America's Trust (33 page)

A long slow turn had them pointing back towards where they’d come from. They had to try everything they could to get to the president to warn him. It was probably the only way they’d ever manage to get to Washington in any event.

“I feel like we’re getting our exam results,” said Lauren, bouncing at the prospect of where they were going to visit the following day. “Please let us get the White House!” she pleaded with Mike.

The lists were posted after lunch. There were six lists, four with fifty names and two with twenty-five names. Lauren was only interested in one list, the White House list. The previous day had been spent on a management assessment course. It had been a hard and grueling experience, mainly outdoors. The members had been split into groups and throughout the day had been given various tasks to undertake. They had been analyzed and assessed for every second of the day. It was known, by those who had been through it, as the Q course. Lauren knew why. It was the same name given to the US Special Forces’ selection course and it had been the hardest day of her life. From 6 a.m. until midnight, they had not stopped. Even when they had, they had been told to make their selection for their preferred trip location. Even that had been a test. There were no names, just cryptic clues that had to be understood for you to know which was which.

There was nothing Lauren didn’t know about the White House and she instantly spotted it. A second choice also had to be made, just in case your first one was full. The belief was that those that performed well on the course always got their first choice, and those who hadn’t got their alternate choice.

When she finally got back to her room, there was a voicemail from her Uncle Bill on her cell. It had taken him far longer than expected to get to her from Georgia but he had made it. The roads were crazy but he had found a small bed and breakfast in Emmetsburg, just a few miles from her. He was there if he needed her, although it did seem that things were calming down. Just knowing he was there was all the comfort she needed, particularly as everyone, including the president, thought he was a great guy.

Lauren ran down the alphabetical list. Mike was on the White House list. She ran down further, her finger racing towards the S’s and she was there too. She jumped up and down on the spot and hugged Mike. They had made it! In less than twenty-four hours, they’d be behind the scenes at the White House.

The container under the lists was for their IDs, driving license, passport and student ID. All had to be deposited to be sent for a pre-clearance check at the location for which they had been selected. Lauren dropped hers in and with Mike in tow, headed off for an afternoon of workshops.

With the members all out of sight, the containers were collected and taken through to the printing department, where a number of very skilled forgers waited to begin the reimaging of the IDs for their real purpose.

Jack kicked off his shoes and relaxed on the Oval Office sofa with a scotch in one hand. Kenneth sat opposite and looked as stiff as ever.

“Do you never just kick back and relax?” asked Jack, taking a sip of the rather tasty Glengoyne eighteen-year-old whisky.

“Mr. President, this
is
me relaxed,” replied Kenneth, taking an awkward sip of the same scotch.

They were celebrating what had been an extremely uneventful day. All phone calls had gone as planned. The build-up of troops in Europe had continued without incident. The Russians, although continuing to build their numbers, were remaining in a defensive position. Whoever had started the nonsense three days ago had been put firmly back in their box. Good men had been lost and Jack drank to James Marshall, the crew and passengers, and the three airmen who had lost their lives. He would have dearly loved to avenge their deaths but not at the expense of a full on war.

That was the only shadow still hanging over the events of the last few days. The intelligence community had not a clue what was going on, who had started it, or for what reason. However, the main thing was it had seemingly stopped. Jack took another sip and savored the many flavors exploding in his mouth. Kenneth was drinking it like it was foul tasting water and not as the name itself proclaimed ‘the water of life’. Jack made a note to himself to get some cheap blended whisky for Kenneth. He wasn’t wasting the good stuff on him again.

“Well, if you don’t mind, Kenneth, I think I’ll take this with me and hit the sack,” said Jack. It had been his most stressful few days in the White House, outside of his wife’s passing. It had also been his most rewarding. He had actually felt needed. He felt for once that his involvement was actually making a difference, something that the Trust had taken from him almost from the second he took office. He thought back to Don, the guy he had met in the bar, unbelievably just a few nights ago. He wondered whether his opinion of the president had changed. Jack took another sip. What he’d give to sit in the Raven and hear what the real people were saying about what was going on. Alas, that wasn’t going to happen, at least not until he ended his term. The capsule was gone and if the reports from Baltimore were to be believed, so was Butler. The scene was total devastation. The explosion was so complete and the fire so intense that little was left to discover. It was going to take weeks to pick through the debris to find any type of matter worthy of DNA testing.

“It’s going to be strange tomorrow without the parade,” mused Jack as he stood up and stretched. He wished he hadn’t canceled the 4
^th
of July parade but it just seemed wrong, given everything else that was going on. He had considered the idea of changing his mind but Kenneth had been as uncompromising at lifting the cancellation as he had been when advising Jack to cancel it.
At least we’ll have the fireworks
, thought Jack.

“It was easier to cancel since people were pulling out anyway with everything else that is going on. But don’t forget you’ve got the Future Leaders tomorrow morning,” said Kenneth.

Jack almost did a double take. “Seriously? That’s still going ahead?”

“Why not? We do it every year.”

“We do the parade every year too but you canceled
that
,” replied Jack angrily.

“It’s hardly comparable, it’s only fifty students,” Kenneth stated reasonably.

Jack wasn’t particularly bothered about the students coming; it was more the Trust was getting its way. He had begun to resent anything involving them, hence his outburst at the DSG people and their expulsion from the military operations. That morning, Kenneth had argued against Jack’s expulsion of them. His refusal to budge had resulted in a call from Roger Young. Jack wasn’t shifting.

“Where else are they going again?” he asked.

“The Capitol, the Pentagon, Mount Weather and…” Kenneth paused, shuffling through some papers, looking for a nonexistent list.

Jack eyed him with some caution. Kenneth was far too close to the Trust.

Beware the Trust
.

The words just wouldn’t go away. Jack let the silence run. Kenneth continued to look for the nonexistent papers to check the locations.

Jack’s cell ringing saved Kenneth.
Unknown number.
Jack sent Kenneth away in a hurry.

“Ilya,” answered Jack, as Kenneth closed the door behind himself.

“Jack, another long day.”

“I’m afraid so, but a good one.”

“For you perhaps,” replied Ilya ominously.

Jack’s heart sank. He had thought the worst was over and they were on the way back from the brink. “Why, what’s happened?”

“A runway Jack? On our islands, seriously?”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, Ilya.”

“Franz Josef Lands in the Barents Sea. They’re uninhabited but suddenly Prince George Island has a runway. A very handy stop-off to refuel before hitting our Northern ports.”

Jack googled the islands as Ilya spoke and pulled up the map. “But they’re right next to Norwegian islands. Why the hell would we invade your territory and build a runway?”

“Who knows why you guys do anything?” spat Ilya, unswayed.

“I promise you, Ilya, we did not do this,” said Jack with sincerity.

“It was well camouflaged, Jack. It is only thanks to a very diligent satellite imagery analyst that we spotted it.”

“It’s not ours!” stated Jack more forcefully. “Perhaps one of your oligarchs or smugglers maybe?”

“I don’t think so, Jack,” replied Ilya angrily. “I’m not sure they’d plant a US flag!”

Neither would we!
Jack screamed inside his head.

“In any event, it will be destroyed tomorrow. I’m just letting you know as a courtesy. It’s only because we are still talking that I even made this call.”

“Thank you, and I promise you, it isn’t us,” replied Jack to an empty line. Ilya had hung up.

Saturday 4
^th
July, 2015

For the second day in a row, Butler woke up to a drug-induced headache. His head was pounding and his body craved fluids. It was dark; not setting sun dark, middle of the night dark. He struggled to his feet and checked the clock, 4:00 a.m. He had gone to sleep at 10 a.m. the previous morning, eighteen hours earlier. They were still moving, at least that was something. Swanson hadn’t crashed. He grabbed a drink of water and headed out onto deck.

So many things were wrong that he didn’t know where to start. They had land on either side of them. Heading down the East Coast to Cuba, the only land to their left should have been three thousand miles away. They were in the center of a city, a large and sprawling city that looked a lot like... Butler caught sight of the monument, jutting majestically into the dark cloudless sky.

“What in the
fuck
are we doing in Washington?”

“Morning sleepy head,” replied Swanson, with a large, very pleased with herself smile breaking out despite her exhaustion.

Butler shook his head. He had to hand it to her, it was a very good move. He smiled. To be honest, he had felt deep pangs of guilt at having bailed. He was a patriot and had taken an oath to defend the country just as she had.

“More appropriately dressed, I see,” he said, taking the seat next to her.

“I thought it might distract you,” she laughed.

“From what exactly?”

“Four valiums,” she said awkwardly, knowing exactly what he had meant.

“Jesus!”

“Yes, on second thought it was a bit much,” she allowed.

“Next time you can do less.”

“Let’s hope there is a next time,” she said, bringing them back to the reality of their situation.

Butler nodded. “So what are we doing?”

“Using the parade to get close to--”

“The parade was cancelled,” Butler cut in.

“Why?”

“Not sure, but it may have had something to do with an imminent war and concerns of rioting on the streets due to food shortages,” said Butler sarcastically.

“Oh. Oh well, no plan then,” she replied simply.

The boat continued into the harbor and they moored, tying off at the furthest end of one of the small jetties that jutted into the Washington Channel.

“You know we’re only about a mile a half from the White House here,” said Swanson as she looked across to the monument. “You could run it in six minutes.”

Butler looked out at the quietness that surrounded them. She was right, they could just run over there. However, the only slight issue was they’d never make it. With no one on the streets, those who were would be under even greater scrutiny. What they needed, like Swanson had said, was a mass crowd for cover, not emptiness to stand out in.

“Best thing you can do is grab some shut eye,” he concluded, noticing just how exhausted she looked. “I’ll try and think of something but trying now is a guaranteed suicide mission.”

“Promise you won’t leave without me?” she asked with a heartfelt plea.

“Yes,” he said instantly, much to his surprise meaning it wholeheartedly. “We’re in this together now.”

Breakfast was a buzz of excitement. Two hundred and fifty Future Leaders were about to go on the ultimate field trip. The first twenty-five were called out of the breakfast room. They had a three hour flight to Cheyenne Mountain ahead.