Ben ignored his prisoner. “Hayden, contact Colonel Sanderson. He’s still with the 519th out of Fort Polk, isn’t he?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Howard Beck was terrified. The fact that a Chinese submarine had sunk the three cruise ships on their way to California had farther reaching implications than the deaths of so many brave men and women ready to fight for the liberation of America. Howard knew this submarine was not a lone wolf preying in the waters off the coast of the former United States. Something much more nefarious was going on, and he was determined to figure it out.
Why did they attack our cruise ships?
Are the Chinese so vicious they would sink what appeared to be pleasure ships filled with innocent civilians?
No, they must have figured out they were transport ships with troops and military equipment onboard.
Why sink the ships? Their course clearly dictated they were headed to our own shores and not westward.
Then it hit Howard. They thought we were the UAE!
Why attack the UAE? It doesn’t make sense to go to war with a nuclear power.
Howard was struck by another frightening realization: Sterling struck a deal with the Chinese to protect us from Iran, and they thought the cruise ships were evidence of a double-cross.
“Old Man, this is a nightmare.”
“What is a nightmare, sir?”
“The Chinese. You realize what happened, don’t you?”
“Other than the attack? No, sir, I do not.”
Howard explained his line of thinking to Hal.
“An intuitive analysis, sir.”
“Analyze all the data your sister A.I. brought back from the White House. Anything that mentions the Chinese or allies?”
“Neither word was ever uttered by Sterling or anyone in your residence.”
“Expand your search out to the regional governors.”
“Jackson Butler sent encrypted messages to China.”
“That son of a bitch! Any chance of reading them?”
“I’m afraid not, sir. The Chinese have become quite adept at software encryption. It would take me weeks to decipher the messages.”
“Damn. It has to be Butler. If Sterling actually believed in a two-party system, he’d campaign on the isolationist platform. His world only exists inside our borders. He’d nuke the living shit out of China before he’d strike a deal with them and wouldn’t give a damn if they nuked us in return.”
“I agree, sir.”
“I think we know who bombed the church. Jackson Butler is still alive, and we have to find him.”
Jackson Butler and the man he knew as Charles were sitting in another vacant restaurant outside of what was left of Orlando.
“Charles, are you sure?”
“I am. They had to stop at the amusement park, or whatever you call it. The journey to Fort McClellan is too perilous, with much of the surrounding area in chaos. The only tactical decision that makes sense would be to stop at the most secure UAE haven between Miami and Alabama. Why didn’t they just go back to the airport and fly out?”
“They had no way of knowing whether the culprits had targeted the airport as well as the church, so they had no choice but to flee Miami by car.”
“I often forget your prior military service, sir.”
“So do I.”
“Now that you know Sterling’s location, how do you want to proceed?”
“It’s simple, really. I show up frazzled and afraid, having suffered a long, arduous journey across Florida to find him. He’ll welcome me with open arms. I might even cry.”
“I’m touched.”
“Where do we stand on Beck Castle?”
“The Chinese are ready to take control of the artificial intelligence in the Castle.” Charles’ phone rang. “Terribly sorry for the interruption. May I?”
“Of course.”
Charles tapped his headset and listened in silence. Thirty seconds later, he ended the call. “A rather fortuitous turn of events has put us ahead of schedule. It seems President Sterling has been captured by some…what is it you call them? Hillbillies? Anyway, it seems your president is in the hands of a man named Benjamin Black. They have him inside … you Americans, I don’t know how you keep it all straight … Walt Disney Place.”
“Walt Disney World.”
“Yes, they have him inside Walt Disney World, and within the next hour they’re going to attempt to move him to a military installation in Louisiana.”
“Fort Polk? It’s controlled by the UAE. Why capture him and then take him back to the UAE?”
“Apparently, a colonel there by the name of Sanderson is a PSA sympathizer and has agreed to transport the president to Beck Castle and hand him over to the PSA.”
“Why is this a good thing for us? Sounds like a nightmare. Sterling will order troops out of McClellan to pick him up; they’ll all be slaughtered.”
“Jackson, we’ll just have to figure out a way to stop them. You’ll endear yourself to the president even more by attempting to rescue him from the tan-necks.”
“The what?”
Charles was becoming increasingly frustrated by his lack of understanding of American colloquialisms. “Rednecks?”
“Yes, Charles, you’re getting the hang of it. I have some loyal men in the area who can help us with our little charade and ensure I’m along for the ride to Beck Castle.”
“Well, as you know, I have a man inside Beck Castle. Contacting him is rather difficult, and getting something to him is next to impossible.” Charles pulled out a small piece of plastic no larger than a fingernail. “We make a small incision in your left pectoral and plant this just under your skin. The device gives off the electrical signature of a pacemaker and will fool any scans they might perform on you.”
“They? Where am I going? What is that thing really?”
“Sir, you are going to show up at Walt Disney World looking for your beloved president. They will be more than happy to take you, as a prisoner, to Beck Castle. Once you’re there, my man on the inside will find you and remove the device. It is simply a ten terabyte storage device. Contained on it are the programs necessary to gain control of the artificial intelligence. Our Chinese friends wish to neutralize the PSA.”
Colonel William Sanderson, commanding officer of the 519th Military Police Battalion and the provost marshal for Fort Polk, awoke early. He looked upon the beautiful face of his wife, Lindsay, knowing she’d sleep for at least another two hours. He walked down the hall to check on his children, Brent and Heather. Like his wife, they were also sound asleep. William’s mind wandered back to the days when his family was homeless and living in the Central Park Obama Camp. If anyone could write a best-selling rags-to-riches novel, it was William. He knew it would be many years before his children would begin to realize how destitute and downtrodden their family had been. He and his wife never once complained around their children. He had convinced his innocent children that they were simply on an extended camping trip rather than homeless.
William was grateful for his job and his home, but was not proud of the path his career had taken. One of the primary jobs of the 519th was to detain potential terrorists so they could be transported to “interrogation camps.” William was no fool. He knew the people passing through his detention center were on their way to be tortured and, in all likelihood, executed. After his protests fell on deaf or fearful ears, he decided he could no longer look at himself in the mirror unless he was fighting to restore democracy and freedom. William was a spy for the Pacific States of America. At first, he’d tried to defect to the PSA with his family, but a man named Maxwell Harris had persuaded him to remain where he was in order to supply vital information about the atrocities being committed by the UAE. William decided the arrangement was an honorable one.