Apache Dawn - - (classic fiction .TXT) 📗

question what the hell they’re risking their necks for! It’s why General Rykker has dropped off the grid and why Marine units around the globe are mobilizing. Oh,” he said with a grin. “You didn’t know that, did you?”

“It’s going to get worse, sir,” said Admiral Bennet. “When the fleet Marines find out about the Commandant’s actions…”

“Admiral,” said Jayne in a husky voice that made the President want to melt into a puddle on the floor. “This cannot be allowed to get out of hand.”

The old man laughed. “And what would you have me do about it, Miss…whoever the hell you are? Why are we even talking to this woman, Mr. President? This is ridiculous—”

“Because I’m ordering you to talk to her. I have appointed Ms. Renolds here Special Assistant to the President for Homeland Security and Counter-terrorism. Is there a problem with that?” asked the President in a drunken voice.

“You’re damn right there’s a problem. You look like you’re unfit for the office. Sir. You bring in this…this woman…”

“If that’s the way you feel—”

“You are a married man, for Christ’s sake!” bellowed the Admiral.

“I’ll have your resignation on my desk in the hour and I thank you for your service to our country.” The President leaned his head back and called out, “Kill his feed, please.”

The Admiral’s shocked face disappeared as his screen went blank. General Harrison and General Andrews looked like they had been slapped.

“Sir, this is preposterous! It’s unheard of—”

“Kill the good General’s feed, as well. You’re fired too, General Harrison.”

“What!?”

“Kill that one, too,” he said, pointing at the Air Force General. “Bye bye, birdie,” chuckled the President.

When all the Joint Chiefs were gone, the President leaned back in his chair. “There, it’s done, just like you asked. Can we leave, now?”

“Not yet, love.” Jayne slowly, ever so carefully so as to remain in contact with the President as long as possible, extricated herself from his grasping hands. She adjusted her blouse and skirt and tried to appear more businesslike.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I believe the President has something he’d like to say to you.” She turned and smiled at him.

“Oh. Ah, Jayne is going to run these meetings for me from now on. She speaks with my authority. I’m making her my Chief of Staff. Got it?” His hands started to shake. His subconscious mind was screaming that this was wrong, that it was betraying everything he’d ever stood for…but his thirst for Jayne, her body, her scent, her laughter, her touch…it was too much. He’d give anything, do anything to appease her and he knew it. He sold his soul to the devil and was happy at the bargain.

The room grew uncomfortably quiet. None of the remaining cabinet officials said anything. Most just stared at the President with open mouths. The President felt anger—a strange sensation buried down under waves of pleasure—start to bubble to the surface of his mind. Or was it shame? He leaned forward and pointed at the screens.

“Let me be clear, ladies and gentlemen. I want her to run things.” He nodded towards Jayne. “If that is a problem, I will replace this…entire…fucking…cabinet…And, in this time of national crisis, I don’t think you want to be out there in the street without a job, without a source of income, without food, water, and protection. Do you?” The President sighed.

“Folks, the world as we once knew it has changed and we must adapt to meet the new challenges we face. In order to get through this period of turmoil, we’re going to have to grit our teeth and muddle through what comes next. Understood?” He sat back, exhausted by his brief discourse, wondering where the words had come from. He was already starting to forget what he had just said.

The chorus of “yessirs” was music to his ears.

Jayne looked slyly at the cabinet screens. She picked up four of the folders she had brought in and spread them out in front of the President, being sure to lean over far enough to grant him a long, lingering view down her shirt. He inhaled deeply, drinking her sweet, fragrant bouquet, and visualized her perfume in his mind’s eye. It was beautiful.

A thought occurred to him. Doesn’t anyone else smell this?

“I have here the top candidates to replace the Joint Chiefs, sir. All men willing to swear loyalty to you and assist in any way possible to get us through this crisis.”

“Outstanding,” he murmured. “Do it.”

“Mr. President,” began the NSA head, “is this course of action…prudent? I mean, begging your pardon, sir, but these draconian measures are going to have the effect of driving military personnel away. Perhaps even forcing them to go AWOL. I don’t think I’m that far off base with this, sir…”

He held up a skeletal hand and stopped her. As she waited, he examined his hand. How the hell did I get so thin? Haven’t I been eating? The hand held up in front of him couldn’t be his own. He was in the prime of his life…Then Jayne's concerned face filled his blurry vision.

“Are you okay, love?”

Her beauty pushed all thoughts and worries over his own health aside like a snowplow clearing a road. He refocused on the task at hand. Cleaning house. Right. Reginald and Jayne had promised he’d be rewarded if he cleared out the traitors and put men loyal to him in office. Jayne had already started rewarding him just before this meeting and promised to continue where they left off, immediately after the meeting. His mind started to drift away to more pleasant thoughts…The shock of the pleasure unleashed by Jayne’s sudden squeeze of his leg brought him crashing back into the present.

“Where…” he sighed. “Where are they going to go, these deserters of yours?”

“Well…”

“Nowhere, that’s where. There are no standing armies of opposition forces—just the North Koreans and the U.N…”

“But the Marines,” began the Secretary of State with an embarrassed smile at Jayne.

“The Marines are of little concern,” Jayne murmured. “They don’t have the resources or the capability to do any serious harm. When the Korean threat is neutralized,” she said with a nod toward the Vice President, “then we will focus on the U.N. situation and then we’ll deal with these traitors called Marines.”

“Mr. President, Speaker Harris has declared that Denver will be the new capitol and is gathering forces there. It’s likely—”

“The hell with Harris, what are we going to do about this flu?” asked the Secretary of State. “I’m getting some very disturbing reports from the U.N. out of Boston—”

The President was quickly losing patience. “I just fired the entire military leadership. Are you two going to be next?”

The NSA head looked embarrassed, but held her chin up proudly. “No, sir, of course not. I will be the first to swear loyalty to you. For the good of the nation,” she added quickly.

“For the good of the nation,” mumbled a handful of the others.

The head of the CIA frowned. “I can’t be a party to this horseshit. You’re establishing a dictatorship, sir, whether intentional or not, and whatever this woman is doing to you while the flu is begging to get out of control—”

“Oh my, you do have an imagination,” giggled Jayne.

“Don’t you snicker at me, you little snake. I know who you are and what you’re up to—you’ll be dealt with in time,” the elder CIA head hissed. The President felt Jayne stiffen, in surprise or anger, he couldn’t tell. But his addled mind was alert enough to know she did not like what the CIA Director was saying.

The somber-looking chief spook turned his stony eyes on the President. “Sir, I have served this country my entire adult life, from the Army, to the NSA, to the CIA. I love this nation and have done my best to protect it from day one. I was running spies and renditions when you were still in diapers and I won’t stand here and let you—”

The President frowned and waggled a hand in the air. The CIA feed from Langley went dark. Jane thumbed through her files and slid another folder in front of the President. She tapped the folder with one well-manicured finger. “There’s your new CIA director.”

“Thank you, Jayne.” Suddenly the President could no longer contain his urges. He stood and declared, “This meeting is over. Get to work, people.” He sliced his hand through the air and all the screens went dark.

Then Jayne was in his arms and he was fumbling at her blouse, clawing and tearing at the expensive fabric. He had to have her, now. She tried to be modest and cover herself with her arms. But he was pulling on her clothes with an urgency that surprised even him.

The Vice President cleared her throat primly and frowned at the wanton display of lust in the War Room. The President leered at her and pulled down Jayne’s bra. “Stay if you want, Sandra. I don’t care who knows anymore.” He planted his lips on the tender skin of Jayne's neck. Her gasp sent a thrill down his spine.

He heard the Vice President hastily remove herself from the room as he buried his face in Jayne’s golden mane and devoured her fragrance in deep, desperate gulps. His arms encircled her writhing, athletic body and he felt like screaming in utter joy.

“We must move faster, love,” she whispered in his ear. “You need to surround yourself with loyal servants, not traitors.”

“Mmmmm…yes…fire them all…pick the ones you like,” he said, sighing with pleasure. “Just come here…”

Jayne laughed, a deep,