Kiefel sighed. “Hmm — this must have been the Viper, don’t you think, meine Liebling?”
Angelika nodded. “Ja.”
“We must try one of the Hellfires — they are much more powerful, are they not, Herr Grant?”
The rage coursing through Grant had rendered him speechless.
“A marvel of American engineering, the Hellfire missile. Yes — Angelika, instruct Pauling to use a Hellfire next — and make sure the target is equally as impressive.”
Grant shook his head. “They’ll blast that thing out of the sky in minutes after this!”
“Of course they will,” Kiefel replied calmly. “We have factored it into our strategy. That is why we are acting so fast — ah… here we are — let us see what treat Mr Pauling has for us now.”
They watched the monitor once again as the drone flew toward its next target.
The Washington Monument.
“Listen,” Grant said, panic rising in his previously steady voice. “You can’t do this… you have to stop!”
Kiefel raised his finger to his lips. “Please… hush, Mr Grant. You are interrupting the broadcast. It is educational.”
Before another word could be said, a second missile ripped away from the drone, leaving a horribly twisted gray smoke trail in its wake. The next second it struck the monument and the screen once again whited-out. When the image flickered back on the monitor another wild cloud of black smoke and fire was at the center of the screen.
Grant reacted with horror when the smoke cleared to reveal that the entire top third of the Washington Monument was now missing, turned into an enormous pile of rubble scattered around the monument’s base.
“You must stop this attack, Kiefel!” Grant paused for a second, staring wide-eyed at the screen. “All right… all right, damn it all! I’ll talk with you about what you want.”
Kiefel grinned. “Of course you will, but first let us see what a Hellfire can do to the Lincoln Memorial.”
Grant shook his head in disbelief as the drone swung left and flew toward the Reflecting Pool west of the now burning and destroyed Washington Monument. He knew that all hell must have broken loose in the capital by now, and that the twenty-fifth would have been invoked, putting Mike Thorn in the Oval Office — but… if Kiefel was telling the truth then that meant the line of succession would pass to the Speaker, Todd Tobin.
He had chosen Mike not only for his ability to secure votes all over the Deep South, but because he knew he would be a safe pair of hands if anything like this nightmare ever happened. Mike was a Navy vet with twenty years’ command experience, including nearly a decade commanding an aircraft carrier battle group.
Mike Thorn could handle a cheap, two-bit merchant of terror like Klaus Kiefel. He was less sure about Tobin — he was a solid, decent man with a deep love of his country, but Grant wasn’t sure about his ability to command a nation in a time of grave crisis.
But before he could consider the matter further, Kiefel cleared his throat and spoke again.
“Say goodbye to Mr Lincoln, Charlie.”
President Grant could scarcely bring himself to watch the nightmare that was about unfold on the small screen right before his eyes.
CHAPTER NINE
Lea Donovan leaned forward in the plush leather couch and stared hard at the giant 3D Plasma TV. She was sitting in the tropical headquarters of ECHO on Elysium, an island nestling in the warm, turquoise waters of the Caribbean. It was most people’s idea of paradise, but what she was seeing unfold on the TV looked more like some kind of hell on earth.
Right now, she was watching coverage of Washington DC as filmed by a news chopper hovering on the outskirts of the city. The news reader was explaining that a serious terrorist attack was underway in the United States. The President had been kidnapped, the Vice President and Speaker had both been assassinated and a no-fly zone was in force across the city. It was, announced the newsreader with grim anguish, a day of terrible national tragedy.
“That explains why the news chopper’s flying so far out,” Ryan said. He collapsed in the chair beside her and pulled open a bag of popcorn.
Lea glared at him. “Haven’t you got any respect at all?”
“What?” As he spoke, some popcorn tumbled out of his mouth and landed in his lap.
“It’s not a bloody Hollywood movie, Ry. This is real people we’re talking about.”
His face grew serious. “Yeah thanks, I got that. I’m just hungry, that’s all. Want some?” He held out the bag to her and she waved it away with a scowl on her face.
“You can be so childish and insensitive sometimes.”
“I’d do anything to stop the scumbags behind this,” he protested. “I’m just hungry, so leave me alone.”
She made no reply, but turned away to see Scarlet out on the ocean, ripping past the window-wall on a red-sailed windsurfer. Protected in the lee side of the kite, she performed a flawless back loop before blasting further out to sea. She never seemed to be still for more than a few seconds, Lea thought. Even now, as the tropical sun was pitching down at its strongest, Scarlet Sloane was still searching for adventure.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Ryan belching loudly. “Gross,” he said weakly. “I think a little bit of sick just came up.”
“For fuck’s sake, Ryan, get a grip.”
She heard a noise behind her and turned. Behind the couches in the center of the room was an impressive circular staircase of tempered glass and Brazilian cherry which lead to the mezzanine and offices on the upper level. Sir Richard Eden came bounding down it, three steps at a time, holding a slip of note paper.
Lea looked at his face. “So I guess you’ve heard about Washington?”
Eden shook his head. “No, what?” As he spoke he looked up at the TV set with horror.
“Terror attacks,” Lea said. “Massive, apparently.”
Eden’s face dropped. “My God, that’s terrible. “ He shook his head slowly and clenched his jaw. “We need to keep an eye on developments there.”
Ryan twisted in his seat. “So, we’re not packing for America then, boss?”
Eden looked at him, confused. “No. Why would be going to America?”
“Um — that,” Ryan said flatly, pointing at the TV set again.
“Of course not. We respond to matters concerning covert history and related anomalies.”
“So Poseidon, Thunder Gods and Osiris yes, but massive terror attacks no?”
Eden nodded. “Yes, and you have popcorn grease all around your mouth.”
As Ryan wiped the grease with his sleeve, Lea looked up at Eden.
“So if you’re not talking about the attacks in Washington, why did you come racing down here looking like you’ve seen a ghost?”
Eden looked at her, to Ryan, and then back to Lea. “You’d better come with me — alone.”
She followed him back to his private office. They took a seat and Eden started to speak.
When he had finished, Lea stared at her boss for a full minute in shocked silence. Then she wiped her eyes and sat up straight in her chair.
“My dad, you say?”
Eden nodded. “I know how hard this is for you, Lea. I knew Harry before you were born, and I was devastated when he died.”
Lea heard the words, but none of them seemed to make any sense. Her head was spinning so much from the revelation Eden had just delivered to her — but this time not in his usual calm and measured style. This time, he had sounded slightly ruffled and uncertain of things.
“Can we trust the source?” she asked quietly.
“Without a doubt. Sean McNamara was an old mutual friend of mine and your father’s, and this information comes from his sister.”
Her mind wandered. It felt like everything was falling apart. They had worked so hard to locate the elixir of eternal life, only for it to be snatched away when the Tomb of Eternity mysteriously crumbled away right under their feet. Then, to make matters worse, Joe Bloody Hawke had stormed off in a sulk because she had kept ECHO and Elysium a secret from him. She wanted to tell Hawke that he was being stupid, that she had to keep it from him — that was the way it worked. She wanted to kiss him… she wanted to throttle him. She didn’t even know where in the world he was, and now this.