The Trojan Horse (30 page)

“...Coming in of a massive explosion in Iran,” the speaker was saying.  It was a female voice, something that would have shocked the traditionalists.  The fundamentalist terrorists and the United States might not have agreed on much, but disapproving of Al Jazeera was definitely one of them.  “Early reports suggest that the alien representative was somehow gunned down in Iran, followed by terrorist bombings...”

The broadcast vanished in a hail of static.  “They’ve got a few things right,” Bainbridge commented.  “I wonder what else they got right...”

There was a massive flare of light, behind them.  Albert acted without thought, braking the jeep to a stop and driving out to hit the deck.  Bainbridge followed him, a second before the shockwave passed overhead.  The noise hit them next, a thunderous racket that was almost deafening in its intensity.  There was only one possible cause, Albert told himself.  The aliens had nuked Tehran.  They’d killed an entire city for daring to lose one of their people.

He rolled over and stared towards where Tehran had been.  A massive cloud was climbing up towards the heavens, already taking on an unmistakable shape and form.  It was an ominous grey mushroom, mocking the puny humans below as it loomed above them.  Once, Albert had read a story where the watchers had seen a devil’s face in the mushroom cloud.  It was suddenly easy to believe the story.  He couldn’t escape the thought.  The aliens had killed an entire city to avenge the death of one of their people.  They’d killed millions of humans to avenge the deaths of one of their people.  They’d killed...

Bainbridge put it into words.  “My God,” he said.  “What have we done?”

It was tempting to think of Iranians as a monolithic entity, to assume that all Iranians were like the terrorists he’d killed, but Albert knew that that was a lie.  Innocents, thousands of innocents, had died in the blast.  The aliens had finally shown their true nature, all right, and Tehran had paid the price.  He wanted to go back and help, but he knew that it would be futile.  There was nothing that two Marines, or even the remaining American forces in the Gulf, could do to help. 

“Come on,” he said.  “Let's go.”

They passed the remainder of the trip in silence, circling around any large habitation to avoid any possible complications.  The radio was nothing, but static; Bainbridge couldn't tell if the aliens were jamming the signals to make matters worse, or if it was merely a side-effect of the nuke.  If it had been a nuke...Albert had his suspicions about that too.  The aliens wanted Earth, but presumably they didn't want to inherit a radioactive ruin.  They could simply have dropped a very large rock on Tehran and watched the fireworks from a safe distance.

Once down by the shore, they abandoned the plan to find a smuggler’s boat and settled for stealing a fishing boat from a small village.  Heading out into the waters, they hailed an American warship and were picked up by a team of grim-faced SEALs.  Albert had met a couple of them while on detached duty, which made identification easier.  None of the SEALs looked happy, or even relived to be away from Tehran.  Something was badly wrong.

“Haven’t you heard?”  One of them said, when Albert finally asked.  “The President has collapsed.  The Vice President is already being sworn in.”

Chapter Thirty

Washington DC

USA, Day 53

“What the hell happened?”

“It looks like a massive heart attack,” the Doctor said.  She looked tired and harassed.  The White House medical team were among the best-trained in the world, but they knew that losing their main patient would mean the end of their careers.  “We managed to stabilise him here, but we’re going to have to move him to the Naval Hospital as soon as we can.  He needs more medical attention than we can provide for him here.”

Toby winced.  “Doctor, I hate to sound insensitive, but how long until he can resume his duties?”

The Doctor glared at him.  “Mr Sanderson, your political life and position are secondary here,” she snapped.  “The President may not recover for some time, if ever.  He was not in the best of health when he became President and the stresses on his life only made pre-existing conditions worse.  I cannot give you any certain dates on when he will recover and return to his position, but you would be well-advised to assume the worst.  The President will not return to the Oval Office.”

Toby watched her stalk off, angrily.  She’d misjudged him, although she would have had a point with many of the political aides that clustered like vultures around politicians.  Their power and position depended upon their patrons and losing them could mean the end of their careers.  In one sense, Toby knew that he would never rise any higher than he had, but in another he knew that it could mean the end of the resistance’s mole inside the White House.  And if the aliens had caused the heart attack, they’d ensured that their agent was in position to become President.  The country had effectively fallen to them without a shot being fired. 

The President had heard the news from Iran when he’d collapsed.  SPACECOM might not have any weapons worthy of the name, but they did have effective tracking systems and they’d tracked the weapon launched from one of the alien ships.  Analysis suggested that it had been a kinetic weapon – effectively a lump of rock – rather than a nuke, but that was no consolation to Iran.  Tehran had been wrecked, millions were dead; the shock was already spreading over the world.  Toby wondered just how decent and kind the Galactic Federation would look in the wake of the strike.  They’d avenged the death of their comrade a million times over.

Toby shivered as he walked down the hall, heading back to the Oval Office.  Jeannette McGreevy would have already been sworn in as President, even though the situation wasn't entirely clarified yet.  Toby knew better than to expect that she would tamely give up her power if – when – the President recovered.  She’d spent most of her political life scheming to become President, to wield the power of the Presidency; she wouldn’t give it up in a hurry.  With the world in chaos, who knew how far she could go?  And in her shoes, the first thing Toby would have done would have been to dismiss Toby.  There was no point in keeping the President’s –
former
President, in her view – personnel aide so close to her.  On the other hand, she had already made a play for Toby’s loyalty.  Maybe, just maybe, if he licked her ass enough, she’d allow him to stay.  She would assume that he was kissing up to her merely to keep his career alive.  She wouldn’t understand his true motives.  The resistance needed someone in the White House.

Or am I merely trying to justify it to myself
, he asked himself, as he stepped through the door.  His father had often lectured him on the kind of moral courage demanded from soldiers.  The courage, not to charge into the teeth of enemy fire or lay down one’s life for one’s country, but to refuse illegal orders from superior officers.  Far too many soldiers hadn’t displayed that kind of courage, his father had warned – and Toby, no soldier, wondered if he was doing the same.  But the resistance needed him.

The Oval Office was heavily guarded.  Four Secret Service agents stood outside, with more – Toby knew – in reserve.  Even inside the White House, they protected their President – and the Vice President who had become President, at least for the moment.  The Secret Service was neutral, providing protection to Republicans and Democrats alike, but even that was being called into question.  A handful might even be pod people.  Jeannette McGreevy had no idea how closely the aliens monitored her, even within the White House.  They would know at once if their puppet displayed any independence of mind.  Toby wondered, not for the first time, just what they’d offered her in exchange for betraying her country.  They might have offered a life of wealth and luxury, or power as Earth’s foremost collaborator to the Galactic Federation?  Or…what?  Who knew the limits of alien power?

He waited patiently for the agents to search him and then check his ID, even though they knew him by sight.  The Secret Service was trained to be paranoid, even if some of the scenarios they ran through seemed uncomfortably like something out of a thriller novel.  Toby privately doubted that anyone could disguise themselves to look like a politician and walk into the White House unopposed, but who knew what the aliens could do?  And besides, they could turn people into traitors.  They might try to slip one of their pod people into the White House.

The agents waved him through and he stepped into the Oval Office.  As he had expected, Jeannette McGreevy sat behind the President’s desk, listening with a cocked head to the report from the FBI Director.  Toby was mildly surprised that he hadn’t been replaced by one of the pod people – there were several in the FBI – but maybe McGreevy had thought better of allowing someone touched by the aliens into such a high position.  Or perhaps she hadn’t got around to mass dismissals and putting her own people into power.  She had a wide network of contacts and clients she could promote as she pleased now she was President.  They would all be expecting some reward for their loyalty.

“Ah, Mr Sanderson,” McGreevy said.  She sounded surprisingly affable for someone who’d only reached her position through chance – or had the aliens triggered the heart attack themselves?  “Take a seat, please.  I’ll deal with you after I deal with this.”

The FBI Director looked uncomfortable.  He had been involved in the resistance after it had started to take on shape, but now his position was in doubt.  The Deputy Director was one of McGreevy’s clients.  And besides, the FBI was heavily involved in tracking down militia groups and arresting them.  It wasn't making them popular outside the big cities.  A number of federal agents had been shot dead under mysterious circumstances, while others had been killed storming houses belonging to suspected militia members.  There were too many people out there who thought that they had nothing left to lose.  None of them expected a fair trial from the government. 

“I’m afraid the news isn’t good,” he admitted, finally.  “We were already seeing the beginnings of a vast protest movement against the unwarranted searches, seizures and arrests when the aliens hit Tehran.  No matter how we try to swing it, the aliens committed mass murder…”

“Against Iran,” McGreevy snarled.  “The one country we hate above all others.”

“The fact remains that the aliens launched a disproportionate response,” the FBI Director said.  His expression, if it were possible, grew even more uncomfortable.  “That isn’t the main problem.  We’re not going after a few isolated nuts.  The people on the targeting list aren’t cultists hiding away in barns, but often popular and well-liked people in their communities, people no one believes had anything to do with the incident at the school.  Local police and sheriffs have started to refuse to get involved with the raids and I think that a number of them have quietly tipped off our targets that we’re coming for them.  A number of BATF agents walked into a trap and were slaughtered.”

He looked down at the table, trying to avoid the woman behind it.  “And the photographs and videos from the raids don’t help,” he added.  “Everyone has a cell phone with a camera these days and they’re putting the images online.  Americans are seeing jack-booted stormtroopers kicking down the door and dragging Americans off without trial.  We might be able to justify such force against a handful of criminals, or terrorists, but so far we have targeted and rounded up thousands of people.  The country won’t stand for it.”

McGreevy leaned forward.  “The country will have to stand for it,” she said, shortly.  “Don’t they understand how important this is?”

“I think that Congress might disagree,” the FBI Director said.  “I have already had a number of very icy inquiries from certain congressmen.  Their constituents are not happy.”  He hesitated and plunged on.  “We arrested a number of people on very shaky legal ground.  Worse, a number of people have
died
, often for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  This isn’t Soviet Russia, Madam President; there will be a reaction against us if this carries on.”

“I don’t care about legalities,” McGreevy said.  “I care about ensuring that we are fit to join the Galactic Federation.”

The FBI Director smiled.  “This would be the same Galactic Federation that just wiped Tehran off the map?”  He asked.  “How many people died in that strike?”

“They retaliated against the Iranians for failing to protect their people,” McGreevy said.  Toby, who had half-expected her to dismiss the death toll as merely Iranians, was almost impressed with her switch, or her ability to turn a tragedy into an advantage.  “I will not take the risk of this country going the same way, no matter how many legal niceties get broken in the process.”

“Then I am afraid that you will have to do it without me,” the FBI Director said.  “My spies in Congress tell me that there are already measures afoot to impeach you.  You may end up being the President with the shortest term of office ever.”

McGreevy opened her mouth, and then caught herself.  “Be very certain about this,” she said.  “Are you offering your resignation and refusing to do your job properly?”

“The duty of the FBI is to stop crime, terrorism and enemy spying within America’s borders,” the FBI Director said.  “It is no part of our duties to shoot down innocent civilians, even civilians who may have a slight connection to Blake Coleman.  We have an agreement with our population, Madam President; we agree to work within the law and using due process to catch criminals and they allow us to work without interference.  If we break that unspoken agreement, we can expect them to start pushing back.  This is not Russia.  Right now, there are places where I wouldn’t send federal agents unless they were very heavily armed…”

“With illegal weapons,” McGreevy snapped.  “I’ve been telling people for years that these nuts are dangerous.”

“I think you will discover that you and your followers did a great deal to make them dangerous,” the FBI Director said.  “You’ll have my resignation on your desk within the hour.  I’d wish you luck, but quite frankly the best thing you could do right now is resign and allow someone a little less close to the Galactics into the Presidency.  I don’t know why they’re here either, yet I’d be astonished if they have our own good in mind.”

With that, he stalked out of the door, leaving McGreevy and Toby behind.  Toby kept his face expressionless, even though he was deeply shocked – and worried.  If the FBI Director quit – no, he
had
quit – the remainder of the FBI would fall under the control of one of McGreevy’s clients.  And then she would have a formidable weapon at her disposal.  True, many other agents would resign rather than turn into jackbooted thugs, but far too many would remain inside.  Toby had long suspected that some of them were silently aroused by the chance to play at being a far harsher service than the FBI had ever been, intruding into the lives of the nation’s citizens and intervening at will.  They’d get their chance now.

“Sanderson,” McGreevy said.  She sounded as if she was holding herself under very tight control.  “You no longer have a place with the former President.  You can come and work with me, now, or you can get out.”

Toby didn’t hesitate.  He’d expected the offer, although he hadn’t expected it to be so blunt.  “Yes, Madam President,” he said.  “I would be happy to work under you.”

“And keep your job,” McGreevy said, dryly.  If she was aware of the double meaning, she didn’t bother to show any sign of it.  “Are you going to give me as much service as you gave your previous master?”

The odd stress on master was mocking, Toby knew.  “If that is what you command, I will be happy to serve,” Toby said.  The resistance needed him, he reminded himself.  He would have loved to quit, but he had the feeling that he wouldn’t have been allowed out of the building without permission.  “What can I do for you, Madam President?”

“You will sit in on a number of meetings,” McGreevy said.  “Once you have heard them all, you will give me your advice.  Great things are going to happen in this country and I intend to ensure that they happen sooner, rather than later.”