America's Trust (49 page)

“My fellow Americans, I cannot tell you how pleased I am to be sitting before you today, with our liberty and freedom restored. A liberty and freedom that has never been in such jeopardy since the birth of our great nation. We have lost many great people, loved ones, family members over the last few weeks and let us not ever forget the price they paid for our freedom. I have many people to thank, too many to mention right now but they know who they are and over the coming weeks and months, I will ensure they receive the awards and recognition they deserve. Now is about normality, it’s about getting back to the life and liberty that we as Americans have fought and died to preserve. It has been a week that we have to remember for our future but for our present may be best forgotten. Actions of the many will have outweighed the few. Let us not dwell on the worst but those that behaved best. We are Americans, we are free and we are strong. God Bless America!”

The camera stopped rolling as Jack accepted the cell that was being handed to him.

“Jack,” said Ilya, in a far more relaxed tone.

“Ilya, my friend.”

“How are things?”

“Very good, Jack, very good, they’re running back home,” he laughed. “It was a very impressive show.”

“I don’t believe in messing around.”

“Remind me never to piss you off,” Ilya joked.

Jack smiled. “Hit hard and hit fast, my friend!”

Monday July 27
^th
2015

The White House

Normality had been restored across the country far quicker than anticipated. With power, came gas. With gas, came the ability to move product. With product, came the ability to make money. And so the cycle returned to normal. The Trust’s businesses were under the control of the government but with a view to being distributed evenly as a share give-away to the nation. At least something good was going to come of it.

Jack had selected a new cabinet and had also replaced the military senior roles. He had seen it as an absolute priority, if not only just to let Frank have a good night’s sleep, knowing there were alternates.

His one regret was that President Junpeng remained in power. He would dearly have loved to have stormed in and removed him. However, it had been made clear that he was far too unstable and the likelihood of him firing his nuclear arsenal was just too great. The anticipated internal power overthrow had not occurred either. It seemed he ruled with such authority that it remained unquestioned, despite their humiliating defeat. Of course, the likelihood that the average Chinese citizen had been aware of what had taken place was unlikely. They were fed news the State wanted them to hear, nothing else.

The boats bound for America full of Chinese troops were still being escorted back to Chinese waters. Jack didn’t even want to imagine the numbers involved but he had heard guesses of nearly two million Chinese crammed onto anything that would float. Every time he thought of what they would have done with their military might, he shuddered. They had come so close.

He stopped thinking the worst. Today was about the best. A list of people were waiting to receive awards from him. He would have loved for all of the sixty thousand men who had stood with him on the battlefield to be there but there were limits to what he could do in one day. Another mass event was scheduled at the Redskins Stadium, where he would honor them personally. A representative group was in attendance, the commander of each and every group that had come to the aid of the nation.

Each received a Distinguished Service Cross, a new award not for any of the current services, but a new one for Patriots. Each of the sixty thousand would receive theirs at the stadium.

A long line of military and civil awards were handed out over the course of the afternoon, as stories of individual heroism and selflessness were rewarded.

With the main ceremony over, Jack returned to his residence where he had arranged for a more private event consisting of a very small group of special attendees.

His cousin Victor, Tom Butler, Jane Swanson and Bill Swann stood up as he entered the yellow Oval Room.

The rest of the afternoon and into the evening was spent thanking the small group that had helped save the nation. Jack pulled them all aside, one at a time, and presented them with an award. All accepted, except Bill. He didn’t want an award, he wanted something else. Jack listened and dearly wanted to do it for him but didn’t think it possible. He promised to try. Butler and Swanson accepted their awards, which included Butler receiving a senior role within Jack’s National Intelligence team. His pay would be backdated to when he had been terminated from the CIA, a very welcome bonus. His first action was to offer Swanson a job. She flatly refused and included expletives, despite the president being there. Victor was delighted to receive his but turned down the opportunity to be rejoin the military. He had his men to think of and he was just as happy knowing his cousin was back in his life.

As the evening drew to a close and he was saying his goodbyes, Jack held Butler and Swanson back.

“Follow me,” he said and took them through his lounge and bedroom and into his study. A newly rebuilt column stood before them.

Butler and Swanson looked at one another. The column had been repaired.

Jack walked over to the column and triggered the release mechanism; it spun to reveal the capsule.

“Don’t tell Frank,” he said, laughing conspiratorially. “He thinks it’s been sealed.”

“It’s fully working?” asked Butler.

“Put it this way, anytime you fancy a drink, I know this great little bar called the Raven,” said Jack.

October 1
^st
2015

Bill had enjoyed trying out all of the latest sniper weapons available to the forces. He had to admit the Barrett M82A1 was an impressive killing machine and with the current record for a confirmed kill, it certainly was a good option. Its only real downside was that the .50 caliber round was a little too obvious. On the range, he had managed to be fairly accurate out to around twenty-five hundred yards, by far the furthest of the weapons he had tried. The next best was the Accuracy International AWSM, a much smaller .338 and very familiar round for him but he had managed decent accuracy out to twenty-two hundred yards.

“We’ve got three minutes before the train leaves and it’ll take us one minute to get there unhurried,” said Butler.

“In other words, I have ninety seconds?” asked Bill.

“Yep!” replied Butler, soaking in the autumn sunshine.

The weather report had been for a cloudless blue sky, very unlike the previous few days and from the reports, it seemed the poor weather was due to return the next day. Butler hadn’t doubted for a second it would be anything but perfect weather.

“Thirty seconds,” said Butler, looking behind to check Swanson was still there. She had accepted his job offer after some persuasion. It was the foreign travel that had secured it. Apparently seeing the world had become far more important to her of late. That trip in particular had swung it.

Bill relaxed and steadied his breathing. The conditions were perfect, which was just as well. The distance was a little over the twenty-two hundred yards, which had led him to select the smaller and more familiar .338 caliber rifle. It was, however, still well under the record with the rifle. Some Brit had managed over twenty-seven hundred yards but he had the benefit of a few rounds to gauge the flight. Bill had one shot.

He lined the sights, made one final tweak, steadied his breathing and depressed the trigger. He stood up immediately, not waiting for the result, and handed the rifle to Butler before quickly walking to the elevator being held by Swanson. Butler followed, wiping the rifle and depositing it in the setting concrete of Beijing’s newest skyscraper.

“How did you know the weather would be so good?” asked Swanson as the elevator took them downwards.

“Chinese Independence Parade day. They fire chemicals into the air. Perfect blue skies make for much better photos of their illustrious president!”

“Unbelievable! They think of everything,” she said.

“Well not quite,” said Bill, who had gotten what he asked from the president. Despite Bill’s age, Jack had granted his request. If they only had one chance, he wanted a man with experience to get it done. And no one had proven that more recently than Bill.

“That’s because people don’t expect to get shot from almost a mile and a half away. Did you hit him?” asked Butler.

Bill smiled. It was the second time he’d been asked that recently. “I’m an Army sniper!”

Other Books by Murray McDonald

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Assassin