America's Trust (42 page)

Although the traffic was heavier than normal, Butler made good time and with Frank’s directions, they pulled into Middletown Pennsylvania within the hour. The Air National Guard shared facilities with Harrisburg International Airport and, again, Frank directed them exactly to where they needed to be.

“How the hell did you know about this place?” asked Jack.

“Sir, I know every military base in the area. You never know when something like this might happen,” he replied, unfortunately in all seriousness.

Jack looked around. He was anticipating a slightly better armed facility, one where he could have taken control and led the fight. “Perhaps an Army base would be more appropriate,” he suggested.

“This was the nearest facility of any forces, Mr. President.”

It didn’t take them long to notice that nothing was moving. No flights were landing and none were taking off. A policeman stood at the entrance ramp to the main airport terminal, his car blocking the way in. The airport was closed. Butler drove beyond the policeman and took the turn for the Guard Station. The 193
^rd
Special Operations Wing flag flew proudly, unlike any of the aircraft. They were all stationary on the apron.

“
Okay, Mr. President, you and Frank stay in the car while Swanson and I check if it’s safe,” said Butler, taking charge and leaving little room for debate.

Frank climbed out to allow Swanson to exit the rear and took up position in the driver’s seat. If anything did go wrong, the message was clear. He would drive away before considering backing them up. His role was absolute. Nobody was more important than the president.

Butler led Swanson towards the main office. The main door was wedged open in an attempt to cool down the previously air-conditioned office. A group of men in flight suits were huddled around a battery controlled radio, desperately trying to pick up a channel. Every turn of the dial delivered the same static sound.

Butler cleared his throat, not wanting to startle the men as he entered the building. “Gentlemen,” he said.

They all turned around and, recognizing Butler and Swanson’s military outfits despite their missing jackets, welcomed them in.

“Good evening, Marine,” said the most senior officer, a colonel, stepping forward beyond the group.

“Colonel, good to meet you, sir,” said Butler, recognizing his rank.

“Do you know what in the hell is going on?” he said with a strong Southern drawl. “We’re hearing the Russians have nuked the shit out of us.”

“I can assure you that has not happened, Colonel.”

“Well, why isn’t one piece of our goddamned electronics working? We can’t get a hold of anybody, not even a radio station,” he added, pointing to the old battery powered radio.

“I’m afraid we don’t know why yet, sir.”

“Colonel, can those planes fly?” interrupted Swanson. She wanted to get to the point and quickly.

“That’s about all they can do for now,” he sighed.

“Well, we need to speak with you in private,” she said forcefully enough that the room began to empty before the colonel had even accepted her request.

Butler waited until the last man filing out closed the door behind him.

“Colonel, we are here on behalf of the President of the United States of America. Can it fly safely?” asked Butler.

“None of the electronics work but we can fire up the engines and control the plane manually, as long as we can see where we’re going. But it’ll be dark in a couple of hours. I really wouldn’t want to fly without the instruments at night.”

“But you can fly safely?”

“Yes,” replied the Colonel.

“Is it fuelled?”

“Fuelled and ready for action. We’ve just been praying for the radio to burst into life and tell us what to do.”

“Good.” Butler nodded at Swanson who waved at Frank. He drove the car to the nearest of the four C-130s that sat on the apron. “How many men do you need?”

“Depends where we’re going and what we’re going to do. If you want us to broadcast, six, if just fly, another one.”

“Wait a minute, what’d you mean broadcast?”

“These are Command Solo C-130s. We broadcast FM, AM, TV. Hell you name it, we transmit it. Well, obviously not now because everything’s fried but ultimately that’s what we do. We fly as high as we can above the target below and pysch the enemy out with our broadcasts. Worked a treat in Iraq!”

“You never know, so bring a full crew,” Butler said, thinking ahead.

The colonel opened the door to the adjacent room and informed his crew they were about to take off. A little hesitant at flying without instruments, they stepped forward. Butler led them out to board and prep the plane. Frank and the president also boarded.

“
Gentlemen, this plane is now designated Air Force One,” said Frank to a group of startled and stunned faces. The president, with his hairpiece back on, saluted the crew.

“Where to?” asked the colonel, proudly hiding his surprise and concern as best he could.

“The biggest military base you can get me to quickly,” said Jack.

“Of course, Mr. President,” replied the colonel, walking through to the flight deck, closely followed by Butler.

“Colonel, we need you to disregard the president’s order and proceed directly to Cheyenne Mountain complex,” Butler said quietly. “It is of the gravest importance to national security that you do so.”

“My Commander in Chief just gave me an order and I can assure you that I will be obeying it.”

“No you won’t,” replied Butler taking the third seat in the cockpit.

“I can assure you I will,” he repeated adamantly.

Butler placed the pistol at the colonel’s head. “And I can assure you, you won’t. Dead men can’t follow orders, Colonel.”

They must have run for over a mile before they stopped for breath, crashing through the undergrowth and barreling down the hillside. None of them had even spoken, they had just run.

Their trail was going to be very easy to follow.

He was furious with himself. He had always been impetuous in the heat of battle. He was only there for one reason and one reason only, the promise he had made to his sister. He would look after her baby, Lauren. That should have been his focus, not taking an opportune shot that probably meant he’d never get anywhere near Lauren.

Helicopters were buzzing across the hillside. Their speed at coming off the hills and into the woods was saving them at the moment. If he had been on his own, he could have evaded them but with the two young men, that wasn’t an option. They were going to need a miracle to get out of this one. Once they discovered the vantage point from where he had taken his shot, they’d be as good as dead. Their trail was going to be too easy to follow.

“Wait a minute,” said one of the students. “That’s the trail we followed to get to you.”

Bill didn’t think twice, and ran down the path the two students had found him; it meant Lauren was down there. It also would probably be the last place they’d be looking for them, right at the heart of their operation.

Despite their protests, the two students followed. Being around Bill was far better than being left to fend for themselves. As they chased after him, they failed to understand what his raised closed fist meant and continued to charge down behind him.

“Stop!” he whispered as loud as he dared but it was too late. They had been spotted. The undergrowth ahead of them came alive. Soldiers appeared from nowhere. One minute a bush was there and suddenly it moved to reveal a soldier was in fact standing in front of it. It was as though they were chameleons blending perfectly with their surroundings.

“How the hell did you spot us?” asked one of the soldiers indignantly.

“I’ve spent my time in the jungles, I know what I’m looking for,” replied Bill, smiling at the American soldier. “How many of you are there?”

“Thirty-four. We’re here on a specialist camouflage course.”

“What unit?” asked Bill.

“Army Rangers. Captain Greg Hillard. You?” he asked, recognizing Bill as an ex-military man.

“Master Sergeant Bill Swann, US Army sniper, sir” replied Bill, not having known the captain was an officer due to the camouflage. “How long you guys been out here?”

“Not long enough, obviously,” joked the captain. “So what’s happening out there?” he asked, referring to where Bill and the students had come from and the scene of all the commotion. Plane landings and troop movements. “Our cells have stopped working and this place appears to have become a major military hub. I know they do a lot of training for the military but holy shit, it’s like World War Three’s kicked off.”

“
You guys had better sit down,” said Bill, wiping the smile off the face of every one of the Army Rangers standing in front of him. Bill spared no punches and told them what he knew.

“They attacked Pearl Harbor and killed the
president
?” asked the captain.

“And most of the rest of the chain of command,” replied Bill. “My cell’s out too, so I’m afraid that’s all I know for now.”

“Holy shit, that explains it.”

“Explains what?” asked Bill.

“They weren’t expecting us for the course. The camp is used constantly for Special Forces training. The facilities are the best in the world. The barracks hold over four hundred troops and are always full. Apart from last night, when it was just us. We were supposed to head back to our barracks this morning but I got the boys up and out for some training before sunrise. We’d waited months to get here… Mother fuckers!”

“Did you say they were holding over two hundred Americans hostage?” he asked, the anger building as the realization that his country had been invaded sunk in fully.

Bill nodded.

The captain turned to his men. He was about to give them a barnstorming speech. It wasn’t needed. They were all itching to go.

He turned back to Bill and the students. “Lead the way,” he said, standing back to let them through.

Shouts from behind Bill suggested their less than subtle route from the hill had been discovered. The sound of helicopters began to close in.

“Something you forgot to mention?” asked the captain, seeing the look of concern on Bill’s face.

“I may have taken a shot at someone,” said Bill, rushing past the captain.

“Who?”

“I don’t know but he was important enough for the generals to bow to,” said Bill picking up the pace. The trees were dense and would offer cover from the helicopters but from the shouts and voices behind, there were a lot of troops making their way towards them.

“Did you hit him?” asked the captain.

“Didn’t you hear me? I’m an Army sniper,” smiled Bill.

The jeep’s driver remained quiet throughout the journey. The late summer twilight turned to darkness as they eventually arrived at what appeared to be nothing more than an airstrip. A small commercial jet sat at the end of the runway. Admiral Keeler guessed it was one of the smaller Boeing or Airbus jets and from the outside it certainly was a luxurious version.

The driver stopped at the steps of the main door and indicated for Admiral Keeler to enter. He was met by a startlingly beautiful stewardess, certainly one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen in the flesh, who offered him a glass of champagne and a very welcoming smile.

He took the champagne as offered and walked into the body of the jet. Luxuriously plush leather seats led back towards a conference table where the man whose voice he had finally recognized was seated. The meeting did not last long and Admiral Keeler was returned to his base as promised. It was the most shocking meeting of his life. Not just because of the content but because of what he was still expected to do. The decisions he had to make were well beyond his pay grade but as there were few Americans left in government or the military, he had to step up and accept the mantle.

He walked into the British headquarters where the shock of the Russians turning and retreating a half mile appeared to have worn off. Hostilities had resumed as normal.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” said the general on seeing the admiral’s face.

“He pulled himself together. “It’s been a long and exhausting day,” he said, realizing how late it was. The sun would be rising again soon.

“So what’s the plan?” asked the general, anticipating the morning would see far greater activity from the Russians.

“More of the same,” he said, every word struggling from his mouth. Men’s lives would be lost as a result of each and every word. He wondered how he was ever going to live with himself. That was irrelevant, he had to do it.

“I need to get to London. Can you arrange one your jets?” he asked.

“Of course, fast or very fast?” joked the general, not really meaning it.