Overlord (36 page)

Virginia turned away and cringed. The thought of an enemy of not only the president but of Niles Compton taking command of the Group made her almost ill.

“Doctor, we have no desire to do that, but according to law we have no choice. My job is to budget Department 5656 and hide just where that budget has come from. There is no choice but to brief the new commander-in-chief on your department’s charter and budgetary limitation, or its extremes,” said West.

“No.”

They all three turned. Niles was awake.

“Niles,” Virginia said as she hurriedly approached the bed.

“I will … order … Virginia to … blow up … my facility before…” Niles drifted away as Virginia took his good left hand in her own.

“What do you want us to do, Niles?”

The two men exchanged brief looks and then a conspiracy-laced mask crossed their features as they too stepped up to the bed.

“That man is not to know about us … until … Overlord is … off … the ground. He … is … never to … know … about Magic.”

“What’s Magic?” Sanford asked in a whisper.

“An Event Group asset that occupies the house you gentlemen paid for in Arizona,” Virginia said, just wanting the red tape boys to be silent as she got her orders.

Both men knew of the expenditures in time and material for something just south of Chato’s Crawl, Arizona, but had never thought anything about it. They nodded their heads, still not understanding.

“We … need … your … help … gentlemen,” Niles whispered. “Get lost until … until…” Niles coughed lightly and then opened his good eye against the pain he was feeling. “You’ll know when … the departmental briefing on … my … Group … can … take … place … Just watch the news.”

The two men exchanged looks. They had battled with Niles Compton for over fifteen years, and Senator Garrison Lee before him, on budgets and allocations for the top-secret agency. They grimaced at the thought of lying to the president, but nodded their agreement anyway.

“We’ll do what we can, Dr. Compton,” West said.

“Good … good,” he said as his good eye closed. “Virginia?”

“Yes,” she said as she leaned in closer.

“You have to … help … Overlord … make sure … our … people … do … their jobs. Carl and Jack will need … their help. The unexpected … will … arise … and I only … trust our Group, understand?”

Virginia backed away when Niles gestured for the two men to come forward.

“Thank you … I’m afraid all … I can … guarantee … you … is a … possible … hangman’s noose.”

West straightened, smiled, and then allowed the director of the National Archives to answer for them both. “A noose doesn’t sound that scary, Doctor. Have you ever been a bureaucrat?”

“It’s quite boring, I assure you,” Sanford finished.

ONE HUNDRED NAUTICAL MILES EAST OF

PEARL HARBOR, HAWAII

The C-130 Hercules made a sharp turn to the starboard as the Air Force transport awaited clearance to enter Hawaiian airspace. The trip across the Pacific had been fraught with choppy weather and high winds. The main reason for that was the combat altitude they flew since leaving Edwards Air Force Base in the high desert of Southern California. The Hercules never once rose above two thousand feet of altitude, necessitating the extended flight time. They had four extra flight crews on board for relief because of the strain caused by flying so low an altitude.

The skies had been cleared of all civilian aircraft and the world travelers were not at all happy about that as people were all stuck in differing ports of call with no way to get home. The Air Force knew if they had any idea just what could be waiting for them they wouldn’t complain that much. Thus far the only thing the Hercules radar had picked up was the many combat air patrols the navy was running to protect the Seventh Fleet that had hightailed it out of Pearl two days before.

Strapped in his seat and dozing, Henri Farbeaux had relieved himself of his French Army uniform and replaced it with the desert BDUs—battle dress uniforms—of the United States Army. The only difference was the small French flag on the left breast. The colonel had slept through some of the roughest air of the flight.

Jack Collins, now dressed the same as Henri, and replete with two black stars on his collar, read from a thick file that had been delivered to him, left by a Pentagon courier at Edwards before they departed. Jack took a deep breath, then unsnapped the seat belt holding him into the barbaric canvas seat. He maneuvered around a few of the resting crew that had been relieved an hour before. The men were worn out and slept soundly. He sat next to Farbeaux and slapped him lightly on the knee. Will Mendenhall stirred across the aisle and moved his cap from his eyes to look at Collins. Jack nodded his head and slapped Henri once more.

The Frenchman woke and yawned. He saw Collins and sat up. Will noticed the Frenchman didn’t look thrilled to awaken to his old enemy staring at him.

“I would prefer to wake up to a beautiful woman, General.” He straightened up and yawned again.

“Yes, I suspect you would.”

“Are we there yet?” he asked.

“Almost.” Jack opened the folder and then waved Will over. “I need you to witness this, Captain.”

“Yes, sir.” Mendenhall crossed over and sat on the opposite side of Farbeaux.

“Colonel,” Jack held out an official looking document, “before the attack at Camp David, the president signed an order.” He gave the paper to Farbeaux. “This order was also countersigned by the French president.”

“Two men that are at this very moment very possibly dead?” Henri said with a smirk.

“Possibly,” Jack answered. “But that doesn’t make this piece of paper any less enforceable. It is a binding and legal document.”

Henri Farbeaux looked it over and his brows rose.

“Basically it absolves you of all crimes on U.S. and French soil. The price of this is your complete and utter cooperation in the aforementioned Operation Overlord.”

“Why such an honor, General Collins?” He saw Mendenhall roll his eyes.

“It was actually my idea. The alternative was seeing you taken away in handcuffs for immediate prosecution for crimes against both nations, and then for whatever nation was willing to wait in line to get at you.”

“I see. Am I supposed to say thank you?” he asked with not so much as a small smile.

“No, Colonel, you are not.” Jack closed the large file and sat back. “It was either you die in prison, or—”

“Die somewhere else?” he said, cutting Jack off.

“Exactly. But I’ll profess that your fate will be no different from mine or Will’s. I need you, Colonel, for what … I don’t know yet. But I suspect it will be dirty and in your field of expertise. You are going to be my dirty-deeds man, along with your duties as my chief of staff.”

“Oh, joy.” Henri folded the paper and placed in the large breast pocket. “Have you any idea what it is we’re assigned to?” Even Mendenhall leaned forward, hoping for an answer.

“Not a thing, other than we are a part of a fast-reaction force of very special soldiers.”

“Special? You mean expendable?”

Jack smiled and then relaxed. “All soldiers are expendable, Colonel, you know that.”

“That’s why I got out of the business and went to freelancing.”

“And look how good that turned out,” Will said with an even bigger smile. Then he looked at the silver eagles on the man’s collar and decided that maybe chiding him wasn’t the best idea at the moment. For all he knew the Frenchman had stolen a gun from one of his guards earlier.

As they relaxed an airman came forward with his mic cable dangling from his flight helmet.

“General, the pilot thought you may want to see this. Right over there on the port side.” The airman moved off back to the flight deck.

The three men moved to one of the few windows on the large transport and looked down. Three miles away was a sight none of them had ever been witness to before.

“Wow, I always wondered what Mr. Everett and Ryan played with when they were with the navy,” Will said.

In battle formation was the entire Seventh Fleet of the United States Navy Pacific Command, with the exception of the far eastern battle squadrons. In the direct center was the USS
George Washington,
flanked by her entire support group.

“They are scattering to keep the Grays guessing. The president and the other leaders were smart enough to get every warship in the world worth anything at sea at the first sign of trouble. This group is out of Pearl and every other Asian port of call and is now awaiting orders.” Jack returned to his seat as the Hercules started its climb to altitude for landing at Hickam Air Force Base.

As the
George Washington
battle group steamed beneath them far below, Jack Collins knew that the task force was more than likely headed to the same area of the world where they were destined to fight the war—and the new general had no sound idea where that was.

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Giles Camden was wide awake at three o’clock in the morning. He walked around the Oval Office and paused to look at the ornate rug in front of the Lincoln desk that depicted the seal for the president of the United States. He smiled as he remembered the fight the past six years to occupy this office. Once called the most hated politician in the nation by the left wing and middle of the road newspapers and news outlets, until finally his friends of the more right-wing-leaning news organizations started distancing themselves from him, he now stood on the precipice of complete power. It was now time to consolidate that power.

He walked to the window and looked out at the extensive White House lawn and the many batteries of National Advanced Surface-to-Air Missile Systems (NASAMS) that crowded the green grass. Air Force personnel manned each battery and three companies of Marines had joined the force of capital police and Secret Service agents that stood a watchful eye over all. To cap off the entire defense were fifty Delta Force operatives spread throughout the grounds. The acting president placed his hands inside his pockets and cursed his luck that the very same action of the Grays that placed him inside the Oval Office was also the action that was going to keep him, although temporarily, out of it. The Secret Service director had informed him personally that he was to be moved to a more secure location within the hour. He had only come to express his condolences to the first lady in a more private manner.

Camden sniffed at the rebuke he received when the first lady refused to meet with him for the second time.

He left the window and paced to the boxed and sealed articles of the man he was replacing that were stacked in the far corner of the room. He sneered at the personal effects of the comatose man who had hated him beyond measure. He wanted to kick out at the sealed containers but refrained when a knock sounded at the door and it immediately opened.

A young Secret Service agent stepped aside to allow the new president’s press and public relations team inside. Two men entered and the Secret Service agent left without so much as a word or a glance back. Camden had noticed the tightness of the White House staff and security people toward him since he had arrived that afternoon. He knew he had caused considerable controversy when he abstained from staying at the temporary quarters they had waiting for him at Blair House, and had ordered the immediate transfer to his real offices. The first lady had moved with her children into the suite of rooms next to her husband’s at the hospital.

“Mr. President, we’re getting flak from CNN and NBC Overnight about your hurried entrance into the White House while the nation is still in shock over the attacks. We’re going to take some gut punches on this.”

Camden eyed the two men and then walked to the window, looked out, and then quickly sat down for the first time behind the Lincoln desk.

“I cannot project the power we need with other nations by hiding over at Blair House. For the good of the nation we need to be seen on the job. Besides, the damn Secret Service is moving me to a more secure facility very soon, so CNN and NBC can report that one if they want. In the meantime you people get some fodder of me at the White House and on the job to calm the people.”

“Yes, sir.” The younger of the two journalistic wunderkinds wrote in his notepad. He stopped and then looked up. “We had a call from General Caulfield’s office. He was concerned that your earlier statement undermined the seriousness of the attacks in Japan, Iran, and the International Space Station, by saying that the issues are not as clear cut as they may seem. You stated, without running it by us or your national security advisor, that the attack in Iran was unclear at this point as to who was involved or responsible. That the situation was still unclear because of a possible coup attempt by Ahmadinejad.”

The second man walked to one of the two couches and pulled a
Washington Post
from his briefcase. “Also, that an ‘accident’ had occurred on the space platform. Mr. President, it has leaked out everywhere that the so-called incident was actually recorded by Space Command. There is direct evidence undermining your statements.”

“Gentlemen, we need to slow this thing down until we get a grasp of what is really happening.”

The two young press gurus exchanged looks.

“Sir, wouldn’t it be wise to continue the military policy of the former staff and cabinet at this time? If anything goes wrong no one would hold you responsible. But if it goes right, you can take the lion’s share of the accolades.”

Camden stood and faced the men with his best Harry Truman pose as he leaned over with fists planted firmly on the desktop.

“From what I understand of this so-called plan of the former administration, we were to strip our defenses here at home and support operations overseas if the main attack occurs there. This I will not do. This country will not be attacked while our forces are out protecting former antagonists.”

“But sir—”

“That’s all, gentlemen. Please have a press release in my hands by no later than airtime for the morning shows to broadcast. I want to make it clear that we are responding accordingly and that the American people will be protected—so much so that I am going to partially lift the no-fly ban in the continental U.S. no later than noon today.” He smiled. “After all, America needs to go to work, don’t they? Now, you two find out from the Secret Service just where it is they are going to hide me, and get that statement prepared.”