America's Trust Page 29

  “What’s happening?” he asked, almost in the officer’s face.

  “You have to move back!” the officer answered; the same answer he’d given to everyone else.

  Butler leaned in more menacingly, grasping the officer’s hand as he attempted to move towards his pistol. From a distance, it looked as though Butler was just leaning in to hear what was being said. Up close, the officer’s hand was being crushed and he was struggling to maintain his composure.

  “I asked what’s happening, officer?”

  “We don’t know. Everything’s down. Radios, phones, TVs, power, everything.” He struggled under the pain. Butler relaxed his grip slightly when the cop began to answer. “We saw the military move in and thought we’d better help.”

  “Who’s in charge?” asked Butler.

  “Chaos I think,” he replied honestly. “We don’t know what to do, so we’re doing this.”

  “And what about the rest of the country?”

  “Pal, outside of what I can see on this street, I have no idea. Didn’t you hear me? Everything’s out power, phones, radios, everything!”

  Butler removed his grip from the policeman’s wrist and slipped back into the crowd. It wasn’t until Butler was out of his sight that the policeman even realized Butler had taken his pistol.

  Butler updated the rest and suggested they try and move somewhere a little quieter to plan their next move. The numbers were swelling by the second as people flooded towards the White House to try to gain some understanding of what was happening.

  “Get me to the Pentagon,” said Jack, despondent at what he had seen and heard. He wanted to strike back and quickly.

  Pushing against the tide of bodies surging forward proved difficult for the first block but as the numbers began to lessen, it became easier. Traffic was at a standstill. Cars full of people were trying to leave the city but there were no traffic lights. Washington was in gridlock.

  “Metro?” suggested Frank.

  “No power,” Butler reminded him.

  “We’ll walk. It’s only a couple of miles,” said Jack, not waiting for any further discussion.

  The walk gave them some insight into the impact of what was happening. Cash machines weren’t working. Stores couldn’t take cards for payment. Those who had long ago given up the need for cash were struggling to get to it. Banks didn’t have records as computer files were down. Generators could assist in the short term but for how long? They passed a gas station. A large queue waited. A sign informed the customers it was closed. There was no power to pump the gas from the storage tanks to the pumps.

  “This is going to get very unpleasant, very, very quickly,” said Jack, picking up the pace.

  Tension was building, almost palpably, as the people remained totally unaware of why everything had stopped, what had happened, and who was in charge. Had the Russians nuked them? Had they nuked the Russians? Why wasn’t anyone telling them what was happening? A nation that knew everything instantly, with the internet and 24/7 news that reported every minutiae, was instantly in the dark. A darkness that was all the more ominous given the Russian attack on Pearl Harbor.

  Jack was almost at a full run as they raced towards the Pentagon, his thoughts of destroying the Chinese driving him on. When they reached the banks of the Potomac, Butler shouted.

  “Stop!”

  Jack pushed on towards the Arlington Bridge that would take him across to the building that controlled the might of the American military.

  “Jake! Look!” Butler pointed.

  Attack choppers swirled around the area, initially raising Jack’s hopes. They were landing and taking off freely from the heliport at the Pentagon, off in the distance. He suddenly realized, like Butler had, that they weren’t American choppers. They were very similar looking Chinese versions painted in US colors.

  “From the fact they’re not experiencing any resistance, I’d imagine the Pentagon is in their control as well,” said a despondent Butler.

  “I really think we should get you out of Washington, Mr. President,” said Frank, eyeing up the slightly more encouraging flow of traffic on the bridge.

  “I agree,” said Butler and Swanson in unison, Butler adding, “It may be that you really are the only member of leadership left alive.”

  Swanson pulled the pistol from her waistband and flagged down the next car coming towards them. They ignored her threats and kept driving. Another two did likewise. For the fourth car, she had to fire a warning shot just above the windscreen before it screeched to a halt. A young, well dressed couple stepped out of the sporty Mercedes, their hands firmly in the air. Frank and Swanson drew the short straw and climbed in to the cramped rear while Butler took the driver’s seat and Jack took the passenger seat.

  “President King?” asked the young man with his hands in the air. He had had the opportunity to look a little closer and longer than the average person in the street.

  Butler hit the gas, not answering the young man. He watched in the rear view mirror as he gesticulated to his partner. That wasn’t good. He considered reversing and shooting them both but thought better of it as the president was sitting next to him and probably wouldn’t have approved. “They recognized you, Mr. President,” said Frank anxiously.

  “What can we do?” replied Jack.

  “Shoot them?” asked Butler, with just enough smile to make them wonder if he was joking or not.

  “Very funny,” replied Jack.

  Damn, thought Butler, catching Frank’s eye. Frank nodded almost imperceptibly, agreeing with Butler. He would have shot them too. The president’s survival was critical to the survival of the nation and he too understood that they were in a different world to what had existed just an hour or so earlier. They were once again fighting for their independence.

  “Where now?” asked Butler, watching the couple disappear into the horizon behind them. They knew the car they were in and general direction they were travelling. Not good.

  “Raven Rock,” instructed Jack. It was the military bunker that served as the alternate Pentagon and where the bulk of the senior defense staff had been located for the past week, including the Secretary of Defense.

  Butler nodded and input the destination into the inbuilt satellite navigation system. He hit the button to confirm the route and after a second, the screen went black with ‘No satellite coverage in this area’ displayed clearly in the center of the screen.

  “That’s new,” he said.

  “Just take the Parkway and then 495,” said Frank from behind while the others stared at the lifeless screen.

  “We could go to the CIA, it’s on the Parkway, just a few miles from here in Langley,” suggested Butler.

  “That’s not good,” said Butler as they neared the exit and saw the familiar tanks and choppers of the Chinese blocking the exit and swarming unabated around the CIA buildings.

  “None of it is good,” said Jack angrily. His fingers were drumming incessantly on the armrest. He was desperate to do something. “Raven Rock it is then,” he said returning to the original plan.

  With nothing better to do while they drove, Jack turned to Butler. “So tell me, how the hell did you know about all this and we knew nothing?”

  Butler explained as he had to Swanson about his discovery of the microchip manufacturer sales and how looking into it had generated significant interest in him from the Trust.

  “If someone is that interested in me, I like to get to know them a little better,” said Butler. “The more I looked, the less I found. For a Trust that had allegedly existed for a hundred years, there was nothing beyond a thin veil of bullshit. Every lie was covered by another. But it only went so deep. Beyond a certain layer, there was nothing more. I started telling people but nobody was interested. They were our saviors, they had bailed us out and were making us great again.”

  Jack nodded. He knew only too well that any criticism of the Trust received little or no support.

  “The papers weren’t interes
ted. The Trust was responsible for the majority of their ad revenue, likewise the TV stations. Politicians and police received money for campaigns, so were not interested. I tried calling the White House to get to you but that wasn’t happening.”

  Frank was shaking his head in disbelief from the backseat. He was the most recent recipient of the news that the Trust was in no way America’s savior.

  “So the Chinese poured $24.5 trillion into our economy to destroy us?” asked Frank, catching up.

  “Technically yes but in reality no,” replied Butler, surprising Jack.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “They poured $8.5 trillion in, that’s real, but for that, they seemingly have us under their total control.”

  “And the other $16 trillion?” asked Jack.

  “As far as I can gather, that’s just been soaked up across the Chinese market. The debt just moved from us to them. They’ll probably pop it back at some point.”

  “So the story about JP Morgan and the great industrialists?” asked Frank, stunned.

  Swanson sat quietly having heard it all before, but the level of deception was just as shocking, hearing it for a second time.

  “I have to give it to them,” said Butler nodding his head at Frank’s question, “it was genius, but total bullshit, not an inkling of truth in any of it.”

  “Jesus, it really was a modern Trojan Horse!” said Jack. “How could we have been so stupid?” No one answered.

  Everyone in the nation had been duped by the gift horse that just kept on giving. Everyone but Butler, but he wasn’t going to gloat about it. They had a nation to try and save. As they neared Raven Rock, it seemed that wasn’t the answer either. A wall of Chinese armored vehicles and soldiers, complete with full riot gear, lay ahead.

  “Fuck!” said Swanson, saying what the others were far too polite to say in front of a lady.

  Chapter 65

  He had covered what must have been over twelve miles in just over two hours, cross country, and at his age, he thought that had been good going. His vantage point had indeed proved him right. The sound of tanks rumbling across a road was not one, once heard, that was easily forgotten. He had tracked the road from a distance, tracking the armor back to its base. Camp Trust. Where his niece was. Or at least had been until earlier that morning.

  With over twenty years in the military and almost the same again in consultancy, he had been as nervous as his brother-in-law about everything going on over the last few days. Tanks travelling through rural Maryland was not something that should be heard. The instant he heard them, he knew something was wrong. When all attempts to contact Lauren had failed, he had tried his sister, Lauren’s mother, but got nothing. Shortly after, his phone just stopped working. More alarming. And so did his GPS finder.

  He lay under a bush overlooking a vast airport facility. He assumed it was part of the camp as he was definitely still within its grounds. There wasn’t much of the area that wasn’t. A steady stream of aircraft had been landing, disgorging more and more equipment and troops, all dressed in full American uniforms. However, through his hunting scope, he saw that every single one of them was Chinese or of some type of Asian origin. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good and they seemed to be unchallenged by US forces. He knew his equipment like any old soldier and none of what he was seeing was US equipment, despite its markings.

  He needed to alert the authorities. There was no way they could be aware of what was going on. But as the equipment they were unloading had been rolling through the roads of Maryland and had been for over the last two hours, how could they not be? Another jet arrived, this one more like a commercial jet rather than a cargo plane. A flotilla of cars was rushing to meet it. A red carpet was being laid as the steps were moved towards the plane’s main door. The cars emptied and officers dressed in Chinese uniforms formed a line. It was over a mile away and beyond the limit of his scope to see the actual features on the faces. Whoever it was had to be important. The men lining up had impressive displays of gold along their shoulder boards.

  Bill flinched, aware of a disturbance behind him. The bushes began to rustle wildly. He swung his rifle around and came face to face with two young men covered in dirt and sweat who, from what he could tell from their expressions, were petrified. Not petrified at facing down the barrel of his heavily modified Remington 700 .338 Lapua Magnum hunting rifle, but petrified at what was behind them.

  “Help us!” they pleaded seeing he was, like them, American. They were Lauren’s age, which immediately put him on edge.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, keen to know why they were so scared.

  “They’ve gone crazy. They locked us up and held us hostage. We managed to sneak away through a window when we went to the restroom.”

  “By the time we reached the tree line, they were shouting and screaming at the rest of the group. We just kept running.”

  “Are they chasing you?”

  “Not sure. They’ve taken control of the country, so maybe there’s no point,” he said, resignedly looking at his friend.

  “Whoa, what did you say? What the hell do you mean they’ve taken control of the country?” asked Bill scrambling back towards his previous vantage point, with them in tow.

  “The Chinese!” he said, as if Bill should know.

  “Don’t you mean the Russians?” That would have made more sense, given the news up until he had last seen it.

  “Our guards are bragging about how they have screwed us. Fooled us and taken over our country from the inside. They bombed Pearl Harbor, we watched it on the news, they pretended to be Russians, but there saying it was all a trick. They were Chinese planes and a Chinese carrier. They told us all our leaders are dead, killed by the impostors that replaced us on the trips we were supposed to go on this morning.”

  “Do you know Lauren Swann?” asked Bill, computing what they had just told him. His mind was working overtime.

  “Yes, she’s fine,” he nodded with a smile that suggested more than just her current health status.

  Bill glared at him.

  “She’s okay. She’s upset at what they’ve been telling us, but yes A-OK,” he replied, chastened.

  “You watched them bomb Pearl Harbor?”

  They both nodded tears swelling in their eyes.

  Bill rolled over and watched as the dignitary from the flight worked his way down the line, seemingly congratulating the men for their work.

  He reckoned it was just over a mile away, but there was very little wind and otherwise a very calm and pleasant day.

  “Guys, you got your running shoes on?” he asked.

  They looked out to the specks in the horizon that Bill’s scope was magnifying for him.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding!” one of them said.

  “Ideally I’d have had a couple of shots to gauge it better but what the hell, let’s start to fight back now.” He stopped talking and began to control his breathing, letting his years of experience take over. He had hit a few shots earlier in the day at three-quarters of the range. Although a different hill, the conditions were similar.

  His breathing relaxed and, controlled, he squeezed the trigger. The bullet fired and without waiting for the result, he was up and pulling the boys through the undergrowth before all hell broke loose.

  Chapter 66

  The British General wasn’t overly pleased to see Admiral Keeler. He was too busy trying to rearrange his forces to bolster the lines, thanks to the Americans effectively bowing out of the fight.

  “It seems we’re victims of some type of cyber attack,” explained Keeler. “Although our stored equipment seems unaffected,” he said, explaining how the Camp Darby reinforcements were rushing forward to help, which appeased the British General hugely.

  With the news that his entire Southern flank was about to receive a welcome addition of forces, he calmed down a little.

  “I’m hearing we’ve lost all communications with the States?” inquired th
e British General.

  “As I have no communications whatsoever, General, anything you’re hearing, I can assure you, is more than I know. I need to try our ambassador in Britain, see if he knows what’s happening.”

  The British General pointed to a desk in the corner of the center. “That’s my desk, feel free to use the phone,” he said, turning back to answer a number of queries that were being fired at him.

  “How are our guys doing?” asked Keeler, not moving.

  “It’s crazy out there. The Russians massively outnumber us but so far haven’t launched a full-scale counterassault. They’ve charged forward at a few locations and our guys have held them back. Without your guys, I’m not sure we’ll hold them for long when they do make a coordinated move.”

  “Is none of our equipment working?”

  “Nothing. Even your fancy new M4S assault rifles are down to single shots.”

  “Single shots?” he asked, flabbergasted that even the soldiers’ rifles were affected.

  “Something to do with personalized coding on the handgrip. It’s not recognizing the soldier and so becomes a single shot rifle requiring manual reloading for each shot. That seems to be the failsafe mode if somebody other than the coded user tries to use it.”

  Leaving the General to reorganize his troops, Keeler tried to find out what had happened to his country. After a number of attempts, he finally got a number to call – it was the landline number for the US ambassador to Britain. After explaining in triplicate who he was, the ambassador finally came on the line.

  “Admiral, I hear it’s not good out there.”

  Admiral Keeler quickly explained just how bad it was before getting to what he really wanted to know. “What’s happening? I believe the States are out of contact?”

  “Admiral, we have no idea. When I say we have no contact, I mean nothing. It’s like a black hole has swallowed America. All I do know from our bases here is that our planes can’t fly without their computer systems, our ships have no guidance systems and can’t sail, our missiles won’t fire, and our guns don’t work. On top of that, we can’t communicate with any of them in any event, as no communications are working.”