Out of the Ashes by William W. Johnstone Read Free Book Online Page A

trying to decide if we were behind this mess. Our own men didn’t even trust us. God!”
    â€œCan you blame them?” Dowling asked. “Hell, C.H., put it out of your mind—we’ve got to buy some time. It’s getting precious.”
    Fayers’ intercom buzzed. The president looked up, glanced at it, then giggled.
    â€œHe’s out of it,” General Hyde looked at Fayers. “Why do I envy him his bliss?”
    Travee punched the “talk” button. “Yes?”
    â€œEd? You sound funny. Look, I’ve got to tell the press something. They want to know why all the brass are here.”
    Tell them it’s none of their goddamned business, Travee thought. He glanced at the Joint Chiefs. “Get in here.”
    â€œWho is this?” the aide questioned.
    â€œGet your ass in here!” Travee snapped.
    The aide, James Benning, came to a sliding halt on the carpet, his eyes wide as he looked at the body of General Fowler. The man’s fingers were all broken, twisted into grotesque shapes. He looked at the president. Fayers returned his gaze, but it was an empty look, void of any understanding.
    The room stank of sweat and of urine from a suddenly relaxed bladder.
    â€œThat man’s been tortured,” the aide said lamely. “There is a gag in his mouth. My God—he’s dead!” He put his hand on Fayers’ shoulder and gently shook him. “Ed?”
    â€œHe’s out of it, James,” Dowling said. “Get the VP.”
    â€œI ... uh ...” The aide shook his head. “I can’t. He is right now”—he looked at his watch—“approaching the Mideast. Conference that was set up months ago.”
    â€œDamn!” Dowling said. “Where’s the Speaker?”
    â€œThe Speaker’s on a junket. President pro tem of the Senate is in the hospital, recovering from surgery.”
    â€œGoddamn it!” Travee roared. “Then get Secretary Rees in here.”
    The aide picked up the phone, then looked at Travee. “Did you do that to General Fowler? You’re an American general, sir. What in the hell is going on?”
    â€œGet fucking Rees in here!”
    â€œYes, sir!” The aide snapped to, punching out the number, contacting State.
    Fayers sat in a chair in the corner, out of the way. He was softly humming his old college fight song.
    â€œRees is on the way,” James said. “I’ll get the secret service in here. General, sir, what is going on?”
    â€œThere is a coup attempt going down, son. Among other . . . issues. Can we trust the secret service?”
    â€œWe have to,” Dowling said.
    Travee turned to the young W.O. “Who relieves you?”
    â€œMyers, sir.”
    â€œYou know him well?”
    â€œI don’t know him at all, sir. Sir? This is America. This can’t be happening here!”
    â€œWell, it is happening, and not just here. Why don’t you know this Myers?”
    â€œHe was just assigned this duty.” The W.O. paused. “And that’s odd, too, sir. All the guys who normally handle this job have been replaced over the past few months. I’m the only one of the original bunch left. Their orders came in so fast, and there just wasn’t any reason for them.”
    Travee handed him his briefcase full of war codes. “Sit down, son—out of the way. If anybody other than the men in this room attempt to take that briefcase . . . shoot them. You’re armed. Understand?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    The chief of White House Secret Service walked in. He stood in shock for a few seconds. “What in the hell is going on?”
    Travee told him, bluntly and quickly. “Get all your older men in here. I don’t give a damn where they are or what they’re doing. Just get them.”
    â€œI don’t take orders from you,” he was informed by the secret service man.
    Travee lifted his .45, cocked it, and