Sinners by Thomas A Watson

Author:Thomas A Watson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: A-Poc Press LLC
Published: 2020-06-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Kill that fucking dog

Entering the Oval Office, Marshall just waved before heading for a sofa. He saw General Schmidt and Homeland Secretary Hubbard on one sofa. It looked like Schmidt was getting ready for a briefing which made Marshall want to cringe, he had shit to do. On the other sofa he saw Donald Weaver from the president’s cabinet and Hearst, who for all intents and purposes was over the president’s shadow cabinet in everything but name only. Lifting his gaze, he saw Gifford behind the desk with his feet propped up.

“Thank you for getting here so fast, Colonel. I want you to hear what General Schmidt has to report, then tell me about the attack,” Gifford told him.

With a smile Marshall nodded, sitting in one of the chairs as Bolton came running in loaded down like a pack mule as usual. “Congratulations on the promotion,” Gifford called out.

Nodding, “Thank you, Mr. President,” Bolton panted out and set up Marshall’s laptop, then handed Marshall a notepad. Leaning close to Marshall and speaking in a low voice but still breathing hard, “Sorry, Colonel, for taking so long, but the chopper will be ready after refueling. One of the agents put up resistance when I told him the chopper was returning and would park outside until we left. It took some time for him to see it my way,” Bolton told him.

Leaning back in the chair, “You remember his name?” Marshall asked and Bolton nodded. “He’ll leave with us and we’ll give him flying lessons when we reach altitude.”

“Problems?” Gifford asked.

Shrugging, “One of your Secret Service agents, Mr. President,” Marshall told him. “I’ll address it when I leave.”

Clasping his hands over his abdomen as he leaned back in the chair, “Yes, since I ordered all remaining Marines out of the White House and from honor duties in D.C., the security detail has become tedious,” Gifford told him.

Tapping his laptop until it linked with the video screens around the room, Schmidt turned to the president. “Mr. President, did you say something to the Prime Minister? Because the cruise liners pulled in yesterday and each one was carrying four Westland Apaches. They hollowed out the upper structure to turn it into a hanger,” Schmidt commented.

“No. I said something,” Hearst barked. “Sending a few tanks, some light armor, and a few bullets with what they were getting in return was horseshit. I informed him and the rest of the EU that they’d better play nice or I would be the one setting the price per bushel of what they’re getting.”

Beyond shocked ,Schmidt just nodded very impressed. “I should tell you they also sent fuel, in drums. It’s been so long since I’ve seen fuel drums, I didn’t know what they were at first,” Schmidt told him. “It’s no more than five thousand gallons per ship, but they sent it over. Germany also sent over our electronic delivery instead of flying it.”

“Electronic delivery?” Hearst asked.

“Like the Republic, we don’t have any large scale production. The main place was California.

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