’ Paul said.
‘Another assassination attempt?’ John said. He didn’t even want to consider it. He glanced over at Ashley, who remained on her own in the room adjoining the sitting room. She cast the occasional sidelong look in his direction through the open door.
It had been an hour since tensions had risen to boiling point, but as soon as the sixth fleet had turned to meet the threat posed by the Russian and European fleets, the approaching ships ceased their advance and an uneasy standoff had ensued. John, taking a break after things had simmered down, had returned to his private quarters to regroup. And, even though he didn’t like to admit it, it seemed between his advisors and the military he was almost surplus to requirements.
Paul shrugged. ‘Your guess is as good as mine. Dunsford still denies he’s had anything to do with the GMRC. It could be just like you said, Joiner trying to sow discord among our ranks.’
‘If he is, it’s working,’ John said, and then he lowered his voice. ‘I think it’s time my wife and I had a serious discussion.’
Paul looked over at the first lady. ‘You think she’ll tell you? More to the point, do you think she should even be here?’
‘She’s scared,’ Dante said. ‘If she knows anything, now’s the time to find out.’
John nodded. He’d been thinking exactly the same thing.
Paul’s computer beeped with an update from the Pentagon. ‘The Russian and European fleets are holding station, but SECNAV says there’s been no aggressive action from either side. It’s a standoff; he thinks it’ll remain that way, too.’
‘Keep trying to reach the EU and Russian presidents,’ John said. ‘The GMRC can’t block us forever, and let me know if anything changes in the Atlantic.’
Paul confirmed he’d do just that, and John left his Chief of Staff in the White House sitting room, talking with his Head of Security.
John closed the doors to his bedroom behind him, but when he turned round Ashley was nowhere to be seen. He wandered past the bed and peered around the corner, to find his wife in the adjoining dressing room.
Ancient Origins: Books 4 - 6 (Ancient Origins Boxset Book 2) Page 82
