Apache Dawn: Book I of the Wildfire Saga (65 page)

“
Sir, is this really appropriate
−” began the Chief of the Navy.

“Am I the President of the United States?”
 

“
Well…of course, sir.
”

“Then I shall do as I please, or I may start looking for a new man to run the Navy.
 
Am I clear?”

“As a bell, sir
.”
 
The Admiral’s neck and jowls turned red.

“Now,” said the President, as he tickled Jayne's taut belly.
 
She tittered behind a hand and playfully slapped at his roaming fingers.
 
“I thought it high-time to bring our new Vice President up to speed.”
 
He turned to the Chief of the Air Force.
 
“Let’s start things off with China.
 
I believe you have some good news?”

“I do.
 
If you’ll direct your attention to the middle screen, sir,” said General Andrews in a stiffly formal voice.
 
A screen in the middle changed from the Secretary of Homeland Security’s face to what looked like a satellite image of an urban center somewhere.

“What is that?” asked Jayne, pointing at the screen.
 
She sounded like a high school girl, her voice full of innocence and curiosity.
 
The President could feel the old comfortable heat in his groin begin to spread through his body.
 
He wanted her.
 
Badly.
 
But he had to suffer through this meeting, at least for appearances.

The General cleared his throat.
 
“
That, Miss…ah
…” the loose flesh under his jaw began to turn red.
 
He cleared his throat again.
 
“
That’s downtown Pyongyang.
 
This is footage from one of our stealth bombers.
 
We sent in a flight of three out of Wright-Patterson as soon as you gave the green-light.
”

“Looks like a video game,” the President chuckled.

“General, is this live?” asked the new Vice President.

“
No ma’am
,” the General said, his face showing signs of relief in talking to someone that was actually
supposed
to be attending the meeting.
 
The President frowned.
 
It was clear the General didn’t approve of Jayne, either.
 
He’s no different than the Admiral.
 
That puts him on the shit-list, for sure.
 
I think I’ll just replace all of the cabinet…

“This was taken about an hour ago
.”
 
The face on the wall looked down.
 
The image started to move, clouds winking in and out of the picture, the ground slowly, ever so slowly, rolled by.
 
The President whistled.
 
The plane taking this footage has to be way the hell up there…

“Roger, Hightower, authentication received.
 
We are go for deployment.”

“
Who said that?” asked the President.
 
His mind was enveloped in a thick fog of Jayne’s scent.
 
She squirmed again in his lap, sending waves of pleasure rippling through his body.

“
That’s the pilot of the stealth bomber, sir
,” said the Air Force Chief.

“
Time to target, thirty seconds.
 
Opening the doors.”

“Doors open,”
replied a second voice.
 
A green light flickered to life in the upper corner of the display.

“
That’s the co-pilot’s voice, sir
,” said the General.

The President closed his eyes.
 
“I gathered that, General.”
 
He winked at his new Vice President and chuckled at her embarrassed look.

“
Target acquired.
 
Twenty seconds.”

“Guidance spooling up.
 
GPS locked on.
 
Payload is locked and loaded,”
announced the co-pilot.

“Ten seconds.
 
Final arming.
 
Lights are green, we’re good to release.
 
On my mark…three, two…one…release.”

It was all so business-like.
 
So casual.
 
The President stopped paying attention to the voices on the speakers as the pilots announced the bomb was away and they were high-tailing out of North Korean airspace.
 
After the release, the view switched to a 3D display from the nose of the bomb as it tipped down and was pulled by gravity toward a violent death.
 

The clouds began to grow larger, then everything went white as the massive ordinance sliced through a cirrus cloud and emerged on the other side.
 
The view of the ground came back abruptly, rushing up to meet the screen.
 
The President leaned forward in his chair, nearly dumping Jayne off his lap in an effort to fight the vertigo rising in his inner ears.
 
He felt as if
he
were falling forward and down with the bomb.
 

Faster still, the bomb raced downward; the factories, the buildings, the roads growing ever larger by the second.
 
A beeping started as the bomb counted down to its own demise, locked on target and guiding itself home.
 
The President gripped the arms of his chair with white knuckles.
 
He could feel the sweat on his forehead.
 
Ever downward the bomb fell, spinning first one way, then the other as it sailed through the air and stabilized it’s trajectory.
 
The numbers counting-down in the upper-left corner of the screen indicated America’s response to the invasion was less than five-thousand feet away now.

A little radar dish symbol appeared in the upper right corner.
 
The President pointed at the symbol, his other arm wrapped tightly around Jayne’s waist. “What’s that mean?” he gasped.

“Okay, right now, the North Koreans are attempting to lock on to the bomb with their missile defense system.
 
It won’t work, though—the bomb has already attained terminal velocity.
 
Besides, it’s got jamming and counter measures on board.
 
Once it’s released from the plane, the target is as good as gone
,” responded General Andrews from his monitor.

The President watched the numbers spin and disappear: 900 feet, 800 feet, 700 feet—they turned red, his pulse quickened.
 
Five hundred, four, three—two—one—

The last image he saw was of a large, industrial building.
 
It must have occupied four city blocks and the roof was littered with satellite dishes. The GPS-guided bomb honed-in on a ventilation shaft in the center of the roof and punched right through before the image went to static.

On impact, the President’s body jerked with tension, causing Jayne to squeal in surprise.

“
Good kill
,” reported the pilot.
 
“
Good kill.
”

“
Target destroyed
,” announced the co-pilot.
 
“
Large secondary explosions
.”

“What was it?” asked the President, loosening his tie to get some more air.
 
What a ride!
 
“
Can I get a copy of this?”

“That was the North Korean…well, the closest equivalent is a Parliament building, sir—but it’s largely symbolic.
 
Kim Yon Sul is not in residence.
 
He’s in his bunker, but this will be just as effective.
 
We need the party-elite to be scared for their lives.
 
Kim Yon Sul is absolutely certifiable.
 
He’ll never back down.
 
You said to send a strong message—I think the hardliners in Pyongyang will understand things a little clearer now, Mr. President.”
 

“
Maybe the Chinese will answer the phone now, too
,” mused the head of the NSA.

The video feed changed from green-static to an image of the same four city blocks—now reduced to charred, burning rubble with a sizable crater in the middle.
 

“
Biggest bomb we have that doesn’t glow in the dark,”
said the Air Force Chief of Staff with a smirk.

“That…was…
awesome…”
whispered the President.
 
He almost laughed.
 
“How many did we drop?”

“
Just one, sir
.”

“One
bomb did that?
 
How many bombers went in?”

“In total, three, sir.
 
But we only needed one.
”

“Why only one?
 
I thought I said I wanted to send a message?”

“
Mr. President
,” said the new Secretary of Defense, Haden Brooks, the former undersecretary.
 
“The message was loud and clear: we only need one plane to deliver one bomb and destroy your parliament.”
 
His image snapped fingers.
 
“Just like that.
 
Despite all the chaos you’ve caused on our West Coast, America is still the big dog in the fight.
 
And there’s a lot more where that came from.”

The President looked at his new VP.
 
“I like him.”

“
Sir, if I may,
” said the Army Chief of Staff.
 
“
We’ve got some more things to sort out.
 
For starters, we need a follow up.”

“You mean, hit them again?” asked Jayne.

“Aaahhhh…”
stammered the Air Force Chief.

The President leaned around Jayne’s waist and raised an eyebrow at the General’s image.
 
He nodded and cleared his throat.
 

“
Ah, yes…yes ma’am.
 
Hit them again
.”
 
The man looked genuinely embarrassed to be talking to the President’s aide.

“Mr. President, I disagree,” said Vice President Hillsen.
 
She turned to face him, her posture stiff—as if every fiber of her being was trying to ignore the woman sitting on the President’s lap.
 
Her eyes flicked to the movement of his hand up Jayne’s blouse.
 
Jayne giggled and squirmed and the VP blushed.
 

“Let me make contact with some members of the Chinese government that I…” she looked at the faces on the bank of screens that watched her.
 
The Joint Chiefs were frowning.
 
She cleared her throat.
 
“That I…I have some back-channel contacts.
 
Let me use them.
 
If I can get them to broker a cease-fire with the Koreans, we can stop the fighting and figure out a diplomatic solution that would benefit both our countries.”

“
Oh, we’ll stop the fighting
,” said the Air Force Chief.
 
“
As soon as we bomb North Korea back to the stone age.”

“And how long do you think it’ll be, General,” VP said icily.
 
“Before the Koreans try to
nuke
us, now?
 
Then we nuke them…
 
Tell me, General, who wins in that scenario?”
 
She turned back to the President.
 
“If I can establish a truce so that the Koreans can at least save face…we stand a much better chance at
real
peace, sir.”

She smiled—if you could call it that—a facial gesture that made her look like a classic witch.
 
All she needs is a cauldron and a pointy hat
, the President said to himself with a silent laugh.

The President glanced up at Jayne.
 
He was bored.
 
He wanted her.
 
She winked at him then shrugged.
 
He sighed and looked at the VP.
 
“Ok, go for it.
 
We’ll hold off on further strikes until you can see what you can do.
 
But if your way doesn’t work…”

“Understood, sir.
 
Thank you, Mr. President.”

“What about all those cities on the Eastern Seaboard that the U.N. has taken over?” asked Jayne.

The President sighed.
 
He had almost forgotten about that in all the excitement over the bombing of Pyongyang.
 
“How are the Europeans doing with the riots?”

“Sir
,” said the Secretary of Homeland Security.
 
President Barron didn’t like the fact that the hand-wringing bureaucrat made it a point to address him and not Jayne, when it was clearly she who cared enough to ask.
 
“
I think this is beyond riots. It’s more like open rebellion.
 
Ever since President Denton’s speech, all hell has broken loose in the treaty-zones.”

“Did that doctored tape really fool all these people?” sighed the President.
 
“The man was clearly dead days ago.
 
Now there’s this broadcast displaying some actor claiming to be Denton—and people are revolting in his name?”