the President of the United States’ personal representative. She needed to act boldly. She needed to realize that today she was the voice of America.
I have to swallow my fear. I have to think and measure the opposition. I must seek calm, calm, calm…
She’d entered the inner circle, advising the President and in the past few weeks consoling him. The crushing burden was becoming too much for one man to shoulder. President Sims was hard-pressed and people kept expecting miracles from him. He’d won the Alaskan War seven years ago, defeating the Chinese. He had a record of victory against them.
Yes, President Sims—
David. I can call him David in my thoughts, can’t I?
David Sims had helped America prepare for the present war. The Militia formations had been his idea. Shooting down the Chinese satellites last year and stopping the food tribute—he’d helped Americans feel proud again. Now to watch the endless retreats, the grim defeats, each larger than the last—it was grinding David down.
I’m here because this is better than crawling to the Chinese for conditions. And I’m here because Chancellor Kleist indicated he had a proposal for us.
Years ago, Anna had written the tome on the Chinese: Socialist-National China. It had been a bestseller, and it had won her a professorship at Harvard and then a spot on President Clark’s staff. After Clark lost his reelection bid, she’d been unemployed and looking for work. Finally, she’d joined the CIA because Sims helped those who had worked to defeat the Chinese in Alaska. As a CIA analyst, she’d uncovered the enemy’s Blue Swan EMP tac-missiles, and she’d helped figure out how to blunt them against the SoCal Fortifications. During these dark days, she’d learned all she could about Chancellor Kleist of the German Dominion, but her knowledge was spotty compared to her understanding of the Chinese leadership.
In the here and now, Agent Demetrius led the way down the hotel hall. Soon, they stepped outside. It was snowing and wet, clinging flakes fell. A running sedan waited at the bottom of the marble steps. White fumes puffed out of the car’s exhaust.
Anna worked her way down the slick steps. Her right foot began to slide; she held her body rigid and barely caught her balance in time. It wouldn’t do for her to fall down the stairs like an idiot. Finally, she made it and headed for the open car door. She slid into the back seat and Demetrius shut the door and climbed into the front, riding shotgun. The car started forward, the only vehicle on the street.
What a lonely country this has become.
The capital city of Reykjavik and Iceland as a whole used to have many more people. Glaciation had changed that. The Gulf Stream no longer warmed these northern waters. The current no longer warmed Europe or Russia. Because of the change, crops had dwindled to a pale shadow of their glory days.
The German Dominion refused to accept the lessening of their position. They had incorporated several North African nations into their empire. Experts attempted to change the former deserts into gardens using scientific methods. The ancient Carthaginians had done that to northern Tunisia. Now the Germans tried their hand at the game. They even towed icebergs into the Mediterranean Sea and put them on Libyan, Algerian and Tunisian shores. The melt helped water the new wheat fields.
From the back seat, Anna noticed they climbed a hill. She glanced left and saw colorful rooftops. There were many of those in Reykjavik. In the distance, she saw the spire of Hallgrimskirkja, the church of Hallgrimur. According to her brief, the spire was the sixth tallest structure on the island.
Once, Greater Reykjavik had boasted 200,000 people. Anna had read in her brief there were a mere 75,000 now. The ratio was similar for the entire island. Still, Iceland was strategically placed. A GD air wing flew out of the island and tough GD paratroopers and hover-tankers guarded the lonely land.
From the back seat, Anna pulled out her e-reader, trying to study her notes. It proved impossible. She was more nervous than ever. In the next few minutes, she would meet Chancellor Kleist and she would have to play her role as Presidential representative.
Kleist was a cunning bastard. Oh yes, he was acclaimed as the new Otto von Bismarck. That sounded so much nicer. There had been little nice about Otto von Bismarck, however, a man of the late 1800s. His compatriots had named Bismarck the “blood and iron” Chancellor who’d