Iron Curtains

Excerpt from

Iron Curtains

Prologue

“Hello, President Zhurukov, thank you for meeting me,” President Chen said. Although China’s first female president spoke fluent Russian, both parties agreed to speak English, the language of their common enemy—the United States of America.

The pair faced one another seated in wingback chairs in front of a roaring fire in Zhurukov’s study.

“Hello, President Chen. The Iron Curtain collapsed decades ago, and yet we meet behind closed doors. I must say, you’ve piqued my curiosity.” Zhurukov arched his right eyebrow. 

The most powerful man in Russia presented China’s president with a bottle of his best vodka. He immediately poured two glasses, then gestured for her to join him for a drink.

“We need your help.” Chen sipped the vodka, and it warmed her belly.

“The most populated country on the planet needs the help of Mother Russia?” Zhurukov placed his fingers on his chin, rubbing it in deep thought. Following the Russian custom, he drank most of his vodka in one gulp.

“We need your help to take over the United States of America.” Chen’s black slanted eyes stared at Zhurukov to convey her seriousness. She needed to work twice as hard as her male constituents to prove her worth, even after her victorious election.

“How do you plan to accomplish such a monumental task?” Zhurukov asked.

“The United States is bankrupt beyond recovery. They ran their deficit up to infinity. They print more money than they can back up in gold and issued Treasury bills to raise money. China started buying all of the zero-coupon T-bills years ago,” Chen explained.

“Zero coupon means they owe you the interest at the end?” Zhurukov asked, confirming what he already knew.

“Yes, many T-bills are due, and they can’t pay. And what do you do when you can’t day your debts?” Chen asked.

“The creditor takes possession of the debtor’s assets.” Zhurukov shifted his eyes as his mind comprehended the revelation.

“The United States owns land, structures, and all of the gold in Fort Knox and the Federal Reserve. But most of the real estate is owned by the Americans,” Chen said.

“You are correct, but most Americans mortgage their homes. The bank owns the property until the mortgage is paid in full. If the payments cannot be made, the bank repossesses the land and structure,” Zhurukov said.

“And who owns the banks?  The Federal Reserve took over all banks since so many failed during the mortgage crises,” Chen said.

“The United States hands over the banks to China, and you control the interest rates.” Zhurukov marveled at the genius plan.

“I won’t even need to raise the interest rates because the Americans cannot afford to pay their mortgages. They have no money because the US Dollar becomes worthless. They have no jobs because our Chinese companies will only hire Chinese and Russians,” Chen said.

“The Chinese take over the homes, jobs, and lives of the American People.”

“And the Russians as well. We need your help. More importantly, we need your military support.” Chen finished the last of her vodka and nudged the glass towards Zhurukov to indicate her interest in another round.

“Mother Russia helps China invade the United States of America, in exchange for what?” Zhurukov poured another round.

“The entire Eastern coast of the United States.” Chen sipped the vodka and appreciated the liquid courage to broach the subject of her controversial plans.

“I like it.” Zhurukov nodded his approval.

“We have a massive foothold in the States already. Every Chinese restaurant and nail salon across the nation is actually a sleeper cell awaiting instructions for a hostile takeover,” Chen confessed.

“Brilliant, Miss Chen. Russia invades the east coast, and China invades the west coast. Then the Americans get squeezed into the middle.”

“Exactly, but I do have two conditions,” Chen said.

“I’m listening.”

“China and Russia share the use of NASA’s launch facilities.”

“Of course. We share the facilities in Florida, California, and Texas equally. It only seems fair. What else?” Zhurukov asked.

“China wants all of our foreign nationals to be granted safe passage to the west coast,” Chen said.

“I don’t see a problem with that,” Zhurukov said.

“Including all of our women. Millions of our Chinese baby girls were adopted by American parents. Many of them are now grown women of child-bearing age. We need them for breeding with our overabundant Chinese men.”

“Ah, I see, with all of the space on the west coast, you no longer need to enforce China’s mandate of one child per couple.”

“Yes, I hated the policy and never married because of it. I couldn’t bear to ever face the possibility of giving up my child simply because she was born a female. I decided to devote my life to politics in hopes of finding a way to rid China of the horrific mandate.” Chen’s eyes moistened from the confession.

“How do you propose we keep the Americans out of our repossessed lands?” Zhurukov asked.

“We set up borders to keep them between Las Vegas and Chicago. The Southerners may head south to Mexico. But with the wall President Addison built, I’ll doubt if the Mexicans will accept Americans. The Northerners will probably flee towards Canada. Or they can find their way into the vast nothingness of Free Middle America,” Chen said.

“How ironic to think that the Americans will be treated as they treated Native Americans centuries ago. It’s Karma.” Zhurukov nodded his approval of the dramatic irony.

“And now we use your Iron Curtains to border our new Eastern and Western Territories. We build a hybrid of the Great Wall of China and the Berlin Wall to trap Americans in the middle,” Chen said.

“How do we invade the United States? It’ll be a massive undertaking to pour the troops over from both of our nations.”

“We’ll build a Superhighway from Moscow to New York City. It will cross through Siberia and into the Bering Straits by Alaska. Then we’ll invade through Canada.” Chen explained.

“To Iron Curtains.” Zhurukov raised his newly poured shot of vodka into the air.

“To Iron Curtains.” Chen clinked her vodka-filled glass with Zhurukov’s to toast their plans to take over the United States of America.

“Do svi danya,” Zhurukov said.

“Sayonara,” Chen said.

“Good-bye, United States of America.”

Chapter One

“This breaking news just in,” Fox News commentator, Shepard Smith, said. Gabriella, Gabby for short, stood at the luggage carousel at the Chicago Midway International Airport waiting for her suitcase. Turning towards one of the airport’s numerous flat screen televisions, she studied the colorful screen with piqued interest.

Shepard continued, “Construction of the Superhighway is well underway. The new Superhighway will connect Moscow to New York City. The longest bridge in history will connect Siberia to Alaska across the Bering Straits.”

Oh, just what I need, a way to drive thousands of miles to Russia. Zhurukov, here I come. Gabby inherited her sarcastic nature from her father, Archie—short for Archibald.

Speaking of her father, she needed to call her parents to let them know she’d arrived safely in Chicago for her campus tour of Northwestern University. It was a big deal for her to fly to Chicago alone. But she was seventeen after all. A Senior at Bishop Kenny High School in Jacksonville, Florida, she’d just begun her last year at the top of her class.

Rummaging through her oversized, cobalt-blue, Louis Vuitton handbag, she pulled out her iPhone. Her long blonde hair fell from the bun tied loosely with a scrunchie. Sighing, she blew her long bangs out of her face and was glad her mother didn’t see her dressed casually in skinny jeans, Gator t-shirt, and flip flops. Her campus tour didn’t start until later, and she had time to change after she checked into the dorm room generously provided by Northwestern.

Hitting her mother’s contact on her phone, she waited for it to ring.

“Gabby? Is everything okay?” her mother, Tiffany, asked.

“Hi, Mom, everything is fine. Just getting my luggage at the airport.” Her small fuchsia rolling suitcase turned the corner of the luggage carousel. She grabbed it with her free hand, thrilled that she’d have all of her crap for her weekend campus tour.

“Why did you check your luggage for just two nights? How much crap did you bring?” Tiffany’s nagging reached far.

When was she going to let her baby girl grow up?

“Mooooommm.” Gabby rolled her eyes with the perfection of a teenager with attitude.

“How are you getting to Northwestern? Do you have enough money? Did you bring your windbreaker? You know they don’t call Chicago the ‘windy city’ for nothing. Why are you even visiting that college when you’re a die-hard Gator fan?” Her mother droned on.

Gabby pulled the phone away from her ear to avoid another minute of nagging. Yes, she was a rabid Gator fan and had her heart set on the University of Florida since she was two. She even wore her Gator cheerleading outfit to her first Gator football game. But she knew Northwestern would offer her a full ride. And right now, the thought of being a two hour plane ride away from her parents had some appeal, compared to the ninety minute drive from Jacksonville to UF’s campus in Gainesville, Florida.

“Gabby? Are you still there? Did you pull the phone away from your ear again? I should call you on face time so I can see you.”

“Yes, Mom. I just want to explore my options. Northwestern has a great law school, too.”

“But UF’s tax law program is the best in the country. And…” her mother sniffled through the phone, “…and it’s closer. We can come see you for every home Gator football game in The Swamp.”

“I really have to go, Mom. I’m taking an Uber to Northwestern. Yes, I have enough money, and yes, I’m putting on my windbreaker now. Bye, Ma.”

“Call me after the tour. I love you, baby girl.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, she tossed her iPhone back into her handbag and wheeled her suitcase towards the ‘ground transportation’ sign. A hot man holding a sign caught her attention. One, because he was super cute with overgrown curly jet-black hair, and two, because he held up a sign which read, ‘Gabriella Gardner.’

“Uh, hello, I’m Gabriella, but everyone calls me Gabby,” she said, getting lost in his ice-blue eyes. He reminded her of Kit Harrington who played Jon Snow in Game of Thrones.

“Hi, Gabby. I’m sorry I’m late. Traffic is a …pain. I’m here to escort Northwestern’s top recruit to campus. My name is Colby,” he said with a thick Southern drawl. He wore a big cowboy hat, skinny jeans, and cowboy boots.

“I didn’t realize anyone was meeting me. You almost missed me. I was about to order an Uber.” Blushing, she had to look down before she got sucked into his total hotness.

“You didn’t get my email? I sent it two hours ago. But you were probably already on your flight here. Do you want to check your phone to vouch for me?”

Her mother’s warnings about ‘going off with strange men’ echoed in her mind. But she ignored them. A stranger wouldn’t know her name and that she was touring Northwestern.

Shaking her head, she said, “No, that’s okay, I trust you. Besides, you’re obviously a Southerner, too. Texas, right?”

Grabbing her suitcase, he wheeled it for her. “Yes, ma’am. That obvious, huh? I thought you were from Florida.”

Laughing, she said, “Yeah, but North Florida is practically South Georgia. And you’ll have your work cut out to woo me away from the University of Florida.”

“I’ll do my best. My Jeep is this way.” He gestured towards the parking garage sign.

* * * *

“I assume you’re a student at Northwestern?” Gabby asked from the passenger seat of Colby’s Gator-blue Jeep Wrangler destined for downtown Chicago.

“Yes, ma’am, first year law student. Oil drilling is big in Texas. Lots of work for lawyers with land, drilling, mineral rights, and such. My father said he would rather pay me than some fancy lawyer. So he sent me to law school. Keeps the money in the family. Mind if we take a short detour? There’s something really cool to see.” An ice-blue eye winked at her.

Warning bells rang in her head, but those eyes were so trusting, too trusting. “Sure.”

He exited the interstate and drove west. A gigantic wall appeared on the horizon. The concrete wall stood at least fifty feet tall.

“What in tarnation is that?” Cringing, she kicked herself for getting sucked into his Southern slang. 

Laughing he said, “You are from the South, no doubt about it. It went up practically overnight. It’s the wall surrounding the new Superhighway. S’pose to keep the ruckus down from all those cars and eighteen wheelers driving on the new highway.”

“Didn’t they just start construction? That’s what I heard on Fox news.”

“They brought in lots of cheap Chinese labor. Pisses me off. Pardon the language, Miss Gabby. Given all the unemployed Americans, why did the government hire ferners instead?”

“Ferners? Don’t you mean, foreigners?”

“Yeah, ferners. That’s what I said.”

“It looks more like the Great Wall of China. Why are the walls so tall?”