The Curse of Medusa

This, after all, was the exact same office in which Franklin Roosevelt had signed the declaration of war against Nazi Germany. This was the office where Harry Truman had given the order to drop the atomic bombs on Japan. This was the office where John Kennedy Jr. had played under the desk while his father navigated through the Bay of Pigs.

The very same desk he was sitting behind right now.

A noise startled him from his daydream.

He looked down to see his cell phone vibrating on the President’s desk — on his desk. He stared at it for a few seconds, reluctant to answer it because he knew who was calling.

Then he snatched it up and took the call.

“Yes?”

“Congratulations!” The voice was ice cold and almost mocking in its tone.

Kimble was silent. He started to feel sick.

“Teddy — are you there?”

“Yes…” the voice was barely a whisper.

“Well speak up then Teddy! Or should I say, speak up Mr President?”

Another pause. “Listen, Klaus… I’m not sure this is going to work out.”

“Listen to me, Teddy, and listen very carefully. You can’t back out now, you little shit. I made you President of the United States. You belong to me and don’t you forget it.”

“No… I’m sorry.”

“Better. I had to kill good men to put you in the Oval Office, Teddy. Better men than you. I still have many unspeakable things to do just to keep you there, President Kimble. Don’t you think that has a certain ring to it?”

“Yes… yes, I suppose it does.” He sounded a little more relaxed now.

“Good. Now you remember why I gave you the job, right Teddy?”

“Of course.”

“I want it released immediately.”

“Sure, but…”

“No buts, Teddy.”

“I’m just saying that these things probably take time. They’re not going to release something like that just because I tell them to. If what you say is true we’re talking about a doomsday weapon that makes nukes look like a Sunday School picnic.”

“Tut tut, Teddy — I am surprised at you questioning my integrity like this. Of course what I say is true! And yes, we’re speaking of something very dangerous indeed — but you’re still talking like a common senator, the President pro tempore of the United States Senate, but you’re not that man anymore, Teddy.”

“No, I guess not…”

“Good guess. This morning I kidnapped Charles Grant and had the Vice President and Speaker of the House assassinated. For this reason, Teddy, and courtesy of the current order of the American presidential line of succession, you are now the President of the United States and the most powerful man on the planet, after me, naturally.”

“I understand.” As he spoke, he watched a young woman on the housekeeping staff gently place a tray of coffee and cookies on the table in the center of the room. Her name badge read Veronica Fisher. She glanced at him and smiled as she left the room and closed the door behind her.

Kiefel continued. “Good. And that is why when you order Archive 7 to release the item in question, they will do as they are commanded.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t forget the catalog number, Teddy.”

Kimble noticed his hand was trembling. “How could I forget?”

“Repeat after me, Mr President: X422387-0.”

“Listen…”

“Say it!” Kiefel barked.

Kimble swallowed hard. “X422387-0.”

“There’s a good president…”

The line went dead.

Teddy Kimble was starting to wish he could turn back time.

* * *

Frank Watkins took the call at his desk. He was still in shock at the news of what was unfolding all around in him in his home city, and he lowered the volume on the TV set in the corner of his office as he picked up the receiver.

“What is it, Mandy?”

“It’s a call from the President, sir.”

Watkins looked confused for a few seconds. “The president of what,” he said annoyed. “The Ford Motor Company?”

“The President of the United States, sir.”

“What?”

“His office is on the line, sir, and they say it’s urgent that the President speak with you right now.”

Watkins widened his eyes and scratched his head. On CNN they were showing pictures of the Jefferson Memorial. It was on fire and looked like it had been bombed. The same thing had happened to the Washington Monument. Now, Watkins was struggling with the issue of evacuating essential staff from the museum when this happens. What the hell would the President of the United States want to talk to the Director of the National Museum of Natural History for?

“Sure…, I mean, of course — put him through at once, Mandy — and then go home and be with your family.”

“Yes, sir… thanks.”

He listened as there was a change of ring-tones and then another woman’s voice came on the line.

He cleared his throat. “Hello?”

“Dr Watkins, this is the Executive Secretary to the President speaking.”

“Hello.”

“I’m going to put you through to the President now.”

“Thank you, and…”

The line clicked before he could finish his sentence.

“Frank, is that you?”

“This is Frank Watkins, sir, yes.”

“This is President Kimble, Frank. I’m calling you from the Oval Office.”