Fire in the Ashes

PROLOGUE

The White House

Richmond, Virginia

March, 1999

“Are you sure Ben Raines is dead?” President Addison asked the agent.

“Yes, sir. Positive. He was hit three times in the chest area with M-16 rounds. Then he fell off a mountain. The man is dead. No human could have lived through that.”

“Where was this?”

“Montana, sir. The man is dead.”

“I’ve heard that before. Ben Raines is hard to kill.” The president dismissed the agent and whirled around in his chair, looking out the window. Alone in the Oval Office, Addison’s thoughts were as mixed as they were many.

Ben Raines finally dead. Finally. Funny, I should be experiencing some… some sort of glow of victory. But I don’t. I met him; I rather liked him. I wish to God we could have reached some sort of agreement, for I don’t believe he was ever an enemy of the people.

The president sighed heavily and rose from the comfortable leather chair. He stood by the window, watching the drops of rain spot and splatter against the bulletproof glass. He stood for several moments, experiencing a dozen different emotions. He turned at a knock on his office door.

“Come in.”

Al Cody, director of the FBI, walked in, a huge smile on his face. “I can’t believe it, sir. The son of a bitch is really dead?”

Al Cody was not one of the president’s favorite people. The man had pushed hard for the new anti-handgun bill; had been instrumental in stripping the citizens of pistols, and in setting up what amounted to a virtual police state in America. The majority of the citizens of the United States hated Al Cody.

But they were stuck with him.

“Yes,” Aston said with a sigh. “I believe Ben Raines is dead.”

“Is there any way we can get Congress to make this a national holiday?”

Aston Addison could only look at the man.

Al flushed, realizing he had perhaps taken that one step too many and crossed the invisible line. “Sorry, sir. But my feeling for Ben Raines is a lot deeper than yours. His Rebels killed my brother in the battle for Tri-States.”

“There is right and wrong on both sides, Mr. Cody. Our forces raped and tortured a lot of Rebels—or have you forgotten that?”

“No, sir.”

“Is there anything else you want, Mr. Cody?”

To see you out of the White House for one thing, the FBI chief thought savagely. That would be marvelous. “No, sir,” he said.

“That will be all, then, Mr. Cody. Thank you for stopping by.”

Cody deliberately slammed the door as he left.

“Bastard!” President Addison said.

The president turned to the window and once more stared out at the rainy afternoon. Dead, the word came dully to him. Dead. He shook his head.

“I don’t believe it,” he said aloud. Then, for a reason not even the president could fathom, he added, “I hope it’s not true.”