Overlord Read online

  “Master Chief,” he said as he finally found strength in his legs to step forward. He eyed the man up and down and smiled. “Or is it Mr. Jenks?”

  “Just Jenks will do, Toad, or if you insist, Professor Jenks, asshole.” He held out his hand.

  Carl shook and then looked around at the young people he was surrounded by. “What are you running here, Jenksy, a day-care center?”

  Jenks looked at the NASA men and women and replaced the cigar stub in his mouth. “Yeah, it’s like the Amazon all over again, huh? I mean, these kids are young enough to be in high school.” He grinned. “But we did get those kids in the Amazon home again, didn’t we?”

  “Yes we did, Chief.”

  The chief’s demeanor instantly changed. “After you and that crackhead army major trashed my boat, my baby!”

  “Look, Master Chief, Teacher saved all our lives, and with my last look at my pay voucher I was still paying for that damn boat, one dollar a month for the rest of my life.”

  “Hah! Got you there, didn’t I? It’s got to be hell at tax time trying to explain that one.”

  Everett remembered the beautiful boat, USS Teacher, an experimental river craft of the chief’s design and construction. The genius little engineer had built the most magnificent and advanced boat he had ever seen, only to have Everett and Jack Collins ram it into an ancient gold mine and sink her in a bottomless lagoon. He coughed and cleared his throat.

  “And that’s now General Crackhead, Chief,” Carl said, referring to Jack’s new brevet rank.

  “Jesus, the military is really hard up, ain’t they?”

  “Hard up enough to give me a brevet rank also, you old goat.”

  Jenks eyed Everett up and down, his eyes finally settling on the admiral’s shoulder boards for the briefest of moments. Then he removed the stub of cigar and tossed it into the wind.

  “Yeah, the navy always gives you the candy before the medicine, if I remember right.” He eyed Carl and then shook his head. “Well, this time I’m afraid you’ll earn it, Toad, my boy.”

  The master chief gestured for the young NASA officers to scatter as he and Carl moved toward the elevator on top of the roof. The men and women all looked on in shock, as they had never seen the man that had driven them crazy for the past year so cowed by a mere man before. They immediately had respect for anyone that could do that with the old chief designer.

  “Just what in the hell is going on, Master Chief?” Carl asked as Jenks growled at two lieutenants when they tried to get into the elevator with them, sending them scurrying for cover.

  “These young folks are going to make you an astronaut, Toad. And the plan is we’re going to try and save this fucked-up planet.” He hit the floor button he wanted. “What for, I’ll never know, as I never found much use for it, or at least the species that occupies it much.”

  Carl was ashen faced as the elevator doors slid closed. “Astronaut?”

  “That’s right, my boy, a fucking astronaut. That’s what I call military preparedness.” He hesitated and then smiled wider than before. “Admiral.” He laughed all the way to the fifth floor of the astronaut training center.

  The space arm of Operation Overlord had its commander.

  WALTER REED NATIONAL MILITARY MEDICAL CENTER

  BETHESDA, MARYLAND

  Virginia Pollock sat next to the bed and reached over to take Niles Compton’s left hand, careful not to touch the cast of his right arm. The doctors had barely managed to save the limb after sixteen hours of complicated surgery. The entire right side of his face was covered in white-gauze bandages and that was the injury that made Virginia tear up. Niles had lost the eye and he would have a scar running down the side of his face for the rest of his life. He had not awakened since her arrival.

  She looked up at the silent television as President Camden was seen visiting his comatose predecessor as he lay in bed in severe critical condition, as the multitude of specialists proclaimed he may or may not pull through. Many people saw the disgust in the face of the nation’s first lady as the new man in the Oval Office shook her hand in condolences. It was no secret that the first lady shared her husband’s contempt of the former Speaker of the House; the distaste was hard to miss.

  Virginia turned at the sound of a light knock on the door. She crossed the room and opened it.

  “Acting Director Pollock?” A small man with glasses stood massaging a briefcase that had seen far better days. Another taller and very much thinner man was standing behind him. He looked more nervous than the smaller gentleman.

  “Dr. Pollock,” she corrected apprehensively, as she didn’t know these two in the slightest.

  The tall man nudged the smaller man in front of him.

  “Of course, my apologies.” The man eyed the taller, dark-haired Virginia nervously.

  “What can I do for you gentlemen?” she asked abruptly, not wanting to disturb Niles.

  “Dr. Pollock, my name is Sanford, Max Sanford. I am the director of the National Archives, and this is Mr. Halliburton West, of the General Accounting Office.”

  A light came on inside Virginia’s brilliant head and she stepped aside to allow the men in. They stood before the bed and looked down on Niles. The smaller man looked as if he were about to cry. The taller one moved to inspect Niles’s face. He also shook his head.

  “God, look what they have done to him,” Sanford said. He straightened and then placed the briefcase he was carrying on a nearby chair.

  “I take it you gentlemen are here because of the succession regulations?” she asked in a whisper.

  “Yes, Doctor.” Sanford looked from Virginia toward a departing shot of Camden on television as he waved his hands at the reporters gathered at the scene. “As you know—or may not know,” he corrected as he looked down on Niles’s still form, “we have to brief the new president on Department 5656 no later than ten days after he takes office. That’s the law as set down by President Roosevelt in the forties.”

  Virginia turned away and cringed. The thought of an enemy of not only the president but of Niles Compton taking command of the Group made her almost ill.

  “Doctor, we have no desire to do that, but according to law we have no choice. My job is to budget Department 5656 and hide just where that budget has come from. There is no choice but to brief the new commander-in-chief on your department’s charter and budgetary limitation, or its extremes,” said West.

  “No.”

  They all three turned. Niles was awake.

  “Niles,” Virginia said as she hurriedly approached the bed.

  “I will … order … Virginia to … blow up … my facility before…” Niles drifted away as Virginia took his good left hand in her own.

  “What do you want us to do, Niles?”

  The two men exchanged brief looks and then a conspiracy-laced mask crossed their features as they too stepped up to the bed.

  “That man is not to know about us … until … Overlord is … off … the ground. He … is … never to … know … about Magic.”

  “What’s Magic?” Sanford asked in a whisper.

  “An Event Group asset that occupies the house you gentlemen paid for in Arizona,” Virginia said, just wanting the red tape boys to be silent as she got her orders.

  Both men knew of the expenditures in time and material for something just south of Chato’s Crawl, Arizona, but had never thought anything about it. They nodded their heads, still not understanding.

  “We … need … your … help … gentlemen,” Niles whispered. “Get lost until … until…” Niles coughed lightly and then opened his good eye against the pain he was feeling. “You’ll know when … the departmental briefing on … my … Group … can … take … place … Just watch the news.”

  The two men exchanged looks. They had battled with Niles Compton for over fifteen years, and Senator Garrison Lee before him, on budgets and allocations for the top-secret agency. They grimaced at the thought of lying to the president, but nodded their agr
eement anyway.

  “We’ll do what we can, Dr. Compton,” West said.

  “Good … good,” he said as his good eye closed. “Virginia?”

  “Yes,” she said as she leaned in closer.

  “You have to … help … Overlord … make sure … our … people … do … their jobs. Carl and Jack will need … their help. The unexpected … will … arise … and I only … trust our Group, understand?”

  Virginia backed away when Niles gestured for the two men to come forward.

  “Thank you … I’m afraid all … I can … guarantee … you … is a … possible … hangman’s noose.”

  West straightened, smiled, and then allowed the director of the National Archives to answer for them both. “A noose doesn’t sound that scary, Doctor. Have you ever been a bureaucrat?”

  “It’s quite boring, I assure you,” Sanford finished.

  ONE HUNDRED NAUTICAL MILES EAST OF

  PEARL HARBOR, HAWAII

  The C-130 Hercules made a sharp turn to the starboard as the Air Force transport awaited clearance to enter Hawaiian airspace. The trip across the Pacific had been fraught with choppy weather and high winds. The main reason for that was the combat altitude they flew since leaving Edwards Air Force Base in the high desert of Southern California. The Hercules never once rose above two thousand feet of altitude, necessitating the extended flight time. They had four extra flight crews on board for relief because of the strain caused by flying so low an altitude.

  The skies had been cleared of all civilian aircraft and the world travelers were not at all happy about that as people were all stuck in differing ports of call with no way to get home. The Air Force knew if they had any idea just what could be waiting for them they wouldn’t complain that much. Thus far the only thing the Hercules radar had picked up was the many combat air patrols the navy was running to protect the Seventh Fleet that had hightailed it out of Pearl two days before.

  Strapped in his seat and dozing, Henri Farbeaux had relieved himself of his French Army uniform and replaced it with the desert BDUs—battle dress uniforms—of the United States Army. The only difference was the small French flag on the left breast. The colonel had slept through some of the roughest air of the flight.

  Jack Collins, now dressed the same as Henri, and replete with two black stars on his collar, read from a thick file that had been delivered to him, left by a Pentagon courier at Edwards before they departed. Jack took a deep breath, then unsnapped the seat belt holding him into the barbaric canvas seat. He maneuvered around a few of the resting crew that had been relieved an hour before. The men were worn out and slept soundly. He sat next to Farbeaux and slapped him lightly on the knee. Will Mendenhall stirred across the aisle and moved his cap from his eyes to look at Collins. Jack nodded his head and slapped Henri once more.

  The Frenchman woke and yawned. He saw Collins and sat up. Will noticed the Frenchman didn’t look thrilled to awaken to his old enemy staring at him.

  “I would prefer to wake up to a beautiful woman, General.” He straightened up and yawned again.

  “Yes, I suspect you would.”

  “Are we there yet?” he asked.

  “Almost.” Jack opened the folder and then waved Will over. “I need you to witness this, Captain.”

  “Yes, sir.” Mendenhall crossed over and sat on the opposite side of Farbeaux.

  “Colonel,” Jack held out an official looking document, “before the attack at Camp David, the president signed an order.” He gave the paper to Farbeaux. “This order was also countersigned by the French president.”

  “Two men that are at this very moment very possibly dead?” Henri said with a smirk.

  “Possibly,” Jack answered. “But that doesn’t make this piece of paper any less enforceable. It is a binding and legal document.”

  Henri Farbeaux looked it over and his brows rose.

  “Basically it absolves you of all crimes on U.S. and French soil. The price of this is your complete and utter cooperation in the aforementioned Operation Overlord.”

  “Why such an honor, General Collins?” He saw Mendenhall roll his eyes.

  “It was actually my idea. The alternative was seeing you taken away in handcuffs for immediate prosecution for crimes against both nations, and then for whatever nation was willing to wait in line to get at you.”

  “I see. Am I supposed to say thank you?” he asked with not so much as a small smile.

  “No, Colonel, you are not.” Jack closed the large file and sat back. “It was either you die in prison, or—”

  “Die somewhere else?” he said, cutting Jack off.

  “Exactly. But I’ll profess that your fate will be no different from mine or Will’s. I need you, Colonel, for what … I don’t know yet. But I suspect it will be dirty and in your field of expertise. You are going to be my dirty-deeds man, along with your duties as my chief of staff.”

  “Oh, joy.” Henri folded the paper and placed in the large breast pocket. “Have you any idea what it is we’re assigned to?” Even Mendenhall leaned forward, hoping for an answer.

  “Not a thing, other than we are a part of a fast-reaction force of very special soldiers.”

  “Special? You mean expendable?”

  Jack smiled and then relaxed. “All soldiers are expendable, Colonel, you know that.”

  “That’s why I got out of the business and went to freelancing.”

  “And look how good that turned out,” Will said with an even bigger smile. Then he looked at the silver eagles on the man’s collar and decided that maybe chiding him wasn’t the best idea at the moment. For all he knew the Frenchman had stolen a gun from one of his guards earlier.

  As they relaxed an airman came forward with his mic cable dangling from his flight helmet.

  “General, the pilot thought you may want to see this. Right over there on the port side.” The airman moved off back to the flight deck.

  The three men moved to one of the few windows on the large transport and looked down. Three miles away was a sight none of them had ever been witness to before.

  “Wow, I always wondered what Mr. Everett and Ryan played with when they were with the navy,” Will said.

  In battle formation was the entire Seventh Fleet of the United States Navy Pacific Command, with the exception of the far eastern battle squadrons. In the direct center was the USS George Washington, flanked by her entire support group.

  “They are scattering to keep the Grays guessing. The president and the other leaders were smart enough to get every warship in the world worth anything at sea at the first sign of trouble. This group is out of Pearl and every other Asian port of call and is now awaiting orders.” Jack returned to his seat as the Hercules started its climb to altitude for landing at Hickam Air Force Base.

  As the George Washington battle group steamed beneath them far below, Jack Collins knew that the task force was more than likely headed to the same area of the world where they were destined to fight the war—and the new general had no sound idea where that was.

  THE WHITE HOUSE

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  Giles Camden was wide awake at three o’clock in the morning. He walked around the Oval Office and paused to look at the ornate rug in front of the Lincoln desk that depicted the seal for the president of the United States. He smiled as he remembered the fight the past six years to occupy this office. Once called the most hated politician in the nation by the left wing and middle of the road newspapers and news outlets, until finally his friends of the more right-wing-leaning news organizations started distancing themselves from him, he now stood on the precipice of complete power. It was now time to consolidate that power.

  He walked to the window and looked out at the extensive White House lawn and the many batteries of National Advanced Surface-to-Air Missile Systems (NASAMS) that crowded the green grass. Air Force personnel manned each battery and three companies of Marines had joined the force of capital police and Secret Service agents that sto
od a watchful eye over all. To cap off the entire defense were fifty Delta Force operatives spread throughout the grounds. The acting president placed his hands inside his pockets and cursed his luck that the very same action of the Grays that placed him inside the Oval Office was also the action that was going to keep him, although temporarily, out of it. The Secret Service director had informed him personally that he was to be moved to a more secure location within the hour. He had only come to express his condolences to the first lady in a more private manner.

  Camden sniffed at the rebuke he received when the first lady refused to meet with him for the second time.

  He left the window and paced to the boxed and sealed articles of the man he was replacing that were stacked in the far corner of the room. He sneered at the personal effects of the comatose man who had hated him beyond measure. He wanted to kick out at the sealed containers but refrained when a knock sounded at the door and it immediately opened.

  A young Secret Service agent stepped aside to allow the new president’s press and public relations team inside. Two men entered and the Secret Service agent left without so much as a word or a glance back. Camden had noticed the tightness of the White House staff and security people toward him since he had arrived that afternoon. He knew he had caused considerable controversy when he abstained from staying at the temporary quarters they had waiting for him at Blair House, and had ordered the immediate transfer to his real offices. The first lady had moved with her children into the suite of rooms next to her husband’s at the hospital.

  “Mr. President, we’re getting flak from CNN and NBC Overnight about your hurried entrance into the White House while the nation is still in shock over the attacks. We’re going to take some gut punches on this.”

  Camden eyed the two men and then walked to the window, looked out, and then quickly sat down for the first time behind the Lincoln desk.

  “I cannot project the power we need with other nations by hiding over at Blair House. For the good of the nation we need to be seen on the job. Besides, the damn Secret Service is moving me to a more secure facility very soon, so CNN and NBC can report that one if they want. In the meantime you people get some fodder of me at the White House and on the job to calm the people.”