Scion (24 page)

The two pilots could only assume a terrible mistake had been made, both had tried to stop the release but the system did not allow manual override
. It seemed the future of warfare protected against human error not system error. They radioed in their concerns and were told not to worry, they must have been mistaken. The island was most definitely uninhabited and were reminded of their mission brief, no radio contact no matter what. With fuel running low and over a thousand miles to land, they started to slow in anticipation of their imminent inflight refuelling. A refuelling that had been cancelled when they called in their concerns, no tanker would meet them and one of the USAF’s newest and most expensive planes would crash helplessly into the ocean miles from anywhere. Even if the pilots ejected, they were outside helicopter range and hundreds of miles from any shipping lanes. The sharks would have them long before the first airplane could pinpoint their location.

***

At twelve twenty three a.m. local time, the islanders lives ended, their bodies incinerated in the 2700ºC heat of the blast. Nobody suffered. One second they were laughing and joking, the next they simply didn’t exist. Their flesh and bones disappeared into the wave of superheated air, scattering their ashes across the island.

Chapter 38

Ernst clicked on the link in the email and waited as his screen changed to an almost totally black screen
. Only small orange pixels stopped him thinking his computer had inadvertently shut down. He checked his watch. According to the mail, something should happen at around 11.23 a.m. local time, in only a few seconds. The KH-13 satellite was the latest increment in the keyhole programme under the control of the NRO, National Reconnaissance Office and to all intents and purposes did not exist.

It
s relentless eye watched everything, through any weather, day or night and was able to read the tiniest of details down to the serial numbers on dollar bills, it missed nothing. Its orbit had been diverted earlier in the day using its inbuilt rocket boosters, at exactly 11.20 p.m., the island had come into view and would remain so for the next ten minutes. Only people receiving the email would have access to the pictures. Even the NRO were blacked out from their own satellite feed. Unknown to them, the power failure message was one issued by the NSA agents who had taken control of the feed on behalf of Ernst.

Ernst stared at the screen while keeping an eye on the clock, it was now 11.24,
nothing had happened, the picture had not changed. After another ten seconds he was contemplating making a call when his screen almost blinded him, the intensity of the flash had not lessened on its 9000 mile journey through cyberspace. By the time Ernst had recovered, he was sure the flash had broken his screen as the previous darkness had returned minus the orange pixels.

He picked up
the phone.

“
What happened?” he demanded.

“Total and complete
devastation. We’ve just run a heartbeat check, everything on that island is dead,” replied Hunter proudly from the Unit’s headquarters.

“What the hell is a heartbeat check?” asked Ernst, more confused.

“The satellite can pick up rhythms. We just checked the island and not one rhythm matching a heart rate has been found.”

“But there’s no fire?” questioned Ernst looking at his screen

“The bomb effectively blows itself out, the flash draws in oxygen and once burnt leaves an inert mix of air that quite literally extinguishes the fire.”

“So he’
s dead.”

“Everything on that island is dead! And I mean everything,” replied Hunter emphatically.

Chapter 39

Both stared in disbelief across the sea
at the darkness of the island. Silence had descended but neither knew, as their ears were still pounding from the shockwave, what had hit the smaller island over a mile away. Ashley grabbed Scott’s arm and pulled him towards the small boat that had transported them from the main island to their seclusion and safety on the smaller island. Both were still naked, their clothes strewn across the island from the blast. Scott knew nobody had survived. He had seen enough death to know what the body could take. The heat and blast had reached them over a mile away, even half submerged in the water. As they lay in their post coital clutch, they had felt the searing heat and the power of the blast. Scott was not in any rush to get back to the main island. He knew nothing awaited him there. His current life like his past was now history.

“We need to check
,” explained Ashley. She too knew it was pointless but they had to check anyway.

“I know,”
nodded Scott. “We need to check,” he added robotically.

Ashley grabbed what
ever clothes she could find and handed Scott his shorts. Placing her dress over her head, she climbed into the boat. Scott rowed with purpose, the anger rising with every stroke, the power of the strokes building, pushing them closer and closer to the main island. Within ten minutes of the explosion and three minutes after the satellite had dipped behind the horizon, Scott and Ashley landed on the deathly quiet beach.

The devast
ation was complete, the palm trees had been reduced to smoking stumps. The earth was scorched and the inhabitants of the island had simply vanished. Only the charred remains of their huts gave any indication of life on the island.

Scott
dropped to his knees and struggled to gasp for air, the enormity of the situation finally hitting him. Ashley tried to comfort him but nothing she could say or do would help with the despair that Scott felt. Everybody he had ever loved had perished and he knew it was his fault. Something about his past was making somebody do anything in their power to kill him. If he hadn’t come home, his Papa, his cousins, his friends would still be alive.

Scott
stood and turned back towards the small boat, grabbing Ashley’s hand as he walked and directing her into the forward seat. Scott sat in the middle seat and began to row, the island staying in his view as he rowed towards the mainland.

Ashley realised
Scott wanted silence but wondered where they were going. It had taken over an hour by helicopter to get to the island. They must have been at least a hundred miles from the mainland.

“Where are we going?” she asked softly.

Scott didn’t miss a stroke as he responded.

“War!”

Chapter
40

Ernst switched his screen off and for the first time in two days relaxed
. The nightmare was over. Whatever the target had on Transcon was gone, vapourised in a cloud of superheated flames. After a few seconds, he picked himself up and walked across to Freeman’s office, ignoring the secretary’s protestations that he was on the phone to the President of Russia. He barged in. Freeman, holding a phone to his ear, struggled to hide his contempt as Ernst strode towards him.

“What the hell are you doing Max?” he asked covering the mouthpiece.

Ernst ignored the question and cut off the caller, leaving Freeman holding a dead phone.

“He’s dead!”

Freeman who was struggling to contain his temper, instantly smiled.

“Excellent, have you called anyone else
yet?”

“Nop
e, I thought you’d want to let them know.”

“Thanks, oh and can you phone Yuri back
to apologise. I got cut off, I’ll call him later,” asked Freeman as Ernst left the room.

“Will do
.”

As the door closed
, Freeman picked up the phone and dialled *1234. The combination dialled his four other partners, connecting him securely to their personal mobiles wherever they were. Even the NSA with all their supercomputers couldn’t listen in.

“
Good day gentlemen,” announced Freeman breezily to the group.

“Hold on!” responded Baker gruffly.

Everyone remained quiet as they waited for Baker.

“Sorry, just had to ditch my Secret Service detail
.”

“
Well, I’m pleased to announce that our problem is resolved, all trace of our little problem has completely disappeared.”

“Excellent,” responded Baker.

“Exactly how did he disappear?” asked a wary Charles Russell in London.

“I believe we blew him up on a
n island somewhere near Malaysia,” replied a triumphant Freeman.

“Oh fuck,” replied Charles.
“That was us! George Cunningham’s just been on the phone ranting about some fucking island that just blew up. He started screaming we had screwed him one time too many.”

“What exactly did he mean, screwed one time too many?” asked Baker, the chill in his voice changing the tone of the conversation.

“I’m not sure, Dan. That’s all he said,” replied Charles tentatively, knowing it would not satisfy him.

“Well I suggest you get on the phone and find out exactly what the fuck he meant and remind him who’s boss.”

“Will do.”

“NOW!” screamed
Dan.

Dan
had always been the boss, the other four had realised almost from the day they met that they would follow him wherever he went. Dan was destined for greatness; his looks, charm, authority and ambition would take him wherever he wanted to go and for Dan that was The White House. He was going to be the President of the United States of America, no matter what it took. First he needed money, nobody got anywhere in politics without money and for Dan that meant having more money than everyone else that stood against him.

Everything he had ever planned had
the goal of Dan Baker being inaugurated as president. First, he needed partners that would help him achieve that and that’s where Henry, Charles, Andrew and Peter came in. They were the brightest of the intake into Yale along with Dan and would help him build his fortune, not that they had any say in the matter. Dan’s family had all been Bonesman, members of the ultra secret Skull and Bones Society and he arranged for the four to be tapped and become one of fifteen new members. Over the following couple of months, Dan cultivated friendships with his four selected partners and even formed a secret sub society, the Acton Group, with only five members.

The Acton
Group met in complete secrecy and over the next four years, Dan groomed his partners into hatching a plan to take the business world by storm. All had initially balked at the idea but over time, Dan broke down their sensitivities, helping them to understand that they could have anything they wanted, it just depended on what they were willing to do to get it. Dan had chosen well and before long, was organising the breaking of legs to ensure Charles won a cross country race or a car crash to ensure Andrew retained his debating crown. None even raised an eyebrow. Success and power as Dan had taught his partners was a very powerful drug; once you’d had it, you’d do anything to keep it.

Dan
had known he was different from an early age. Things just didn’t affect him the way it did others. Guilt, remorse, empathy were feelings he just couldn’t comprehend. However, he quickly realised that whether he felt them or not, he had to at least act them. People reacted strangely when you didn’t. It was at the age of twelve that Dan finally realised what was wrong within when he read an article that used the mnemonic CORRUPT to help describe the criteria of a sociopath.

C - cannot follow law

O - obligations ignored

R - remorseless

R - reckless

U - underhanded

P - planning deficit

T – temper

Ever since, Dan’s favourite saying had been one by an English historian, Lord Acton, after whom he had named his secretive group. He had famously stated that, power tends to corrupt; absolute power corrupts absolutely.

“In one month, I’m  going to be President of the United States and nobody is going to stop me
. Do we all understand?” continued Dan to the small group.

To a chorus of yeses,
he continued.

“Firstly, whatever happens, I don’t like the pompous tit in the UK and if what
George is crying about is true, perhaps we should just get rid of him.”

“Who, George?” asked Freeman surprised
. George had been groomed for some time to be the next British PM.

“
NO! For fuck’s sake, do I have to spell everything out? The Prime Minister!”

“Oh
, sorry,” replied Freeman.

“Is that a good idea
? I mean a head of state, surely that’s…”

“Peter
, stop being a fucking pussy,” interrupted Dan. “We’re almost at the finish line and you’re worrying about some pompous English twat.”

Charles re-entered the conversation
.

“George apologised profusely when I called him just now
. He’s just upset because after he found out where the island was, we blew the fucking thing up!”

“Shit,” replied Henry understanding
what a difficult a position  the UK’s Defence Secretary was in.

“It’s not all bad though, only one other person knows where it was.”

“Who?” asked Dan.

“The PM
. Seems George is an ambitious little shit and is asking if we can help.”

“Perfect,” replied
Dan. “Henry, George, you know what to do.”

Chapter 41

“Will somebody please tell me, what the fuck is going on?” exclaimed the president
, slapping his latest briefing paper down onto the coffee table.

He was joined in the oval office by
Gerald Walters his National Security Advisor and Stephen Hughes his Director of National Intelligence, two of his closest and most trusted aides.

Receiving nothing more than shrugs, he continued
.

“Let me get this right
. In the space of twenty four hours, the head of the NSA blows his brains out. An entire NSA shift die in a car crash; the head of the SSB gets murdered and we lose a B1 Bomber and you’re telling me they’re unfucking related??!!”