"Nick Pollotta - Bureau 13 - Damned Nation" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pollotta Nick)

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To my nephew, Logan Randall,

master swordsman.

"...and a wall of troops surrounded the campfire, guarding the civilians and children through the chilly
darkness until the dawn. So shall it ever be. Soldiers standing bold against the creatures of the night."

Marcus Aurellius

Roman Emperor, 140 AD



CHAPTER ONE

Standing at a window in the mansion, Joshua Witherspoon gazed in torpid horror at the deadly battle
raging across the Potomac River. Somewhere over the horizon, entire divisions of Union and
Confederate cannons were firing non-stop, the violent discharges of the heavy artillery filling the night sky
with crimson flashes. The massive guns must have been deafening to the ground crews, but the distance
softened the titanic blasts and Joshua could only hear a muffled thumping. Strong and steady.

Almost like the beating of a human heart, Joshua observed sadly. The analogy was disturbing.A civil
war, there was an oxymoron if I've ever heard one .

Looking down at the sleeping city, Joshua couldn't see a soul on the cobblestone streets. Washington
seemed as deserted as a whorehouse on Christmas. This eagerly awaited war-between-the-states was
already eight months old by now, and the initial hope for an early victory was long gone. The civilians
were becoming accustomed to thundering cannons in the night, and the military was digging in for a
prolonged conflict. As a prelude against possible invasion, the Union Navy had anchored a dozen
warships in a defensive line across the Chesapeake Bay to protect the entrance to the Potomac River.
And hidden in the thick forest along the river, the Army had hundreds of disguised gunnery
emplacements, more than enough troops, rifles and Napoleon cannons to stop any conceivable
Confederate attack on the Executive Mansion. Built by the famous architect James Hoban, the great
white house on the bank of the Potomac River was the official residence of the President of the United
States, the headquarters of the northern War Department, and a prime target for the Confederate Army.
To take and hold the Executive Mansion would mean capturing President Lincoln alive, which would
assure Jefferson Davis an almost instant victory.

However, the War Department was prepared for such a scenario. Encamped around the Executive
Mansion was a thousand armed soldiers, the elite 110th тАШCassius ClayтАЩ Battalion, backed by more brass
Napoleon field cannons than could ever be counted in a single day without the use of roller skates. A
dozen sharpshooters walked the flat roof of the Executive Mansion, and a score of heavily armed
soldiers patrolled the sprawling grounds of the estate. To the general public, the Executive Mansion was
a military hardsite, a fortified redoubt. What the Confederacy thought about the matter was anybody's
guess.

Shaking his head at these dark thoughts, Joshua let the curtain drop back into place and turned away