Read Firestorm: Book III of the Wildfire Saga Online
Authors: Marcus Richardson
Svea winced as she unfolded her long frame from the chair.
"I could easily skip the food and go for a nice hot soak and a year's worth of sleep."
Reginald appraised her figure and decided immediately the one-piece orange jumpsuit did her no justice at all.
Even covered in grime and filth as she was, Svea was striking.
"Pardon me, my lord, but you're receiving an incoming transmission from Mistress Renolds,"
Stefan's voice echoed out of the intercom system.
"Thank you very much, Stefan," Reginald said, keeping his eyes on Svea.
The change was subtle, but the rivalry between her and Jayne lingered on.
The faint tick in her cheek and the tightness around her eyes when the other woman's name was mentioned gave her feelings away.
Reginald loved getting a rise out of his girls.
He turned and activated a large monitor on the wall.
Jayne appeared on the screen.
Reginald immediately grew concerned—she was flushed and out of breath.
Her hair had flecks of dirt in it, and her face was smudged with what looked like blood.
She glanced over her shoulder and said something off camera.
Reginald spotted movement behind her and recognized Gruber, one of his Secret Service plants.
"Jayne!
What a surprise–"
"I don't have time for pleasantries, Reginald.
It's all come apart!"
"What's happened?"
"The God damn Marines!
They attacked the White House."
"I'm sure you're perfectly safe in your Bunker," Reginald replied.
"Did you see we have company…?" he said, gesturing toward Svea.
"No I did not see…" Jayne's eyes focused on Svea.
Her lips compressed into a tight line and her nostrils flared—the hate was there, then gone in an instant, slammed down under her usual tight control.
She blinked and returned to professional focus.
"Glad to see you made it out," Jayne said in a flat voice.
"Thanks," Svea replied in kind.
"Isn't this wonderful?
It's like we're getting the band back together," Reginald said.
"Listen," Jayne blurted, "the White House has fallen.
They're about to breach the Bunker—I barely made it out with Gruber and the supplies."
Reginald grew deadly serious.
"It's that bad?"
"Yes!
You think I'd crawl through this damn tunnel for fun?
Look, I broke two nails!"
She held up a blurry hand and wiggled fingers in front of the camera.
"I'm sure you'll survive.
Were you able to bring the data files–"
"Yes, yes—I got all your precious computer files, including all the banking records you requested.
At great risk to myself and Gruber, I might add…"
Reginald nodded.
"Your sacrifice shall not go unrewarded.
Now—what you need to do is get home."
Jayne's eyes flicked to Svea and back to Reginald.
"Now?"
Reginald forced himself not to smile.
"Of course!
The Council is on the verge of panic.
The flu is crippling Europe and about to devastate China.
No one has heard from the King since yesterday.
They're running scared.
Things will soon get…interesting, I think."
Reginald looked to Svea and back at Jayne.
"Now is the time for us to come together—to survive.
Come home, Jayne."
She sighed.
"Fine.
Soon as I get out of this godforsaken city, I'll head home.
There better be clean clothes and a hot shower waiting for me when I get there."
The transmission went dead.
Reginald shut the monitor off and turned back to Svea.
"Well… I think that went about as well as could be expected, no?"
The corner of Evelyn's lip twitched.
"Probably."
Reginald ushered her to the door.
"Stefan will see that you get your old room back."
Reginald put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed,.
He had to hide his surprise when her shoulders stiffened momentarily.
"Thank you," she stammered, pulling away.
"Now take a shower before you drop any more dirt on my floors." He shooed her out the door and watched as she limped down the hall.
"We'll talk later."
Svea flashed a smile over her shoulder and followed the guard.
Reginald stood there in the doorway a moment until she turned the corner and disappeared.
His smile faded.
He stepped back inside the study and shut the door.
"I shall be keeping my eye on you."
C
HAPTER
29
Washington, D.C.
The White House.
C
HARLIE
LOOKED
UP
FROM
his computer.
"Don't hang over my shoulder, man.
If you want to do something, try forcing the doors—find something to pry the damned thing open once I bust the lock."
Cooper shifted uncomfortably on his injured leg.
The pain was wearing on him, but he forced it from his mind.
Now was not the time to get sloppy because he was injured and tired.
He let his rifle hang by its tactical sling and searched through the chaos of the President's Study.
"Not sure there's gonna be anything in here to help us—most of the shit in here looks like it's made of wood.
Can't imagine that'll be much use against a steel blast door."
"Well…" muttered Charlie, "if we're lucky, when I break this the door might pop on its own."
Cooper leaned on a chair as he examined the debris field before him.
"You really think you can break that thing?
Let's just slap some give glue on it and call it a day."
"Now you're talking.
Let's blow something up," added Jax from the Oval Office.
Charlie sighed and looked up from his terminal.
"On any other day, I'd give myself a 30% chance of hacking the pad."
He looked back at the computer screen.
"But not today.
With the intel NSA handed us before we left, I think we've got a damn good shot of breaking the encryption.
It's just going to take a little longer."
"Striker 2-1, Cutter.
Package is on station.
Standby for delivery,
" announced General Rykker's control center.
We're out of time.
Cooper looked up at the ceiling out of habit.
"Roger that, Cutter.
We're waiting on you."
"Do you have access to the elevator?"
Cooper glanced at Charlie.
He shrugged, never taking his eyes off his screen.
"I…we're almost through.
Shouldn't be long now," Cooper said.
"Well, make it snappy—the loyalists are stirring up the local population.
We're running out of time."
"Striker 2-1, Actual, Overwatch.
I can confirm that—I got noncoms roaming the streets now.
Seein' more than a few of 'em pick up discarded weapons."
"Copy that, Overwatch, keep me posted."
Cooper put his hands on his hips.
"What's your ETA?"
Charlie looked over his shoulder.
"How's now?"
He tapped a button and a series of bangs and pops echoed through the wall.
The elevator door opened two inches and seized.
The hiss of escaping air brought a smile to Cooper's face.
He put a hand to his ear.
"Cutter Actual, Striker 2-1.
We have breached the elevator.
Repeat: Striker has access to the elevator."
"Copy that Striker, good work."
"Coop!
Somebody order a pizza?" called out Jax from the Oval Office.
He stepped back as a squad of Marines tromped in, six men cursing and grunting under the weight of the large rectangular box.
They carefully set it down next to the elevator with a solid
thump
.
Cooper looked at the small cloud of dust that encircled the photocopier-sized object.
"It's a little bigger than I expected."
"Said no woman ever," muttered Charlie as he packed up his gear.
One of the Marines snickered.
"Yeah well," said one of the Marines, "all that fancy talk about these things being the size of a suitcase is still a decade away."
Cooper stared at the man.
He wore combat fatigues like the rest of the Marines, but he carried neither rifle nor pack.
Cooper kept his hands on his rifle.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Ari Levinson—I'm with R&D, Fort Meade.
This is my baby."
"Marines!
I need some muscle.
Get this fucking door open so we can shove this thing down their throats," said Charlie as he stood.
He snapped the leads and control wires from the biometric pad and stuffed his gear back into his rucksack.
Charlie supervised the Marines as they grunted and strained to force the elevator door open using nothing but muscle and stubbornness.
He turned his attention to Levinson.
"Here, help me with this–get those latches at the far end," Levinson said pointing at the device.
Cooper nodded and moved to unlatch the large metal straps.
In unison, the two men lifted the heavy metal container off the device.
They put it aside and Levinson set to work powering up the machine.
"This thing really gonna work?" asked Cooper.
He blinked at Levinson's withering glare.
"Hey, no offense–it's just I've never seen one of these things smaller than a battleship."
Levinson looked back at his work and sighed as he connected wires and threw switches.
"Electromagnetic pulse devices are shrinking all the time.
This one here is one of the smallest ones I've been working on."
The scientist grew muttered to himself as he turned knobs and dials.
Cooper heard a low warbling hum emanate from the guts of the machine and lights flashed on the outside.
He reflexively took a step back.
Levinson gently laid a hand on top of the machine and gave it an affectionate pat.
"Okay, so she probably won't take down the entire security grid, but if we get her down that elevator shaft, I guarantee you'll get through the door at the bottom."
Cooper looked past Levinson and watched the Marines force the elevator door halfway open.
Charlie urged them on with curses and insults.
Cooper glanced down at the machine.
"No offense, but my first suggestion was to drop a bunch of C4 down the shaft and hit the trigger."
"None taken.
Every four-star out there wanted to do the same thing–find an obstacle and blow it the hell up.
Fine for most things, I guess.
But this is the White House.
We can't just go in here and destroy the place—I mean, more so…"
He shrugged.
"The President may want to come back and live here, right?"
"Won't this thing destroy all the circuitry or…?"
"Oh sure, the circuits on the elevator shaft and the door, the car itself, and probably everything within about 50 feet down the hallway will all be fried to hell.
But it's a lot easier to replace circuits and wires than it is to replace half the Bunker when you're 10 stories underground…" replied Levinson as he threw one final switch.
The floor trembled and Cooper's teeth rattled.
"Is it…supposed to do that?" asked Cooper is he pointed at the machine.
The noise increased, and the scientist had to shout.
"Oh yeah!
She's almost ready now!"
He turned to face Charlie and the Marines.
"Hurry up!"