“My sources have confirmed that Jessica Mayes is planning to strike again. I have spoken with high-ranking officials at the Pentagon, and they have assured me that every precautionary measure available has been taken to ensure that our nuclear defenses are protected from a second attack. However,” Roger allowed a fake, but convincing, frown to fall over his cruel face, “according to Defense Officials, there is promise that a second attack can be directly avoided.” The red light over Roger's head turned on again and the reporters went crazy. Roger raised his hand into the air again.
“Please, I will answer questions at the end of the briefing,” he said in a calm voice. “Right now, it is vital that we all remain calm and focused on the task at hand.” Roger glanced at Tim to his right and nodded his head. “You all know Tim. He is going to relay some new information. Tim.”
Roger stepped back four steps and allowed Tim to approach the wooden podium. Tim, who wore a sharp gray suit with his hair slicked back, felt powerful and in complete control; or so it appeared to the viewing audience. Deep down, Tim was scared stiff. Roger Alden was on the verge of creating a nuclear world war. But what could he do? If he dared disobey Roger, at least for the time being, the man would feed him a sharp bullet.
“It has come to our attention, through official channels, that the Russian Government and the Chinese Government are possibly assisting Jessica Mayes. We are aware that both countries have taken advantage of our lax immigration laws and have managed to infiltrate our country and plant terror cells. It has also come to our attention that Jessica Mayes is a possible Russian agent who, to our dismay, may have...and let me stress the words 'May Have'...been protected by President Green and his administration.” The red light appeared and the reports, like yapping alley mutts, went insane. Tim held up his hand.
“A formal investigation is currently under way,” he announced. “If President Green is guilty of treason, we will find out. However, at this time, it is vital that we all remain calm until collective evidence is gathered and made public.
Roger, even though his face was like stone, grinned on the inside. Edwin Green was slowly and systematically being destroyed. Victory was his. Over at the White House, President Green watched Tim continue to speak.
“As Mr. Alden has already clarified, it has been brought to our attention that Jessica Mayes is planning to carry out another attack. We believe that certain Russian and Chinese agents, that have infiltrated our great nation, are assisting her. As you already know, one of our agents was murdered in the line of duty, no less than a week ago. We were able to gather evidence that proves Jessica Mayes is not operating alone.” Tim paused for effect, and to calm his beating heart, and then continued without telling the reporters that the bullet pulled out of Agent Hayford Day was a simple hunting bullet, and not an advanced bullet that was shot out of the high powered rifle as it was presented to the public.
“At this time, President Green has put our military on high alert, and closed the borders. His actions are far too late to put out the fire. We fear that the President...” Tom glanced back at Roger. Roger made a quick, angry gesture with his eyes that told Tim to get on with his script. “We fear that President Green’s actions are simply a smoke screen. The Intelligence Community fears that the President's desire is to carry out a false flag attack in order to create a dictatorial power.”
America gasped, and then stood in shock. Schools, work places, homes, doctor offices, everywhere a television was on; Tim's statements caused shock, disbelief, and horror. Tim knew he had crossed a dangerous line; a point of no return. Now it was time to play nice.
“However, as we have stated earlier, until proof is gathered and presented, we have no other option but to insist that our information, although factual, must be accepted with care and extreme caution. In America, a person is still innocent until proven guilty. The same remains for the President of the United States.”
In Detroit, Michigan, a waiting room full of impatient people—waiting well past their appointment times to see an arrogant doctor who couldn’t care less about human life—grew silent. Then, out of nowhere, a man named Ronald Amerson, a forty-year-old mechanic who had a bad ulcer, stood up and whipped out a Glock 17. Without any warning, he began shooting everyone in sight while screaming, “It's on. I told you. The war begins! Yeah, it's on! Bring in on! Bring in on! Kill President Green. Die you traitors!”
Ronald emptied out a full clip and then went for a second clip while babbling insanely into the air. By the time the mad man finished off a full second clip, he had killed nine people and wounded five. Then, he ran out into a hallway filled with panicked people and escaped out into a gray, icy day, only to be gunned down by three cops.
Further away, in Bangor, Maine, a thirty-five year-old woman, who had been watching Tim speak on her cell phone, pulled a Glock 19 from her purse and began shooting down everyone she knew who supported President Green. All in all, seven people were gunned down by an off-duty police officer who ended up killing herself.
Down in Florida, a pool hall-full of bikers began throwing chairs and bottles before, armed to the teeth, they ran outside to gun down everyone in sight while yelling, “We’ll kill you all. You're not taking down Green. Bring it on, commies!”
The bikers, who numbered over twenty, broke off into groups of three and four and ran into small businesses to gun down men and women. Old and young, it didn't matter; white, black, Latino, Asian, it didn't matter. By the time the police arrived, more bikers had joined in which brought the number of the terrorist group to over fifty. The bikers barricaded off an entire city block for a vicious firefight with the cops who—far outnumbered and outgunned—were forced to fall back and allow a gang of ruthless killers to claim victory and escape. Few bikers were captured, and only two were killed. The number of civilian casualties the bikers claimed numbered eight-one people.
The scene turned worse in Los Angeles. People from all races, already full of rage, burst out into the streets and began attacking each other with guns, knives and whatever weapon they could find.
Why? Why attack each other like wild animals? The answer was simple; the American public had been programmed to self-destruct on cue.
The media, movies, music, video games, books, television shows, comic books...all tools to program an easily manipulative public. All that was needed was a trigger. Tim had activated that trigger. Smaller towns would mostly be immune, he suspected, as he stared out at a room full of bought puppets; but within hours, the bigger cities would turn into deadly war zones.
The worst of the immediate ripple effect came from Atlanta, Georgia. A nineteen year-old snowflake, who despised President Green, took his fancy BMW and deliberately began swerving through lanes of high traffic, causing one deadly accident after another. Then, he made a detour on an off ramp and hit the northbound lanes, continuing the same act before finally meeting his end when his car crashed into the back of a semi-trailer.
The wreck alone wouldn't have been so bad, but a second semi-truck was unable to stop in time and ran up over the punk’s car, crushing the rodent inside. Over two hundred people were killed. Interstate I-75 was completely closed down. By the time rush hour traffic arrived, Atlanta was at a nearly complete standstill. Angry, screaming, furious people were viciously turning on each other. Traffic on I-75 North was backed up all the way into northern Tennessee, and southbound traffic was backed up into Florida. People took off ramps, desperately trying to find an escape route, only to become trapped in cluttered towns.
Yes, Tim fully understood the consequences of his words and waited for the desired results. The American results were going to reach his desk with predictable conclusions. It was the Russians and the Chinese that Tim was worried about. Roger was pushing those two countries to the absolute edge and pushing President Green into a corner.
Tim knew President Green wasn't going without a fight. No, Edwin Green wasn't a foolish or a stupid man. Tim actually worried, as he sto
od before a room full of idiots, that President Green might retaliate by joining hands with the Russians and Chinese and carrying out a deliberate strike in order to prevent a world war.
“As I said, right now we are on a fact-finding mission,” he reminded the reporters, following Roger's script. “Right now, we have our people working around the clock to prevent Jessica Mayes from being able to carry out the desired attack. We also have a team that is working around the clock, gathering evidence that will either prove President Green is innocent of treason or not. We ask the American people to remain calm and unite during these difficult times. Now, are there any questions?”
A lovely blond-headed woman in her mid-twenties, who didn't have enough sense to wipe her own backside, raised her hand.
“Yes, Tim,” she spoke in a goofy voice that attempted to echo experience and intelligence, “it's unprecedented that the CIA would make claims against a standing President.” The woman paused and studied the question that Roger had written down on a legal pad before the briefing began. “Why is the CIA taking such an unprecedented step now, and will some people believe the CIA is deliberately acting to politically assassinate the President?”
“Excellent question, Beth,” Tim said in a voice that pretended to be pleased. “It is no secret that President Green is already under investigation for colluding with the Russians and the Chinese. It is no secret that eventually facts will come forward to prove that the President is, indeed, guilty.” Tim pretended to put on a solemn face. “Before I am a member of the CIA, Beth, I am a father and a husband, and a citizen of this great land, who took an oath to protect my country from all enemies. Our country is under attack from a man who stole the office of President. I, for one, am not going to stand by and allow my country to die. I applaud Mr. Alden for making the brave stand to point guilt in the direction that it belongs. And, while there will be repercussions for Mr. Alden's brave act to inform the American people of the truth, it is a stand that we are willing to make in order to honor the oath we took. The American people deserve to know the truth and the dangers they face. It is the opinion of the CIA that President Green is in the same boat with Jessica Mayes, the most wanted terrorist on the face of the planet.”
Roger grinned to himself. Tim had hesitated once but was quickly making up for his flaw. Yes, by the time Tim completed the question and answer session, America was going to be changed forever. Wherever Jessica Mayes was hiding, there was no chance for her to have victory. Unless of course, Roger reminded himself, the woman actually got her hands on the virus. What was the possibility? The home of Jessica Mayes had been searched from top to bottom, ripped apart and then burned down to the ground. The woman was on the run. Her face was more famous than any celebrity that had ever lived. Jessica Mayes was nothing but a stupid housewife that had been thrown into a bad situation. The woman wasn't a trained agent or killer.
No, Jessica Mayes, in Roger's opinion, was nothing more than a scared little mouse, trapped in a dark, confusing maze. She would eventually be caught. In the meantime, he would continue destroying Edwin Green through one systematic step after another.
(((((((((*)))))))))
“Well?” President Green, sitting in the underground meeting room, asked General Garcia.
“Crowds of protestors are gathering outside the White House, Sir. It isn't safe for you to be here any longer. We need to move you to a secure location,” General Garcia told President Green, standing in a stiff, rigid position. “Roger Alden has placed you in a position of cheap shots, Sir. Anyone can take a shot at you and get away with it. But it will be one of Roger Alden's men who takes the kill shot, Sir.”
“Any word from my son?” President Green asked without raising his eyes.
“Jacob completed the extraction. He is hiding in an abandoned house in southern Missouri,” General Garcia explained. “The house was bought by a member of our team two days ago. Nothing was suspected.”
“What now?” President Green asked in a voice that was close to defeat.
“Sir, if we can retrieve the virus...” General Garcia bowed his head. “Only Mrs. Mayes knows where the virus may be, Sir. She is the key player, and right now, I'm not certain...” General Garcia didn't complete his sentence.
President Green lifted his eyes, studied his old friend, and then stood up. It was time to move. Roger Alden was destroying America and there wasn't nothing he, or anyone else, could do. Even if Jessica Mayes located her husband's virus, so what? The heart of America had already been infected by a far more deadly virus. Blind hatred.
((((((((((*))))))))))
Jessica Mayes watched in shock, as Tim completed the question-and-answer session with all the hired puppets.
“My goodness! This can't be real,” she whispered, sitting in the basement of an old farm house that was located on a scarcely traveled, back-country road. From the outside, the farm house appeared abandoned and boarded up, but on the inside, at least down in the basement, a command center had been set up by Jacob. Dirty and worn down, furnishings left behind by the previous owner had been carried down into the basement. There was a dusty floral couch, a king size bed that was ripped in places, a worn-down desk, and a kitchen table that was on its last leg. All were settled in different locations.
Jacob closed the laptop which Jessica, Alvin, Mandy and Tom were staring at. “This event has progressed father than I expected,” he explained, still wearing his leather jacket instead of the brown coat Tom had brought him.
“What does this mean?” Mandy asked, feeling as if her head were going to explode. “In all my years...I mean...for a government agency to just come right out and accuse the President of treason is unheard of. I mean, how many rules were broken?”
“Countless rules were broken,” Jacob explained in an angry voice. “Roger Alden, under any other circumstance, would be fired, and then imprisoned. Unfortunately, the only reason Roger Alden carried out this vicious attack is because he has Congress supporting him.” Jacob glanced down at the scared and upset faces looking up at him. What could he do? What could he say? “It's over for President Green. His days are numbered. America has been attacked and defeated.”
“Impossible,” Tom insisted. “We live in one of the greatest, if not the greatest, nation on the planet. I refuse to believe that there is no good left in our nation. No. Impossible.” Tom walked away from the desk and the laptop. He went to a couple of old wooden stairs and sat down. “No, this is impossible.”
“Is it?” Jacob asked, and then, more out of despair than anger, walked over to three gray suitcases and kicked them over with a hard foot. “We can't disguise ourselves!” he yelled. “We have nowhere to run! We can't win this battle!”
Jessica, who was gratefully wearing a thick, warm, blue dress that was a little too big for her, reached up her right hand and touched her hair. Alvin was planning to cut and dye her hair that very night. Would altering her hairstyle really matter?
“No,” Jessica whispered, feeling defeat enter her heart. She turned away from the desk, leaving her sister sitting in an old wooden chair, with Alvin standing next to her, and approached Tom. “Pastor Braston,” she spoke in low voice, “it's really over. There's no way we can win this battle.”
Tom slowly raised his eyes and looked up at the woman he had first seen standing in gray, cold funeral rain which had fallen on her husband's casket. The fragile, broken woman he had witnessed at the funeral seemed to be a stranger. Jessica Mayes had been forced into a dark grave and was struggling to climb out. Her once-innocent life had become filled with cruel monsters that were determined to devour her heart.
“What did your husband do?” he asked Jessica. “Mrs. Mayes, tell me about this virus.”
“I don't know anything about the virus,” she confessed, nervously placing her tender hands together. “All I know is that...” Jessica paused, glanced over her shoulder at Jacob, and then continued. “I know my husband left behind a journal. I need to find his
journal. Perhaps the answers I need will be in the journal.”
Jacob stared at Tom. Jessica was making an open confession.
“Where is the journal?” he asked in a bitter voice.
“I don't know.” Jessica truthfully answered. “Perhaps hidden in my home.”
Tom lifted his right hand and touched Jessica's left hand. “Mrs. Mayes, your home was destroyed in a fire,” he explained, his tone filled with sorrow. “I read about the fire in the newspaper. I'm very sorry.”
Tears began falling from Jessica’s tormented eyes.
“A fire?” she asked in a shocked voice. “But my memories, my husband's belongings, all I had left of Jack was in our house.”
“Oh, honey,” Mandy said and struggled to stand up. Life with a wheelchair was much easier.
“Don't,” Alvin told Mandy. He walked over to Jessica, placed a tender hand down on her shoulder, and shook his head. “What lives in the heart matters, girl,” he spoke softly. “You may have lost the physical stuff, but the love never dies.”
Jessica turned, looked into Alvin's caring face, and then burst into tears. “My husband,” she cried, wrapping her arms around Alvin, and pushing her face into his right shoulder. Alvin cupped Jessica's head with his right hand and held the woman like a baby.
“My husband...” Jessica wept, as her body shook and trembled.
“Cry it out, girl,” Alvin whispered, feeling a deep and eternal love for Jessica; a brotherly love that couldn't be explained. “Cry until it hurts.
Tom stood up, looked at Jacob's hard face, and left the basement. He was unable to bear the sound of Jessica's tears. He walked into a cold, shadowy kitchen filled with dust and cobwebs, and then moved over to a window that had three boards nailed across it. Streams of icy cold daylight shone through the spaces in the boards, spilling into the kitchen like dead corpses.
Green File Crime Thrillers Box Set Page 28
