Sic Semper Tyrannis (47 page)

“When things went from bad to worse,” Sewell said, “a lot of folks just up and left.  They were mostly the ones that lived on the outskirts of town—most of ‘em hunters, some of ‘em workers in the local cannin’ plant.”

“Cannon plant?  Here?” asked Erik.  He looked around at the simple tourist-trap shops.

“Canning
,” replied Sewell.  “Oranges.  We’re in Florida, y’know?”

“Oh.”

“What about when the Russians showed up?" asked Ted as he covered the entrance to a convenience store.  Erik slipped inside and could hear the two men talk as he rummaged through broken glass and debris scattered across the floor.  He had to focus—it would be easy to get an infected cut from the busted up metal shelves or jagged chunks of roofing material strewn about.  As his boots crunched across the ground, he continued to listen to the conversation.

"Well, we weren’t quite sure what to make of it.  I remember I was standing on the steps of the police station, talking with a few of my friends when we saw the first tank roll into town."

"Did it have big wheels?  And kind of a gun that looked a little too small for the body?" asked Ted.

Erik bent down to pick up a can of tuna fish that been partially buried by acoustic ceiling tiles.  He dusted it off and examined expiration date.  It was still good for another month.  One of the numbers had been partially rubbed off and he wasn't exactly 100% sure it was safe, but as hungry as he was, he didn’t care.

"Yeah, it had them big wheels.  Looked like tractor tires."

"BTR.  Armored personnel carrier,” replied Ted.  "The group of Russians that rolled through Orlando was just the lead element—the scouts—of the main Russian army coming up from Miami.  They got a couple of those BTR, a lot of troops, and more guns than you can shake a stick at."

"Damn, here I thought that thing was a
tank
.  And you tell me it’s just part of some scouts?"   Sewell whistled, a mournful sound.  "Looks like the rest of the boys were smart to get out of town when they did.  I should’a followed them."

Erik put the can of tuna fish in his pack and continued through a door on the other side of the cash register.  He used the barrel of his pistol to lift ceiling panels that blocked his view of the floor.  For the most part the place had been ransacked.  A layer of dust on everything showed him that the little store had been abandoned after the initial looting.  There were open bags of chips and cookies scattered all over the place along with animal droppings.  It was a pig sty.   He made his way back to the front door, ready to try somewhere else.

"Anyhow, them Russians rolled into town with loudspeakers blarin’… They said anybody who surrendered would be fed, clothed, and given a chance to get medicine if they need it.  They were looking for supplies, not trouble.

Erik rejoined the men and held up one finger at Ted's raised eyebrow.  "This place is picked clean.  I found a can of tuna fish in there that should still be good, but that's it."

"Batteries? Maps? 
Anything
else?" asked Ted.

"Nothing, man.  It's like somebody opened the doors and said everything in here was free.”

"I'm been saying that just about every store I been to," said Sewell.  He chuckled ruefully.  "Worked through town three times in the last few weeks…been able to find enough to keep my kids alive, but that’s it.  I ain’t eaten anything in two days."

Ted sighed and examined the afternoon sun.  "We only got a couple more hours of daylight.  We need to be south of town before dark."  He turned and looked at Sewell.  “How’d you like to get a little payback at the Russians?"

Sewell’s face darkened and took on a hard look.  "You just tell me where to shoot, mister.  Those bastards burned my house down, killed my brother and my wife's family—her
whole
family.  They hauled off just about everybody left in town whether they wanted to go or not.  You’re damn right I want payback."

Ted slapped the man on the back and grinned.  "All right then.  Erik and I are settin’ up a little plan of action.  They got a prison camp southeast of here.  Might be where they took your friends.   Erik escaped yesterday, but both our wives and my kids are still there.”

“Damn.  What you gonna do?” asked Sewell.

Ted looked at him like he’d grown a second head.   “We’re gonna go get them.”  His expression softened a bit.  “We sure could use some help…"

The man's eyes brightened.  "There’s still a handful of us out in the woods.   All of us hunters.  We normally hunt the four-legged kind, but I think in this case I can make an exception.  Just tell me when and where to meet."

"You got a radio?" asked Ted.

"No, had an old CB—but lost it when the Russians burned down my house."

Ted motioned for Erik to turn around so that he could reach into his pack.  "Erik and I have a couple spares…"

Sewell reached to take the radio and paused.  "What’d you say your name was?"

"Ted Jensen."

Erik turned and extended his hand.  "Erik Larsson.”

"I will be dipped in shit…" muttered Sewell.  "You're the one them Russians a been talkin’ about.  You're the one they want!"

Erik and Ted glanced each other.  "What are you talking about?" asked Erik.

"The Russians!” said Sewell.  He ran a claw-like hand through greasy hair.   “They came through here, yesterday.  I was still on my way in an’ hadn’t made it to town, but I could hear the loudspeakers.  Kept goin’ on about some guy named Erik Larsson—they wanted him to turn himself in or…”

“Or
what?
” asked Erik.

“Well,” said Sewell.  He swallowed.  “I’m sorry, but they said they was gonna kill your woman.  And your kids."

"
My
kids?"  Erik felt a wave of panic surge through his chest.  "Ted…"

The Marine nodded, his face set in stone.  "I know.  Put it out of your mind, man.  Focus on the mission.  Nothing we can do about them or the Russians
right now.
  We need to get ourselves ready and launching our attack."

"Yeah," said Sewell.  "Buddy of mine out in the swamp, he still has a radio, and he says the Russians been doing nothing but nonstop advertising that they're gonna kill your family if you don't turn yourself in.  They got a real hard-on for you…"

"If you're serious about helping us throw cold water on them, here's what we need you to do…" began Ted. 

CHAPTER 32

Assuming Command

THE SECRETARY-GENERAL’S FACE FROWNED on the large monitor.  "
What’s going on?  Where's President Suthby?"

Daniel stood up from behind the President's desk and cleared his throat.  "My apologies, Secretary-General.  There was an assassination attempt—"

The Secretary-General's eyes went wide.  "
I was not aware of this.  Why was I not informed immediately?"

Now it was Daniel’s turn to frown.  "The President is stable, thank you for asking."

The Secretary-General narrowed his eyes.  "
Mark your tone, sir.  You are an underling
."

Daniel clasped his hands behind his back.  "There, you are incorrect, sir.  I am the closest thing this country has to a legitimate Vice President right now.  I am the
heir
.  The President is incapacitated.  There is no one else on his staff—or in the country, for that matter—who knows as much about his plans as I do."

The Secretary-General's face softened.  He appraised Daniel like someone examining a prized horse.  At length, he nodded.  "
Fair enough.  So… Mr. Jones, what exactly are your intentions?
"

"My intentions?  My intentions have always been the same: to safeguard the security of the United States and do what’s best for my country.  To do what’s best for my President."

"
To do what's best for your President
…" mused the Secretary-General.  He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers.  He regarded Daniel through half-closed eyes, like a cat watching its prey.  "
I wonder… I wonder exactly what is best for the President.  And if what is best for President Suthby is best for America?
"

Daniel ground his teeth and struggled to keep his face neutral.  "What exactly are you asking?  I intend to carry forward President Suthby's platform and initiatives as he would have were he sitting in this chair right now."  Daniel gestured to the stack of paperwork before him.   "As Chief of Staff, I've been the one who prepared most of these documents.  I know them inside and out.  I know his plans and I know what he was attempting to do.  There will be no discontinuity, as the assassin had hoped.  There will be no uprising to overthrow our government.  Things will move on as scheduled and in the end, the United States will emerge stronger than ever."

The Secretary-General laughed, a harsh sound.  "
Brave words, boy.  We shall see if you can deliver on your promise.  I will be keeping my eye on you…"

"As I will be keeping an eye on your forces while they parade about on our soil."  Daniel relished the look of frustration on Secretary-General's face.  "President Suthby informed me of his secret deal with you.  I've been in on it since the beginning.  And now it's time for us to discuss something…"

"And what might that be, Mr. Jones?"

"Right now, President Suthby is recovering… His condition is guarded.  In fact, they just released him from the critical care unit.”  Daniel looked down at his hands in an attempt to appear worried.  "It really is a shame how this all happened, this being the most secure location the United States government could provide and all."  He looked up at the image of Secretary-General.  "The nation would surely mourn the loss of its new leader.  But I wonder… I wonder if someone
else
—"

"
Someone like you
?" asked the Secretary-General.   His lip curled in a half-smile. 

"Perhaps," said Daniel.  He kept his face completely devoid of emotion.  "I won't say that I would turn down the position if offered, but it's not my first choice.  I like to think of myself…" He reached to the desk and picked up a cup of water, swirled it as if it were brandy and took a sip, making the Secretary-General wait.  He could tell the impatience was starting to eat at the other man.  "I like to think of myself as more a behind-the-scenes player.  It's less dirty that way."

The Secretary-General arched an eyebrow. 
"That is open to debate."

"Not as far as I'm concerned.  I am the power behind-the-scenes here.  President Suthby got his ideas through me.  I nudged him in just the right moments, in just the right direction.  And here we are."

The Secretary-General leaned in close to the camera.
"If you're so confident of your abilities, why not just kill the President now and be done with it?  Why the theatrics?"

Daniel thought for a moment, one finger resting on his lips.  "Like I said, I don’t like to get my own hands dirty.  All I'm doing is laying the groundwork.  If President Suthby happens to pull through—praise God," said Daniel with a smile.  "I would be happy to remain in my position, guiding the future direction of the United States through the President.  If on the other hand," he said lifting his left hand for emphasis, "the worst should happen and our fears realized—with President Suthby's passing, someone new would need to take over the leadership of the country.  That someone would need the immediate support of the United Nations to continue the good work that we have started.  I just want to be clear.  That that someone will be me."

The Secretary-General leaned back in his chair and smiled. 
"And if we have someone else in mind?”

Daniel dismissed the idea with a casual wave.  "The American people will never stand for a foreigner taking over as chief executive.  President Suthby and I have been able to hold off a major revolt—at this point in time a general uprising by the population would tear this country apart and our fears of Balkanization would become a reality.  Your little ruse would cease to be effective.  There are many nuclear installations, many thousands of weapons scattered across this nation.  Do you really want an angry, patriotic American to start a nuclear war?  If President Suthby dies, I take over.  The people know me.  Congress has approved me.  In fact, I've checked, and for the most part Congress would be happier with me in charge than with President Suthby."

The Secretary-General nodded, taking in Daniel's ultimatum.  He glanced at some papers on his own desk before looking back at the camera. 
"Yes, my sources tell me the same thing."

So
, Daniel thought,
you
do
have contacts inside Congress.  That's interesting.
He filed that thought away for future use and continued.  "President Suthby has a…unique…personality."

The Secretary-General barked a laugh.  "
The man is acidic.  He pisses off far more people than he pleases."

Now it was Daniel’s turn to nod.  He stood up and moved around the side of the desk.  He leaned on the corner and took a completely relaxed posture in front of the camera.   Daniel suppressed a smile as the Secretary-General stiffened in his own chair, suddenly in the subordinate position.  "He has made many enemies in Congress over the years as director of FEMA.  Now that he has the powers of the presidency, he intends to ride rough-shod over everyone.  I, on the other hand, have been the one to slink behind him soothing the ruffled feathers of Congress and patching up the burning bridges.  They know me.  They trust me.  They like me."

"Your argument is persuasive, Mr. Jones.  I'm beginning to think that it might be more beneficial to your country and the United Nations if President Suthby never left the hospital."

Daniel looked down at his hands and smiled.  He hoped the expression was hidden from the camera sufficiently.  "Nothing would make me sadder."  He looked up at the screen.  "Or happier."

The Secretary-General cleared his throat and glanced down at the papers on his desk.  Someone leaned into the camera and whispered in the man's ear.  Daniel waited patiently.  "
Your proposal may have some merit.   We will take it under advisement.   We will discuss this later, pending the outcome of President Suthby's recovery.  In the meantime,
" the Secretary-General said, lifting a paper off his desk.  "
There is a matter that I was going to discuss with President Suthby… It appears I must now discuss it with you
."

Now we’re getting somewhere
, thought Daniel.  "Yes,” he said, letting his face show concern.  "The fighting in New York."

"
The fighting?  You mean the skirmish between those half-starved rebels of yours and the handful of Russians patrolling the streets?  No, no, no…that's not what I'm talking about.  I refer to the sudden arrival of the aircraft carrier
Theodore Roosevelt."

Daniel knew in his heart that he should keep his face impassive, but he couldn't help the smile.  That aircraft carrier was one tough nut to crack.   Secretly he was thrilled that it had survived the Iranian attack.  There'd been too many American deaths overseas at the hands of foreigners.  He was happy that
someone
at least had made it home.  He would need their support.  He would need their firepower. 

"Yes, our military hardware seems to be surprisingly hard to kill, doesn't it?"

"
You may dispense with the poor attempt at humor,
" said the Secretary-General in a stern voice.  "
I am quite serious about this.  The Russian delegation is fit to be tied.  We were told that this carrier strike group and been destroyed—
"

"You mean when the Iranians lobbed a nuclear missile into the Eastern Mediterranean?  Yes, we lost contact with them.  Thanks to the Chinese, we lost all our satellites months ago.  We had no idea where it was—let alone that Admiral Nella would decide to bring the entire strike group back to American waters."  Daniel shook his head.  "I've read the man's personnel files, this Admiral is one stubborn son of a bitch."

The Secretary-General grunted in agreement.  "
Yes, I have them here.  I don't think this man will ever give up.  He has engaged the Russian fleet in New York harbor—
"

Daniel arched an eyebrow.  That
was
news.  "The
Roosevelt
is back in American waters?"

The Secretary-General smiled his wolfish grin again.  "
You didn't know?  Pity.”
  The smile vanished.
“
Well, at any rate, you won't get a chance to contact the Admiral—our Russian friends are going to handle this little problem
."

"I've seen the details on the Russian
fleet
," Daniel said, trying to steal back some momentum.  His eyebrows furrowed in concentration.  "If I remember correctly, it was an aircraft carrier—the only one they have, by the way—a handful of planes, a scattering of surface ships.  Do you know the makeup of the
Roosevelt
Strike Group?"

Secretary-General nodded.  "
The Roosevelt, an Aegis cruiser, two destroyers, various surface support vessels, and smaller defensive vessels.  The last report I had, listed torpedoes fired at the Russian fleet—so at least one of the two submarines attached to the strike group has survived the Atlantic crossing.  That is of little consequence, as the Russians have brought
six
submarines with them
."

Daniel whistled.  "Six?  That's gotta be the bulk of Russia’s North Atlantic surface fleet and a good chunk of their submarine forces…"

"It is
," confirmed Secretary-General.  "
Overkill, to be sure, but our Russian friends are nothing if not thorough.  I imagine before the sun sets today the
Roosevelt
Strike Group will be nothing but broken and twisted hulls sitting on the bottom of Long Island Sound.  The Russians have already taken control of Manhattan Island and established air superiority, so before this day is out we will be in complete control
—"

"We?  You mean the Russians."

"No, Mr. Jones, I mean the United Nations.  Remember, Russia does not act alone in this.  Russia is carrying out a Security Council directive to establish a safe harbor and beachhead for future expeditions.  In fact, we have an international coalition gathering on the shores of Western Europe that will rival anything in history, including the D-Day invasion.  When Russia captures New York City and solidifies its grip on the harbor—there will be nothing to stop that force from taking control of all of New England."

Daniel nodded, trying to appear agreeable while he digested this new information.  He cursed Suthby's acquiescence to the United Nations.  They weren't planning on trying to protect the interests of America at all—he’d suspected that all along, but he had never guessed their intentions would be so broad.

If they can control New England
and
Florida, there’ll nothing stopping them from pushing into the middle and taking Washington D.C.,
Daniel realized.  
If the United Nations takes control of Washington, it'll be a huge psychological victory. 
Daniel stood up and tried to organize his thoughts.

  For all intents and purposes the government of the United States was scattered across the continent.  Thanks to President Reed and the COG protocol, it would be nigh on impossible to completely shut down the U.S. government.   But, as long as everyone was scattered to the wind, it was almost impossible for it to function, as well.