The High Mobility Multipurpose Wheeled Vehicle (HMMWV) commonly known as the Humvee rapidly gained ground. The driver aimed at her, trying to ram her from the freeway. Quick as a flash, she spun a 180 degree-turn, leaving a circle of rubber on the road surface, thinking her best bet was back into the reservation, hoping her superior knowledge of the dirt roads would give her the edge in her bid to lose them.
The Humvee shot past, the soldier operating the roof-mounted M2 heavy machine-gun gawped in amazement. She used the four-wheel drive facility and drove down into a drainage ditch beside the freeway, while the slower Humvee turned around to give chase. She neared the dirt road she’d emerged from earlier, and drove up the embankment and bunny-hopped back onto the track into the reservation.
“There she is!” shouted the machine-gunner. The Humvee accelerated gaining ground. Sophie hurled the jeep around a sharp right on the dirt track, spitting up a cloud of dust. The lights of the Humvee locked upon her; the vehicle aimed at the turning, but the driver misjudged the vehicles maneuverability and crashed into a mighty tree trunk. The crash rattled the occupants of the vehicle, but did little damage to the armor–plated machine, although it wrecked the cypress tree.
Sophie slowed and turned off her lights using the moonlight to guide her, she saw the familiar curve in the dirt track. The machine gunner had her in his sights but as he bounced on the uneven dirt road, he lost his grip on the machine-gun, he lined up the M2 once more. He had to duck quickly before he was hit in the face by an overhanging branch, and then a slow bend in the track made it impossible for him to fire.
She stopped, waiting for the military vehicle to catch up. Sure enough, the Humvee rushed towards her at top speed and at the last second she drove off the track, between two study trees, knowing that the Humvee would not be able to follow.
The dumbfounded driver watched her disappearing through the trees to his left, he decelerated, but not quickly enough, because when he looked forward he was heading towards a steep curve in the road ahead. He braked for all his worth, but the wheels locked unable to gain purchase on the dirt, it shot into the curve, crunching into the bank of earth and teetered on the edge of the deep bear-pit. The driver held his breath, as if that would have any effect, but the momentum of his approach made the six thousand pounds of armor-plated vehicle drop into the depths.
Sophie shook her head at the ease in which she’d tricked her pursuers into the bear-pit. She made her way home without incident.
As she edged closer to the city she could see tracer bullets lighting up the night sky as if she was in Beirut or some such place. What was going on? She thought it prudent not to park the army jeep outside her condominium, and dumped it a street away. She trotted the last hundred yards, yet the humidity, even at that time of night sapped her strength. When she entered her street she saw an army patrol vehicle parked outside her condo.
She ran through the list of the other occupants of the building and could not think of anyone else that the military might have an interest in. Plus, it was all too much of a coincidence, her being an eyewitness to the assassination of the President of the United States. She’d tried to phone Quinn Martell, but her cell-phone service was down. She’d stopped at a payphone but that didn’t work either. She’d try her email when she got home, but doubted that would work. She assumed that it was part of the overall plan to stop communication leaking out of Florida.
She stealthily crept through the trees and bushes on the opposite side of the street, which lined one of the multitude of canals that crisscrossed Florida, she took her time, slowly approaching her building and crouched behind tall sea-grass, hiding behind the thick foliage, hoping to pick up bits of conversation. The soldiers were lazy and only focused on her front door, with the occasional cursory glance up and down the street. She had passed on the other side of the street completely unnoticed. She decided she’d better go elsewhere and slowly stood when a hand clamped across her mouth….
CHAPTER 19
03.30 AM
General Malloy called a meeting of the Chiefs of Staff. He addressed them from the President’s summer retreat using the video-link. They were at the War Room, with Quinn Martell there to make sense of the medical information over-load, landing on their desks and translate it into a form of English they would understand.
When they had taken their seats General Malloy cleared his throat and said; “Gentlemen it is my sad duty to inform you that President Burgess died at approximately 0200 hours this morning.” The Chiefs’ of Staff were astounded by the news and the abrupt manner in which it was delivered. “Vice President Parker is being sworn in as we speak, and he has given me the authority to do what I must, however unpalatable it may be, to sort out the Florida problem.”
Hamilton Parker kept his ear tuned to the General’s speech to the Chiefs of Staff via video-link while being sworn in as the next President of the United States of America. He and the general had worked out a strategy earlier and realized they needed the co-operation of the other armed forces, knowing some, by their inherent weak nature would object, yet he had confidence in General Malloy to lay out the plan and persuade them.
He could hardly contain his joy and sat in the sumptuous leather chair behind the expansive desk in the Oval Office. He regarded the briefcase upon it. The briefcase that could launch a nuclear war, little more than a laptop these days and he was awe-struck to think of the doomsday destruction the slim case held. He’d had one quick lesson in how to find the launch codes and activate them. He had a boy-like fascination with it, like being told not to touch wet paint, he had an overwhelming desire to open it, press a button and unleash hell! He managed to resist the urge knowing it was only for a retaliatory nuclear strike or even an offensive strike if it came to it. He might need the weapons sooner rather than later, he thought ominously.
He sent the advisors away so that he could concentrate on the General’s statement to the Chiefs of Staff.
General Malloy continued, “He was assassinated by the female terrorist that we have identified as being at the hospital where the Bubonic Plague has so far been tracked back to. For her to be present at both locations as an innocent bystander is too much of a coincidence — and I don’t believe in coincidences. She is now our number one suspect.
A hazy image of Sophie filled their monitors, Quinn Martell recognized her at once. He knew that she was not capable of the crime, but to announce that he knew her would mean he would have to reveal her name and ultimately it would lead to her capture. He saw the general staring at him and guessed his face had given him away. He thought he better have a cover story. “The President told me that he had invited her himself. She’s an expert on ancient communicable diseases and he wanted to hear from her first hand. She’s the foremost expert on the contagion.”
This threw the general for a moment, and then he found his voice. “Nevertheless, she’s our number one suspect and—”
“Hold on a moment, general, are you trying to say that out of all the experts in the world he could have called upon to advise him, he picked YOUR number one suspect, and invited her into his home?”
“Well, that’s what happened.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in coincidences?”
“Nevertheless, she has been identified as the assassin and has fled the scene in a stolen vehicle. Hardly the actions of an innocent advisor. We have people watching her apartment and all personnel have been issued with an image of her and instructed to shoot her on sight.”