Chapter 59

Since the proclamation concerning the trial at The Hague had been made, Junior was edgy and apprehensive. She couldn't quite put her finger on it but there was something...

Junior was waiting for the other shoe. Mrs. President was not going to let such an encroaching affront to her ego slip past, nor was she the type to calmly and reasonably discuss the issue.

Nope. She was a bang on the table and shout type of liar ... like Nikita K. She had POWER and she would use it to sweep away any scandal intruding on her prestigious office and her person. Complain about her and you complain about the United States.

She had HER people and their FULL support and bedamned any pissant scruffy nation that would doubt her. To HELL with any weak and corrupt gathering of many such nations.

The other shoe, took form as a mass wing parachute landing on the United Nations building and the first person to know about it was Art Phung, a second generation American of Vietnamese descent. Art was on the roof taking his break from the arduous task of floor buffing when a man swooped down from the sky and landed softly behind him, and another, and another until the roof was full of American Special Forces troops. They were extremely efficient and very well informed.

The door to the offices on the top floor was conveniently open ... Art had wedged it so he could return to work. No one bothered Phung ... he was inconsequential. So while the twelve men worked their quiet way into the bowels of the building, Art finished his cigarette, stubbed it out on the safety wall and flicked it over the side of the building.

It was a nice day, he was in no hurry, the wax wasn't dry and he would surely have to damp mop, wax and buff all over again. 'Invasions' Job security. He leaned on his elbows and watched the platoon of Bradley Fighting Vehicles ... tracks, his Father called them ... heading towards the building. The gardeners would certainly have a mess when those plant eating vehicles left.

The first person who would know what to do and who to call about the attack on the UN was the junior secretary of the delegation from Liechtenstein. The senior secretary was on the floor taking notes for her boss. Liechtenstein isn't very big and their closet office reflected their size. Junior miss swung open the door to the hall just as Corporal Jacks was preparing to cross in front of it. She caught him square in the nose ... it was love at first sight. She ruined her scrap of Brussels lace hanky sopping up the blood. He was too wounded and too comfortable in the lap of the stacked blonde to continue.

Jacks was the first casualty of the American Invasion of the United Nations.

The first notification the General Assembly had was the burst of a fully automatic M-5 into the ceiling of main entrance vestibule. The sound was not unknown to a great many delegates. They had been on one side or the other of the sound in their own countries. It was immediately very quiet. The officer was a veteran of the First Princessapalia War and had been quietly seething since.

"By order of the President of the United States, the United Nations is dissolved. Get your asses out of our country."

Junior put up her shield and began to laugh.

She was immediately recognized and fired upon ... as if that did a lick of good. Well ... it served to clear the room in one fuck of a hurry.

"Sonny, you, yeah ... the guy with the size problem. I have a message for your masters."

He stuffed another mag in his rifle and let off another blast. He ran out of ammo again. His target was invulnerable; he may as well hear her speak.

"What message?"

"There is no place to run ... no time to hide. I take Shakespeare's Marc Antony speech for my own:

'Blood and destruction shall be so in use and dreadful objects so familiar that mothers shall but smile when they behold. Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war; all pity choked with custom of fell deeds: And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge, with Ate by his side come hot from hell, shall in these confines with a monarch's voice cry 'Havoc, ' and let slip the dogs of war; That this foul deed shall smell above the earth with carrion men, groaning for burial.'

"I am the designated dog of war and a true Hell Hound and I will have free reign to wage unlimited war on the United States, until it's remaining collective elected leadership begs for peace. I tell you now, I know who perpetrated the foul deed: they shall not survive."

"Oh shut up kid ... we got your family and we'll get you."

She didn't kill him ... she just busted him up ... just a little, picked him up with her sphere of power and took him back four hundred years in time and left him there. She even left him his weapons. She was chuckling as she rattled the 5.56 NATO rounds she had taken from him.