Blacksnow Zero Page 2

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Anything else?”

  “I’ve put all the details on this encrypted file,” the general said, holding up a small flash drive. “I just need you to review it one last time and give me written confirmation.”

  Taylor studied Corvan closely, realizing the man was smart and wily. “My verbal okay isn’t enough?”

  “I’d prefer it in writing, in case things go south.”

  Taylor barked out a laugh. “A wise man. No problem. I’ll read it and give you a letter today.”

  The general stood up. “Is there anything else, sir?”

  “Want to join me for a drink before you go?”

  “No thank you, sir. I don’t drink.”

  “Very well. I’ll call you later today.”

  The general saluted, did a crisp about-face and walked out of the office, closing the door behind him.

  Taylor pulled out the bottle of scotch, poured himself another large drink and plugged the flash drive into the computer on his desk. He began reading as he sipped his drink:

  Project Blacksnow

  For the Vice President’s Eyes Only

  Project BlackSnow has been developed in order to free the United States from its crushing debt. Due to the massive national deficits the U.S. has run over the last twenty years, the country has had to borrow trillions of dollars. At first we borrowed from our citizens, but later had to rely on Japan and other countries to buy our Treasury bonds. After the Japanese nuclear reactor disaster in 2011, and the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020, the Japanese were unable to keep buying our Treasury bonds in large quantities.

  The Chinese stepped in, and now hold over 89% of our debt. Because of this, America’s foreign and even domestic policy has been dictated by the Chinese government for the last several years. BlackSnow has been developed to free our country from their domination. Although this plan does not strictly adhere to our Constitution, it is still felt that doing nothing is a much worse option. We must take action, if our nation is to survive.

  Operation BlackSnow will take thirty days to complete. Two days ago, the plan was initiated. Seven days from today, the operation will be irreversible….

  Taylor took another sip of his drink and savored the taste. Then he continued reading, knowing the best parts of the write-up were yet to come.

  27 Days to Zero Hour

  Fairfax, Virginia

  Erica Blake drove her government-issue Ford Explorer through the open gate of the senator’s estate and wound around the long driveway, the tires crunching on the gravel.

  Pulling up to the front of the mansion, she surveyed what was left of the place. Yellow crime-scene tape dangled from the scorched brick walls and the nearby trees. Parts of the roof were charred and collapsed in places. As she got out of the SUV, the acrid smell of smoke filled her lungs.

  Two Fairfax County police cruisers were parked in front, along with an unmarked sedan.

  As she walked up the wide flagstone steps, a uniformed cop came out of the blackened front door under the portico.

  “This is a crime scene, lady,” the uniform said. “It’s a restricted area.”

  She pulled her badge from her jacket, flashed it. “FBI. Looking for a Detective Gray.”

  He motioned with his head and stepped aside.

  Climbing over the charred remains of the entryway, she stepped into what must have been the foyer. The burnt odor was even stronger here and she choked back a cough.

  A wide marble staircase led up to the remains of the second level. The sky was visible through the gaping holes in the roof.

  Glancing around, she spotted a slender man in a rumpled suit and walked over.

  “I’m Erica Blake,” she said, holding up her badge. “You Gray?”

  The man gave her a hard look. “Glad you could make it, Special Agent.”

  “I was on vacation – they pulled me back to help you clean up this mess.”

  “Listen, sweetheart, I know the FBI has priority. But if you stay out of my way, you can follow me around. You might learn something.”

  Erica glared at him. “I’m not your damn sweetheart.”

  Gray’s eyes widened, then a small smile spread on his face. “I’ve heard about you – you got quite a rep for being a bitch.”

  She stabbed a finger on his chest. “Call me a bitch again and I’ll cut your balls off. Understood?”

  He held up his palms. “Okay. Let’s start over. We’re both assigned to this case, so why don’t we work together.”

  Erica shrugged. “Fine with me. As long as you know the ground rules. What do you have so far?”

  The man pulled out a small notebook and started reading from it. “Senator Carpenter, his wife, and his bodyguard were shot. Multiple rounds. They were killed on the second floor, close to their bedrooms. The forensic techs say the same type of gun was used on all three. It appears the place was torched afterwards. An accelerant was used.”

  “The bodies?”

  “At the morgue.”

  She nodded. “Signs of robbery?”

  He waved a hand in the air. “Hard to tell. Most of the stuff is crispy.”

  “If I remember correctly, the senator had two kids.”

  “They were away.”

  “Lucky for them.”

  Gray closed the notebook. “If it was a simple robbery, not sure why they’d burn the place down.”

  Erica shrugged. “Maybe the guy was trying to cover up something.…”

  “Like what?”

  She glanced around the foyer, mulled it over. “This is a fancy place, or was. Probably had extensive electronic surveillance. Cameras, alarms, motion detectors. How’d the perp get through without triggering the alarm and alerting the bodyguard?”

  Gray shook his head. “Dunno.”

  “Looks like the perp knew what he was doing. A pro.”

  The cop gave her an appraising look. “You could be right, Blake.”

  “I know I’m right. The question is, was it an inside job? Did the help sell them out?”

  Gray shrugged. “The Carpenter’s didn’t have any live-in staff. A maid and a grounds keeper came in several times a week.”

  “Interview them?”

  “Yup. Nothing there.”

  “Do it again, Gray.”

  He was about to argue, but her cell phone buzzed. She took the call and held the phone to her ear.

  She listened, made a face and said, “Okay.”

  Then she turned off the phone and handed Gray one of her cards. “Got to go. My boss needs me. But let me know what else you find – I’ll talk to you later.”

  Gray took the card and put it in his rumpled jacket.

  She turned, almost walked out of the house, then turned back and smiled. “I’m really not as big a bitch as people say.”

  The man nodded, but didn’t look convinced.

  ***

  Erica parked her SUV in the massive underground lot below the FBI building in D.C., then made her way through the security checkpoints and up to her cubicle on the fifth floor. The open cube was one of many that occupied the noisy bullpen. All were filled with agents, mostly male, who hunched over computers, their ears glued to phones. But she got so little sleep that this place was more of a home than the drab apartment she had nearby.

  Booting up her laptop, she checked messages, grabbed a lukewarm cup of coffee from the break room, and headed up to the sixth floor. No sense in postponing the inevitable.

  Special Agent Justin Temerius’ office was one of a row of glass enclosed spaces that lined the north wall. She tapped on the glass door and went in, then slouched on the hard plastic visitor’s chair that fronted his desk.

  Crossing her arms, she said, “Wanted to see me?”

  Temerius scowled at her. The man was in his fifties, with graying hair and a thick, salt-and-pepper mustache. He had a sallow complexion, as if he never got any sun. “Agent Blake. How good of you to come see me.”

  “If I could avoid it, I
would.”

  His expression didn’t change. “I wanted a progress report on the Carpenter case.”

  “Just got to the scene, but you called me away.”

  “I see. A pity.” He brushed his mustache with his hand. “Pity about your vacation, too. Hated to cut that short – but duty calls. Couldn’t be helped.”

  Her voice dropped to a whisper and she leaned forward in the chair. “You’ve got ten agents working for you. I guess they were all busy.”

  Temerius gave her an arrogant smile. “You’re my best.”

  “I am the best damn agent you’ve got. But I won’t kiss your ass and that’s why you cut short my vacation.”

  He smiled again. “Not true. You’re just being paranoid.”

  She noticed a letter opener on his desk, reached over and picked it up. “This thing isn’t sharp, but I’m sure I could gouge your eyes with it.”

  A frown crossed his face and he pushed his chair back, obviously frightened by her threat. “Blake, don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

  She waved the opener in the air. “I regret this isn’t a switchblade. They’re more efficient.” Then she dropped the opener on the desk and laughed. “Just kidding, boss. You know me, I’m a kidder.”

  The frown didn’t leave his face. “You’re dismissed. Just keep me informed.”

  Erica stood up. “No problem, Justin. But pull that vacation shit on me again, and I’ll gut you like a fish. Comprende?”

  The man nodded and she turned and left the office, a smile on her face.

  ***

  She drove through the rural Fairfax County countryside, the twisting roads lined with oak trees. There were few homes, and they were on large properties that sat well back from the road. It’s a beautiful part of Virginia, she thought. I wish I could afford to live in this area. But on an agent’s salary, that’s never going to happen.

  Her phone buzzed and she unclipped it from her belt. It was Detective Gray.

  “I’m just leaving the crime scene,” Gray said, “where are you?”

  “Headed there now,” she replied, as she navigated the car around another turn.

  “The M.E. called me. Said the final ballistics report came back. They were 9 mil slugs. One other thing – the accelerant used was most likely an incendiary grenade.”

  Erica mulled that over a moment. “That kind of ordnance isn’t very common. Military source?"

  “Could be.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Talked with the maid and groundskeeper again and also did a background check. They came up clean. Both have been with the Carpenters over five years. Their bank balances don’t show anything out of the ordinary. I don’t think there’s anything there.”

  “Okay, Gray. I’m going to talk to some of the neighbors, see if they noticed anything suspicious.”

  She hung up and continued driving through the scenic countryside.

  A mile from the senator’s estate she spotted a large farmhouse, set well back from the road. Probably one the closest neighbors, she thought.

  Pulling into the gravel driveway, she went past a stable and parked in front of the sprawling farmhouse. Unlike most of the new construction in the area, this house looked as if it’d been here a long time. Old money.

  Climbing out, she pulled her badge and strode up the wooden steps to the front door.

  An old woman opened the door, carrying a double-barreled shotgun. The woman was probably in her eighties, with gray hair pulled into a bun. “Saw you coming,” she said. “Can I help you?”

  Erica flashed her badge. “FBI. Special Agent Blake.” She pointed at the shotgun. “Expecting trouble?”

  The woman grinned. “Not really. But I don’t get too many visitors. And after my husband passed away, I don’t take chances.”

  “Smart. But you can put that down. I’m just interviewing some of the people in the area.”

  The woman leaned the gun inside the door. “Come in. It’s not often I get to talk to an FBI agent. You remind me of my granddaughter.”

  They went inside and sat on Early-American style rocking chairs in the living room.

  “I’m Telusa Smith,” the lady said, as she began to rock in the chair. “My family’s owned this place for over a hundred years.” Her voice dropped. “Course, I’m the only one left, now.”

  “I see. I’m investigating the death of Senator Carpenter. His place was burned down the other day. You heard?”

  “Of course. I may be old, but I watch TV. It’s been all over the news.” A glint came in her eyes. “I also use the internets…imagine that.”

  Erica nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Do you remember anything unusual that evening?”

  Mrs. Smith stopped rocking. “Yes. My electricity went off. I remember it well, ‘cause I was up reading. Couldn’t sleep that night.”

  “I see. How long was it out?”

  “Probably four, five hours. I called the power company right away and they said the area around here was having a blackout.” Mrs. Smith’s face brightened. “But they fixed it the next day.”

  “Okay. See anything else that night? Any strangers or something else odd?”

  The woman began rocking again. “Nope.”

  Erica stood and handed Smith one of her cards. “Thank you for your time. You’ve been very helpful. If you think of anything else, my number’s on the card.”

  A frown crossed the woman’s face. “Leaving already? Why don’t you stay awhile and I’ll make us some tea. Would you like that?”

  Erica smiled, feeling a little sad for the lonely woman. “Wish I could, ma’am. But I’ve got to continue canvassing.”

  Mrs. Smith nodded, holding the card tightly. “I’ll be sure and call you, if anything else comes up.”

  Erica turned and walked out of the house, grateful she had stopped there. That blackout, she thought, might not be a coincidence.

  26 Days to Zero Hour

  Beijing, China

  General Wu Chang rubbed his jaw as he waited in his spacious office thinking about the upcoming videoconference. As chief of staff of the armed forces of the People’s Republic of China, he had many duties. But the task of communicating with the American president was one of the most important. A military man his whole life, Chang disliked this part of his job, but it was unavoidable. The Premier himself had assigned him the task.

  Just then his pert assistant, Captain Lin, came in his office and said, “The President is on, sir.” The young woman’s shapely figure was obvious, despite her dowdy military uniform. She turned and quietly closed the door.

  Chang glanced at his watch and waited a full five minutes. It was good to keep the man waiting. While he killed time, he looked down at his crisply pressed uniform and tidied up the numerous ribbons that were displayed on his chest.

  Finally, he turned on the large monitor on his desk and the secure signal came to life.

  The image of U.S. President Wilson appeared on the screen, sitting behind a desk in what Chang recognized was the Oval Office.

  “Hello, General,” the man said with a forced smile. “Good to see you again.”

  “Good to see you also, Mr. President,” Chang replied in flawless but heavily accented English.

  The general studied Wilson closely and noticed the subtle changes in his appearance over the last several years. His eyes looked sunken and his hair thinner. The suit he wore seemed a few sizes too big, as if the man had lost a lot of weight. The American president had aged considerably since taking office.

  “Your assistant Lin said you needed to speak with me,” Wilson said. “Something important, she said.”

  “Yes, Mr. President. We have been reviewing your request to purchase additional quantities of your Treasury bonds.” He paused to let that sink in. “We are considering it.”

  A worried look came over Wilson’s face. “Yes, we need that…in fact…the sooner the better.”

  “It is a large amount of money that you are borrowing, Mr. President. A signi
ficant amount. As usual, we expect something in return.”

  A slight twitch appeared on Wilson’s left eye and he tried to blink it away. “What…what do you have in mind this time, General?”

  Chang waited a moment before answering, then said, “Our space program is now in full swing and as your program lacks sufficient funds, we recommend you close NASA completely. We would like to access your rocket booster technology. We also want to have your space scientists come here, to work on our program. I am sure you will agree, Mr. President, it is a win-win situation.”

  The president loosened his tie. “But shutting NASA down…that would be a major setback for us.”

  “Mr. President, you really do not have the money to keep that program going. I am sure you realize that.”

  “But you’ve got to understand, the American people…will be angered by such a thing.”

  Chang leaned forward in his seat. “They would be more angry, Mr. President, if they did not receive their Social Security checks, or Medicare, welfare or food stamps. Now that would be tragic.”

  Wilson said nothing for a long time, but eventually his shoulders slumped and he nodded. “Yes, I can see your reasoning. I agree to your terms.”

  “Very good, Mr. President. I just have one more request.”

  Wilson’s eyes bulged, but he said nothing.

  Chang brushed a piece of lint off his immaculate uniform. “Mr. President, we ask that your naval 7th Fleet, which patrols the waters of the Pacific Ocean, in the future limit their patrols to the coastal areas of the United States.”

  “That’s preposterous, General,” the man said, alarm in his voice. “That would leave our allies, Japan, South Korea, and Australia, without U.S. support. Not to mention our state of Hawaii.”

  “Do not worry, Mr. President. Our naval fleet has grown over the last ten years. We would be glad to patrol the Pacific in your place. As for Hawaii, I have vacationed there many times. It is a wonderful place and we will protect it as if it were our own.”

  Wilson’s face contorted with evident anger. Then he shook his head. “I can’t agree to that, General.”

  Chang smiled. “Mr. President, be reasonable. We are close allies, are we not? We are your biggest creditor. We purchase the majority of your Treasury bonds. No one else wants them anymore. We are only trying to get a small return for our investment. Is that so unreasonable, sir?”