The Red Phoenix 12: Strength Comes in Numbers (31 page)

“Well, of course there is,” said Greenfield, leaning back his chair. “What kind of damage would we be looking at if it went off?”

“I would hate to begin to guess,” Gibbs answered. “But let’s just say that Arizona, the Mexican border and parts of southern California would most likely cease to exist post-fallout,” Gibbs answered. “Also, who knows what an uncontrolled nuclear blast would do to the contamination that is already there. Things could be mutated all the way to the Pacific coast then multiply.”

“Oh, jeez, for Pete’s sake,” said Greenfield, sighing. “So, what do you want to do about this?”

“Sir, deactivating the arsenal should be top priority, at this point,” Gibbs answered. “The guardsmen who took the photo said the creature
roared
at them then ran back under the rubble on the southeast side of the destroyed facility,” Gibbs stated. “So, at least we have an entry point.”

“Ken? Barry? Any ideas?” asked Greenfield.

“I think it’s safe to list both Siddoway and Michaels as
Enemies of the State
, sir,” Barry replied.

“I would like to suggest we send in strike teams to the facility to deactivate the arsenal,” Ken added. “As for Siddoway and Michaels, they should be eliminated on sight just to ensure they won’t be a further hindrance.”

“Agreed,” Barry stated. “Siddoway has already killed federal officers and is carrying around a box of lightning-like power with unknown quantity. He’ll stop at nothing. There is also no telling what Michaels is willing to do either, especially if he helped build the bomb and helped Siddoway back into the Red Phoenix.”

“What about the other survivors at the facility?” asked Greenfield. “Is it our assumption that all of them are these hideous creature things?”

“Sir, even if they’re not, we don’t know if the survivors are infected with this virus-like contamination,” Barry answered.

“True,” Ked stated. “Mr. President, if we rescue infected survivors that later start a nationwide epidemic, we would be held responsible.”

“So what are we saying? Kill everybody there?” asked Greenfield. “That’s just not going to go over well on CNN and will send a horrible message to the nation.”

“Quarantine, sir,” stated Ken.

“We deactivate the arsenal, then send in a controlled missile to take care of the destroyed facility, sir,” stated Barry. “Mission accomplished. Game over.”

“A controlled missile?” asked Greenfield.

“We have all kinds of weapons, sir,” said Gibbs. “After the hot zone is cleared, we send in a blast that will incinerate everything in the ten-mile radius of the
atomic
jungle that has grown around the facility incinerating any evidence of toxic fallout.”

Greenfield rested his chin over his crossed fingers on his desk, thinking.

“Sir, this is the time that the lives of a few must be sacrificed for the greater good,” stated Ken in a calm, professional voice.

“You mean a few dozens, if not hundreds?” asked Greenfield, skeptical.

“Mr. President, with all due respect, even if the number was a thousand, you’ll still be seen as the savior who prevented, if not a worldwide, a nationwide spreading virus,” said Ken.

“Sir, the solution is simple,” stated Barry. “We simply tell the world that Siddoway and Michaels caused the explosion, the remaining survivors died from the release of deadly vapors. The strike teams will include this in their debriefing and reports.”

“I like it,” said Ken. “The job gets done and the world doesn’t even blink at the White House.”

“What about Siddoway’s box of lightning?” asked Greenfield.

“Sir?” asked Gibbs.

“I want this thing found and put somewhere so that nobody ever finds it again,” Greenfield replied. “It’s already caused an incident in two states for Pete’s sake.”

“Well, we certainly can tell the strike teams to look for it, sir,” said Gibbs. “After all, it’s probably buried under a pile of rubble.”

“Find it,” said Greenfield in a stern voice.

“Yes sir,” Gibbs answered.

Greenfield sat back in his chair, thinking some more.

“What is your decision, sir?” asked Barry.

“Okay, let’s do it,” stated Greenfield. “I want the media controlled and attention taken away from the survivors who were left behind.”

“Assemble your team, Ted,” Barry ordered.

“Bring in your best guys on this,” Greenfield added.

“Consider it done, Mr. President,” Ted responded, standing with his briefcase and leaving the room.

“Barry?” asked Greenfield, taking a folder out of his desk.

“Yes sir,” Barry answered.

“I need to familiarize you with
Operation Eagle Shadow
,” Greenfield responded, handing him the folder. “This Red Phoenix incident was the worst timing in the world.”

“There is a photo of you in here, sir,” said Barry, turning the pages.

“That’s not me,” Greenfield responded.

“Excuse me?” asked Barry.

“It’s a human replica,” Greenfield answered. “A clone.”

Ken sat back, listening intently.

“I’m not sure where this is going, sir,” said Barry.

“There was an idea that Bill Hauser and I came up with that everyone in my entire administration would have a duplicate,” said Greenfield. “Well, aside from myself, the next sixteen under me, including you two as well.”

“I’m flattered,” said Barry.

Ken remained quiet, paying close attention.

“I was going to clone myself and give it a test run before I brought the rest of you in on it,” said Greenfield.

“So, where does this leave us?” asked Ken.

“Just before the explosion out there, Hauser called me, saying that he was en route with
the special package
,” stated Greenfield.

“If
it
survived the blast, there is a chance that an artificial intelligence is running around the place that looks like me,” said Greenfield. “This is a major national security issue.”

“True, if the clone is shot by friendly fire, word would get out that you have been assassinated,” Ken stated.

“So, we’ll have the strike teams search for your
clone
and Siddoway’s box of wonders,” Barry stated.

“Sure, sounds simple enough,” said Ken.

“No, the problem is this is top secret and very classified,” said Greenfield in a firm tone. “No one is even supposed to know about it. I don’t like the idea of military personnel finding this thing under a pile of rubble, delivering my clone to the steps of the White House and then it’s posted on YouTube for the world to see.”

“What do you propose, Mr. President?” asked Barry.

“Not to mention, what if your clone, sir, is contaminated like the rest of the survivors?” Ken asked.

“I know, it’s a real pile of crap in a bucket,” Greenfield responded.

The Oval Office was quiet.

“Anytime you two have an idea for me, feel free to speak up,” stated Greenfield.

Ken rubbed his chin, thinking. Barry scratched his forehead, pondering possible resolutions.

“Well? Do my Yale and Stanford graduates have an answer yet in their think tank?” asked Greenfield.

“Sir, the only option is to destroy it,” Barry stated.

“Destroy it?” Greenfield asked.

“I agree,” Ken stated. “There was never a clone program. I say terminate the clone like it was just another unfortunate survivor, along with any others that are still active.”

“So, my look-alike will lie dead in a corridor out there and no one is supposed to notice?” asked Greenfield with a tad of doubt.

“If word leaks out that you were there at the time of the blast, our reply will be that an imposter co-conspired with Siddoway and Michaels for security clearance purposes,” Barry replied. “After all, Bill Hauser, the Director of the Secret Service, was there on presidential business. I could write something up at the right time. It could work.”

“And the strike teams? What do we tell them?” asked Greenfield.

“Keep them in the dark,” Barry answered. “The less they know the better.”

Ken nodded in agreement.

“I like it,” stated Greenfield.

***

Ten military helicopters landed at the primary base on the north side of the jungle that had formed around the facility. The base had been set up by the National Guard. Some of the troops jogged by in groups, wearing camo, carrying rifles as Army jeeps drove by a dozen canopy tents.

Commander Steve Braddock and his team of specialists climbed out of one of the helicopters and headed towards the canopies, carrying weapons cases, causing their muscular arms to flex from the weight of them. The guardsmen standing by watched the commander and his team as they passed by.

“They’re actually bringing in Braddock, huh?” asked Jackson, one of the guardsmen.

“It’s got to be pretty ugly inside that pile of rubble to bring Braddock and his team of bad-asses in,” Betterton answered, another guardsman standing by.

“Did you hear about the rescue mission Braddock did in Ciudad Juarez, Mexico?” asked Jackson.

“If that’s the one where the twelve DEA agents were trapped on the wrong side of the border, I didn’t hear everything,” Betterton replied.

“So, back in 2010, when the city was noted as the murder capital of the world, these idiot DEA agents find themselves at the far southwest side of the city right when a war breaks out between the Juarez cartel and Sinaloa cartel, blocking the main roads out of town,” stated Jackson.

“I read that there were over three-thousand murders that year in that hell-hole,” said Betterton.

“Right, so Braddock and his guys flew in on three Blackhawks, taking out Juarez cartel and Sinaloa Cartel vehicles left and right with big caliber guns and artillery,” said Betterton.

“I remember hearing the city was in chaos,” said Jackson. “People were just killing each other like crazy.”

“It was a friggin’ bloodbath,” Betterton replied. “Anyway, after they land, Braddock leads his guys through the streets, shooting anybody who got in their way until they made it to the Plaza de Fuentas and rescued the DEA guys.”

“Like men, women and children?” asked Jackson.

“What do you expect? It was a freaking gang war and everybody had a gun in their hand that night,” Betterton responded. “Entire plazas were on fire.”

“I’m glad it’s him and his team going in there and not us,” said Betterton.

Major David Thompson and his assistants approached Braddock.

“Braddock? Good to see you again. The general is waiting for you over here,” said Thompson, leading them into a fifteen-man tent that had desks and computer equipment set up.

General Roger Bauer stood from his desk, shaking Braddock’s hand.