“I stumble outside, gun in hand, and see the terrorists beating a hasty retreat in a van. And then the police finally arrive, too late to catch anyone. What were they doing? Giving the latest politically-correct course to deprived teenagers while we, the taxpayers, were under siege in our own homes?”
Jayne shrugged. “I’m sure that the courts will look favourably upon your demand for compensation,” she said, dryly. “Thank you for your time.”
She wanted to take a look at the crime scene itself, but the police weren’t letting anyone through the barrier. General Thomas had been the target and that alone made it a federal crime. The FBI’s forensic teams were already crawling over the wreckage, pulling the spent bullets out of the building and trying to match them up with recorded weapons. It didn’t sound as if the assassins had been very professional, but what did that matter? She had a nasty suspicion about who had carried out the hit.
Who benefited? General Thomas had been the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff — right up until the point when he’d resigned, over the belief that the Galactic Federation’s terms were unacceptable. Who benefited from his death? The aliens, of course; who else? And that meant, added to the deaths of various anti-alien bloggers, that they were eliminating their opponents one by one. But surely someone would notice a pattern…
Maybe they had. Maybe someone in the government was doing what they could to defeat the aliens. Or maybe they just didn’t care.
Shaking her head, she started to walk away from the scene. There was work to be done.
One of the more curious aspects of the Presidency was that a single question, asked absently, could spur Washington’s colossal bureaucracy into action. If the President happened to ask about a minor matter, a full report would rapidly be generated and produced for his eye, often surprising the President who might have forgotten the whole issue by the time the report was produced and ready. Toby, as the President’s Special Assistant, was cleared for all kinds of information — and, very rarely, he could slip a query into the system under the President’s name. He hadn’t needed to run the risk this time, however; the President was also very concerned about General Thomas.
The report made curious reading. Trained interrogators had spoken to all the witnesses and tried to put together a picture of what they’d seen, while expert forensic teams analysed the physical evidence. Only years in politics had kept Toby’s face under control as he read the report, knowing that a single piece of physical evidence that led back to his father would also lead back to him. And yet… there was nothing. No sign of any blood traces that could point the way to Blake Coleman and his friends. Someone had sanitized the crime scene and done it at terrifying speed. What the hell had they done?
He skimmed through the final sections of the report, very carefully. The Washington PD had suffered a series of minor computer malfunctions that had managed to steer their cars away from the crime scene for a few minutes, long enough for the terrorists to make their escape. Toby — who didn’t believe in coincidence — had a suspicion that he knew what had happened; the aliens, hacking into police databases, had somehow manipulated the police control system to gain as much time as possible for their assassins to escape. There were no clues that would lead the police to either the resistance or the assassins. The FBI was investigating, of course, but all they’d found so far was little more than a motive. General Thomas had long been targeted for death by several terrorist groups and someone had taken advantage of his resignation to attack him before the General could organise additional security.
It was believable, Toby knew, but he also knew that it was inaccurate. The only body found on the scene belonged to the General’s wife, yet no one was asking what had become of the General. All of the media reports so far had merely reported that the General’s home had been attacked by terrorists. By the time any questions were raised, the lie would be planted so firmly that it would be almost impossible to dislodge. And if anyone happened to turn up claiming to be the General, they might not be believed. Or they’d be believed and someone would call the aliens. Toby felt the noose tightening, almost imperceptibly. Didn’t anyone else want to question the aliens?
The second report in front of him made grim reading, even for Toby. The American forces based in Afghanistan and the Middle East were preparing to pull out, honouring the agreement the President had signed with the Galactic Federation. Behind them, they left a seriously uneasy Middle East; the anticipated switch to fusion power had sent oil prices plummeting across the world. The United States, China and several other nations were taking the opportunity to increase their stockpiles of oil, but there were dire rumours that Saudi Arabia, Iran and Iraq were already considering an oil blockade against the Western powers. Without oil money flowing in, the regimes that ruled Saudi Arabia and Iran would be unable to stand against their own people. And then chaos would consume the Middle East.
He shook his head, bitterly. Soon, it wouldn’t be America’s problem any longer. No one would care about the Middle East without oil. Let them kill each other, the average American would say, and they might even be right. Except… the United States had escaped — was escaping — one dependency in exchange for accepting another. And the aliens were too big and strong to threaten with military force.
The reports made that clear. Already, soldiers were being told that their enlistments were on the verge of being terminated. The Pentagon was struggling with the need to cut the military down to only ten percent of its former self, while the economic shockwaves from cancelling military contracts and laying off support personnel were already starting to bite. Only a few days had passed since the President had signed the treaty and the counter-protests were getting more organised. They’d be much more organised if they realised just how badly some of their politicians had sold out the entire country.
He glanced at his email. Gillian had emailed him a light flowery email, the kind that would cause little more than raised eyebrows if anyone happened to intercept it. Toby picked out the underlying meaning without difficulty; Gillian wanted a meeting within the next twenty days. Who knew, he wondered; she might have found something that would give them hope.
If not, Toby had no idea what they were going to do next.
The Colonel disliked funerals as a general rule, but he had always made a point of attending the funerals of his friends, comrades and former subordinates. Blake Coleman had definitely been a friend and it gnawed at the Colonel that they hadn’t been able to recover his body from the streets. They’d had to take Coleman’s wife into effectively protective custody, removing the guns, ammo and other supplies from Coleman’s house in Mannington, expecting the FBI and BATF to turn up at any moment. So far, no one had appeared to follow up the lead, something that puzzled the Colonel. Coleman’s fingerprints and DNA would be on file with the military authorities. A quick cross-check and the FBI would know exactly who had died in front of the General’s house.
“Blake was a good man, a loyal servant of his country,” the Colonel said. Coleman had always said that he wanted a small funeral, although he’d also joked that he wanted dancing girls and plenty of booze to cheer up the mourners. It hadn’t been a very edifying conversation. “He risked his life countless times to protect the innocents and kill the fuck-heads who believed that they had the right to wage war on civilian women and children. I do not believe that he deserved to die.”
Coleman’s wife was weeping soundly, held by her eldest son. Jack Coleman had been talking about signing up with the Marines and following in his father’s footsteps, but the Colonel suspected that that plan had already crashed and burned. The politicians would probably eliminate the Marine Corps entirely when they started slashing the defence forces to meet the alien demands. God knew that Congress had always been trying to eliminate the Marines.