‘It looks like those soldiers are setting themselves up for alast-ditch defence.’
‘Correct,’ said Bob, his eyes smoothly scanning across the lawn.
‘And I guess whatever’s coming — ’ Liam looked up again at thedarkening sky from where that deep rumble was issuing — ‘is coming from right upthere.’
‘Possibly an airborne weapon system.’ Bob’s eyes flickered shut. ‘Ihave data files on the advanced aeroplane prototypes that were being developed by the Germansat the end of the Second World War.’
‘They actually used
‘Affirmative.’
The rumbling grew even louder and Liam found himself having to shout to be heard. ‘Bigones?’
‘Jet propulsion, delta-wing designs, VTOL systems,’ replied Bob, raising hisflat-toned voice to compete with the deafening drone from above.
‘Well, that means nothing to me,’ shouted Liam. ‘What the hell arethose?’
Bob cocked his head for a moment. ‘I am able to provide detailed schematic blueprintsif I can locate a drawing implement — ’
Suddenly, the tumbling dark clouds above them momentarily spread thin enough for Liam to seewhat was approaching.
‘Bob!
Above them, descending through the clouds, was a giant dull-grey disc-shaped vessel, easily aquarter of a mile in diameter. It almost seemed to fill the sky above the White House as itslowly pushed its way down through the billowing clouds. He could now make out dozens ofspinning rotors slung beneath the craft, giant propeller blades whisking theair beneath the belly of the enormous disc, projecting a powerful downdraught that set thecedar trees around them rustling and swaying.
Liam noticed the emblem he’d seen earlier on Maddy’s screens, stencilled across ahundred feet of the vehicle’s immense hull.
‘What the hell is that thing?’ he yelled.
‘Information: it appears to be a circular dirigible,’ replied Bob. He seemed torecognize the bemused and panicked shrug returned by Liam as an indication that hehadn’t a clue what one of those was. ‘It is a disc-shaped airship — areinforced aluminium hull containing many large cells filled with buoyancy gas.’
Some of the marines on the lawn, frozen into a motionless stupor by the sight, raised theirfirearms and began to shoot pointlessly at it.
A black square slowly appeared in the dark underbelly of the craft, then another, andanother.
‘Er… now that’s not good, is it?’ cried Liam.
Bob nodded in agreement. ‘Is not good.’
Liam saw something dark emerging from the squares, dots that quickly grew in size as a showerof
A canister the size of a Thermos flask thudded into the grass thirty yards from them among agroup of haggard-looking marines. The marines backed away from it as it started to spew out ayellow smoke. Several more canisters landed heavily and started billowing smoke across thelawn.
‘Tactical smokescreen,’ offered Bob.
The air was soon thick with a mustard-coloured mist. Through it Liam could just about makeout the nearby silhouettes of the American soldiers on the lawn, drawing fearfully back acrossthe clipped grass towards the steps and the grand portico at the front of the White House.
Now he could see more dark shapes descending through the mist from above- dozens, perhaps hundreds, of them. Bigger than the canisters this time.
They heard something crash heavily through the cedar trees behind them, accompanied by ashrill hissing sound. They spun round to see a man tangled awkwardly amid thick branches; hewore a loose black rubber boiler suit that reminded Liam of the bin bags that seemed to lineevery backstreet in New York. Covering his face was a dark rubber mask with two glass plateswhere the eyes should be. His head was kinked at an impossible angle and Liam realized theneck had been snapped on the way down through the tree’s branches.
Twin cylinders strapped to his back continued to discharge high-velocity geysers of gasnoisily, which lasted only half a dozen seconds more before finally fizzing to a silence.
‘Aerosol-based fast-descent system,’ announced Bob calmly.
Above them Liam could hear that same hiss multiplied through the air as other men in rubbersuits began to land nearby.
‘Sod this! We can’t stay here!’
The support unit nodded. ‘Recommendation: it will be tactically correct to go insidethe building known as the White House.’
‘Yeah… OK,’ Liam said, stepping out from the cover of the small copse andon to the open lawn.
‘Please wait!’ barked Bob. He stepped across to the body dangling from thebranches and, with a hard tug, pulled it to the ground. He effortlessly flipped the body overand withdrew a weapon from the man’s backpack. His calm eyes appraised its effectivenessand how to use it within seconds. He shouldered the weapon and nodded approvingly.
‘Rapid-fire pulse carbine.’ His grey eyes locked on Liam’s. ‘Weapontechnology from the middle of the twenty- first century.’
‘Well, that’s interesting… but can we go now?’
‘Affirmative. Please follow me, Liam O’Connor.’
Liam nodded. ‘Uh… sure, all right, you go first.’
Bob pushed out through the foliage beneath the trees and into the open, striding forward withthe carbine held at his hip.
The yellow murky air was now filled with the sound of hissing canisters and the thud of bootsmaking a heavy landing on the lawn. Liam could see the smudged outlines of men all aroundthem; mask-muffled voices barked orders in German.
One of the moving outlines took a step too many towards them and suddenly called out a sharpchallenge.
Bob was frighteningly fast — lashing out with the edge of his free hand and chopping atthe man’s throat. Liam heard a dull crack above all the other noise.
‘Follow,’ said Bob.
CHAPTER 36
1956, Washington DC
They moved quickly across the lawn until Liam realized they were now among theretreating marines backing up the alabaster steps and firing sporadically out into the mist infront of them.
Rapid bursts of fire lanced back at them out of the smoke, exploding showers of dust andplaster from the steps and the columns of the palisade. A marine standing beside Liampin-wheeled from the impact of a shot and collapsed to the ground, a gaping hole blown out ofhis torso.
‘Follow,’ said Bob again, leading Liam through the marines returning fire towardsa glass-panelled double door. A wounded soldier slouched by the doorway halted theirprogress.
‘Hey! Where the hell you two goin’? We’re holdin’ the line righthere, goddammit!’
Bob calmly twisted his arm and pushed him aside without any apparent effort. They steppedthrough the doors and into the White House.
The carpeted entrance hall was thick with the stretched-out bodies of wounded soldiers, onetrembling, harried army medic moving among them and tending them with little more thanmercifully lethal shots of morphine. Ahead was a double doorway leading further into thebuilding and the west wing. Holding position behind a hastily assembled blockade of furniturewere a dozen more soldiers, grim faced and clearly ready to go downdefending their president to the last.
