Rob Jones
Land of the Gods
CHAPTER ONE
Davis Faulkner peered over the top of his stylish browline glasses, a sinister smirk slowly taking up residence on his lean, hungry face. “I like it, Josh. I like it very much. We’re sure we can make this stick, right?”
Joshua Muston gave a curt nod to the Vice President. They were sitting in the VP’s formal residence at 1 Observatory Circle two miles northwest of the White House. Almost low enough to touch, a heavy bank of slate-gray cloud was skidding over the city, and rain lashed at the window. “We’re sure, Mr Vice President.”
The smirk grew bolder as Faulkner’s eyes crawled once again over the document Muston had just handed him. He was looking at his assistant’s personal copy of the US Constitution, specifically Article II, Section 4.
The President, Vice President, and all civil Officers of the United States shall be removed from Office on Impeachment for, and conviction of, Treason, Bribery, or other High Crimes and Misdemeanors.
Faulkner gave a sigh of satisfaction. The attempt to blow President Jack Brooke right out of the sky while taking off in Air Force One over England had failed, and so had the more recent attempt to take him out during the Five Eyes Conference in Miami Beach. At each turn, ECHO had thwarted his bid to remove the president and assume power but the manifest beauty of this plan was obvious.
After so many years of waiting, it was about to happen.
He jabbed at the worn cover of the leather-bound book in his lap. “ECHO can’t stop this, Josh. That’s why I like it so much. Not only that, but we can get to them in the process.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If we can’t get to them in the meantime, when we remove Brooke from office, the god-damned ECHO team will crawl out of the woodwork to save their man. Then we get them too. This pleases me very much.” His voice started to trail away, a nervous tremor gently shaking his words. “I don’t like to disappoint him.”
Muston offered an anxious smile. He was uncomfortable when his boss talked about him, a distant figure of power Faulkner sometimes mentioned in passing but never elaborated on.
“Yes, sir.”
Faulkner sniffed. “Treason then?”
“We can’t prove treason, Mr Vice President.”
Faulkner was visibly deflated. “Damn it all. Why the hell not?”
“Way too much work to cook the books on that one, sir. The Constitution’s definition of treason is remarkably narrow, specifically to stop people…” he paused, and swallowed uncomfortably.
The VP fixed a fiendish stare on his Chief of Staff. “To stop people using it as a political weapon, Josh?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Article III, Section 3 is very clear on this,” he said, licking his dry lips as he read from the tiny book. “Treason against the United States shall consist only in levying war against them, or in adhering to their enemies, giving them aid or comfort.” He looked up at Josh again. “And we can’t get the son of a bitch on that — giving our enemies aid or comfort?”
Muston shook his aching head. “Just too hard to cook something up in that area, like I said. I think we’re looking at something in the high crimes and misdemeanors ballpark, sir. I already assembled a small team of constitutional legal experts and they think that we can manufacture something in that area that will get him out of the Oval Office and into a whole mess of trouble for a long time.”
Faulkner was silent.
“Sir?”
The sinister smile now grew sly. “I’m not so sure about the treason thing.”
“I don’t understand.”
“What about all those executive orders? He signs those things like checks, and we know he’s given financial and weapons support to ECHO, right?”
“Sure.”
“ECHO is not a United States operation, Josh.”
“It has US citizens in it.”
“Still not a US project. ECHO is an international operation run out of London.” He cut off the end of one of his famous cigars and swiped a chunky gold lighter from his desk. Grind of flintstone and a burst of sparks, a metallic clunk as he flipped the lid down and tossed it back onto the desk.
Dragging the smoke through the long, expensive cigar, he leaned back in his leather captain’s chair and swung his boots up on the desk. “I don’t think it’s the craziest thing in the world to paint ECHO as a terrorist organization, and then…”
Muston winced. “I don’t know, sir.”
“C’mon, Josh! This has been my thinking for a long time.” He was lying. It had been the thinking of the man pulling his strings, the Oracle — but Joshua Muston had no need to know it.
“Seems too risky.”
“Seems like you’re losing your nerve.”
Muston sighed and flicked aimlessly through the book in his hands for a few seconds to buy some time.
“Well?”
“It could work, but you’d need to make a clear case that ECHO was an international terror group who had actively attacked the United States. Then you’d need a paper trail linking all that shit right up to the Oval Office.”
“Wrong, you would need to do it, not me. That’s what I pay you for.”
“Yes, sir.” He shook his head and blew out a trembling breath.
“The attempt to blow him up while he was flying on Air Force One over England failed, and the attempt to drown him in Miami with the tsunami failed. They failed because the ECHO team are good… damned good, but what we’re doing is playing on their home turf, Josh. This way is my way. The first those assholes will hear about anything is when Brooke is done and dusted and out of this office. If we can take ECHO out at the same time, what a glorious side dish that would be.” Another deep drag on the cigar, and the smoke clouded in his mouth like a white fog in a tunnel.
Josh shifted in his seat and fiddled with his hands. “The problem we have is most Americans — and people all around the world — see ECHO as the team that saved the President’s life from Kiefel. They’re heroes.”
“Wrong! From now on they’re treasonous rats, Josh — and you’re gonna prove it, and fast. I want Brooke’s desk and I want it now. How is the kill order you put on them working out? I hope you arranged the full package just like I said.”
“Yes, sir. It’s going just fine, but I still say the full package seems a little excessive.”
“When you cut the head off a snake, Josh, that head can still bite you. You have to crush it. When you take out a team like ECHO, you make damned sure you take out all their friends and families for the same reason. The full package does that, it will be as if none of them or anyone they ever knew existed.”
Josh nodded.
“Good, and now I’m ordering you to make a case against Brooke for aiding and giving comfort to an international terrorist group. A case tighter than a hangman’s knot on execution day — you got it?”
Joshua Muston gave another curt nod.
He got it, but he didn’t like it.
CHAPTER TWO
Athens was enjoying a long, heavy rainfall. In the middle of a drought it was a welcome relief and many people walked outside in the rain just to feel it on their bodies. All across the ancient city, children played in the puddles and danced in the downpour. Among this excitement, the ECHO team were standing under the shelter of a bitter orange tree opposite the Theatre of Dionysus.
High above them, the Acropolis was still sealed off and under repair after Kruger’s helicopter assault on the rocky outcrop. Hawke was studying the scaffolding over the south side of the Parthenon when he heard a heavy car pull up on the cobblestone surface of Dionysiou Areopagitou behind them. Turning, he saw Sir Richard Eden and Magnus Lund stepping out of a chauffeur-driven Mercedes limousine.