Final Storm by Mack Maloney Read Free Book Online

looked around. The sidewalks were crowded with the usual cast of armed soldiers and beautiful women. The street itself was busy—military vehicles from jeeps to M-1 tanks rumbled by, occasionally followed by a civilian-type car. All in all, it was a fairly normal scene for post-World War III America.
    The insanity was inside the car …
    “I’ll ask you one more time,” he said, reaching his limit. “What are you doing, working for a scumbag like that guy in there? Selling yourself? You don’t need to do this for money. Your father is well off now. And you should be, too.”
    She ran her fingers through her hair and began to reapply her heavy lipstick with the aid of a compact mirror.
    “You really want to know what I’m doing?” she asked, smacking her lips to even out the bright red color. “OK, I’ll tell you: I’m working undercover.”
    “Undercover?” he said. “An undercover what?”
    “I’m a secret agent,” she continued, still dabbing on the lipstick. “I’m gathering information for a group of people who will eventually take over this entire country.”
    Hunter rubbed his eyes hard. Could this conversation get any more insane?
    “We’ve still got some work to do,” she rambled on. “But eventually, we’ll have everything lined up. Then, well, we’ll just move in and take control.”
    Hunter closed his eyes and shook his head. “You are crazy,” he said, finally submitting to the situation.
    Suddenly, she turned toward him. Her eyes had become black as coal, her mouth tight and quaking, her entire face drawn in. In an instant she looked like another person entirely.
    “ You bet I’m crazy ,” she hissed at him with a voice that sounded as if it belonged in a cheap horror movie. “And don’t you ever forget it …”
    With that, she yanked up on the door handle, dashed from the car and ran down the street.
    She had disappeared into the shadows before Hunter could make up his mind whether to follow her or not …

Chapter 5
    Six days later
    T HE FLAG.
    Hunter stared at it through the mist of the early upstate New York sunrise, unfurling into the morning sky, proudly hailing the beginning of a new day.
    “Present arms!” The Marine officer’s crisp command echoed across the parade field.
    Hunter snapped to attention.
    A full company of Marines, their dress blue uniforms razor-creased from white hats down to gleaming patent-leather shoes, clicked as one to rigid attention, then began marching past the reviewing stand where Hunter and the others stood.
    A cold wind blew across the open parade field. For some reason Hunter thought that it would be warmer than this.
    They were in Syracuse. It would be here, in the city’s giant domed stadium, that the ex-VP’s trial would be held.
    Despite the chill, Hunter knew that all things being considered, the site was a natural place for the historic event. Before the war, the huge domed stadium had been the football and basketball arena for the famous Syracuse University. Like the other major cities in the eastern United States, Syracuse had been evacuated during the chaos following the Big War. Most of the residents had either fled to Free Canada or scattered to seek the comparative safety of the small towns in rural New York.
    Shortly after the war ended, a new city had sprung up around Syracuse’s airport, it being a strategically-located point sitting on the crossroads of the air convoy routes for most of the Northeast corridor. Under the guidance of his friend, the enterprising Irishman Mike Fitzgerald, the Syracuse Aerodrome had become famous as a waystation and watering hole for aircraft and their pilots, dispensing cargo, fuel, and repairs to any and all paying customers.
    And even though nearly two-thirds of the base had been destroyed in the second and final war against The Circle, the Aerodrome had recently gone back into operation, although on a limited basis.
    But in all that time, the 50,000-seat indoor athletic stadium downtown