Axis of Evil

Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Plot to Seize the White House

Bracken Estate

Nr New York, USA

12^th June 1941

It was an open secret, in the housing estate that was sixty years ahead of its time, that Cora Burnside and Jim Oliver were lovers. Although they each had their own small house within the secure compound, they often spent the night together. Although some of the older residents had believed that she cooked for him – after all, that was woman’s work, they said – they spent too long together for that to be believed. Still, the estate had been founded and marketed on a desire for privacy, and wagging tongues were gently reminded that Oliver did hold a controlling interest in the company that ran the estates.

Oliver spent most of the night thinking, much to Cora’s concern. It wasn’t like him to worry endlessly about something, even after the recent news from the south. A race riot in New Orleans had gotten badly out of hand, and the newspapers were screaming about the black peril, and telling sensational stories about looting, rape and arson. The growing crescendo of news, all of it biased against the black population, kept rising, prompting demands for state intervention and a declaration of martial law.

Cora opened one eye and looked down at Oliver. His eyes were closed, but she could tell that he wasn’t asleep; his body hadn’t relaxed into a sleeping posture. One of his arms was holding her, but the other was flexing softly, gently, a sign of gnawing concern.

She kissed him once, on the cheek. “Jim?” She asked. “What’s the matter?”

Oliver’s voice was tired. “Go to sleep, love,” he said, turning over slightly. “One of us should get some sleep anyway.”

Cora held him gently. “What’s the problem?” She asked. “I’ll help you.”

Oliver shook his head. “You can’t help me,” he said. “All hell is about to break loose, and I don’t know what to do.”

Cora blinked at the genuine terror in his voice. “Sweetheart, tell me what’s happening,” she said. “I can help you to understand, if nothing else.”

Oliver chucked slightly, then gently let go of her and turned on the light. Electric light was hardly new in America, but she still found the brightness astonishing. “I’m going to get a cup of tea,” he said. “Want one?”

Cora shook her head, but sat up anyway, pulling on her dressing gown around her tender breasts, sore from their lovemaking. Oliver slipped into the kitchen, and returned a moment later, carrying a cup of tea. He sat down next to her, slipping into her arms.

“Hoover is planning a coup,” he said grimly. Cora’s eyes went wide as he outlined the details of the meeting. “I spent the last few days downloading information from Hoover’s bugs, the ones he doesn’t know about.”

Cora giggled. “You planted bugs on Hoover?”

“Sort of,” Oliver said. “The plan’s simple; they’re going to attack the White House and blame it on communist and/or black insurgents. In the confusion, their candidate becomes President, with MacArthur as his Secretary of War and Hoover as the new Secretary of Internal Security.” He snorted. “Idiots can’t even get the terms right; it should be Secretary of Homeland Defence.”

He sipped his tea grimly. “They’re going to abandon the war, taking Norway as their price for peace, and concentrate on repairing the damage to America. They’re going to purge the communists, the blacks, and the trade unionists… everyone who might oppose their vision of what America should be like. By the time they’ve finished, America won’t be recognisable anymore.”

Cora shivered against him. “You have to do something,” she said. “Can’t you tell Roosevelt?”

Oliver’s eyes brightened. “By now, some elements of the plot must be being seen by Roosevelt,” he said. “Of course, the dog’s not barking in the night time because the dog is Hoover and he’s involved in the plot up to his panty line. The FBI won’t see anything if Hoover tells them to ignore it, will they?”

Cora shook her head. “Jim, if the President doesn’t know, or can’t stop them, who will?”

“You’re too naive,” Oliver said. “If Roosevelt doesn’t know – and a lot of his enemies are involved in the plot – he’s sunk. The army is in Norway, mainly, and even if they do declare against the guy who becomes President, what can they do? Hell, some of them might agree with the anti-British feeling in the plotters mind.”

“If they’re anti-British,” Cora asked, “why did they invite you? Coming to think of it, why have an entire meeting?”

Oliver shrugged. “The problem with plotting a coup is that not all of the plotters will want to be involved until a clear victory occurs,” he said. “The people in the meeting, however, no longer have a choice, as everyone knows they attended – and didn’t blow the whistle.” He snorted. “As for me, I bet you a vacation in Paris that Hoover is thinking more than two steps ahead; they want – need – to match Britain, and I can help them do it.”

He chucked. “A different part of the plan,” he said, “and one kept secret from the industrialists who hate Roosevelt, unless I miss my guess. They won’t want to admit that they need me, but Hoover is smart enough to understand that forcing American technology as fast-forward as possible is urgent. The industrialists, however, will want to be rid of me, and of the trade unions, most of whom will be crushed ruthlessly.”

He sighed. “Which rather proves that the entire plot is doomed to failure, even if it succeeds,” he said. “Where do our interests lie?”

Cora rubbed her hands over his back. “With the best interests of the company,” she said. “You taught me that, remember?”

Oliver nodded. “It’s past midnight,” he said. “I’m going to sleep in today, and then I’m going to make a call to a man, one who might be able to take action.”

Cora smiled. “Good night,” she said, and kissed him gently.

Future Embassy

Washington DC, USA

12^th June 1941

The secured phone had been taken directly from the embassy in London and transhipped to Washington, even though it’s use of British satellites meant that there was a very weak link in the chain. Ambassador King’s private number was known to only a handful of people, including the President, the British Prime Minister and Ambassador, and Jim Oliver, who’d been a healthy contributor to funds for the embassy.

“Good morning, Ambassador,” Oliver’s voice said. “I’m sorry for calling you like this, but I’ve sent you an urgent secured packet via email, using the TakTakChar protocol encoding. Read it, and then call me back. Goodbye.”

King finished listening to the voicemail and scowled. There was yet another meeting with the production committees to finalise plans for the next generation of landing craft, then the plans for producing the first proper jet fighter, years ahead of its time. The Navy was demanding that the full extent of production was switched to Hellcat fighters and dive-bombers, while the Army was demanding its B-29s and B-52s. General Groves was demanding more support from Britain for the atomic program, and it just went on and on.

And yet, he didn’t know Oliver that well, but it had sounded urgent. The man was a cunning worker; he’d not only started new plants, but he’d bought up a fair percentage of the moribund American manufacturing plants. As the sudden economic boost caused by the war kicked the economy forward, Oliver had made more money than anyone else had dreamed of, during the years of the Depression.

He opened his personal laptop and allowed it to scan his biometric readings before opening the email program. He went though another series of security checks before the system condescended to open the email, and then he started to read.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, as he read through the first few paragraphs. The plot was cunning and matched precisely some of the information he’d acquired, but without a framework to insert all of the data to make a complete picture. Now… now he had the framework, and everything slotted into place.

“He can’t,” he said, as he read on, the entire picture becoming clear. “Doesn’t he have any respect for America?”

He shook his head. Hoover had respected the America that had allowed him to become head of the FBI and then allowed him to run ransack over this era’s conception of civil liberties. Like any man faced with the future, he had attempted to destroy it… and had recruited MacArthur and many others to help him. People who agreed with him, outspoken protesters against the changing world… and people who he knew too much about, they made a formidable force blocking change.

He lifted the secured phone and tapped Oliver’s number. It was picked up at once; Oliver must have been waiting for the call. “Mr Oliver,” he said.

“I assume that you have read the message,” Oliver said. “It’s all true.”

“I don’t doubt it,” King said. “Listen, what do you want me to do about it?”

There was a long silence. “I expect you to stop it, somehow,” Oliver said. “The resources of my company are at your disposal.”

“Thanks,” King said wryly. “Still… you do realise that most of the plot will play out anyway? What’s to stop them plunging America into a second civil war?”

There was a second long pause. “I don’t think that they can win in the long run,” Oliver said finally. “If the attack in Washington can be defeated, the rest of the plotters will either sit on their hands or face the federal army, with their states in open revolt against their rule and treachery. Given how bad most of them would be for everyone without a high income…”

King thought rapidly. Oliver was probably right – a little imp at the back of his mind reminded him that he wanted Oliver to be right – but it still posed a serious problem. There were no forces near Washington that could be proved to be untainted; most of the army units in the country were being trained in Texas. The Secret Service would be loyal, he suspected, for it disliked the FBI and Hoover, but who else could be trusted?

A thought struck him. He recoiled; it could go very badly wrong… but the coup plot itself was bad. “I’ll discuss the matter with the President,” he said finally. “Mr Oliver, I may need your help.”

“Anything you want that I can give,” Oliver said. “Good morning, Ambassador.”

King put down the phone and sent a quick email to Colonel Palter, asking him to return to the embassy and start reading the encrypted message. Scowling, he picked up the phone again, and made an appointment to see Roosevelt, before typing out a final email.

“I hope you can help,” he muttered, as the email was sent. “I’m not sure what other weapons are left.”

The White House

Washington DC, USA

12^th June 1941

“Did you see the plans for the jet bomber?” Roosevelt asked, delightedly. “The constructer believes that it will be possible to bomb anywhere in the world from here, and then get back for dinner.”

King shook his head. Roosevelt insisted on discussing unimportant matters first. “It’s a waste of time at the moment,” he said. “We can just build a B-52 at the moment, but we really need short-range tactical bombers, such as the B-29, which we can build in great numbers soon. Once we start equipping the new squadrons in Britain, Norway and North Africa with them, we can really start pounding away at the Germans.”

Roosevelt nodded. “Tell me, what sort of relations should we have with North Africa?” He asked. “The British have pretty much annexed it, and there won’t be any trading for us there.”

“I don’t think you understand,” King said, allowing his irritation to show. Roosevelt seemed oblivious. “The British have set up a provisional government, with full independence in 1950, for each of the African states. Mr President, the entire north of Africa will become a place for everyone to trade, once they’re finished. They won’t try to lock us out.”

Roosevelt lifted an eyebrow. “Are you certain of that?”

“Hanover is not an idiot,” King said. “They won’t let us damage their economy again, but they’ll encourage us to trade as long as they can do the same in Latin and South America.”

“Which you keep urging me to absorb into the United States,” Roosevelt said. “We don’t invade nations and add them to the United States by force.”

King shook his head. “Mr President, we have to act there to prevent the entire region from collapsing,” he said. “Hell, you know what the Texas Defence League is doing.”

Roosevelt nodded. The Texas Defence League, having heard about the massive coming waves of immigrants, had demanded that the borders were clearly marked and sealed before the waves could even begin. It was just another effect of knowing the future; New Orleans had panicked upon learning of the hurricanes that would strike the city, years in the future.

“It’s just another problem that we could head off at the pass,” King said. “However, there is another problem, sir, that we have to handle.”

He outlined the coup plan, as far as he knew. “Mr President, this is real.”

“Manure,” Roosevelt said. “Ambassador – Jackson – there have been threats of something like this for years, on and off. They wouldn’t be so stupid, Jackson; they’d bring the entire house of cards crashing down on their hands.”

King scowled. There had been a report of a plot in 1936, one that was supposed to have selected the wrong general to lead it, who had exposed it. It had been so nebulous that some writers – almost all of them – had questioned its reality. Roosevelt, with his allies, had either refused to believe it or decided to let sleeping dogs lie – the investigation had been a failure, some said to cover the entire matter up.

That might have been a very bad idea, he thought grimly.

“Their position isn’t strong,” Roosevelt said. “I have had bits and pieces, but why would they launch such a plot when they know that they would be defeated? They only represent the rich, Ambassador; what about the people who love the New Deal?”

“They also happen to be the powerless ones,” King said, knowing that it was futile. “Mr President, can’t you at least summon a regiment of troops back to Washington?”

“Not with the conquest of Norway going on,” Roosevelt said. “Public opinion would not stand for it.”

“I know,” King sighed. “Good luck, sir.”

Future Embassy

Washington DC, USA

12^th June 1941

“The President doesn’t believe us,” Ambassador King said grimly. “He can’t believe that his fellow patricians could do something so stupid.”

“They’re desperate,” Colonel Palter said. “That explains some of the odd reports we’ve had; we were supposed to have lost several thousand AK-47s in a fire two weeks ago. Want to bet that they were just moved to a different warehouse?” He scowled. “Hoover promised to investigate and blamed it on the commies.”

“Wonderful,” King said. “Some rich men, an army, a lot of supporters in high places… and they’ll tear the country apart if we let them. Suggestions?”

“Assassination?” Palter suggested. “We’re Marines; we’re far more capable than any of Hoover’s guards.”

“He has massive protection,” King said. “The real problem is if Hoover falls, someone else might take his place in the plot. Tolson perhaps.”

“Perhaps,” Palter said. “I hate to suggest it, but could we not ask Ambassador Quinn for help?”

“The British?” King asked, who had considered that. “No, Scott; this has to be an internal American affair.”

Palter sniggered. “You did ask Oliver for help,” he pointed out.

“We’re going to need his help,” King said. “I have a plan.” He outlined it. “What do you think?”

“It could go badly wrong,” Palter said. “It’s not like we could put our own forces in the White House. Coming to think of it, where else are they going to seize?”

“Radio stations, the various departments… and here,” King said. “The priority, however, remains the White House… and the President. We have to move some of our forces to Washington.”

Palter snorted. “And where are we going to hide them?”

“Here and in Oliver’s warehouses,” King said. “We must plan for an attack here, and we have to hold out until our own forces can go into action.”

“Assuming we can get them here in time without being noticed,” Palter said. He thought rapidly. “We can do it, I think; we’ll certainly have an advantage in coordination if nothing else.”

King nodded. “And we have to convince Truman,” he said. “If we knew the exact date, we could arrange for him to come here, but we don’t…”

“Oliver can try to find out,” Palter said. He studied the map of Washington. “If we warn Truman ahead of time, we can get him here, or to the British Embassy.”

“They might attack the British Embassy,” King said, thinking of the western embassies in the third world that had been attacked without retaliation. “Here would be safer, don’t you think?”

Palter nodded. “I’ll contact him,” he said. “He’s on one of the committees I have to brief on a fairly regular basis, yet another attempt to invent the space shuttle before the jet engine. Once we let him know that it might happen, he might agree to go into hiding in Washington, if not come here for a week or so.” He grinned. “If he does come here, they’ll be sure to come for us.”

King scowled. “There are some other preparations we’ll have to make,” he said. “Oliver can help with some of them, so I’ll give him a call. Until then, you get Truman alerted, and then perhaps we can head this madness off at the passes.”

“Yes, sir,” Palter said. “Are you going to call Jones as well?”

“I suppose I better had,” King said. “If this is to work, he’s going to be needed.”