Cloud Dust: RD-1 (19 page)

"I'll have the same," Auggie grunted. "I'm not
too hungry, either."

* * *

Madam President's personal cell phone rang, with the First
Gentleman's caller ID in the window. "Graye?" she answered the call.

"Oh, I'm not Graye," the electronically enhanced voice
said. "But I can deliver the next election to you if you want it."

"Who is this?" President Sanders demanded.

"I can give you the election by handing you those responsible
for Montana," the voice went on. "I want something in return."

"What the hell would that be?" Amelia Sanders asked.

"I'll send a photograph. I want both. Alive. I'll call
back in two days. I can't guarantee what may happen between now and then. Think
about my offer and give an answer in two days, Madam President."

The President stared as a photo arrived on her cell. It was of
Corinne and Rafe, taken during the meeting at Camp David.

* * *

Notes—Colonel Hunter

"What do you suppose will happen in the next two
days?" I'd never seen the President so distraught. It was
understandable—the one Corinne sought was also seeking her. He'd learned of her
importance, likely through General Cutter. Rafe, too, was on the agenda, and I
figured it was the Russians—Baikov in particular—who wanted him.

"If there's another Montana, the entire country will go
crazy," I acknowledged. "What concerns me is that he'll be betraying
those responsible for Montana, therefore, there's no guarantee he won't betray
you, too."

"There is no good way out of this," the President
shook her head. "I'm trading lives for lives if I concede, and potentially
more lives if I refuse."

At least she didn't mention her presidency, or the
continuation of it in this conversation. Corinne could determine the
President's sincerity, but I didn't want to frighten her with this. Not yet,
anyway. "Have you attempted to track the call?" I asked.

"Of course. It's untraceable, according to at least three
agencies."

"Did anyone record it?"

"Of course not."

"Not good."

"He didn't even say not to try, or not to talk to anyone
about the call. What is that supposed to mean?" she flung out a hand and
stood to stare out a window at the White House lawn.

"It probably means he's so confident now that he's
taunting us with it. He's destroyed two secure locations. Killed the Vice
President. Stolen who knows what from some of the most secure places on the
planet. Made attempts on many important lives, and would have succeeded, if not
for Corinne."

"This means that Cutter received information from Dalton,
then passed it along to his backers, who handed it to this murdering
thief."

"That is the most likely scenario, yes. Information is
often more valuable than gold, and information on Corinne—who wouldn't pay any
asking price for that kind of talent?"

"We had it in our backyard for six years and didn't even
know it," Madam President's shoulders sagged. "Corinne was wise to
hide it, I think."

"The ultimate question, in my opinion, is what Cutter's
backers want, other than a desk in the Oval Office. Why go to the trouble of
killing an entire town, when there are other ways to get what they want?"

"Perhaps it's a way of exposing the Program."

"By using it against the people? They just killed twenty
times what we have, and none of those volunteered. Besides, it was your
predecessor who created the Program, and then insisted that it continue, even
when so many," I stopped. "He's in this, too. I'll bet money on
it."

"He appointed you to the Program," the President
pointed out.

"I'm not naïve," I said. "He appointed me
because he was pissed at the Joint Chiefs, since the Joint Chiefs never liked
me. Not even for a minute. You see he assigned me to what he considered the
most worthless of the survivors."

"Does he know that's changed?" She turned and lifted
an eyebrow.

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "If he and
Cutter had regular conversations, then it's likely. If that didn't happen, he
may be out of the loop unless he's connected to Cutter's backers. If he's
connected to Cutter's backers, then he's in this just as much as they
are."

"If he's one of Cutter's backers, that's a problem,"
Madam President sighed. "You know how they all feel about a woman in the
White House."

"I remember the attack ads," I said. "Clearly.
He didn't come out and endorse Cutter, because he didn't want to alienate the
women voters. His cronies endorsed Cutter, however, even after you'd been
selected as the nominee at the convention."

"They pressured me to drop out of the race. Kept telling
me I didn't have a chance against the opposition, when a man would," she
shook her head. "Colonel Hunter, what the hell is going on? I realize that
every president faces the prospect of wars, assassinations and every other
difficulty you might imagine, but this time, the situation is jacked up—as if
another level has been added to the game and we're scrambling for instructions
on how to play it."

"Things began to change when the Program was
introduced," I said. "I know what all the sci-fi novels and comic
books are about, but this is reality and we don't have anybody who can swoop in
and save the day. Without names or images, Corinne can't point to anyone.
Without that information, the others can't do anything to protect us. Hell,
we're scrambling just to stay alive on most days."

"I'm making the announcement tomorrow—that you're the new
Secretary of Defense," Madam President sighed. "I realize that may
paint a target on your back, but I'm getting pressured by both sides to make
the call."

"I understand. I'll let Cori know. Do you want me to talk
to her about this newest threat? It's likely she'll know about it anyway."

"Go ahead and tell her. Rafe, too. They need to know that
somebody is after them."

"Thank you, Madam President."

* * *

Corinne

I knew the minute we walked in Auggie's new office. Madam
President had been approached. She'd been offered the next election, in
exchange for Rafe and me.

Fuck
.

For now, she was saying no. I worried that her decision might
waver in the next few days.

"You know he'll do his worst, just to convince her,"
I said before Auggie had a chance to talk.

"Perhaps someone will include me?" Rafe asked
quietly.

"Corinne was right," Auggie said. "The one
behind all this does approach people. He offered the President the next
election and the ones behind the Montana massacre—in exchange for both of
you."

"The ones responsible for Montana didn't make a very good
deal with their benefactor, then," Rafe observed. "Obviously they
forgot to include provisions—such as avoiding capture or prosecution for their crimes."

"Or, maybe they're just so megalomaniacally rich they
think they're above all that," I said. "The ultra-wealthy sometimes
fall into that trap. Generally they're correct; their money does cover a
multitude of sins."

"Cori, I don't think that's a word," Auggie pointed
out.

"Megalomaniacally?"

"That's the one. James," Auggie shouted. James
appeared within seconds.

"Get photographs of all the wealthy people in the
U.S.," Auggie said. "Give them to Cori. We have killers to
catch."

* * *

"We have new orders and a new batch of the drug,"
Death reported.

"I wasn't aware that our people could move that
fast," Famine said.

"It came from higher up," Death said. "We have
enough to kill ten thousand or more."

"We won't get into the next water supply so easy,"
Conquest pointed out.

"This batch isn't designed to go in the water supply.
It's in mist form and can't be seen by the naked eye. The drug can be inhaled
and still work. It's genius, actually—ours were toying with the idea, but they
said it was a long way off. We have it now, courtesy of our benefactor."

"We pay for that," War said.

"We donate. He told us at the beginning that money clears
the way with the uncooperative. We have a mission, and we can afford the
donations."

"Ten thousand people? Do we have likely targets?"

"I have several—marked on this map," Death said,
tapping a key on his computer. A map of the United States popped up, with
several locations circled. He then pulled up another window on the screen,
listing events.

"I like this better," Conquest grinned as he pointed
out a specific event. "We can offer our congratulations with an air event
they can't refuse. Not only will we achieve our objective, it will be
recorded."

* * *

Corinne

Rafe thought a Krav Maga session, followed by weight lifting and
a run would help. While I normally suck at Krav Maga, I was so distracted I got
mangled. Rafe didn't intend to hurt me and truthfully, I wasn't really hurt but
he did amazing acrobatics to keep that from happening.

"Maybe we should just run," I said as he lay on top
of me. "If I trip, it'll be my own fault."

"You're too distracted," he rolled to the side and
rose with an easy, graceful movement. I felt like a slug attempting to stand on
its tail when I got up.

"I have no idea why," I replied with a hint of
sarcasm. "You know something else will happen before he calls back."

"I'll be happy to hand myself over—and deliver my version
of justice."

"Which brain are you thinking with?" I asked
sweetly.

"I can protect both of us," he said.

"I'm getting a headache," I responded.

"Then let's go to the kitchen and get something to drink
with your aspirin."

James was already there when we arrived, taking a coffee
break. "What are we going to do, Cori?" he pleaded, as if I had
answers for everything.

"Honey, I don't know," I sat beside him and rubbed
his back. "I have a feeling the enemy is about to flex his muscles big
time, just to see how we'll react."

"How many do you think he'll kill this time?" Auggie
walked in. "Madam President will make the announcement tonight that I'm
the new Secretary of Defense," he added. "I want you and Rafe with me
at the press conference."

"I'd prefer not to wear the wig," I complained.

"I believe that disguise is compromised already,"
Auggie muttered as he popped a coffee pod into the brewer. "I honestly
don't care if you dress in jeans, although the President will likely
complain."

"Congratulations, Auggie," I said. "You deserve
it. I just wish it were a better time to take that position. She should have
put you there to start with, instead of attempting to appease Cutter's camp.
That could have saved us time and trouble."

"You think Cutter already knew about the Program?"
Auggie asked.

"I think he knew something—what crumbs the previous
administration saw fit to give him. Madam President handed all of it to him on
a plate."

"I remember what you said when he was given the
job," James said. "You told us the virus had been introduced. Man, we
should have shot him then and taken the jail time."

"Oh, his cronies were doing their happy dance," I
said. "I don't want to visit you in jail, honey. Let somebody else take
out the bad guys. Somebody who can get away with it," I added.

"That means Maye, Nick, Rafe or somebody from another
agency," Auggie sighed. We just need to know who the targets are and where
they are. We can send the cavalry after that. Cori, have you had any luck with the
photographs of wealthy people?"

"Not yet," I grumped. "Don't get me wrong; a
bunch of them are steeped in felonious behavior, but it doesn't include
murdering a town in Montana."

"Let's table that for now and focus on the other thing.
I'd love to hand the information to Madam President before she gets that call
tomorrow."

"That would be a coup—new Secretary of Defense solves
Montana mystery," James framed a journalistic headline with finger quotes.

"I'd have to say my team was responsible," Auggie
pointed out. "Cori, why don't you and Rafe look at photographs until we
have to leave for the White House?"

"We can look while we're on a treadmill," Rafe said.

"Joy."

* * *

"You have your orders," Death said into his cell
phone. "Tonight, we begin."

"You are sure, Commander?"

"Yes. Once we attack, the retaliation will be swift. You
must not be deterred, even when it seems our allies have turned against us. It
is his will."

"We are strong. None shall stand against us. We go
tonight."

"I'll expect a report afterward—be at the rendezvous
point for extraction afterward."

"It will be done. Thank you, sir. The end times are upon
us."

"The end times are upon us," Death agreed and ended
the call.

* * *

Corinne

"I'm not finding anything," I said. "I've gone
back through some of these twice. Nobody sticks out." A computer monitor
was hooked to my treadmill, and I'd walked while I studied photographs.

"Nobody?" James walked on a treadmill beside mine,
while Rafe ran on a treadmill on my other side.

"Nobody," I shook my head. "This sucks."

"We have to get cleaned up soon, for Colonel Hunter's
appearance at the White House press conference."

"I know. How should I dress?"

"Nice, but dark clothing," James grinned. He'd been
invited, too, since his pay grade would rise with Auggie's. Auggie was
considered a civilian since he was no longer active in the regular
military—that had transpired after his assignment to the Program more than eight
years earlier. Almost two years after his selection as a special consultant,
he'd been assigned to me.

Being classified as a civilian, with no regular active
connection to the military for more than seven years was a requirement to be
Secretary of Defense. Auggie fit the bill perfectly. His rank should have been
higher when he officially retired eight years earlier, but as he'd said often
enough, there were some in the military who didn't like him.