Killing the Eagle: The Third and Final Novel in the New Madrid Trilogy

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Featured on the rear cover is Jim Gilliland, the U.S. Army Ranger sniper and instructor that currently holds the record for the longest kill shot with a .308 (1380 yards), made in 2005 on an Iraqi insurgent sniper who had just shot one of Jim’s squad members.

Cover graphic work for all three novels in the trilogy by Oleg Volk.

The author sincerely thanks Oleg for all his work, and expresses deep gratitude to Jim and his elite group of snipers for their selfless sacrifice in defense of America.

All characters, names and places appearing in this novel are completely fictitious. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely unintentional and coincidental.

© 2013 by G.E. Miller. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 10/03/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4918-1503-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-1502-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013916993

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Foreword

Distant Thunder…

Identifying the Enemy…

An Armed Militia, Being Necessary to a Free State…

The Slide In To The Abyss…

Pleasant Dreams…

Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder…

Tour of Duty…

When Enough is Enough…

Treason, Conspiracy & Hidden Agendas…

Terrorists Unite…

Patriots, Militias & Comrades in Arms…

Target Practice—IF You Can Find the Ammo…

Sharing Intelligence…

Jack Brannan—Hunting a News Story Again…

On the Trail of the Cataclysm Scroll…

Enter the Communist Hardliners…

Imminent Civil War…

Death of a New Chief of Staff…

The Plot Thickens…

Enemies Foreign & Domestic…

Ghosts, Aliens & Information Overload…

Beware Russian Agents Bearing Gifts…

Enter the Templar Knights…

Treason & Other Ugly Faces…

Who Said All Politicians Were Corrupt?

Bullets, Terrorists & Semi Trucks Don’t Mix…

Sendero Back in Action…

Founding Fathers Spinning in Their Graves…

Payback IS a Bitch…

There’s a Full Moon Tonight… AND…

Ingenuity & a Little Bailing Wire…

NOCENS SOMNIUM UNIVERSI…

Technological Leap Backwards…

A Message From God…

The Tribulation…

Today’s Leading Edge Technology—Kerosene Lamps & Candles…

A Shaman’s Farewell…

About the Author

FOREWORD

This is the third and final book in The New Madrid Trilogy. It is closure to a writing endeavor I undertook beginning in May of 1993, when the American economy was in much better shape, gas was $1.09 a gallon, Global Warming was an unfamiliar term, and terrorism inside the borders of the United States was of little concern.

Since those wonderfully naïve days, gas screamed to over $4 a gallon, the well-being and stability of our planet’s weather is a major concern, the reality of religious fanatics bringing death by using weapons of mass destruction stares us in the face daily, and political instability brought about by the world’s superpowers being knocked off their thrones, brings uncertainty to our childrens’ future.

This novel, as well as the first two in the series, is about what could happen if Mankind continues on the present path—ignoring the messages being sent us by Higher Powers… whether the source is Mother Earth, a Supreme Deity, Aliens watching us from afar, or a combination of any or all of those.

We may never really know how long Man has been on Earth, because it’s always under debate. Those dates seem to change with each generation, depending on which scientist or philosophy you believe. But we have archaeological evidence that the Egyptians, then Greeks, then the Romans, were vast civilizations that all sat at the pinnacle of power during their heyday. But each one, in turn, eventually failed and was superceded by yet another superpower. Add the USSR in 1989. In studying those societies, one thing becomes fairly clear; That power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. We need to only look to the Roman republic for the recipe on social and moral decline and ultimate failure. Is America immune to the same end simply because it’s 1500 years later? Probably not.

There is a lesson in history that perhaps the United States government should heed. While it’s true the Romans were a great and powerful nation, it forced its will upon people who ultimately refused to be enslaved by an elite few. And eventually, the perpetual wars wore down the society itself as it crumbled from crime and decadent overindulgence within. Perhaps a better course for a superpower in the 21st century would be to live and let live, and observe the Golden Rule… Instead of rushing headlong into the historical abyss that has been the graveyard of other great societies.

Time will, indeed, tell. Hopefully, historians a thousand years from now will look back on this age as a glorious time to have been alive—The Internet, the automobile, medical breakthroughs, an understanding of science growing at the speed of light. We can only hope that we get a grip on the negative impact Mankind is now having on the planet. Or, perhaps the historians a thousand years from now will never exist.

I must apologize in advance if you’re about to begin chapter 1 of this novel without reading the first two books in the trilogy, A Matter of Timing and The Cataclysm Scroll. There are characters throughout all three novels that are referenced here, and I may not have spent sufficient time in describing each character in Killing the Eagle. It is not in an effort to sell books, but out of respect for those who have read the series, and in their best interest that redundancy has been avoided where possible.

There are many ideas bouncing around in my gray matter, and the works from book 2 in the trilogy and beyond are being written in their entirety in a log cabin back in the woods not unlike the cabin described in The Cataclysm Scroll. The hardwood forest, the creeks, ravines, and even the barn, do exist somewhere other than in my imagination.

More novels will come from this humble cabin—and, from the dream state where many of the ideas in the 2nd and 3rd novels came from. I feel compelled to put the storylines into text that come to me at night while sleeping. To not do this would be denying the subconscious, and whatever it is that interacts with us all during dreams.

These novels are a testament to the reality that there is something beyond the physical world, beyond what we, as yet, can fully understand. I find it quite exciting, actually, to be certain that science doesn’t know everything—that it can’t explain many phenomena away. To know that there is something more for us to look forward to discovering, perhaps even if it’s not until our death, is invigorating.

Since this is the last novel in the trilogy, I would like to take this opportunity to thank my friends who have been so instrumental in this endeavor. To Jack Hartman, Dave Reichert, and of course my wife, for letting me bounce ideas off them. To my Mom, the English / Literature teacher who drilled the language into me from a very young age. Without these people, and several other good friends who helped in the proofing and editing, the New Madrid Trilogy would never have been completed.

My most sincere, heartfelt thanks to all of them.

-1-

Distant Thunder…

"Make no mistake, the government doesn’t want your guns to stop crime. They want to disarm you so they can tax us into oblivion! I refuse to sit idle while the greatest Nation in human history crumbles around me! Right before our eyes, we are witnessing America’s death! Untold men and women have given their lives in wars for over two hundred years to protect our flag and the ideals of freedom, liberty and justice on lands near and far. To turn a blind eye to what’s happening now disrespects their supreme sacrifice. America has become a Nation of beggars and thieves, corrupt politicians and welfare recipients! Washington, and the millions of citizens who elected the crooks to office, believe socialism is the answer. Take from those who work and give it away to those who do nothing to earn it! People, I’m telling you that the mighty oak tree can only withstand so many parasites before it withers and dies!"

The lecturer had begun his presentation in front of 125 men and a few women, dressed predominantly in camo fatigues.

The gathering was being held at a community meeting hall in northern Louisiana and had been advertised by flyers posted around the small town in barber shops, taverns and churches.

The speaker continued, Our Nation was founded on the principles that everyone has to pull their own weight for the overall good of America! Taking from the rich and giving to the poor worked for Robin Hood and his merry men, but there has never been a successful socialist government with staying power in world history! Never! And every nation that has penalized its working class by taxing them to the point of poverty has faded into the annals of history! What happened to the USSR should illustrate my point. And, unfortunately, our beloved United States is headed in the same direction with all of its entitlements and social programs for those who bleed our Nation dry and give nothing back! There are too many leeches and parasites, and too few people left with decent jobs to support the enormous tax base that socialism requires. Our oak tree is dying a slow death while we sit on our hands!

The presenter, Dr. Martin Stone, paused while he scanned the men in front of him, letting his words sink in. Stone’s expression was intense, his dark blue eyes accented by his white well-trimmed beard, his 6 foot 5 inch frame bearing a little more than 300 pounds was intimidating to everyone in the room. He was a legend among those intently listening to him, as well as the thousands of militia members across America who followed him in the online social media sites. But it was rare, a privilege indeed, to see him in person. Here, in this room, he was larger than life, his voice booming to all those present. It was through the Internet that he’d developed a large following of conservative patriots for his speeches and very slick electronic presentations.

Not a sound in the room could be heard while they waited for him to continue, the dramatic pause achieving Stone’s desired results.

He knew he had their undivided attention.

"And now, because of the murderous acts of a few crazy people, the government wants your guns! Even though 95% of violent crimes are committed by handguns and convicted felons who are already forbidden to own them, Congress declares that, just because your rifle looks scary, they want to shred the 2nd Amendment to the Constitution in the name of law and order! Law abiding citizens are guaranteed the freedom to own whatever gun they want, yet our elitist government is coming for your firearms!" He paused, scanning the room again. He could feel the electricity in the air, the hostility on each face in the barn was easy to read. Stone knew he’d struck a nerve in every person.

His speech hit a crescendo and he shouted, The 2nd Amendment is not about hunting! Our forefathers framed our right to own guns for a reason! And that is to ensure our freedom from tyranny, which is exactly what the politicians and elitists in Washington have become! Ladies and gentlemen, it is up to each of us, as an organization of patriots, to return this Nation to its fundamental origins as the framers of the Constitution intended! And that is why we are here! The people on Wall Street, while they were playing Masters of the Universe, manipulated the price of oil and lost our lives’ savings in high risk investment schemes. Then the government decided to bail out the companies who mismanaged their businesses while the CEO’s rode around in corporate jets and spent millions of our dollars renovating their executive suites! And now, they’ve raided social security to the point that it’s already insolvent. There will be NO MONEY waiting for us when we hit 65! They’ve stolen our savings to pay for health care for illegal immigrants!

He paused again, his intense expression of hate mixed with anger and disgust in his voice was deadly serious. Everyone in the room could feel his energy, could sense that anyone who didn’t get on the bandwagon was going to be on the wrong side of what was coming down. Aside from a few coughs from men who’d held them while Stone was speaking, the room remained as quiet as a morgue.

He continued, "And while we’ve been focused on terrorists from the Middle East, Mexicans are flooding across our borders by the thousands every day! The treasury department is printing money so fast that the trucks carrying all that paper are causing traffic jams! It is incumbent upon each of us to put a stop to this madness, to socialism, and to corrupt politics! Our great Nation’s Constitution is being held hostage by a bunch of tyrants! He quickly took a sip out of a can on his makeshift podium, slammed the can back down hard and raised an angry fist. He shook it in the air and shouted, The day of reckoning is here! It is time for us to take back America!"

A roar of applause erupted with cheers and shouts, then slowly quieted down as Stone prepared to continue with his speech.

But a man sitting in the front row meekly raised his hand. Stone paused, nodded at the man, and said in an impatient tone, Yes?

Um, sir, the man began in an uncertain manner, the rumors we’ve been hearing about many of the militias forming an alliance. Are they true?

Stone was pleased. The question came at a perfect time, so he answered with a condescending smile on his face.

Yes, the scuttlebutt is true. That is why I’m speaking to all of you now. In the time that has passed since the New Madrid earthquake, and with the meteor barely missing Earth, militias nationwide have been instrumental in preserving life and liberty in the midst of the chaos and anarchy the disasters have brought upon us. The asteroid carried with it a message from God for Mankind to repent their evil ways. We must obey God’s command.

Many of the people were nodding adamant agreement when Stone brought God’s message into his speech. There were chants of ‘Yes!’ emanating from the crowd each time the word God was spoken. He continued…

As you already know, the Missouri and Tennessee militias were recognized as having saved thousands of lives in the St. Louis and Memphis areas following the New Madrid quake. Hundreds of our members gave their lives saving citizens as well as National Guard troops who were stationed around those cities. A monument was built last month in Arnold, Missouri to immortalize the brave souls who sacrificed their lives in an effort to preserve peace and rescue civilian refugees from the roving gangs and looters that nearly prevailed. I’ve been asked to speak at the ground-breaking ceremony just east of Memphis next week where a monument to the Tennessee militia is to be erected for their same heroism.

Stone noticed the immediate response to his words. The people straightened up in their chairs, many looking around the room and nodding in agreement that they were glad to be associated with militia heroes. The feeling in the room oozed with pride.

"All of you already know my background. I was a colonel in the Army, received medals for my actions in Somalia, Iraq and Afghanistan. And I retired last year with one goal in mind… To unite the armed citizens of America and lead them while we take back our Nation! In the Army, I swore to protect the United States and uphold the Constitution. And that, my fellow Americans, is exactly what I am doing. Fighting to preserve liberties that we have been robbed of, preserving the American way of life as outlined by the Constitution, bringing an end to the plight facing all working citizens who no longer can afford to put food on their tables or gas in their cars to get to work—if they still have a job and haven’t lost it in this self-inflicted and engineered collapse. Our government is busy losing America piece by piece to foreign business, borrowing trillions of dollars from other nations to pay for social programs, and giving our hard-earned tax dollars to the idiots on Wall Street. Millions of working families have lost their homes in foreclosures while the government sits idle and watches the rapid decline! The stimulus plan that was heralded as the cure to the problems only guarantees that our grandchildren will be living in slavery while trying to pay off this generation’s massive debt. And in the midst of all this tyranny, they want to disarm us by passing even more legislation to register and ultimately take away our guns! I’ll say it again loud and clear for everyone to hear… The second amendment is not about hunting. It is about keeping an armed citizenry to prevent exactly what is happening from happening!"

Everyone’s head was nodding agreement, frowns had appeared on many faces as the group became angry at the blunt truth of their leader’s statements.

Stone’s words were creating exactly the response he had wanted as he closed his lecture.

He pounded a big fist on the podium as he proclaimed in his military-style voice, "If we do not act, there will not be an America for our children, or their children, to live in. Are they to pay for all the debt this government will force upon them? We are on the brink of disaster brought about by our government’s irresponsible behavior! We must fight fire with fire and return America to Americans! Our ability to change government in the voting booths exists no longer! Peaceful change is a myth! Government pundits have too many illegal immigrants and people that have been dead for years casting votes for them! It’s time for us to get off our asses and do something about it!"

Applause erupted from the group as Stone stood up straight and gave the men in front of him a salute. All stood, snapped to attention and saluted their leader.

Not one of them were aware they had been manipulated, just as the Germans were in 1937, when Hitler was shouting his promises in the same manner to a nation on the financial brink.

*     *     *     *     *

Two months had transpired since the meteor narrowly passed Earth, skimming the atmosphere and creating a huge fireball as it passed by. Nearly every person in the world had seen it, either on TV or in newspapers throughout the past week. They had also seen magnified images of the message that was written in two languages on the 3 mile-wide rock in biblical Hebrew and English; REPENT. The video had gone viral on the Internet, being viewed billions of times.

The message had been heard, loud and clear, by a majority of those living on the planet. Since there was no technological method that existed known to Man that could have placed the message on the meteor, it was widely believed that divine intervention had sourced the message. God had had enough of what humans were doing on Earth, to Earth, and to each other.

A majority of Christians believed it had been a warning as significant as the Ten Commandments that Moses had brought down the mount engraved in stone by God himself.

Most of Islam believed it was a very clear message to the Christians, and particularly the United States, to get out of the Middle East and let them live peaceably.

Nearly all fundamentalist Jews believed Christ was coming any day. The meteor had been a very clear sign to them that God’s chosen would soon be witness to the end times of this civilization, brought about by ignoring God’s word.

And although the anarchy that had gripped the planet for the last 48 hours before the meteor’s arrival had subsided, the damage had already been done. Many cities in America, as well as most other heavily populated areas around the world, had been sacked and looted until the only goods left to steal were in the hands of the looters themselves. Worldwide, recovery had been slow. The chaos of the last few days before the meteor changed course was beginning to ebb, as many people pushed the unthinkable of Earth being destroyed to the backs of their minds.

Millions of people worldwide had died in that chaos.

But millions had also survived, in many cases because they had been armed. Literally hundreds-of-thousands of acts of violence had been thwarted by armed citizens who had used guns to protect their families during those dark days. With law enforcement stretched to their collective limit during that tumultuous time, citizens had been faced with the decision to take an intruder’s life or become a victim. Millions had chosen to be strong, refusing to become another statistic, denying looters and murderers access to their homes by using defensive firearms.

Within the first week after the meteor missed Earth, two men had visited Ty Massey and Laura Tanner at his cabin north of Greenville, Illinois. The two men were government intelligence agents named Frank Brunowski and Steve Fleming, CIA and NSA, respectively. They had gone there on a fact-finding mission; To understand how Laura, an associate professor from the University of Illinois, had known that the incoming meteor would have some type of a biblical message on it. Fleming was also burning with a desire to know how a piece of paper had mysteriously appeared on his otherwise tidy desk with a phone number immediately under the names Ty Massey and Laura Tanner.

Jack Brannan, a field reporter from CNN who had been instrumental in blowing the lid off the Iranian terrorist conspiracy, had contacted Ty shortly after the meteor passed. Ty had graciously invited him to Greenville, where Jack had spent an evening at the cabin catching up with Ty and getting to know Laura. They’d filled him in on the events surrounding what they’d called the cataclysm scroll, and Ty had described the firefight with the Russian sniper, Korchenko. Jack had been very glad to hear that the man who’d shot Bob Armstrong on Pecker Point in Missouri had finally met his demise at the hands, or trigger finger, of Ty.

Jack had been charmed by Laura, a gracious and intelligent lady that had, according to Ty’s account, been a hero by getting the scroll back into the underwater caves at Lake Mississippi which stopped many of the natural disasters that had been occurring because of it. Over dinner that Ty had prepared in celebration of their getting back together, Ty explained to Jack about a mysterious Sioux shaman named Mahkah that had suddenly shown up at the cabin when the meteor was inbound toward Earth. Laura then went into much more detail about how the shaman had been talking to her in dreams, and how he’d trained her in what he had called controlling the dreaming body.

They’d put him up for the night in the cabin, and Jack left the next morning following breakfast, his intent set on somehow tracking down this Mahkah so he could question him. Jack had spent a night tossing and turning, sleeping very little, wondering about the shaman… intrigued by the stories Ty and Laura had told him. After Jack had bid farewell to them and thanked both for a fascinating evening, he pulled out on to Red Ball Trail and headed north, toward South Dakota, intent on somehow finding Mahkah.

It was now November, and the cabin in the woods sat empty. Winter was approaching in the Midwest, leaves on the trees dropping onto the forest floor as they bared themselves for the next several months. This had been the place where Brunowski had offered Ty a job working for the CIA because of his past military experience and heroism immediately following the quake.

The cabin was really Ty’s step-Mom and Father’s, but they hadn’t been home since the earthquake, choosing to stay instead at their winter retreat in Port St. Lucie, Florida, essentially staying out of the madness that ensued following the quake. But they’d managed to stay in touch, and Ty had told his Dad that the furnace would be kept as low as the thermostat would allow to keep pipes from freezing during winter. His Dad and step-Mom had also been pleased to hear about Laura, and were anxious to meet her as soon as they all could get together.

The cabin is also where Fleming had offered Laura an opportunity which had intrigued her. Since she’d lost her job at the U of I for not producing the cataclysm scroll to the lab in Champaign, she’d accepted his offer. And since Massey’s job on the loading docks in St. Louis was now under water in Lake Mississippi, Ty accepted the job with the CIA.

Apartments had been waiting for both of them near Arlington, Virginia. The dwellings weren’t fancy, but functional, and would serve until they both had a better idea of what their future held. They’d briefly discussed getting a place and trying the living-together thing, but each had a deep sense of independence. It was that independence that, so far, had kept them from setting up housekeeping. And they hadn’t had much opportunity to see each other since their arrival, anyway.

Laura had been assigned to a covert research group based in a small wing of a non-descript building in Quantico, Virginia. And Ty had been receiving intense accelerated training in field operations for the CIA in the same city. He had no idea what his job was going to be, but he guessed it was going to be overseas, perhaps in Iraq or Afghanistan, although the announcement that America was pulling out had been made. He’d been decorated for his sniper work during Desert Storm, and frankly didn’t have much of a desire to go back.

But, his Dad had raised him to be a patriot before all else, and if the United States needed him in the Middle East, or the new war front—wherever it was going to be—so be it. All he knew for sure was Brunowski’s statement during the plane’s approach to Dulles airport was that he would ultimately be assigned to a counter-terrorism unit. He hadn’t seen Brunowski, or Fleming, since parting company upon their arrival in D.C.

Laura had been overwhelmed when she was introduced to the five people on her team at the PsyOps center. They called their team The Mystics, and had gone around the room in turn, each introducing themselves explaining what their role was on the team. Remote viewing, astral projection, mind reading, and telekinesis were some of the unique talents. It became clear to Laura that they all shared one common denominator; ability in ESP and other mental realms that were ridiculed by traditional science. Laura thought it bizarre that the government was sponsoring a metaphysics lab for study in such things. She had no idea that the U.S., as well as other nations around the globe, had been secretly studying these topics for over 50 years.

When she’d explained her job to Ty after her first day in the laboratory, he’d laughed and asked if she was being paid to be a ghost hunter. But she’d assertively countered his ridicule, reminding him of their encounter with an old Sioux shaman, Mahkah. The shaman had been instrumental in visiting Laura in dreams, guiding and assisting her to control her mind during sleep. And it was ultimately because of this talent that she was offered the job in the NSA. And now, she was getting paid to work in helping scientists better understand the subconscious mind, and to somehow make sense of the mental clutter called dreams.

-2-

Identifying the Enemy…

Inside the Pentagon, a secret high level meeting was taking place between the Joint Chiefs, the directors of U.S. intelligence agencies including the NSA, FBI and CIA, the head of Homeland Security, the President’s newly appointed Chief of Staff, a Navy admiral, an Army General, and the President himself, Cliff Parker. Steve Fleming and Frank Brunowski were there, representing their organizations, NSA and CIA respectively. The oval shaped table was very large and there were several empty seats. The entourage of support personnel that usually accompanied the VIPs had been instructed to wait outside the room prior to the meeting’s start.

The new Vice President, recently selected by Cliff Parker and quickly approved by Congress, was absent. Loren Duke Winston had been hand-picked by the President, a career Washington insider and long-time Senator from Pennsylvania, Duke had run in to very little resistance during the confirmation vote. It wasn’t mere coincidence that the President, his newly appointed Vice President and the new Chief of Staff, Spencer McMillan, were all within a couple years’ age of each other and had gone to Yale together.

Ladies and gentlemen, the President began, our Nation has undergone tumultuous change the past several months. Nearly a million citizens died in the massive earthquake in the Midwest, and over eighty thousand died from the crime and chaos created by the meteor that barely missed our planet. Our first responders, fire and police, along with the National Guard, did the best they could under the circumstances. Throughout the world, over nine million people were killed in the chaos. I think that’s a testimonial to our Nation’s law enforcement and the National Guard.

He pushed a button on a small control panel recessed in the table in front of him. Lights immediately dimmed to fifty percent, and a large screen at one end of the room became illuminated with a graphic. The top of the graphic read ‘FBI Crime Statistics and Forecast’.

As you can see, Parker continued, "the dramatic increase in crime is largely attributable to the anarchy from the earthquake, and when combined with the End of Days panic triggered by that damn meteor, crime has continued to spike. And you’ll see at the bottom of the page that the forecast is not positive. It is, frankly, unacceptable."

He paused while everyone in the room scanned the screen. When their eyes reached its bottom line, there was murmuring and alarm among those present.

Sir, Steve Fleming said, "surely those numbers cannot be entirely accurate! What could cause violent crime to escalate to over a five hundred percent increase from where we are now? And in such a short time?"

Everyone had seen the last line in the graphic that said, ‘Source: FBI’.

All eyes glanced around the table, looking for the nameplate sitting in front of the director of the FBI, Linda Ricci. They were anxiously waiting for a response to Fleming’s question.

She was a self-assured, confident woman that had ascended quickly through the ranks and landed in the director’s position only a month before, following the resignation of the previous director that had fallen under criticism for his poor handling of the New Madrid earthquake crisis and the anarchy that had followed.

Ricci was not well liked because she came across to some people as being arrogant. But Brunowski and Fleming had met her shortly after the promotion, and while Fleming hadn’t really formed an opinion, Brunowski had liked her. A lot.

She’s my kind of woman, Brunowski had told Fleming following the meeting. Hard-assed. Doesn’t give a shit about what anyone thinks. Whether she does well or completely fails in that job, one thing is for sure. She’ll do it all on her own.

The fifty year-old FBI director was already sitting up perfectly straight in her chair, expecting a challenge to come from this assembly of Washington’s most powerful. Her black hair, colored to cover the increasing gray, was shoulder-length, today pulled back tight for the meeting. Her dark blue business suit was standard attire; She never wore a dress, and couldn’t remember a time when anyone in Washington, or the media for that matter, had ever photographed her legs. She considered women of power that wore dresses to be weak, relying on antiquated sexist underpinnings in the Nation’s capital, to buoy their self-esteem and feminine identity. Ricci didn’t feel the need to have men glancing at her legs in meetings, subconsciously judging the look or size of her ankles and calves or the length of her skirt. She was 145 pounds of self-assured dynamo, confident in her manner. And she’d need all of these qualities today. She was prepared.

Ricci cleared her throat and set about answering their questioning stares.

There are several reasons we are expecting a significant increase, she started the explanation, confidence clearly showing. Organized crime, primarily the Russian, Mexican and Italian mafias have been very busy during the anarchy following the disasters the President mentioned. The Mexican mafia, also known as La Eme, has been spreading its influence and growing exponentially the last few years. They now have factions across the United States reaching to the East coast, and another Latino organization, La Gran Razza is pervasive from southern California to Florida. These very well organized gangs are in a perpetual war for turf control with the Russian and Italian mafias, as well as the larger African-American urban gangs. The anarchy created in the wake of the meteor was the perfect breeding ground for this power struggle. These organizations have grown wealthy and very powerful in the last several months.

She paused, looked at each person in the room, waiting for questions. None came.

The President nodded his head at her, urging her to go on.

At the extreme opposite end of the spectrum, are the militias. We have agents that have infiltrated several of the larger militias throughout America, and the agents are universally reporting the same thing. The militias have begun organizing and signing formal alliances and agreements, with intent on waging war against organized gangs, who they perceive is behind a large majority of the crime occurring across America today.

She paused, looked around the room, and added, "And perhaps, if our informants are correct, wage war against this government."

The Army General immediately reacted. General Brown was an old-school military man. He exclaimed, Nonsense! The militias are nothing but a disorganized bunch of country boys that have very little leadership and certainly could not be much of a cause in that spike in your crime figures. He shot a hostile glance at Ricci, as if to say ‘You’re nuts. And way out of your league at this table.’

But she had come prepared. She tossed the general a curt smile and replied, "Actually, sir, one of your retired colonels, a Dr. Martin Stone, has been