The Curse of Medusa

CHAPTER THIRTY

Charles Grant had faced many challenges in his life, from his time commanding a unit of special operations men in Vietnam’s Khánh Hòa province all the way through his acting career, his time in the Senate and then the ultimate fight to the Oval Office itself. Tonight, however, he knew he faced the toughest test of his entire life — and perhaps the final test. Knowing the whole nation was watching, he steeled himself, determined to die with dignity. He knew this moment would be carved in history for eternity.

Now he watched, helpless, as the terrorists moved around him on the rear deck of the Perseus, Kiefel’s super yacht. They had landed a few moments ago, having flown up from New Orleans out of a private airfield, taking full advantage of Kiefel’s capacity to persuade Kimble to let their plane pass. Now, they were preparing for the final broadcast — Charles Grant’s death. He knew it was no coincidence that Klaus Kiefel had moved the show to the Perseus — while the Americans were dealing with Manhattan and Los Angeles being turned into a statue park, he could slip into international waters.

He watched the German with disgust as he launched into another lecture on the many failings of America, but the final horror was only now revealed as Kiefel commanded Jakob to tie the President into his chair and position him on the deck so there was no way to tell they were in Midtown Manhattan. This meant it was time to die.

Kiefel raised his hands and used them to frame Grant as if he were checking the ergonomics of a piece of furniture. “Ja… das ist perfekt, nicht wahr?”

Jakob nodded, humorless, while Angelika smiled and made a comment in German too fast for Grant to catch.

Kiefel turned to Grant and grinned.

“I hope you’re ready for your close-up, Charlie — it’s Showtime!”

The atmosphere in the Situation Room was grim when the appointed hour arrived and everyone gathered around the plasma TV. President Kimble in particular looked very nervous, and had to lean against the desk for support as the image they had all been dreading flicked to life on the screen.

“Greetings America!” Kiefel said. He was standing beside Charles Grant who was now tied to what looked like a deck chair. He was gagged and blinking wildly in terror.

“He looks furious,” Anderson said.

The President’s executive secretary, Margot, dried her eyes with a gentle dab of her pocket handkerchief before turning away from the screen. “He looks scared, to me.”

“He looks confused,” added General McAlister, clenching his jaw.

Kiefel smiled grotesquely into the camera. “You know by now that I have the power to turn man to stone, and you also know I am prepared to use that power. Here, you see before you your former Commander-in-Chief, Charles Grant.”

Kiefel made a big show of looking at his watch. “It is incumbent upon me to tell you Mr Grant has less than an hour to live. How sad.”

Grant struggled against the ropes but they were too tight.

“After Mr Grant has been turned into a garden ornament for my estate, I will turn this awesome power on the American people. Only in this way will my mother be avenged.”

The image was cut and the screen went black.

In the Situation Room, all eyes turned to the President, but it was Brooke, still irritated at being summoned back to the White House by Kimble, who spoke next.

“Someone get me Joe Hawke!”

President Edward D. Kimble couldn’t seem to stop his fingers from drumming on the edge of the Resolute Desk. After the video of Grant on the yacht, he had returned from the Situation Room alone, more than a little shaken by what he had seen.

Now, he glanced at the imposing grandfather clock by the door — the same one Charles Grant had installed on his first day as Commander-in-Chief. He felt an uncomfortable wave of nausea rise in his stomach. If everything was going according to plan, his German puppet-master would be televising the execution of his predecessor very soon. All that remained then would be Kiefel’s pièce de résistance — his long-held desire to turn large swathes of the global population into a theme park full of human statues, starting with America.

Maybe, just maybe, Kimble thought… I could use my new power as the President to liberate Klaus Kiefel from his madness — permanently…

The thought was an intriguing one. Perhaps, he thought, he was settling into the Big Chair at last.

It was time to give Klaus Kiefel a call and put an end to the insanity.