The Trojan Horse

Chapter Thirty

Washington DC

USA, Day 53

“What the hell happened?”

“It looks like a massive heart attack,” the Doctor said. She looked tired and harassed. The White House medical team were among the best-trained in the world, but they knew that losing their main patient would mean the end of their careers. “We managed to stabilise him here, but we’re going to have to move him to the Naval Hospital as soon as we can. He needs more medical attention than we can provide for him here.”

Toby winced. “Doctor, I hate to sound insensitive, but how long until he can resume his duties?”

The Doctor glared at him. “Mr Sanderson, your political life and position are secondary here,” she snapped. “The President may not recover for some time, if ever. He was not in the best of health when he became President and the stresses on his life only made pre-existing conditions worse. I cannot give you any certain dates on when he will recover and return to his position, but you would be well-advised to assume the worst. The President will not return to the Oval Office.”

Toby watched her stalk off, angrily. She’d misjudged him, although she would have had a point with many of the political aides that clustered like vultures around politicians. Their power and position depended upon their patrons and losing them could mean the end of their careers. In one sense, Toby knew that he would never rise any higher than he had, but in another he knew that it could mean the end of the resistance’s mole inside the White House. And if the aliens had caused the heart attack, they’d ensured that their agent was in position to become President. The country had effectively fallen to them without a shot being fired.

The President had heard the news from Iran when he’d collapsed. SPACECOM might not have any weapons worthy of the name, but they did have effective tracking systems and they’d tracked the weapon launched from one of the alien ships. Analysis suggested that it had been a kinetic weapon — effectively a lump of rock — rather than a nuke, but that was no consolation to Iran. Tehran had been wrecked, millions were dead; the shock was already spreading over the world. Toby wondered just how decent and kind the Galactic Federation would look in the wake of the strike. They’d avenged the death of their comrade a million times over.

Toby shivered as he walked down the hall, heading back to the Oval Office. Jeannette McGreevy would have already been sworn in as President, even though the situation wasn’t entirely clarified yet. Toby knew better than to expect that she would tamely give up her power if — when — the President recovered. She’d spent most of her political life scheming to become President, to wield the power of the Presidency; she wouldn’t give it up in a hurry. With the world in chaos, who knew how far she could go? And in her shoes, the first thing Toby would have done would have been to dismiss Toby. There was no point in keeping the President’s — former President, in her view — personnel aide so close to her. On the other hand, she had already made a play for Toby’s loyalty. Maybe, just maybe, if he licked her ass enough, she’d allow him to stay. She would assume that he was kissing up to her merely to keep his career alive. She wouldn’t understand his true motives. The resistance needed someone in the White House.

Or am I merely trying to justify it to myself, he asked himself, as he stepped through the door. His father had often lectured him on the kind of moral courage demanded from soldiers. The courage, not to charge into the teeth of enemy fire or lay down one’s life for one’s country, but to refuse illegal orders from superior officers. Far too many soldiers hadn’t displayed that kind of courage, his father had warned — and Toby, no soldier, wondered if he was doing the same. But the resistance needed him.

The Oval Office was heavily guarded. Four Secret Service agents stood outside, with more — Toby knew — in reserve. Even inside the White House, they protected their President — and the Vice President who had become President, at least for the moment. The Secret Service was neutral, providing protection to Republicans and Democrats alike, but even that was being called into question. A handful might even be pod people. Jeannette McGreevy had no idea how closely the aliens monitored her, even within the White House. They would know at once if their puppet displayed any independence of mind. Toby wondered, not for the first time, just what they’d offered her in exchange for betraying her country. They might have offered a life of wealth and luxury, or power as Earth’s foremost collaborator to the Galactic Federation? Or… what? Who knew the limits of alien power?

He waited patiently for the agents to search him and then check his ID, even though they knew him by sight. The Secret Service was trained to be paranoid, even if some of the scenarios they ran through seemed uncomfortably like something out of a thriller novel. Toby privately doubted that anyone could disguise themselves to look like a politician and walk into the White House unopposed, but who knew what the aliens could do? And besides, they could turn people into traitors. They might try to slip one of their pod people into the White House.

The agents waved him through and he stepped into the Oval Office. As he had expected, Jeannette McGreevy sat behind the President’s desk, listening with a cocked head to the report from the FBI Director. Toby was mildly surprised that he hadn’t been replaced by one of the pod people — there were several in the FBI — but maybe McGreevy had thought better of allowing someone touched by the aliens into such a high position. Or perhaps she hadn’t got around to mass dismissals and putting her own people into power. She had a wide network of contacts and clients she could promote as she pleased now she was President. They would all be expecting some reward for their loyalty.

“Ah, Mr Sanderson,” McGreevy said. She sounded surprisingly affable for someone who’d only reached her position through chance — or had the aliens triggered the heart attack themselves? “Take a seat, please. I’ll deal with you after I deal with this.”

The FBI Director looked uncomfortable. He had been involved in the resistance after it had started to take on shape, but now his position was in doubt. The Deputy Director was one of McGreevy’s clients. And besides, the FBI was heavily involved in tracking down militia groups and arresting them. It wasn’t making them popular outside the big cities. A number of federal agents had been shot dead under mysterious circumstances, while others had been killed storming houses belonging to suspected militia members. There were too many people out there who thought that they had nothing left to lose. None of them expected a fair trial from the government.

“I’m afraid the news isn’t good,” he admitted, finally. “We were already seeing the beginnings of a vast protest movement against the unwarranted searches, seizures and arrests when the aliens hit Tehran. No matter how we try to swing it, the aliens committed mass murder…”

“Against Iran,” McGreevy snarled. “The one country we hate above all others.”

“The fact remains that the aliens launched a disproportionate response,” the FBI Director said. His expression, if it were possible, grew even more uncomfortable. “That isn’t the main problem. We’re not going after a few isolated nuts. The people on the targeting list aren’t cultists hiding away in barns, but often popular and well-liked people in their communities, people no one believes had anything to do with the incident at the school. Local police and sheriffs have started to refuse to get involved with the raids and I think that a number of them have quietly tipped off our targets that we’re coming for them. A number of BATF agents walked into a trap and were slaughtered.”

He looked down at the table, trying to avoid the woman behind it. “And the photographs and videos from the raids don’t help,” he added. “Everyone has a cell phone with a camera these days and they’re putting the images online. Americans are seeing jack-booted stormtroopers kicking down the door and dragging Americans off without trial. We might be able to justify such force against a handful of criminals, or terrorists, but so far we have targeted and rounded up thousands of people. The country won’t stand for it.”

McGreevy leaned forward. “The country will have to stand for it,” she said, shortly. “Don’t they understand how important this is?”

“I think that Congress might disagree,” the FBI Director said. “I have already had a number of very icy inquiries from certain congressmen. Their constituents are not happy.” He hesitated and plunged on. “We arrested a number of people on very shaky legal ground. Worse, a number of people have died, often for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. This isn’t Soviet Russia, Madam President; there will be a reaction against us if this carries on.”

“I don’t care about legalities,” McGreevy said. “I care about ensuring that we are fit to join the Galactic Federation.”

The FBI Director smiled. “This would be the same Galactic Federation that just wiped Tehran off the map?” He asked. “How many people died in that strike?”

“They retaliated against the Iranians for failing to protect their people,” McGreevy said. Toby, who had half-expected her to dismiss the death toll as merely Iranians, was almost impressed with her switch, or her ability to turn a tragedy into an advantage. “I will not take the risk of this country going the same way, no matter how many legal niceties get broken in the process.”

“Then I am afraid that you will have to do it without me,” the FBI Director said. “My spies in Congress tell me that there are already measures afoot to impeach you. You may end up being the President with the shortest term of office ever.”

McGreevy opened her mouth, and then caught herself. “Be very certain about this,” she said. “Are you offering your resignation and refusing to do your job properly?”

“The duty of the FBI is to stop crime, terrorism and enemy spying within America’s borders,” the FBI Director said. “It is no part of our duties to shoot down innocent civilians, even civilians who may have a slight connection to Blake Coleman. We have an agreement with our population, Madam President; we agree to work within the law and using due process to catch criminals and they allow us to work without interference. If we break that unspoken agreement, we can expect them to start pushing back. This is not Russia. Right now, there are places where I wouldn’t send federal agents unless they were very heavily armed…”

“With illegal weapons,” McGreevy snapped. “I’ve been telling people for years that these nuts are dangerous.”

“I think you will discover that you and your followers did a great deal to make them dangerous,” the FBI Director said. “You’ll have my resignation on your desk within the hour. I’d wish you luck, but quite frankly the best thing you could do right now is resign and allow someone a little less close to the Galactics into the Presidency. I don’t know why they’re here either, yet I’d be astonished if they have our own good in mind.”

With that, he stalked out of the door, leaving McGreevy and Toby behind. Toby kept his face expressionless, even though he was deeply shocked — and worried. If the FBI Director quit — no, he had quit — the remainder of the FBI would fall under the control of one of McGreevy’s clients. And then she would have a formidable weapon at her disposal. True, many other agents would resign rather than turn into jackbooted thugs, but far too many would remain inside. Toby had long suspected that some of them were silently aroused by the chance to play at being a far harsher service than the FBI had ever been, intruding into the lives of the nation’s citizens and intervening at will. They’d get their chance now.

“Sanderson,” McGreevy said. She sounded as if she was holding herself under very tight control. “You no longer have a place with the former President. You can come and work with me, now, or you can get out.”

Toby didn’t hesitate. He’d expected the offer, although he hadn’t expected it to be so blunt. “Yes, Madam President,” he said. “I would be happy to work under you.”

“And keep your job,” McGreevy said, dryly. If she was aware of the double meaning, she didn’t bother to show any sign of it. “Are you going to give me as much service as you gave your previous master?”

The odd stress on master was mocking, Toby knew. “If that is what you command, I will be happy to serve,” Toby said. The resistance needed him, he reminded himself. He would have loved to quit, but he had the feeling that he wouldn’t have been allowed out of the building without permission. “What can I do for you, Madam President?”

“You will sit in on a number of meetings,” McGreevy said. “Once you have heard them all, you will give me your advice. Great things are going to happen in this country and I intend to ensure that they happen sooner, rather than later.”

Toby still felt filthy an hour later, when the Cabinet filed into the room to discuss the situation with the new President. McGreevy’s old post as Secretary of State had been filled by one of her creatures, as had two other posts, both resigned in disgust after the attack on Iran. Toby was sure that McGreevy would be able to portray both men as betraying her, or being reluctant to serve under a female President, or whatever other charges could be used to blacken their names. They wouldn’t be allowed to rock the boat too much… he remembered the dead reporters and shivered. The chances were that the deserters were already being targeted for elimination.

He took a seat in the corner and listened carefully, without saying anything. McGreevy didn’t seem inclined to replace the Directors of either the CIA or the NSA, which was lucky as both men were involved in the resistance. Without them, it would be much harder to coordinate action against the aliens and a federal government that was being increasingly subverted by the aliens. The situation appeared to be the same in the rest of the First World states, while chaos was sweeping across the Middle East after Tehran had been struck. There was fighting in Palestine, civil war in Iraq and unrest in Saudi Arabia. Toby was tempted to believe that the aliens had planned everything; the sudden oil shortages forced the United States and the rest of the First World into becoming more dependent on fusion, hence strengthening the Galactic Federation’s position. But they hadn’t known that an American assassin was going into Iran, had they? They were powerful, yet he was sure they were not gods.

“Madam President,” Barney Koch said. He was the replacement FBI Director, although Congress hadn’t confirmed him yet — and might never confirm him, depending on what happened in the impeachment proceedings. “I regret to report that we have encountered considerable difficulties in implementing the anti-militia program.”

Toby smiled, inwardly. Militias generally didn’t keep membership lists, which left the FBI dependent upon inserted agents and following up family trees. Anyone who had ever got into trouble with the government on illegal weapons charges was regarded as a potential militia member — and therefore their families were targeted for arrest. Sometimes it worked, but many of the people who’d been rounded up were innocents — and some of them chose to go down fighting rather than surrender to the government thugs. And if that wasn’t bad enough, local police were reluctant to get involved, often pointing out that the targets were actually decent people. The State Governments were feeling the heat from the media, but they were also feeling the heat from their own people — careers were at stake.

“Then call in the army and declare martial law,” McGreevy snapped. “I want this problem uprooted before it’s too late.”

General Williamson, the new Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, scowled. “I regret to say that we have been having considerable difficulties of our own,” he said. “The pullout of the Middle East has been delayed as our units are coming under fire from rioting citizens in the region. Back home, thousands of soldiers have been discharged — including thousands of soldiers who happen to have family and friends targeted by your purge. I’m afraid that what remains of the military is not suitable for deployment as a police force.”

McGreevy purpled, alarmingly. “Are you refusing an order from your Commander-in-Chief?”

“I am pointing out that we do not have the tools to carry out your demands,” General Williamson said. “The military is not in a good state right now. I’m telling you that if you issue orders to join what is effectively a thoroughly illegal purge of American citizens, you will have a mutiny on your hands. The soldiers have friends and family who have been targeted by your purge. They are not happy. I have already had reports that a number of units have simply deserted. I suspect that the remainder of the military will soon follow.”

“Then we will call on the Galactic Federation for help,” McGreevy said.

“That will simply cause the mutiny to happen faster,” General Williamson said. “Look, Madam President, the general perception right now is that Washington is doing the bidding of the aliens and hunting down innocent American citizens. If you put alien soldiers into the mix, there will be an explosion.”

“We cannot afford to allow the aliens to suspect the worst of us,” McGreevy said. “They have offered to help us. I think we shall accept.”

On that note, the meeting ended.