enters the East Gym tunnel in force, assault weapons drawn.
Andy remotely switches on the powerful cell phone jammer which is perched high in the campus bell tower, not far from the scene of the speech. Its coverage radius is about one mile which includes Ft. Truck.
"President Alec, Provost Mullen, distinguished guests, ladies and gentlemen. As you know, these past few months have been very difficult for us all. Our country is disintegrating and strife is everywhere."
Mark, in the trailer, watching the network TV feed going to the uplink, hits the button on the bomb detonation remote.
The bomb explodes. The NSA paramilitary unit in the tunnel is now but a red stain on the walls. A few delayed rounds sputter and severed body parts jerk. A few moments later, some grenades, their pins dislodged by the blast, time out and rearrange the debris.
As Andy hears the roar of massive explosions echoing through the tunnel chambers from far behind, he hits his own button and starts the pyrotechnic show under the platform. Explosions from flash, smoke and stun grenades burst convincingly into the TV pool coverage.
The TV video erupts in billows of smoke, an occasional indistinct blur of a person running, and screams from all sides. All appears to be chaos. A garbled voice over attempts to narrate the scene.
DeWitt, watching from California with her money barons is ecstatic. She jumps up and begins a little dance, squealing with joy. Her fat cats slap their thighs and applaud the overweight, aging hoofer's antics.
Finishing with a flourishing finger to the TV, she says, "At last, the convention is totally fucked!"
Network announcers, not actually at the scene, begin falling over one another to make up a story. They babble incoherently bouncing from one standard set of focus group tested, approved, talking points to another. Must have been the Tea Party. This is what happens when you don't have gun control. We need more state security. War on women. Income inequality. Global warming.
On stage and off, the smoke, flash and stun grenade detonations envelope the audience in a blinding fog. Panic is general.
Before anyone else can react, Phil and Ben grab Munson and swiftly lead him under the platform, where Jim, waiting, has opened the tunnel access door. Munson quickly descends the metal ladder to where Ryan is waiting. Phil and Ben quickly follow.
"Ok, where to?" Munson asks, shouting as his hearing is still affected by blasts.
Jim, likewise shouting, replies, "That way," as he closes and bolts the access panel above.
They all climb onto an electric service cart, basically a golf cart converted for tunnel maintenance. Jim, in the driver's seat, flips it on and they race through the subterranean network towards the steam plant.
"Where are we going?" says Asks Ryan.
"Omaha."
"How? They'll have all the roads blocked and the airport closed. Don't think the bus station would be much help."
"We're taking a train."
"And this is the subway to Omaha?"
"No, surface rail."
"Since when is there passenger service around here?"
"Since about 10 minutes from now."
Their electric cart whirs through the dimly lit tunnel. At several intersections they veer one way or another. The air grows perceptibly warmer as they near the steam plant.
Finally, skidding to a halt, Jim says, "We're here," pointing to the final door.
"And what now?" asks Ryan.
"This is where we get the train to Omaha."
"You want to explain that?"
"There's a spur of the main train line outside. It's used to deliver coal to the steam plant. There's a train there now waiting for us."
"And we're taking a coal train to Omaha?"
"Nope. Just the lead locomotive. It's all been arranged."
Time: 3:10 PM
Back in his trailer, Mark waits and watches the network feed, which, unknown to him, is now being controlled from Kansas City. The minutes tick by and he still sees nothing but smoke and confusion. He's desperate for word from his agents. They should have checked in by now. He tries calling them on his cell phone, no signal, now he knows something is wrong. What the fuck has happened?
Suddenly, one of his agents rips open the door of the trailer. Breathless, gasping, bending over, hands on knees, he screams, "It was a fake. Our bomb didn't go off. It was theirs. They staged it. Munson is gone."
"Gone? Gone where?"
"No idea. The place is pandemonium. The cell phones don't work. Too much smoke to see anything. Somehow, they got him off stage. We don't know how or where. We've been all over it. He couldn't have gotten through the building, our guys were there. We're fucked."
Panicked, Mark tries to contact NSA for instructions. The Internet is out and still no cell phone signal. Nothing. He's blind. Another agent arrives running, this one was at the Bander Hall sniper nest.
He says. "We're searching now. Everywhere. We have no word on how Munson got away. We've totally blocked all the roads leading away from campus."
Mark turns and asks one of the agents at a console, "Any word from the security chopper?"
"None, but I do have radio contact. They say they were hovering about half a mile away when they saw the smoke and explosions. They're above the site right now."
"Ask if they saw and cars leaving, any way Munson could have gotten away."
"Negative, they didn't see any car movement at all. All the roads over there are blocked anyway."
"Any aircraft?"
"Negative."
"We need to shut down every possible way out of here."
All at once, all the cell phones ring, chirp, tinkle, buzz, sing and vibrate.
One agent, looking at the incoming stream of text messages, says, "They found a cell phone jammer and disabled it. It was on top of the bell tower."
"Start calling all agents and tell them what's happened. Tell them to put up road blocks and halt all out bound traffic. Call the local and state police and tell them the same. No one's getting out of here, no one. Get the rest of the choppers in the air and have them start searching for any vehicles trying to leave Ft. Dodge. Tell them to concentrate on the west and south side. They may be heading for Nebraska. Set up a search pattern for each crew. Tell Ed I'm going up with him and hold his chopper until I get there."
With that agent Mark grabs his satchel full of guns and ammo and dashes towards the parking lot where several SS security copters are preparing to take off.
Bowing, he ducks under the spinning rotor of one and into the cab giving a thumbs up signal. With that the engine thunders, the dark machine rises and veers to the west. Two others follow to their assigned sectors.
Time: 3:20 PM
The controllers in Kansas City feed several minutes of the smoke and mayhem TV feed in order to give Munson time to start his escape as well as garnish the largest possible national audience. Within ten minutes, ninety percent of a shocked country is either watching or listening.
Desperate network executives in New York try to regain control of their TV signal in vain. The hacked satellites won't yield.
A desperate network executive, an ardent supporter of the progressive coup, in tears, calls her White House minder and tells him the bad news, "We've lost control of the airwaves. No one knows what to expect. Alert DeWitt. Something big is up."
"What the hell do you mean? I'm watching the coverage right now," replies DeWitt's commissioner from the Department of Broadcast News Regulation and Enforcement.
"It's not ours. Someone else has taken control of the network, all the networks. They've somehow hacked the satellite distribution systems. We have no control. We don't know where it's coming from but my best guess is Kansas City."
"Holy shit. Is there anyway to turn the whole thing off?"
"None."
"Oh crap! Now what?" says the commissioner as he drops the phone on its cradle and gapes at the TV screen.
The video has abruptly switched to the logo of the Constitutional Convention
set against a backdrop of the skyline of Kansas City. A calm but authoritative voice announces an urgent, special message from Convention headquarters.
The controllers in Kansas City start the pre-recorded video to the satellites, the Internet, and the cable news services.
Munson introduces the video saying, "Today, there was an attempt to murder me and many others in Ft. Dodge. This was part of a plot to seize control of the Convention states by Hillary DeWitt. You will now see and hear, with your own eyes and ears, proof that this plot originated and was authorized by Hillary DeWitt for the express purpose of taking dictatorial control of this country and eliminating all opposition, most particularly, the Constitutional Convention."
The entire country is watching, mesmerized by what they see. Tempers flare. Telephone switch boards at networks, TV stations, congressional offices erupt. DeWitt and her movement are about to be exposed for all to see.
Time: 3:45 PM
The electric carts squeal to a halt at the end of the warm and musty tunnel. Jim points towards a steel door.
"Is that the door to the steam plant?" asks Munson.
"Yes," answers Jim.
"Anyone likely there right now?"
"No, this area is out of the way. The main control rooms are on the other side of the building."
"Where's the train?"
"There's another door about twenty feet from here, it leads out to the tracks. That's the line they bring coal in on."
"We're no longer underground?"
"No, the back of the steam plant is below the grade. This tunnel connects at the lower level on the side where they bring the coal in. It's piled up outside and they use front loaders to bring and dump it onto conveyor belts