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President Gregory Taylor sat at his ornate desk in the Air Force One equivalent of the Oval Office. Taylor looked weary, his jet black hair was growing greyer by the day and his black suit was crumpled. He was only 58, but at this point in time he looked in his seventies. There was a knock at the door and Taylor looked up through his wire rim glasses, “come in. ” The door opened and a beautiful young woman stepped in. Rachel Fletcher was thirty years old, she had dark brown hair which stretched down, just past her shoulders and her sparkling blue eyes were dazzling.

She held her chin up, not in an arrogant way, but just so she could be taken seriously. “Good morning Mr. President,” she smiled. Taylor sat up and looked at her, “hello Rachel. ” Rachel was holding a brown envelope and she held it against her black suit. She stepped forward and gave the envelope to Taylor; he took it and opened it. “That is an email; Senator Clay sent to his PA Trish Dunne,” Rachel explained, “it appears he already knows who has won this election. ” Taylor read the sheet of white paper, “Trish, I looked at the current polls and Taylor is way in front. I don’t think we can come back from this.

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” Taylor sighed and Rachel frowned, “is that not good news sir? ” Taylor got to his feet and stepped over to the window and stared out at the Alaskan landscape. Every Friday morning for the past four years, Taylor had been taken out and flown over Alaska as he loved the view, “I just don’t know anymore Rachel. These last four years have worn me out. If I get re-elected I will step down. Jack will take over the Presidency. ” “You mean, Vice-President Harrison? ” Rachel asked, shocked. Taylor turned to her, “you do not trust my judgment? ” “It’s not that sir; it’s just that he seems a little young. ”

Taylor turned back to the window, “you’ve been a great asset Rachel. The best analyst in the White House. ” Rachel blushed, “thank you sir. Is there anything I can get you? ” Taylor smiled at her, “yeah. I could do with a Brandy. ” “Sir, its seven o’clock in the morning! ” Rachel exclaimed. Taylor turned to Rachel, “you’re right. ” He smiled. Suddenly all of the Boeing 747’s lights flashed red and a large alarm blared. “What’s happening? ” Rachel exclaimed. “That’s the impact alarm! ” Taylor yelled above the deafening noise, “We’ve got to get to the pod! ” Taylor took Rachel’s hand and dragged her across the office.

Outside a missile sped toward the 747 at 500mph. It collided with the right wing and exploded with a ball of flame, the whole of Air Force One shook and the wing broke off. It nose dived toward the snow. Inside, Taylor and Rachel reached a metal door. Taylor typed in a pass code and it opened revealing a cramped metal tube, “Get in! It will keep up safe! ” They dived in and the door closed. Captain Geoffrey Turner rubbed his forehead as a warm, crimson liquid trickled down his cheeks. The force from the collision had made him hit his head on the controls. He looked through the windshield.

The 747 was hurtling toward the snow and rocks faster than the speed of sound. Turner grabbed the controls and pulled up frantically. The 747 pulled up slightly, but collision was unstoppable. The nose of the plane disintegrated as it hit, instantly crushing Turner. Air Force One stopped, half buried in the snow. Chapter One Jakob Klejavic took a sip from his cool strawberry Daiquiri as he gazed out from the step of his beach hut at the Mediterranean Sea. The palm trees at his home here in Comino- a beautiful rocky island just off Malta- swayed gently under a most welcome breeze and what was, just like the last week another wonderful day.

The relaxing sound of the water of the Blue Lagoon lapping at the shore soothed Klejavic as his mobile phone rang. Klejavic reached into the pocket of his shorts and answered it. “Klejavic,” he grunted in his Norwegian accent. “Jakob,” the called replied, “it’s Richard. ” “Is it taken care of? ” Klejavic asked. “Yes sir,” the man named Richard replied, “she did well. ” Klejavic smiled, “well tell her to make sure the target is terminated, and to receive the prize. Then we shall begin phase two. ” “Yes sir,” Richard replied, “when are you flying back from Malta? ”

Klejavic got to his feet and stepped to the edge of a large rock, overlooking the infamous Blue Lagoon, “my plane is in one hour. I will meet you in Berlin. ” “Yes sir,” Richard replied. Klejavic hung up and replaced his mobile in his pocket, he then smiled, “this place is beautiful. ” He turned and headed into his beach hut to get changed. Chapter Two Rob Watson yawned as he walked down the stairs of his aunt’s farm house in the middle of the Texas desert. He brushed his brown hair out of his eyes, revealing his hazel eyes. Watson was in his early thirties and still believed he was good looking.

He was over six foot tall and he was well built with muscles bulging out of the sleeves of his white T-shirt. He reached the landing and gagged on the smell of the woolen carpeted floor, when heated the wool gave off an awful stench which made him feel physically sick. He yawned once again and looked at the ornate clock hanging on the cream painted walls; it was only nine o’clock in the morning. Much too early to be up he thought as he opened the frosted glass door and stepped into the kitchen. The marble tiles felt cold on Watson’s feet as he walked across then.

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