Overlord (30 page)

“Oh, shit, this isn’t good,” Ryan shouted into the increasing strength of the storm.

“You’re not saying the Iranians have another operating engine, are you?” Anya asked. Ryan pushed her toward the large transport, where riggers were making fast the power plant to the bed of the giant tractor trailer.

“No,” he shouted at Anya as they ran, “not exactly the Iranians. As you can see they’re on our side.”

They stopped at a grouping of soldiers who would be transporting the power plant to the docks for sea transport across the Caspian. The commander of the 106th Guards Division was shouting orders to not only his subordinates but to the new Iranian allies as well. He saw the two Americans and then grabbed Sarah by the collar, making Ryan become defensive until he saw he was giving orders.

“Get to the transports and get the hell out of here. We have something coming through this storm. Space-based imagery is showing a massive power surge connected with this activity. I’m afraid your president’s scenario is not just prophecy.”

Sara, Ryan, and Anya all looked at the strengthening storm that had come out of nowhere. The swirling clouds had intensified and now there were bright streaks of blue, purple, and yellow lights shooting out like lightning. Several of these actually burst free and struck some of the surrounding buildings.

“Go get this thing to safety. We will do what we can!” the general shouted, pushing Sarah away. He and his staff ran to take control of his ground forces.

The three ran for the line of trucks that were waiting. The semi-tractor trailer with its heavy burden wasn’t even waiting for the Russian riggers and engineers to clear the flatbed as the driver, with seventeen Russian commandos riding on the back, shot the large vehicle forward. Ryan took the driver’s seat of an old university-owned car that happened to be a 1978 Ford LTD, a leftover from the days of the shah. He threw the heavy touring vehicle into gear as soon as Anya and Sarah were safely inside. They all heard the hail, which had grown in size, start pummeling the vehicle just as they fell in line inside the large convoy of trucks, cars, and armored personnel carriers assigned to the transport of the engine the hundred miles to the sea.

Sarah leaned her head into the windshield as the hail cracked the glass, and heard a sound that could only emanate from a nightmare. The bass throng of noise shook the car and as she placed her hands over her ears she saw that the Russian and Iranian ground forces were hitting the wet ground around them as the noise literally threw them to the earth. The ungodly sound seemed to intensify as they moved toward the main gate.

The first two saucers through were one hundred feet in diameter and they separated as soon as they cleared the swirling vortex of moisture. They went in opposite directions trailing moisture, lightning, and hail in their wakes. Then another two of the same-size saucers entered Iranian airspace and they also spread out high and low over the university.

The world stopped working momentarily as a bright and blinding flash illuminated the air around the university as the largest saucer came through the eye of the storm, taking the cloud formation down with it. Its speed actually burst the eardrums of over fifty of the closest men as it slammed into the largest science building. The structure pancaked as the violence of the collision broke the earth three hundred feet around the building’s foundation. Earth, water, and men were thrown two hundred feet into the rain-swept sky as the giant saucer came to rest. All inside the five-story building had to have been crushed to death. Electrostatic lightning shot from the the five-hundred-foot-diameter saucer. Its roundness was almost beautiful to behold as it settled in the rubble of the science building. Steam jets burst through the air as its skin was cooled by the falling rain and hail.

Anya ventured a look out of the now cracked and broken rear window of the LTD. “My God!”

Sarah turned in her seat as the Ford sedan shot through the front gates of the university. She saw the Iranian tanks open fire on the downed saucer, and then to her amazement Russian commandos rushed forward to engage the enemy. Her eyes widened in fear when she saw one of the smaller saucers streak low over the remaining buildings and start to shoot the very same laser systems she knew they had recovered in South America. Blue light reached out and cut the new tanks into pieces. Explosions rocked the grounds. Russian handheld missiles left their launch tubes and small arms tried desperately to fire on the smaller saucer. Sarah couldn’t take it all in as she saw the large saucer open a fifty-foot hatchway, and she choked up when she saw the dark images of hundreds of Grays as they ran down a ramp and started their assault on the facility. Russian soldiers were very brave as they ran to engage the enemy.

“It’s going to be a massacre,” Anya shouted as ten more of the Iranian tanks exploded. She saw streaks of armor-piercing rounds strike the larger saucer and she was seeing damage as large chunks of metal were thrown forth into the dwindling storm. Explosion after explosion rocked the car as they watched helplessly as the Gray attackers overwhelmed the small force of Iranian and Russian troops, but they were taking a healthy host of attackers with them. Anya and Sarah saw Grays falling by the tens and twenties as Russian marksmen and missiles found their marks.

Ryan was mentally willing the transports to move faster as a new sound entered the din of the attack. Russian MiG-31s screeched across the sky and then climbed toward the fast-disappearing storm clouds. Missiles and ground-penetrating bombs struck the large saucer but Sarah saw they were doing nothing but denting the large machine. Somehow the saucer was starting to generate a force field that adhered to its bright metal skin. Still, it took damage. She realized this was a suicide attack and quickly surmised this craft was never meant to lift off again.

Sarah turned in the front seat and looked at Ryan.

“You don’t have to say it, I’m scared as hell myself. I don’t care what weaponry we’ve come up with in the past five years, I don’t think we can stop something like this.” Ryan blared his horn for the armored transport ahead of him to close the gap between him and the transport ahead.

All Sarah could do was look at the tarp-covered alien power plant on the flatbed ahead of them in the column, and pray that the little man they knew as Matchstick knew what he was doing with the plan designated Overlord.

GEORGETOWN, MARYLAND

Speaker of the House Giles Camden watched the news footage being split between Camp David and Iran. The scroll at the bottom of the large screen was mentioning disjointed attacks in San Francisco, Beijing, and Cologne, Germany. Specifics thus far were only speculative on the reasoning for these strikes.

Camden accepted the drink from Daniel Peachtree, who was anxious to leave the Speaker’s house and get back to Langley, as he knew the director was probably reeling after news of the Camp David strike had become more specific. His cell phone was now turned off as he waited for his new lord and master to set him free. As it was, Camden didn’t seem to be in a hurry as the smallish, portly man sipped his drink while shaking his head.

The ornate study was starting to fill with assistants and interns from the Speaker’s offices, and many were in shock at what was happening here and around the world.

“Okay, we need a little damage control here, ladies and gentlemen; after all, it was me who has been decrying this military spending of the president’s and now it seems because of well-kept secrets from our nation’s past it very well seems justified. You need to come up with a quick course change to minimize the damage.”

“Don’t you think the president should have brought you in on this, to make spending these billions upon billions of dollars more acceptable to the nation, and yourself?” Peachtree offered, not really caring to air his opinion inside a room full of Camden’s people.

Camden sniffed loudly and then held his empty glass out to be refilled, which an aide promptly did.

“Not when one considers how much that man hates my guts. Hates my state, hates my budget crunching—when it’s not my party in power, of course. But hate nonetheless.”

On the television screen the view of the Iranian situation went from split screen to full as it showed the downed saucer that had completely obliterated the large building on which it rested. It was smoking and had finally been smashed by the remaining tanks of the Iranian army. Camden watched as Russian soldiers rushed from spot to spot, trying to dispatch areas of resistance. Gray bodies lay everywhere and Camden grimaced when a news camera came close to one and he saw in detail what they were fighting. The dead yellow-ringed eyes stared off into nothingness, and the sickly gray skin that was exposed underneath the strange-looking suit they wore gave the Speaker a small, cold chill.

“It seems the Russians and the Iranians dispatched the attackers soundly.” Lyle Morgan, the Speaker’s chief of staff, accepted a drink as he watched the screen. “They seemed to have destroyed the large saucer quite quickly and efficiently, if you ask me.”

“They’re saying it wouldn’t have been so easy if those four smaller saucers had stayed on station, but they left in a hurry for some reason. Now we hear that the large saucer was nothing more than a transport of some sort not designed for sustained attack. It had thick armor, but no electronic shielding. It just housed attacking troops. So, we may not know as much as our new Russian allies think,” Camden said.

The sliding doors opened and the Speaker’s housekeeper came in and whispered to Daniel Peachtree. The CIA assistant director handed her his glass of whiskey and then nodded his thanks.

“I have to leave, something big is coming down and—”

Peachtree was cut off as five Maryland state troopers burst into the study, at least ten Secret Service agents along with them. The staff was pushed aside and one of the dark-clothed agents went straight to Camden. With the assistance of two of the troopers he lifted the Speaker of the House from his large chair.

“What are you doing? What is the meaning of this?” Camden insisted.

Lyle Morgan tried to stop the men from handling his boss in such a rough manner. He was pushed to the carpeted floor and two agents placed their nine millimeters close to his head. Morgan froze.

“Do not interfere, sir,” one of the agents said.

Peachtree was in shock as he first thought that the authorities had caught up to Hiram Vickers and the little weasel had spilled his guts.

“Gentlemen, I’m Assistant Director Peachtree, CIA. May ask what is happening?” he ventured, terrified he would be placed into handcuffs soon.

One of the agents holstered his weapon and then nodded to the state troopers that they could ease up on the Speaker’s staff of frightened men and women. His chief of staff was lifted from the carpet as the security detail calmed a bit.

“Apologies, Mr. Speaker, POTUS is down and the vice president was just killed in San Francisco. For the time being we are here to transport you to Fort Meyer, where we can properly secure you. Your staff will be sent for.”

“The president is dead?” Camden asked as he was moved to the doors. “The vice president also?”

“We don’t know the details, sir, but we do know that under the Constitution we are obliged to get you to safety.”

Camden was in shock at the change in luck. He realized after a moment’s hesitation that he was in a direct line of succession to the most powerful position in the world—the presidency of the United States.

CAMP DAVID

FREDERICK, MARYLAND

It had been three hours since the president had been flown out to Walter Reed hospital. Jack, Carl, Will, and Henri Farbeaux were covered in dirt, sweat, and gore as they watched the last of the world Security Council being airlifted out. Jack took a deep breath and walked toward the last remaining ambulance. He saw paramedics still working on slowing the bleeding of his friend and mentor, Dr. Niles Compton. Will Mendenhall placed a hand on Collins’s shoulder. Will finally turned away as Carl and General Caulfield approached. They watched as Niles tried to sit up on the gurney. Two medics yelled at him that he could not move. Niles struggled for a few more moments and then settled. Jack’s eyes never left the director.

“General,” Caulfield said, trying to get Jack to look away from the scene. “We have some updates.”

Collins swallowed as he feared the worst from Caulfield’s tone. He hated the title of his new rank because it made him feel that much more powerless in light of what was happening. He turned to face the chairman of the Joint Chiefs. The man had his nose bandaged and his cuts tended to. He looked tired and haggard in his ripped uniform. Collins nodded his head that he should start with the bad news he knew was coming.

“To start, from what we know in Iran, your people are safe. The power plant made it out just as the attack began. Russian forces took heavy losses and the Iranian armor division has just about ceased to exist. We have more people on the ground now, but they were hit hard.”

“One thing I’ve learned as well as you, General, is the fact that you always deliver the good news first.” Jack waited for the other shoe to fall.

“The military way, huh?” Caulfield looked from Collins to Carl, then the Frenchman as he joined them.

Will Mendenhall had eased closer to the ambulance to try and let the director of the Event Group know that he was near. He swiped at his face, angry at himself for being so emotional.

“The vice president is dead. His helicopter was shot out of the sky over San Francisco Bay this evening, moments after the attack here.”

“Any word on the president’s condition?” Everett asked as he used a towel to wipe his face.

“It doesn’t look good at this point. As of right now they placed him in a medically induced coma, whatever the hell that means. His injuries are extensive, I’m afraid. The Chinese president died in the air. A heart attack, of all things.”

“What a fucking mess,” Everett said as he angrily tossed away the filthy towel.

“That, my friend, is the understatement of the year,” Caulfield said. Jack knew immediately that the other shoe would now come down as assuredly as Henri’s foot on the alien’s neck had.