[Author’s Note: This Chapter and the rest of the short story were originally intended have been posted for the Beautiful Monsters Substack. But because Gio no longer has any plans to continue the Substack, I have no choice but to finish the rest of the story on The Fourth Estate as planned. -DAH]
The aftermath of the Third World War left Washington DC and surrounding suburbs along the Potomac in ruins. Entire neighborhoods were reduced to rubble, the buildings with shattered windows, busted doors, and holes of varying sizes. Large craters, smoldering vehicle wreckage, scattered debris fields, and empty shell casings littered the streets. Some areas remained fortified with dug trenches, barbed wire, mortar pits, and sandbag walls forming hull down positions for armored fighting vehicles. Despite the onset of the Zero Hour, the former US capital became a contested no man’s land between the Federalist American Union and the neighboring Confederation of Southern States.
Approaching the outskirts from the Maryland side, Christoph and his comrades traveled in FAU Army uniforms and surplus weapons supplied by Adalbert Munitions. Wilhelm held onto the K8 carbine and its high-powered scope, whilst Andreas, Max, and Christoph wielded StG10 assault rifles. An intense downpour occurred alongside the loud boom of an impending thunderstorm. Sporadic gunfire and explosions reverberated from across the Potomac.
“I thought the war is over…,” Max shuddered, clenching his teeth, and turning toward Christoph. “What the hell is going on to the west?”
“That’s the sound of the ‘Mason-Dixon Line’ being revisited, Max,” Christoph explained, tightening the straps of his coal scuttle helmet. “A centuries-old border dispute over whether the FAU or the CSS should be in control of Maryland. America may have ended Slavery, but this border dispute predates the American Civil War by two centuries.”
Wilhelm scanned the windowsills, doorways, and exposed holds on the walls of surrounding buildings. A few destroyed armored cars, an armored personnel carrier, and a tank blocked much of the intersection up ahead. “This seems like a good spot for an ambush.”
“You’re only saying that because you want one to happen,” Andreas chimed. “Either way, are we certain that the coroner, Dr. Peter D’Angelo, lives on the Maryland side? How do we know that he does not live on the Virginia side?”
“If my uncle is correct,” Christoph said, “His house should be a few blocks from here.” He proceeded to check the number of rounds loaded in his magazine. The magazine was still full.
Unbeknownst to Christoph and his comrades, somebody was anticipating their arrival. Mercenaries in surplus military fatigues hid inside the buildings at the intersection, occupying the first and second floors. One of them had mounted an MG4 light machine gun on a tripod with a clear view of the intersection. Hidden behind the destroyed vehicles was a lone Miniaturized Armored Fighting Vehicle (MAFV) sporting a 30mm laser autocannon and a 7.62mm PKT machine gun. Although developed by the Soviet Union during World War II as the remote-controlled ‘Teletank’, it was not until World War III that nations began fielding massive numbers of unmanned MAFVs to serve a variety of combat roles. The presence of the MAFV meant that a crew was piloting it remotely from the adjacent buildings or a nearby command vehicle.
The machine gunner and the gunner of the MAFV planted their sights on Christoph and his comrades, the other mercenaries readying their guns. Without hesitation, the machine gunner and the MAFV opened fire, their tracers announcing their presence. The rest of the mercenaries followed suit. As bullets and concentrated laser beams whirled past them, Christoph and his comrades responded by shooting in the general direction of the mercenaries, hurrying away from the street and into a building on their right.
Andreas and Max took turns popping out of a windowsill to take potshots at the mercenaries. Wilhelm landed a direct hit on the head of the machine gunner, silencing him but forcing another mercenary to take his place instead.
“Where did they get a Soviet-made Teletank?” Andreas yelled, tossing one of his spare magazines at Max. Max managed to catch it as bullets ricocheted against the windowsill.
“And we don’t even have anything to destroy it!” Wilhem cried.
“Should we turn back and leave?” Max asked Christoph.
“Not without those mercenaries and their MAFV after us!” Christoph answered. “Dr. D’Angelo’s apartment is not far from here! We need to use whatever we find as cover!”
“Either that,” Wilhelm shouted, “Or we lose them!” He unloaded a few more rounds at the machine gun crew, evading the laser beams from the MAFV’s autocannon. “Those machine gunners are pinned, let’s move out!”
Christoph and his comrades hurried down a flight of stairs to a rear service entrance. They exited in the middle of an alley that led to a trench that had been dug months prior. They ran through the trench to reach another alley on the other end of the street. The mercenaries ran out of the building they had garrisoned. The supporting MAFV bulldozed the destroyed vehicles blocking the intersection. A few of the mercenaries rode atop the MAFV’s chassis during the chase.
Emerging from the alleyway past the trench, Christoph and his comrades scaled a rusty chain-link fence, scurrying across an abandoned parking lot. A few stray artillery shells fell overhead, landing in a wide area across the parking lot. Neither Christoph nor his comrades were close enough to get hit by the shrapnel from the exploding artillery shells. The mercenaries and their MAFV remained on their tail.
Max pointed at a large building up ahead. “That’s got to be some kind of department store or a supermarket, Christoph!”
“Where are we now?” Wilhelm screamed, struggling to catch his breath.
“Got to love the Americans for their strip malls and large parking lots!” Andreas voiced.
Christoph and his comrades sprinted across the parking lot and ran through the front entrance. Outside, the lone MAFV lingered outside the parking lot while the rest of the mercenaries rushed into the building. An armored car with several antennae protruding from its roof entered the parking lot.
Like the parking lot, the department store was also abandoned. Its ceiling lights flickered, its store shelves and rack remained bare. Christoph and the others dashed past several store aisles and went through a narrow hallway that led them to the store’s bathrooms, a water foundation devoid of running water, and one of the building’s emergency fire exits. Andreas kicked down the fire exit door. Christoph, Max, and Wilhelm ran past him. Two mercenaries appeared from the opposite end of the hallway. Before rejoining the others, Andreas squeezed a dozen rounds at them, injuring one and killing the other.
The emergency fire exit was situated in the rear of the building, where the department store used to receive deliveries in prewar times. The loading bay doors remained shut, locked from the inside with chains. Following Andreas’ return, Christoph led his comrades across the parking lots of a fast-food joint and an art store. A pack of stray dogs from an adjacent pet store escaped through the front entrance as its roof collapsed after being hit by one of the stray artillery shells.
Crossing the road that went straight to the apartment of Dr. D’Angelo, Max made a notable discovery. “Watch out,” he declared, “The road is mined!”
“Those aren’t antipersonnel mines!” Christoph responded.
“Are you sure?” Andreas asked.
“Now is not a great time to get our legs blown off!” Wilhelm yelled.
The FAU Army had recently laid some Riegel-series antitank mines that were provided by the German Reich. Repainted to resemble part of the asphalt, these rectangular-shaped antitank mines were incapable of detonating when stepped on by humans. It required the weight of most conventional vehicles, including the MAFV and its command vehicle, to set them off.
Christoph realized when he stepped on one of the antitank mines. “They’re just a bunch of Riegel antitank mines,” he told him. “Forget about them and run!” The others followed Christoph up to the road, climbed over another fence, and entered a residential area.
The MAFV from earlier proceeded ahead of the other mercenaries and its command vehicle. Its treads rolled towards the antitank mines, its crew unaware of their presence on the asphalt. When a tread was atop an antitank mine, the mine detonated, destroying it. The detonation of that antitank mine, placed so close next to so many others, was enough to cause a chain reaction that destroyed the entire MAFV. The explosion itself created an internal fire that set off the internal munitions for the onboard weaponry, blowing up the turret and sending it flying in the air.
***
Dr. D’Angelo owned an apartment on the fourth floor of an apartment building overlooking the old US Capitol Building from the east. Outside, the building looked no different than the countless ruins that dotted the area after the war. The apartment had already been ransacked some time ago and the body of Dr. D’Angelo lay dead in the living room. A small pool of blood was forming on the carpeted floor around the corpse. The door was left wide open when Christoph and his comrades entered.
Andreas shook his head in dismay. “Looks like we came too late,” he told Christoph. “What are we supposed to do now?”
Max passed by Andreas at the doorway. “Why not search this apartment?”
“Besides,” Wilhelm chimed, “Those mercenaries were after us for a reason.”
Plodding into the living room, Christoph kneeled in front of the lifeless corpse and proceeded to examine it. He gauged the rigor mortis to obtain an approximate time of death. “Dr. D’Angelo died recently,” he told the others. “I’d say about…half an hour ago.” There was blood on Dr. D’Angelo’s chest. Unbuttoning the bloodied dress shirt, Christoph uncovered the entry wound made by a large caliber gunshot.
Wilhelm spotted a large bullet hole in the window in front of Christoph and Dr. D’Angelo’s body. “This window’s been shattered,” he said. “Maybe somebody shot from the apartment building next door.” On the same floor of the adjacent apartment building, one of the windows had been left open. “They’ve had a clear shot, judging from the spot where Dr. D’Angelo died.”
Across from the window was a bookshelf that had its assorted books left in a messy pile beside a television set. A few of the books were also left open, as if somebody was trying to check whether something had been concealed between the pages. Max sifted through the remaining books on the bookshelf.
Christoph proceeded to sit in front of Dr. D’Angelo’s personal computer. Upon turning it on, he soon discovered that the computer was defragged, and any incriminating data stored on the hard drive had been wiped. Any removable external hard drives that had also been used by Dr. D’Angelo was also missing.
Andreas walked past Christoph to enter the bedroom, which had also been left in an unkempt, disorganized state. A suitcase containing spare clothes and a briefcase stacked with bundles of Federalist Notes were placed on the bed.
“Seems like Dr. D’Angelo was trying to escape his apartment before he arrived,” Andreas called out. “Was he trying to avoid the impending border dispute or those mercenaries we encountered earlier today?”
“It’s hard to say, Andreas,” Christoph answered as he stepped into the room with Max. “Did you find anything here?”
“Not yet,” Andreas replied. Max and Christoph held in their hands the torn halves of a sheet of expensive computer paper. Andreas eyed it. “What’s that?” he asked them.
“From what we can tell,” Christoph replied, grabbing the other half from Max. “It appears to be a note stating that Dr. D’Angelo hid an important document from somebody, presumably those mercenaries.” Advancing further into the room, he pointed at a wall panel. With the butt of his assault rifle, he struck the wall panel. The dry wall crumbled to reveal a hidden safe.
“Even the safe combination was written on that paper as well,” Max added. Standing next to Christoph in front of the safe, he rotated a few times clockwise and counterclockwise to unlock it. Upon opening the safe, he and Christoph uncovered a few medical documents belonging to James Dougherty. The documents in question pertained to Dougherty altering his appearance through plastic surgery and acquiring a new identity. Among the documents were forged US-issue documents belonging to a ‘Robert Gray Winterson’: a Social Security card, a birth certificate, a US passport, and a Maryland driver’s license. Also found was a death certificate, signed by the late Dr. D’Angelo, announcing that Dougherty had committed suicide near the end of the war.
Grabbing the documents from the safe, Christoph brought them to Andreas. “My uncle wasn’t paranoid after all,” he said. “You were right, Andreas. Dougherty survived the war as Winterson and now intends to take power in the FAU.”
“But why were these documents doing inside a safe, at an apartment that belonged to a deceased medical examiner who signed off on the death certificate?” Andreas questioned. “More importantly, how did your uncle find out about this?”
“A better question should be ‘who was paying Dr. D’Angelo and for what purpose?’” Wilhelm announced as he entered the room.
“I was thinking the same thing,” Andreas acknowledged. “Could it be that Dougherty was paying Dr. D’Angelo a lot of money to be quiet about his new identity as ‘Robert Gray Winterson?’ What if Emmerich and the GAFP learned about everything we know from Dr. D’Angelo himself, who was looking to enrich himself with that information before disappearing?”
“How certain are we of that conclusion?” Christoph pondered.
“Dr. D’Angelo left his financial records on the kitchen table,” Wilhelm said, showing Christoph and the others some relevant entries from the pages of a bloodstained ledger. “$3,000,000 Federalist Notes had been wired to a Swiss bank account. The money came from two state-owned banks, the ‘Bank of New York’ and the ‘Bank of the Manhattan Company.’”
“There’s no reason for the GAFP to have Dr. D’Angelo killed,” Andreas spoke. “Since ‘Bank of New York’ was founded by Alexander Hamilton, the GAFP probably nationalized it for ideological and propaganda purposes. As for the ‘Bank of the Manhattan Company’…”
“It was founded by Aaron Burr, Thomas Jefferson’s Vice President and the man who shot Hamilton in a duel,” Christoph recalled. “The old Communist Party in America did base its interpretation of Marxism-Leninism along Jeffersonian lines, which in turn aligned them with the Democratic-Republicans since the FDR Presidency.”
“Are we just beginning to develop a coherent theory as to how Dr. D’Angelo died and who wanted him dead?” Max mused.
“We’re getting there,” Wilhelm quipped.
Andreas presented his conclusions to Christoph, Max, and Wilhelm. “Dougherty, in his new identity as Winterson, has been paying Dr. D’Angelo a lot of money to continue insisting that he had died during the war. The only problem is that Dr. D’Angelo was not assisting him for ideological reasons, let alone out of loyalty. In fact, Dr. D’Angelo probably found himself unemployed and working for the highest bidder, given that Washington DC is being contested by two emerging postwar nations.”
“When Emmerich and the GAFP entertained suspicions that Dr. D’Angelo knew more than what he had told them,” Andreas continued, “They launched their own internal investigation. They paid Dr. D’Angelo a larger sum of money to start telling them the truth. After realizing that an ‘old friend’ got close to finding out, Dougherty hired mercenaries to assassinate Dr. D’Angelo. If so, then those mercenaries were more concerned about killing us than covering up evidence.”
“It’s an airtight theory,” Christoph said, “But why go this far just to kill an unemployed medical examiner? Wouldn’t it make more sense for James Dougherty to run the CPFAU as himself and not under an assumed identity? This only offers more questions than answers.”
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