Thu, 2 March 2006  Chapter 21 - The Withdrawal / www.attheappointedtime.comComments[0] |
Thu, 2 March 2006 Chapter 20: Dominos Are Falling (Where?)
"Thomas," George softly called to his right-hand man, "What the fffuck is happening here?"Thomas answered with his eyes locked on the television screen just like his boss, "I have no idea… Mr. President." They watched the television as the mediacasters updated, predicted, and analyzed the scene outside the San Francisco Federal Building; both continually shook their heads. Thomas almost forgot that his existence was to protect the leader of the free world, and became immersed in the tangle of San Francisco, as the rest of the whole world did the same. "Mr. President, sir?" "Yes Thomas." "Sir, may I have permission to speak freely and give my opinion?" George stared at the ground for a second, and rubbed the back of his neck. He noticed Thomas' shiny black reflective shoes which he could perfectly see the chandelier in the reflection of. His gaze moved up Thomas' black slacks to his belt line, where he notice a gun holstered, "Thomas, at this moment we're both sitting on the same couch, watching the same event on the same television, and I think we're both as mixed-up as the other." Thomas looked confused, and mistakenly assumed that George was under too much stress to hear the opinion of a strong arm such as himself. George noticed how Thomas received his comment, and knew he came off wrong. "Thomas, we're alone for once in the oval office, and right now I think we're as equal as anyone will ever let us be. You and I," He briefly looked up, "would probably both be evenly qualified to handle this problem if it were our mess. Please… speak freely even if you don't have any advice." George turned back to the TV. "I need to hear someone's voice or I'll set adrift and go mad." "I don't think this spectacle will be the last major event of the day we'll see being broadcast from San Francisco, sir." Thomas said. "I agree Thomas." George sat back, "Mayor McCain has let lose the lions." "But…" Thomas stopped short. George turned to look at Thomas, and he looked very serious, "Mr. President I believe all that we see and will see on the television is all part of the same thing." George sat up hastily, and wore a distressed look on his face. Thomas continued, "I think that all of this couldn't have possibly happened if officials in San Francisco were playing by the rules, and now that the Attorney General is obviously in on it, it seems like dominos are falling." The President continued to stare at Thomas in disbelief, he hadn't connected the Attorney General directly yet. Thomas continued, "I dunno, I just have an awful feeling about this one. I think even what we're watching right now has to do with it." Thomas peaked up to see the President's unchanged gaze, and bowed back again. "I know that I was hired here to be methodical, and to be level headed as a protector, but I'm going to risk my job here, and come out and say it Mr. President." Thomas took one last deep breath, "I've had this weird inner feeling the last day or so, that something is going on around me, and I have no proof. I have no proof at all, but I can feel it so strongly that I am scared. It has me preoccupied at night, so I can't sleep. Even before today, and all this. Something is culminating out of sight, and I am gravely worried about it. I think this is it; what I've been scared of, and now I think I'm begining to see very clearly." Thomas stopped. "Thomas." "Yes sir, Mr. President?" "Please continue to speak of this feeling. I know our relationship professionally is, in some aspects, a very high profile and important one, but I can not stress the importance of what I mean when I say please continue, and do not hold anything back." George's mind began to reel. Thomas' words were exactly what he had been feeling lately. Maybe not the premonition of conspiracy, but the description of emotion was on spot. That alone only solidified the seriousness of whatever Thomas would have said. It was what occupied his own troubled mind causing him to lose his sleep. This wasn't a Presidential practice, this was divine. This could happen no other way. "Now I feel like your life is in danger Mr. President. I have no proof, or evidence of this at all. Only the feeling." Thomas looked up again, and saw the president listening intently. He could see the seriousness in his eyes, and knew he was looking for something. Maybe an answer. "Mayor McCain is on line one as you requested Mr. President!" Glenda yelled from the other room not wanting to enter the oval office any more after the earlier events. George picked up the receiver, and pressed line one, "Mayor?" "Hello Mr. President," McCain answered. "Hello Mayor, I hope that things are in better control than the media is portraying it to be over there," George said with a stern tone, at this point wishing he had not asked Glenda to get the Mayor on the phone. "Yes sir. Completely under control, sir." "You call a hostage situation inside a federal building involving stolen drug evidence 'under control?'" George sounded like he was being undermined. "Sir, the situation is going as planned. The terrorists are coming down right now to exit the federal building." McCain explained. "They're giving up?" The President sounded confused. "No, actually… they have requested an escaped boat at the port which is about a quarter mile a…" "I know where the ferry boat terminal is Mayor. Are there any other demands?" "No." The Mayor answered abruptly. "What, in fact, is your game plan right now Mayor?" "Sir," McCain paused briefly, "we have gunmen positioned atop surrounding buildings ready to simultaneously and precisely take out the targets when I give the order." McCain sounded on track. "Sir," Thomas called, "They're coming out now… on the television." President quickly looked at the television screen, "Damn it McCain! There are live cameras all over the place. Do you understand what you're about to broadcast?!?!?" McCain seemed to be speaking to someone in the background quickly, and returned to the president, "We have ordered both camera crews, and news stations to turn their cameras off until further notice, but…" "But what?" "There are so many cameras here; free-lance internet sites, bloggers, home video cameras, I don't think there is anything we can do about all the cameras sir." "Sir," Thomas called softly unable find his voice. George answered the Mayor more calmly now, "That's alright actually. I'm more concerned about the networks, and cable outfits. Something that graphic can't be shown on cable televi…" "Sir!" Thomas loudly exclaimed finally finding his voice. "What Thomas?!?!" George said as he angrily, pointed towards the phone signaling that right now was not a good time to raise your voice at the president, but when George looked at Thomas he saw a look of ultimate fear, and then the President turned towards the television. Mayor McCain's voice came from the other end of the President's phone, "Oh my God." George just stared at the television unable to comprehend what he was really looking at; what this meant. The most powerless feeling he could recall during his presidency poured over his body, and he was utterly speechless, and all color left his skin. The cameras were indeed still rolling, and you could bet that not a single one would turn off before this event was over. "Mayor tell you snipers to stand down." George said with a lump in his throat, almost unable to speak. "Sir?" McCain was in a state of shock too. "Tell them that is a direct and final order from the President of the United States. Not a single shot is to be fired." George turned to Thomas, who was still in a ghost like trance, "Thomas, how long would it take for the President to get to California?" Thomas snapped out of it, "I would have to consult with air-traffic, and secure Marine 1…" "Thomas… You and I were both in the air force, and I a good part of my career. How long will it take you and me to get to California if we left in fifteen minutes?" "A little under an hour, sir."
"Mayor, I'll see you in an hour. I'm coming to California." Category: novel text -- posted at: 2:57 AM Comments[0] |
Thu, 2 March 2006 Chapter 19: Moment of Silence (Where?)
Now on the top floor of the San Francisco Federal building Keith Michaels placed the live telephone handset down upon the desk and thought in silence. With the same hand, he rubbed his strained eyes, and sighed deeply. He couldn't believe the way the morning had turned out. Not preparing made him weary. Preparation like this would make anyone worried. He was very uncertain of the outcome.A colleague sat next to him in a squeaky office chair, which would creek every time he leaned forward to consult Keith. Creek, "I don't think it's going to work Keith. No matter what he tells us." Keith stopped rubbing his eyes, but did not remove his hands, "It's going to be fine, trust me. With all the publicity today everyone is under extreme pressure;peoples' backs are to the wall. At this point they just want to keep things as calm as can be." Creek, "What about Bradley?" Keith began to rub his eyes again. He thought back at the way Brad had looked on TV when the task force ripped his son away from him. He knew what Brad felt for his son. He looked more broken when they took Gregory, than when they battered him. "Brad has his own problems right now. I don't think he will know the difference by the time this is all over." Creek, "I still think it's too risky; everyone is too vulnerable out there." Keith, eyes still closed, was now rubbing the bridge of his nose. Images of things passed continued to shoot through his head. Each making him second-guess their task. Keith and Brad were fairly friendly, but it all originated professionally. He remembered the first time Brad had brought Gregory by the house in Mendocino. Keith had picked Greg up, and sat him on his lap. He was taken aback at Greg's trust. He had willingly boosted up onto his lap, and bounced around playfully the whole time he and Brad spoke. It actually gave him that warm feeling that people were supposed to feel. The feeling that the world really wasn't crazed, and full of sickos. That feeling, the memory of that feeling, is what made this the hardest decision he ever had to follow through with. The decision had been made, and only needed to happen now, and at that point that warm feeling would be long gone. Keith lashed out angrily, "Once Mayor McCain gets on I'll talk to him, and he'll listen to me. Trust me." The world was crazed again. Creek, "Dude, it's too risky." That was it. Keith stopped rubbing his eyes, and placed his arm on the desk, exposing an elbow high tattoo on the inside of his forearm, of the famous Spaniard Knight Sir Francis Drake. As his vision came back his creaky colleague slowly came into view, as did the Kalashnikov strapped over his shoulder, and barked, "This will work. We just need a fuckin' threatening image for the cameras, and no one will as much as breath once we bring him out there. This will fucking work, because after this mornings report he might as well be the damn President's kid." Right then the sound of some one picking up came from the phone, and Keith placed his own assault rifle on the desk and scrambled to pick up the handset. "This is mayor McCain. Who am I talking to?" "You are speaking with the Golden Hinde. I will lead from this point on, so just listen. I assume you have been informed of the hostage situation." "I have." "For an exchange you will provide us with a helipad equipped boat at the port, east of the building across the embarcadero. We along with the drugs, the money, and the hostage will board the vessel, and will sail, unescorted, out past the golden gate. At a location known by us, but perpendicular to the center of the bridge, we will be met by a helicopter. We will board the transport with the drugs, the money, and only at that time, will we leave the hostage on the boat where we will contact you that he is then ready for pickup, signaling finality.� �Just don't do anything hasty. There are a lot of people outside� A lot of cameras.� The Mayor eloquently advised. Keith didn't know what to think or say. He heard the greasy tone of McCain's voice on the headset, and became angry. He looked over at his partner in disgust, but then gazed upon his colleagues AK-47, and knew that he was no better, and answered, �We're coming down in five minutes with everything including the hostage. I want every vehicle removed from a three block radius of the building, and all officers must holster their weapons before we reach the lobby. If not, we execute the hostage and as much of the crowd as we can get to.� Keith waited several seconds in silence, �Five minutes sharp Mayor. Be ready and get rid of those squad cars now.� Keith hung up the phone. He stood up from his chair, and threw his gun's strap over his shoulder. He looked at his colleague, and raised his brow in acknowledgment that it was 'go' time. �Get everyone together near the front desk. We're headin' down in early.� His colleague nodded and trotted away. Keith slowly made his way towards the front area of the floor near the elevators. The mixed feelings of guilt, disgust, and emptiness filled him. He knew what he was doing was wrong. He had known down deep all along, but he had been rushed into the job so quick he didn't even debate about it a bit. Even though things seemed to be working, and the hard part, getting into the building, was over, he felt worried about what he was doing. He was pretty sure it was his conscience. Everyone made it to the elevators fairly quick. Four men, looking like the rest, in there green cargos, mud brown shirts with thermals underneath, and black beanies came strolling in with large warehouse carts. On the carts was about thirty million dollars worth of tightly packed Cocaine, heroin, meth, and designer drugs. So much that the carts themselves took several seconds to start moving when pushed. They didn't bother with the green stuff since it wasn't worth much, and it took up a lot of space. One man was not carrying the defacto Kalashnikov, but instead a twelve gauge double barreled side-by-side shotgun, and attached to the other end was a hostage. Keith, the apparent ring leader called the group to listen, �Okay everyone. It's time to rock. I guess we can't go down together with the carts, but there's two elevators, and the carts will go down second after we pave the way for you with the hostage. Everyone has their two-ways?� Keith held up his two-way phone, and everyone else in the group checked off with theirs too. It was a couple minutes since the phone call with McCain and he pushed the button to call the elevators, �Alright if everyone stays calm and just goes with the plan nothing can go wrong.� DING! The elevators were ready. Keith pointed to several men, and signaled for them to board the elevators. He also pointed to the man with the shotgun and hostage, and motioned for him to accompany him in the same elevator. The first wave was now in the elevators staring back at the others, several with carts, and several grasping their A.K.�s. �I'll see you on the boat.� Keith pressed the button to close the doors, and as he did another colleague came from the back of the crowd with his two-way phone in his hand, and he was out of breath. He looked at Keith and said, �You won't get any phone service while you're in the elevators, so any of us traveling in them will be out of communication for the ride down.� Keith nodded simply staring at his tardy colleague, wondering why he looked so distressed. As the doors began to close the late comer blurted out, �And the news is saying Bradley broke out of Quentin and can not be found, and that every single person in the prison is dead.�
As the elevator doors closed Keith stared down at their hostage, and had a moment of silence on his way to the lobby. Category: novel text -- posted at: 2:52 AM Comments[0] |
