National Bond Bank, Downtown West Sector
0101 EST
"How likely is it that this service passage will collapse?" asked Gregory nervously.
Tarvey grunted softly ahead of him. "Not very. I'm more surprised they let a passage get this close to the vault in the first place. I mean, look at these walls. We're right inside the bones of this bank." He smacked the wall to his left affectionately. "These things won't be falling apart for centuries till after we're gone."
"Keep it down, guys," Ryckmen softly. "Sound carries, you know."
"Roger that," murmured Tarvey.
The team moved down the passageway carefully, the few lights along the walls dim from both age and coats of dust. Coming to the end, they saw a ventilation grate. Tarvey peered through the louvers, seeing a single Hyena standing around. "One sentry," he subvocalized. "Bunny, gimme a boost."
Bundmeister knelt down and cupped her hands as Tarvey slung his MP5 and drew his sidearm. He gently pushed the grate open and rolled over the lip, dropping into a crouch and bringing the pistol to bear on the Hyena. Spent brass tinkled musically on the floor as Tarvey put two rounds through the Hyena's chest and a third through their throat. "Clear," he said quietly. The rest of the team came into the room. The only way out seemed to be an elevator at the far end.
"Guess we go up," said Ryckmen as he went over and pushed the call button.
The team rode up three floors, coming out into what might have been an employee lounge before Black Friday. Ryckmen looked at the others, a grim expression on his face. "For the moment, they don't know we're here. They may think we're still in the vault, but they can't be sure about it. Sentry below was neutralized without any noise, so we've got that much of an edge. I really do not want to be having to hunker down any longer than we need to, so expect we're going to have to burn up the rest of the subsonic fast. We'll keep Ellis out of the line of fire as much as we can, but we're going to be shooting our way out of here. Just keep cool, scan and breathe, and we'll have a beer with the President in a little while."
Nodding, the team quietly opened the doors out of the lounge and crabbed over to the balcony overlooking a well appointed reception area. Tarvey triggered a pulse, illuminating targets and their hostage. Below them, a comedy seemed to be playing out.
"What's the holdup, Roach?" demanded a Hyena as he kept a weapon half-trained on Ellis. "I've got the damned Division running around and probably already on their way here to snatch the President. I need backup!"
"Keep cool. Those idiots locked themselves in the vault. They're not going anywhere."
Gregory fought the urge to giggle as he heard Roach over the earpiece. Famous last words, he thought.
"Engage at will," subvocalized Ryckmen.
Three round bursts caught the first set of targets completely unaware. The Hyena covering Ellis began looking around for a moment in confusion. Seizing on the distraction, Ellis snatched the weapon away and brought it to his shoulder, letting loose with a long burst of fire before scuttering away behind cover. Pandemonium erupted briefly as the Hyenas realized their captive now had the means to effect his own escape. It ended almost as quickly, with the Division agents firing again at the remaining hostiles and dropping them ruthlessly.
"Friendlies," called out Ryckmen.
"I kind of gathered," replied Ellis dryly. The team made their way down a set of stairs, letting Ellis see they were there as a rescue team. "Division, huh? Good to know the taxpayers' money wasn't completely wasted."
"We try to be worthy of the investment made, Mr. President," said Ryckmen with a cool smile. He tapped his watch briefly. "Casablanca, this is Peacemaker. Hostage secured."
"Get him an earpiece and get him on comms!" snapped Ortega. Gregory reached into a pouch on his vest and pulled out a spare earpiece, handing it wordlessly over to Ellis. The older man put the earpiece in and nodded briefly as Ortega checked the connection. "All right, guys, we've got Warrant Officer Torres in the air and on her way over. Any chance you can get out to the street?"
"We're on the top floor, Manny. I don't know how many Hyenas there are between us and the front door, but it's probably going to be quite a few, even with the ones we've dropped so far. I doubt Roach's escort has showed up, but I wouldn't discount it."
Gregory studied a map of the building and frowned. "We're close to an atrium adjacent to the main lobby. If we can get down through there, we could get onto the street."
"How big is that atrium?" asked Ortega.
"Pretty big. Glassed in, if these notes from ISAC are accurate. Giant skylight, really."
"We'll extract the President through there, then."
"Through the skylight?" asked Tarvey, making sure he'd heard correctly.
"Unless you want to risk him catching a bullet while shooting your way out," Ortega said flatly.
"It'll be all right," soothed Ellis. "I'll just pretend I'm doing boarding ascents back at the Academy."
"I don't imagine the Hyenas are going to simply kick back and watch you leave, Mr. President," warned Ryckmen firmly. "And I know they're not going to be polite about holding their fire."
Ellis smiled thinly at Ryckmen. "Don't worry about me, soldier. I may have gone to Annapolis instead of Quantico or West Point, but I still remember which end of the rifle the bullets come out of. Let's get out of here."
The team escorted Ellis up a flight of stairs on the opposite side of the reception area, then opened a door, revealing a walkway along the top of the atrium. The night sky glittered above them, and the black outline of a helicopter hovered overhead. "Evening, Peacemaker," said Torres over the comms. "If you could stand clear while we make a hole, that'd be really helpful."
"Copy that, Torres," said Bundmeister. "Long as you don't put the bird through the glass. It's a long walk to the White House."
"I'll be careful," Torres laughed as the helicopter's door gunner aimed down and began to fire at the thick tempered glass forming the atrium's ceiling. Shouts came from the far end of the walkway as Hyenas poured out of the door, firing wildly. Gregory and Bundmeister moved behind planters and flipped the selectors to full auto, laying down suppressing fire. Bullets whipped over Gregory's head as more Hyenas filled the walkway on the opposite side of the atrium.
"I don't mean to rush you, Torres," said Ryckmen as he leaned around the doorway with the Model 700 against his shoulder, "but I don't suppose you could speed things up?" He stroked the trigger, putting a round through a Hyena grenadier's head.
"Working as fast as I can. I don't want to be throwing something up into the rotors. Norris, drop a concussion grenade on there, see if that helps." A few moments later, a sharp explosion roared above them. "Almost there, Peacemaker. Get the LZ cleared as fast as you can."
"Yes, mother," muttered Tarvey as he pulled the pin on a grenade and lobbed it across the atrium, putting it behind a knot of Hyenas and sending them flying off the walkway as it detonated. Seeing one of the Hyenas' heavily armored gunners, Tarvey popped in his last full magazine, flipped the selector to full auto, and held the trigger down, emptying the magazine into his target. Surprisingly, the Hyena stayed up for a moment, stunned from the traumatic force of fifty rounds hitting him in less than a second. Tarvey drew his sidearm and emptied that magazine, finally bringing the gunner down.
Glass broke above them and rained down on the walkway, a few shards dropping on the Hyenas, slashing through flesh and bone. Wounded and in shock from the unexpected injuries, they broke cover for a moment, presenting themselves completely for Gregory and Bundmeister to kill.
"Clear LZ!" barked Ryckmen. A Jacob's ladder came down through the hole in the atrium, the skids of the helicopter almost touching the unbroken panes of the ceiling. Tarvey went over and put a boot firmly on the rung closest to the ground, then gripped the steel cables tightly to steady it as Ellis came over, the rifle he'd stolen from his captor slung over his shoulder, and began to climb. Within a couple of minutes, Ellis crawled into the passenger compartment.
"Package is aboard safely," said Torres.
"Copy that, Torres," Ryckmen acknowledged, watching Tarvey release the ladder. "Bug out and fly straight."
"Roger that, Peacemaker. First round's on you when you get back." The helicopter lifted slowly, the door gunner pulling the ladder up completely before it turned and made its way back towards the White House.
"Hostile communications intercepted," intoned ISAC.
"Well, that's a load of crap!" said Roach disgustedly. "Mayhem, it looks like they got him out alive."
"Kill every last one of them," snarled Mayhem, clearly infuriated. "Roach, you have screwed us, you know that? Our gear supply will dry up if word gets back to the Council that we lost the President! Do you read me on this?!"
"We'll get'em. They're not leaving this place alive."
"You know," Gregory said very lightly, "there's a point where stupidity becomes personally offensive to me." His eyes narrowed and his voice hardened. "And I have reached that point."
"I don't doubt he's going to try, Peace," said Tarvey with a feral smile. "But if this is the best he can do, he's going to get himself killed."
"No great loss," Bundmeister growled. She checked the MP5. "I'm out of ammo on this. Peace?"
"Bone dry. Been keeping the mags, but no bullets at all in them. Ricky?"
"Same. Lobo?"
"About the same as I was when we left the vault. Take'em, Ricky. You're better with these than I am." Ryckmen handed the magazines to Tarvey. "Almost done, guys. Just a little further."
The team made their way down to a lower level catwalk, and from there down to the ground floor of the atrium. Tarvey cracked a door open and peeked outside for a moment, then closed it and snorted roundly. "Peace, I do believe I owe you an apology. I've suddenly discovered the point where stupidity becomes personally offensive to me. Those idiots are standing out in the atrium, looking up like we're going to be fast roping over the side of the walkway, like damned turkeys right before the rain."
"Least you've got a little more tolerance than I do,"said Gregory with a thin and bitter smile.
Ryckmen checked the chamber on his rifle, then crouched down. "So we've got a turkey shoot to attend. Let's get it done."
Slipping quietly through the doors, the team set up behind planters, Gregory and Ryckmen in the center, Tarvey and Bundmeister on the wings. The pulse illuminated almost two dozen Hyenas. Each agent pulled out a grenade, then pulled the pin, tossing them on Ryckmen's subvocalized count. Half of the Hyenas died as the grenades went off, terminally surprised by the explosions. The others found themselves taking fire from Gregory's M249 as he traversed along the atrium and tried to get out of the way, more of them falling either to Gregory or Tarvey as he kept them boxed in with three round bursts. Ryckmen went to work on the windows, clearing Hyena snipers one by one, as Bundmeister bounced from cover to cover, catching rushers and unwary Hyenas with loads of double ought buckshot.
When Roach finally appeared, Team Peacemaker turned their weapons on him and poured on the fire, cutting him down within five seconds, leaving nothing but a ruined lump of meat and shredded body armor. Satisfied the atrium had been cleared, they took off their AR shooting glasses and walked out into the lobby. Once they dropped the guns off with the Campus, they had a meeting to attend.
* * *
The White House
0418 EST
"Ah, there we are," Ellis said as the team filed into the Oval Office. He shook each agent's hand firmly. "I wanted to thank you personally. If it wasn't for you, I'd still be at the mercy of those Hyena bastards. We all owe a debt of gratitude to the Division, and the sacrifices you've made to keep this country together. Each of you is a 'doer of deeds' as Roosevelt once put it. Now, it's my responsibility to direct those deeds toward an even greater good."
"We are at your disposal, Mr. President," said Ryckmen politely. He hadn't missed the faint disgust which had briefly flashed over Kelso's face, and he sympathized a little bit. President or no, Ellis was still a politician, and no politician Ryckmen had ever met was absolutely sincere when dealing with the people out on the sharp end. Kelso's experiences probably hadn't been much better.
Ellis made his way behind the desk and rested his fingertips on the desk. "As Agent Kelso suspected, a package of samples of a broad spectrum anti-viral medication were sent to DC as part of a 'continuity of government' measure. We're talking about a radical new way to combat viral infections of any sort, from the common cold to Green Poison itself."
"Some kind of super-vaccine?" asked Gregory.
"Not a vaccine," Ellis replied with a small shake of his head. "A cure. I know where that package is located, but to access it, I'll need the briefcase I was carrying aboard Air Force One."
"Which will be a problem," said Kelso with a faint frown. "We believe the briefcase is in the Capitol, being held by the True Sons. Air Force One went down fairly close to the Capitol, and the True Sons have built up the crash site as a sort of improvised outpost. Early warning outwork for Ridgeway. In a serious fight, it'd get overrun pretty quickly, but it's supposed to be a tripwire to let Ridgeway know he's got company coming."
"Then you'll have to get it back," said Ellis firmly. "I don't care how you do it. Just do it." He sat down slowly behind the desk, looking every inch a President. "If we're going to get the country back on track, we have to be willing to do things that aren't...popular. But I'm not here to woo voters. I'm here to get the job done." He looked at Ryckmen and Gregory, eyes locking on theirs briefly. "And I expect you are, too."
"Indeed we are," said Ryckmen, feeling himself bracing faintly to attention.
"Hell, yeah," Kelso chimed in.
"Then let's get to work, ladies and gentlemen." Ellis tilted his head slightly towards the door. "Dismissed."
As the team filed out of the Oval Office and down the corridor, Gregory's brow was furrowed heavily in thought. "Lowell, how do you know when a politician's lying?"
"When his lips are moving," answered Ryckmen with a vaguely amused look on his face.
"Exactly."
Ryckmen's head snapped over to Gregory, the suddenly harsh tone in the analyst's voice almost shocking. "Wait a minute now, Peace," he began, only to be cut off with a sharp wave of Gregory's hand.
"Not here. Server room. Now." The rest of the team followed Gregory down into the server room which had been set up. He glanced at the JTF staff members sitting at workstations. "Give us the room for a few minutes, guys. Go get some coffee." The JTF staff left the room quietly and Gregory went over to one corner, next to a large server rack. When he was settled, he crossed his arms against his chest. "Something's not adding up here," he began slowly. "I'm not entirely certain why it's not adding up, you understand, but there's something making me itch about the whole situation."
"Come on, Paxton, you can't possibly think he was staying with the Hyenas voluntarily this whole time," said Ryckmen flatly.
"Not voluntarily, but not involuntarily, either. I mean, sure, they had him stashed in a vault. But from what I saw of that space where I found the challenge coin, it didn't look like it was being used as a prison cell. No waste buckets, no trash from food packages or empty soda cans, place was damned near immaculate. Didn't even smell like much of anything other than stacks of money. Now, if I had a VIP sort of guest, I'd want to make sure he was kept comfortable and in a location where I could protect him. Put that way, the vault is probably the closest thing the Hyenas could come to a suite at a five star hotel."
"To what end though?" Tarvey asked thoughtfully. He wasn't agreeing with Gregory, but he found himself wanting to work through the arguments just to make sure he wasn't missing something.
"The end is what eludes me. But the circumstances are nagging at me something awful. Kelso and I had wondered earlier what happened to Ellis after Air Force One was shot down. We were pretty confident that neither the True Sons nor the Outcasts had him, because they'd milk him for every drop of propaganda value they could squeeze out before executing him. Does that sound unlikely to anybody here?" The rest of the team shook their heads. "But Kelso and I never considered the possibility he might have been picked up by the Hyenas. They wouldn't have much of a vested interest in propaganda, but it's entirely possible they could have kept him for entertainment. 'Step right up, boys and girls, and smack the President for a giggle!' And yet, aside from a little stubble, he looks like he's in pretty good shape. A lot better than any JTF trooper or civilian militia member would if they fell into Hyena hands."
"Being fair, Peace, the guy used to be in the Navy," said Tarvey. "And while he was a surface guy, and later a staff weenie, it's not like he let himself go when he started his political career."
"I'll grant you that he may not have kept up to precisely the same physical fitness standards the Navy generally expects. But he looks too good, Ricky. He doesn't look like he survived a plane crash. And he sure as hell doesn't look like he's been anybody's prisoner for any length of time. Plus, there was that little exchange the Hyenas had when we busted him out."
Bundmeister jerked back a little as she recalled the conversation. "Their supplies. That woman Roach was talking to said their gear supplies would dry up if the Council found out they lost the President. Which suggests their supplier has a seat on the Council. Or the Council informed their supplier about their custody of the President and the supplier threatened to cut them off if something happened to him. In that latter case, they've got to be making regular progress reports to the supplier, possibly even showing proof-of-life images or videos."
"Either way, he's a complication in an already highly complicated situation," said Gregory with a firm nod.
"Paxton, I don't want to be that guy, but I think you're chasing pink elephants," Ryckmen said slowly. "Even if there was some sort of situation where the Hyenas were acting more like hosts than captors, this is the President of the United States we're talking about here. Not elected in his own right, to be sure, but the guy who is legally the head of the nation and government. The nation we are sworn to defend, and the government whose continuity we are charged with maintaining."
"To say we're to stand by the President, right or wrong, is morally treasonable to the American public," said Gregory stubbornly. "I'm an analyst, Lowell, and while a good portion of my work involves facts and figures, there's a bit of intuition involved. A good analyst can tell when something's not kosher, even if the numbers look good. And I'm telling you something is rotten in Denmark." He shook his head. "I don't know what exactly it is, but when I figure it out, you'll be the first to know."