Dark Coup (31 page)

Once they touched down and the engines were cut, Sanford opened the side door in time to see a group of people walking towards them.  He motioned to the two MPs to prepare the Colonel and climbed out of the helicopter.

Once out from under the still turning blades, he stood up and walked to meet their welcoming party.

“Major Sanford,” he said, and held out his hand.

“Major Jensen,” Mallory said, and did likewise.

“Major Franklin,” Ben said.

“Colonel Howard Maldonado,” the commander of the Joint Base said, and shook Sanford’s hand.

“Command Master Sergeant Rudy Page,” Sergeant Page, the second in command at the base said.

“And here comes our boy,” Maldonado said with more than a touch of regret in his voice.

Olsen was obviously stiff from sitting in the jump seat for three-and-a-half hours, but he brightened visibly when he saw Maldonado.

“Don’t even think about it,” Maldonado said.  “Sanford here has had a radio on since the start of your last conversation, and before you say anything, Alabama, Georgia, and South Carolina are all single-party consent states for recording.  Actually, South Carolina has no statute, but case law has set a single-party precedent.  If I wasn’t positive you would be found guilty on pretty much every charge and sentenced to hang or a firing squad, I’d shoot you myself right here, right now.”

“Colonel,” Mallory said, “I didn’t actually come here today to see you; I came to meet Major Sanford.  I’m glad I was here to see this, though.  Even if you don’t get the death penalty, you’ll never set foot outside these walls again, of that I’ve been assured.  Good bye, Mr. Olsen.”

Mallory turned to Sanford.  “Thank you,” she said.  “We all owe you so much, but we’re not out of the woods yet.”

“No, we aren’t,” Sanford said.  “We still have one more thing to take care of.”

Ben took a step towards Olsen.  “I, on the other hand,
did
come here just to see you,” he said.  Olsen hadn’t been there when everyone made their introductions, but had read nametapes as soon as he walked up and knew he might be in trouble.

“I,” Ben said, “don’t have quite as much faith as Colonel Maldonado here in our legal system; although he guarantees me that he has enough lawyers and a sufficient number of officers to convene a court-martial within a week.”

Ben drew his side arm and raised it to rest the barrel on Olsen’s forehead as he thumbed back the hammer.  Everyone but Mallory and Maldonado took several steps back, but nobody made any moves to stop Ben.

“Let’s see,” Ben said.  “Seven days’ worth of food, plus the time of the trial, plus the lost time of putting together the paperwork versus one round of admittedly irreplaceable ammunition and a shallow grave.”

Mallory put her hand up on Ben’s and Olsen thought she was going to try to make him put the gun down.  Instead, she put her finger in the trigger guard with his.  Mallory and Ben pulled the trigger.

The hammer fell.

The gun went…

*click*

Olsen wet himself.

“I lied,” Mallory said.  “I came here to see you pee your pants.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Colorado, somewhere between the Denver International Airport and the city of Watkins

“Ready, Sir,” Hodges said.

Sanford took a deep breath and keyed the microphone on Olsen’s encrypted radio.  “This is Pillar Four,” he said and completed the authentication the same way Olsen had, except for when he’d gone off on his handler.

“I am afraid I don’t recognize your voice,” the voice on the other end replied.

“Nor should you,” Sanford replied.  “That’s completely irrelevant to this conversation.”

“It is obvious that this node has been compromised…” the voice began.

“It would behoove you to stop talking,” Sanford cut in, “and listen for once.  This node has been compromised for a long time, friend.  And the truth, the real truth about your little game has gotten out.  Not just to us, either, but to the entire country.  We know about the contingency plan, we know about The Outbreak, we know you’ve been lying to each of the area commanders and pitting them against each other to try and hurry your agenda along.”

Sanford took a breath to see if he would be interrupted but he wasn’t so he continued.  “It’s over,” he said, “done.  Starting right now we’re doing to you what you’ve been having your boots-on-the-ground commanders do to us.”

Sanford hit a key on his keyboard and one of the windows on his screen started scrolling.  “You are now locked out of the satellite network to everyone but me,” he said.  “At the end of this conversation, even that link will be permanently severed.  Hanging up on me right now would be a
very
bad idea.”

“What do you want,” the voice asked.

“Nothing,” Sanford said.  “I don’t want anything from you.  I’m dictating to you what you can and cannot do.”

“Nobody…” the voice began.

“WRONG!”  Sanford yelled into the microphone.  “Your days of making the rules and calling the shots are over.  Interrupt me again this conversation is over and you’ll never speak to another person outside of your compound again, end of discussion.  From this point forward I will ask you a question and you will answer.  If you so much as interject with a ‘but’ I will drop this connection and as of right now, anyone who sets foot above ground outside of your compound in Denver will be shot on sight.  Do I make myself clear?”

“As crystal,” the voice said, obviously shaken but not as much as Sanford had hoped or expected.

“You are now surrounded,” Sanford said.  “We are setting up a perimeter of five miles around the Denver International Airport.  I won’t go into the security arrangements, but suffice it to say; when we are done we are relatively confident you won’t be able to get out without us knowing.  Nobody over the age of eighteen will be permitted to leave the compound, ever.”

Sanford waited to be interrupted, but the voice on the other end had apparently taken him at his word.

“Like I said before,” Sanford continued, “we know about The Outbreak and it’s no longer a threat.  Not just because we know about it, or because I’ve cut off your communications, but because it has actually ceased to be a threat.  Do you understand?”

“Yes,” the voice said, “but how.”

“The people you had handling your contingency plan,” Sanford said, “weren’t the ones who knew how to do the work.  There was no question that the handlers were your people from the very beginning.  It turns out that the technicians, though, took you for all you were worth.  In only one instance was there a super-strain of Ebola, and that was only in Atlanta, and it’s been destroyed.  The rest of the promised killer viruses were never engineered, or were destroyed as soon as the tests were run to show they had been completed and a placebo put in their place.”

“But I mentioned that no one over eighteen would be allowed to leave,” Sanford said.  “It’s interesting that you didn’t ask about that.  Doesn’t that interest you in the slightest?”

“Yes,” the voice said, “it does.  I have two grandchildren, and I would like to know what your intentions are.”

“That’s interesting,” Sanford said.  “I was under the impression that you didn’t have any children, which would be a prerequisite for grandchildren.  Since I don’t really care though, I won’t ask.”

Sanford went on, “We cannot, in good conscience, condemn children for the mistakes, for the
sins,
of their parents.  But we also won’t
require
that you give up your children, or that any minors that don’t want to leave be forced to go.  This is, however, a one-time offer, so to speak.  Once the…barricades go up, nobody goes in or out and no communication.  No exceptions, period.  The world outside of your prison is
not
going to be the world you wanted so you will not be welcome in it.  Make the most of what you’ve got squirrelled away in there; it’s all you will ever have.  I’ll leave the connection open…”

Sanford heard gunfire outside the tent he was using for the radio and swore under his breath.

They had established the initial perimeter at five miles, just like he’d told the voice on the other end.  What he hadn’t told him was that they’d also established lookouts and snipers at one-mile increments from the fence surrounding the Airport proper.  Someone hadn’t believed him that anyone caught above ground over the age of eighteen would be considered an enemy combatant.  From the sounds of it, they had been armed, too.  He didn’t feel bad about the result at all.

“Talk to me,” he said into the squad radio he’d brought with him to Colorado.  They were coordinating with three local paramilitary groups and two guard units, along with a platoon from Fort Carson.

“A small group,” one of the patrols reported in, “four men armed with automatic weapons, I repeat
fully automatic weapons
, not single fire semi-automatic, emerged from the ground at about the four-and-a-half mile mark.  This underground base is
huge
.”

“Casualties,” Sanford asked.

“It looks like three of the tangos are down,” the patrol leader replied.  “One of them is still alive and waving something that I think we’re supposed to take as a white flag.”

“Ours,” Sanford prompted.

“One pair of soiled shorts,” was the reply.

“Deal with it and don’t lose anybody,” Sanford said.

“Dumb,” Sanford said into the radio connecting him into the compound.  “Then again, you now have four less mouths to feed, so maybe not so dumb.  As I was saying, though, I will leave the connection open while you let everyone know that children are allowed to leave.  Anyone who doesn’t look under eighteen will need proof of their age.  You may speak now.”

“You have destroyed the world,” the voice said.  “You may believe that what you are doing is right and just and good, but you are dooming the world as surely as it was doomed before.”

“I’m doing it by choice,” Sanford said, “because that’s what really matters.  It’s not up to you to decide what’s best for the rest of the human race.”

“And yet there you sit, proposing to do the same thing,” the voice asked, a bit of the self-assurance and haughtiness Sanford was used to hearing from the recordings creeping back into it.

“No,” Sanford said, “not at all.  You would take virtually every choice away from everyone.  On the other hand, by keeping you where you are, everyone else has the ultimate freedom, to decide for themselves.  I’m not deciding anything for anyone…but you.”

There was silence for a few seconds.  “But you know that don’t you,” Sanford asked.  “Because it isn’t about freedom or personal expression or any of the other platitudes that you and your ilk spout; it isn’t even about money or wealth.  It’s about power and control, and everything else is just a means to that end.  Without that, your life is meaningless.”

“Go talk to your people and tell them about the children,” Sanford said.  “It’s 11:30.  Make the decision by 8:00 tomorrow morning.  After that it’s over and the gates close.”

…

“How many,” Sanford asked.

“I would like to propose…” the voice began.

“You really are a pompous windbag,” Sanford interrupted.  “You are going to tell me how many children under the age of 18 are going to come out or we’re done, end of story.”

“There is someone…” the voice started again.

“Smarter than you who I can talk to,” Sanford asked.  “Preferably someone to whom I won’t have to repeat myself three or four times to make my point.  For the last time…”

“The President,” the voice said.

Silence from both sides.

“I thought that would get your attention,” the voice said.

“Not for the reasons you think,” Sanford said.  “Put him on, I’ll give him thirty seconds.”

“Seriously,” the voice asked.

“Keep screwing around and you’re going to cut into his time,” Sanford said.

“Major Sanford,” a new voice came on the line, one that Sanford recognized immediately.

“Speaking,” Sanford said.  He could almost hear the eyebrows rise on the other end.

“A little respect, Son,” the President said.  “I’m your Commander-In-Chief.”

“No,” Sanford said, “you
were
my Commander-In-Chief until you abdicated that responsibility by being bought and paid for by men like the man I was just talking to, and then running and hiding while they put the wheels in motion to destroy this country.”

“Son,” the President began, “you don’t understand…”

“I’m done,” Sanford said.  “Put your handler back on.  You have nothing useful to say and I’ve said everything I wanted to say to you.  Good bye, Mr. Clement.”

“Now wait a mi…” the President began but Sanford pulled the headphones away from his ears and set them on the microphone, which created a horrible feedback loop.

“I said put your handler back on,” Sanford said after he put the headphones back on.

“I am already here,” the voice said.  “What did you say?  He couldn’t get the headphones off fast enough.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sanford said.  “How…many…children.”

“Ninety-six,” the voice said.  “There are some who do not want to leave and some that the parents will not let go.”

“Understood,” Sanford said.  “Bring them to the same exit that the squad of four used when they tried to ambush us.  We’ll be ready to receive them in two hours.”

“Very well,” the voice said.

…

Tensions were high around the opened exit door in the ground.  Once the men had known where to look, it hadn’t been that hard to find, but without a more detailed idea of where to focus their search, it would have been a needle in a seventy-five square mile haystack.

Everyone assumed that there would be other escape attempts at the same time as the children were being released– if the children were even let go at this point.  Sanford was being hard, but he didn’t want any of his men getting hurt or killed for no reason.

Overnight, they’d been reinforced by an additional three platoons from Fort Carson, and they had almost a dozen helicopters in the air in case someone tried to make a break for it by air or in some kind of vehicle.  Sanford was serious about the five-mile limit though, and anyone above ground over the age of eighteen.  It would give him nightmares, but he would “okay” pulling the trigger.