time.
Sanders dialed the number and , as described by his officer, the phone was answered on the first ring.
“President Mitchell ’s office.”
Sanders took a deep breath . “Could I speak to the President, please?”
The line disconnected.
“No, ask for the boss!” Cash said impatiently. “It’s a code that proves you know it’s the red line.”
“The red line ?”
“No matter where he is or what he’s doing, you’ll be put through to him immediately.”
“Bullshit ! I bet it’s one of your buddies that can do a good impression, it’s not…” Sanders spotted a news crew truck that had arrived. He knew the President was at the UN. Everybody knew he was there; it was the only news across every network. He walked over to the truck and ignored every question hurled at him.
“Can you get the news feed from the UN?” he asked the technician in the back of the truck, looking back at Cash and Rigs.
“ Umm, yeah,” said the techie, looking out at the carnage in front of them. It seemed a bizarre request.
“Any feeds covering President Mitchell?”
The techie flicked through a number of feeds available to the media and found a camera that settled on President Mitchell, leaving it on the screen for Sanders.
“Fantastic, thanks,” said Sanders hitting the redial button. He could make out the audio feed from the UN. The Secretary General was introducing the keynote speaker. The President was in no position to accept a call.
He hit redial, keeping his eye on the screen .
“President Mitchell ’s office.”
“The boss , please?” asked Sanders with a sneer.
“ Please hold.”
After three rings ; “Yes?” came the reply of a voice Sanders couldn’t fail to recognize but did not match the vision before him. The President was still listening to the Secretary General on the screen.
“ That is a fantastic impression of the President’s voice.”
The tech ie tried to catch his attention, having listened to Sanders’ end of the conversation, but Sanders ignored him.
“Who is this ?” demanded an angry President Mitchell.
“The guy who’s about to put your buddies Cash and Rigs in jail and throw away the key,” he said .
“Was that the President?” asked the techie, stunned, when he hung up.
“Obviously not,” said Sanders pointing at the screen.
The president sat motionless listening to the Secretary General.
“One small problem,” said the techie, pointing at the screen. A Secret Service Agent rushed into view with a cell phone outstretched. “There’s a twenty second delay on this feed!”
Chapter 12
Antoine Noble walked onto the UN stage to rapturous applause after a humbling introduction from the UN Secretary General. The philanthropic endeavors of Atlas Noble through their trust were humbling to even the greatest nations of the world. Immunization for every child, clean water for all, the eradication of malaria, measles and malnutrition were amongst a number of their targets. Unlike many, these were not just wishful targets; Atlas Noble was spending more money than the nations of the world combined in an effort to make it happen. For the previous eleven years, every child on the planet had benefitted from the AN injection, a cocktail of immunizations that had already wiped out malaria and measles for all of its recipients.
Antoine waited for the applause to settle.
“Citizens of the world,” he began. “We are truly blessed to live on this wonderful planet, a planet that we have only begun to understand. A planet that merely nine nations, represented here today could, in the blink of an eye, destroy !”
Antoine paused , allowing his words to sink in before he changed the direction of his speech to a very different slant than the one he had spun to ensure acceptance of his invitation. The nine member states in possession of nuclear weapons shifted uneasily in their seats.
“Even today , long after the threat of the Cold War and the darkest days of
Sanders dialed the number and , as described by his officer, the phone was answered on the first ring.
“President Mitchell ’s office.”
Sanders took a deep breath . “Could I speak to the President, please?”
The line disconnected.
“No, ask for the boss!” Cash said impatiently. “It’s a code that proves you know it’s the red line.”
“The red line ?”
“No matter where he is or what he’s doing, you’ll be put through to him immediately.”
“Bullshit ! I bet it’s one of your buddies that can do a good impression, it’s not…” Sanders spotted a news crew truck that had arrived. He knew the President was at the UN. Everybody knew he was there; it was the only news across every network. He walked over to the truck and ignored every question hurled at him.
“Can you get the news feed from the UN?” he asked the technician in the back of the truck, looking back at Cash and Rigs.
“ Umm, yeah,” said the techie, looking out at the carnage in front of them. It seemed a bizarre request.
“Any feeds covering President Mitchell?”
The techie flicked through a number of feeds available to the media and found a camera that settled on President Mitchell, leaving it on the screen for Sanders.
“Fantastic, thanks,” said Sanders hitting the redial button. He could make out the audio feed from the UN. The Secretary General was introducing the keynote speaker. The President was in no position to accept a call.
He hit redial, keeping his eye on the screen .
“President Mitchell ’s office.”
“The boss , please?” asked Sanders with a sneer.
“ Please hold.”
After three rings ; “Yes?” came the reply of a voice Sanders couldn’t fail to recognize but did not match the vision before him. The President was still listening to the Secretary General on the screen.
“ That is a fantastic impression of the President’s voice.”
The tech ie tried to catch his attention, having listened to Sanders’ end of the conversation, but Sanders ignored him.
“Who is this ?” demanded an angry President Mitchell.
“The guy who’s about to put your buddies Cash and Rigs in jail and throw away the key,” he said .
“Was that the President?” asked the techie, stunned, when he hung up.
“Obviously not,” said Sanders pointing at the screen.
The president sat motionless listening to the Secretary General.
“One small problem,” said the techie, pointing at the screen. A Secret Service Agent rushed into view with a cell phone outstretched. “There’s a twenty second delay on this feed!”
Chapter 12
Antoine Noble walked onto the UN stage to rapturous applause after a humbling introduction from the UN Secretary General. The philanthropic endeavors of Atlas Noble through their trust were humbling to even the greatest nations of the world. Immunization for every child, clean water for all, the eradication of malaria, measles and malnutrition were amongst a number of their targets. Unlike many, these were not just wishful targets; Atlas Noble was spending more money than the nations of the world combined in an effort to make it happen. For the previous eleven years, every child on the planet had benefitted from the AN injection, a cocktail of immunizations that had already wiped out malaria and measles for all of its recipients.
Antoine waited for the applause to settle.
“Citizens of the world,” he began. “We are truly blessed to live on this wonderful planet, a planet that we have only begun to understand. A planet that merely nine nations, represented here today could, in the blink of an eye, destroy !”
Antoine paused , allowing his words to sink in before he changed the direction of his speech to a very different slant than the one he had spun to ensure acceptance of his invitation. The nine member states in possession of nuclear weapons shifted uneasily in their seats.
“Even today , long after the threat of the Cold War and the darkest days of
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