The Curse of Medusa

President Kimble? It had to be Teddy Kimble from the Senate. Things were moving fast, he thought. He wondered if they knew what had happened to President Grant — was he still alive or had the terrorists already done the unthinkable?

“I won’t say congratulations, Mr President. I know this is a terrible time for you to be charged with all this responsibility. This is a truly dreadful crisis.”

Kimble ignored the sentiment. “Frank, listen — I have to ask you something.”

“Anything, Mr President.”

“This is sensitive, Frank, but we need to talk about Archive 7.”

Watkins narrowed his eyes. “Archive 7, sir?”

“Level 7 in the archives under the National Mall, Frank.”

“I know what you’re referring to, sir, it’s just that…”

“Good, I need something released from the archive, Frank, and I need it done in a hurry.”

Watkins’s brow furrowed when he heard the new President’s tone. He sounded desperate and anxious, not qualities he wanted to hear in the voice of his Commander-in-Chief, and it made him suspicious. While the existence of Archive 7 was a long-running rumor on popular conspiracy theory websites, it had never been formally confirmed. More than that, the authorities had initiated a long-running disinformation campaign via agents posing as posters on the internet to rubbish any claims of its existence.

Watkins appreciated that he was one of a small handful of men who knew the top secret storage facility existed, and the others consisted of the Federal Government’s shiniest Top Brass — the President, naturally, being at the center of the inner circle.

But what he couldn’t understand was why Kimble was ordering the release of something from the archive within what could only be minutes of the Twenty-Fifth Amendment being invoked. It all seemed terribly odd to Frank Watkins. He sighed quietly and put his doubts aside. In the final assessment, he was talking to the President of the United States, and one generally did not say ‘no’ to the Commander-in-Chief.

“What do you need, sir?”

Kimble replied without hesitation. “The item in question is X422387-0.”

Watkins made a note of the serial number. There were countless thousands of items stored in Archive 7. It was impossible to know what they all were by serial number without looking them up. All he knew was if it was in Archive 7 then it meant trouble.

He tapped the number into his computer and was surprised to see he did not have the required clearance to see what it was. It simply said TOP SECRET/CODE WORD.

“This can only be released on Executive Order, sir.”

“And I signed that order a few moments ago. EO 15325, Frank — it formally orders the release of Item X422387-0.”

Another pause from Watkins as he contemplated the situation. There were very few things down in the archive that he was denied knowledge of, but this was obviously one of them. Again, he set his suspicions aside and gave Kimble the benefit of the doubt — whatever he was ordering out of the archive was obviously critical to the defense of the nation at this terrible time.

Reluctantly, Frank Watkins spoke into the telephone. “Yes, sir… the item in question will be released as requested.”

“Excellent. My men will be over immediately.”

Kimble ended the call and for a few moments Watkins simply stared into the buzzing receiver. He did not feel good about this at all.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

After several heavy layers of White House security, Joe Hawke and Alex followed the Secretary of Defense into a West Wing elevator where they were met by two US Marines. Moments later they were at the underground level.

“This way, sir.”

As they made their way along a short corridor, Hawke checked a message on his phone and smiled. His back-up was in the city.

They soon reached the entrance to the White House Situation Room and after taking salutes from the junior Marines, a senior officer showed them inside.

Hawke glanced around at the American President’s emergency command bunker and took in the calm but tense atmosphere. The country’s most experienced and senior military officers and CIA officials were struggling to get to grips with the attack.

He turned to Alex and tried not to look like he was in awe. “Have you ever been in here before?”

She shook her head. “Are you kidding?”

Teddy Kimble shuffled across the plush blue carpet and shook Brooke’s hand. “I’m glad you’re here, Mr Secretary.”

Brooke gave a cursory nod in acknowledgement. “So where are we, Mr President?”

For a moment, Kimble almost looked over his shoulder to see who Brooke was talking to, but then he realized once again he was now the Commander-in-Chief. He reminded Hawke of a frightened rabbit.

“We’re up to our necks in shit, Jack,” Kimble said, and ran a trembling hand through a fine head of dyed hair. “They killed Mike Thorn and Todd Tobin and snatched the President right off the street down in Louisiana.”