Stories Test Post [Le Tres]

Grey

Prologue

Year: 2029

Washington, D.C.

Vladimir Federov, Secretary of Defense

“We’re live here at the final ruling at the Supreme Court case,” I take note of a reporter’s voice not too far away from me, and it crosses my mind why they are allowing the press inside. Let them wait outside in the cold, even their situation will be better than mine.

My eyes dart over to the President, who’s sitting next to Elizabeth Silver, Secretary of Justice. His grin seems almost plastered on his face, and the thought crosses my mind that I would love to rip it off his face.

Another tick of the clock, another second passed by. I realize that isn’t the clock; there is no clock here, but the nearly inaudible click of a closing door as Michael Deptford, Chief Justice, enters the room. He exchanges glances with a few people; I’m not one of them, and I don’t know who they are.

Deptford straightens his robes and takes his seat. The other justices look worried, and they should be. This case has been going on for a year now, since last December, and in May of this year, it was ruled that the eight other justices would not have a say in the final decision of the case; that Deptford and Deptford alone would give the final ruling.

Now it’s a cold, snowy morning on December 21st, and today the court must give their final ruling. Deptford had been postponing this for as long as he could, but in the end, he has to decide where his loyalties lie. And he has, that’s apparent as his eyes dart around the courtroom.

“Vladimir Federov, United States Secretary of Defense, has been charged with three counts of espionage, two counts of tax evasion, and six counts of falsehood under oath. The sentence is ten years.”

As everyone stands and the yelling begins, I imagine this world, all of its entirety for the last thirty years as a chessboard.  And for Cross, this is checkmate.

 

 

 

Chapter 1

Year: 2044

Washington, D.C.

President Atticus Cross

“It’s about time.” I say before Forbes even takes a seat. I swirl my glass of scotch and it reflects in the dim lamp next to my desk, but besides that, no other light exists in the room. On the left wall of the room sits a large bulletin board, with many names, pictures and numbers. There are many other things in this room, but nothing of significance.

This isn’t the oval office. The oval office is where the public stuff happens. This is where the strings are pull. This is where the shots are called.

“Yes…” my Secretary of State, Lucas Forbes agrees. “And if he’s decided to put himself back on the grid, so are we.”

He rubs the skull-topped handle of his cane sword, which I know is already deeply stained with blood.

“We fucked up that first try,” my glare hardens. “And since we couldn’t kill him, we tried to ruin him.”

Forbes picks up on the use of the word ‘try’.

“It didn’t work.” Forbes agrees. “All it did was bring more attention to him. And now that’s he back on the grid, we need to make a move before he does. Whatever he can get his hands on, he will. He’ll try every way possible to take us out.”

“Problem is,” the door opens, revealing Max McDowell, my Vice President. “He knows our secret, a good enough way to ruin you already.”

“True, true.” I ponder this. Federov was the only man who we couldn’t kill. He was untouchable. And as soon as we had an opening, we pounced on him. Problem with that was, we didn’t plan. I just told Forbes to go kill him.

“Uh, Mr. President?” Lucas asks, and by the tone of his voice, it sounds like he’s said this multiple times.

“What?” I study him.

“We need to move, and soon.”

“Forbes!” Max shouts, “Don’t you remember what happened the last time we ‘acted quickly’?”

“I know…” Lucas stands and walks over to the bulletin board, and draws the blade from his cane sword. He uses it as a pointer and points at the picture of Vladimir Federov, traces along the red line and finds the picture of Jakob Fritzkopf.

“The director of the CIA,” I say, acknowledging it. “A man we believe may be helping Federov.”

“He’s untouchable.” McDowell mutters from the back of the room.

“Politically, yes.” Forbes knows exactly what I mean.

I nod for McDowell to leave, and Forbes closes the doors and takes a seat, straightening his long, black trench coat.

“It’s time to sharpen your sword.” I whisper at a volume Forbes has become accustomed to during meetings like these. “Walk with me.” I rise and straighten my black tie, buttoning my jacket. Forbes opens the large oak doors and we exit, locking the room.

There is little conversation as we walk calmly down a flight of stairs until reaching the bottom floor of the White House: a tunnel to the evacuation bunker, something that would be used in the case of a nuclear strike, an attack on the White House, etcetera.

At the landing of the final flight of stairs, a small pipe extends before you take a right, heading towards the tunnel. Forbes sticks his cane into the pipe and cranks it left, and gears can be heard turning. He pulls it out and a brick wall swings open.

“After you,” I say, and Forbes enters the weapons storage. I glance to the immediate left, where a collection of pistols rest. Towards the back of the room sits larger guns, MP7s and ACRs, along with a few shotguns. There’s a collection of knives to the immediate left, along with a gauntlet that conceals a knife near your wrist. Forbes and I make our way to the technology area as the brick wall shuts.

Our footsteps echo on the cold cement floor, but I know no one can hear us down here. We reach the far right of the room and I reach out and grab a small, poker chip sized disk with wiring stretching its length. I place it in Forbes’s hand.

“You know what to do.” I tell him. He nods and leaves.

 

 

Chapter 2

Year: 2044

Washington, D.C.

Jakob Fritzkopf, Chairman of the CIA

The dim bulb hanging from my ceiling illuminates a shadow. I glance up from my desk and see Lucas Forbes, Secretary of State.

“Greetings, Mr. Forbes.” I say in a monotonous tone. “Please, have a seat.”

Forbes slowly lowers himself into a seat, never making eye contact. When he finally speaks, he still refuses to do so as he says, “I’m here to collect files on Vladimir Federov under direction of President Cross.”

“Well good for you.” I respond.

As it appears Forbes has nothing more to say, I turn around in my chair and face my computer again.

He makes a grunting noise.

“You’re still here?”

“You can either give me files, or you can let your brains be on that desk instead of the files.”

“Don’t play games with me, Mr. Forbes.”

“I’m not letting you get in my head.”

“I’m already in your head.”

He pauses and takes a glance to his left as I glance at my watch and slowly turn around, facing a bulletin board, with many pictures, names, and newspaper headings pinned to it.

“I would prefer if the President had come to see me personally.” I say to Forbes.

“Well he didn’t. So if you would kindly give me the files, I could leave you to peace.”

“Oh, I plan for you to leave me at peace one way or the other.”

“Anything you do to me will only further confirm Cross and McDowell’s suspicions.”

I turn to him, smirking. I know he’s noticing the mistake of his words as his eyes meet mine for the first time in this meeting.

“You’ve said too much, Mr. Forbes.”

Forbes pulls a pistol from his jacket, but I pay no mind.

“There was once a man by the name of J. Edgar Hoover, 1st Director of the FBI. And do you know what he once said, Mr. Forbes?”

I take a sip of scotch before continuing.

“That the FBI- in my case, the CIA- were a fact gathering organization only. That they didn’t condemn anyone… and that they didn’t justify anyone. And you know something, Mr. Forbes?”

“Mm?” Forbes still holds the gun by his side.

“It was the biggest lie he ever told.”

In a split second I dive for Forbes, drawing a knife from my jacket. He fires, the bullet lodging itself in my desk. I jab the knife into his abdomen, and he drops the pistol and slouches into me as blood pours from him. I let him fall to the ground and I bend over, picking up the pistol.

“You are meddling in things that will only bring you deeper into conspiracy upon conspiracy upon conspiracy. There are secrets that not even the cold blooded killer of the President- nor the President himself- knows. There’s more to everything you think you know it all about. And I think that’s enough for now.”

I throw the gun onto Forbes, knowing he will die soon enough.

5 Responses

  1. Moral never assassinate Archduke Franz Ferdinand

    Like

  2. Hey, this looks familiar.

    Like

  3. “Le Tres”
    Le is French and Tres is Spanish…

    Like

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