“Well, pursue this one all the way,” Gondry said, heading back behind the Resolute desk. “I want no stone unturned in seeing these people returned to their families. The last thing our country needs is to hand over asylum seekers to a country that's going to breed them like cattle to build a super army. Which they'll doubtless throw against us in a few years.”
“That is their plan, sir,” I said, drawing a hot glare from Chalke. “The men in charge of their mission made clear to me multiple times that this was their intent.”
Gondry drew himself up. “Good you stopped them, then.” He nodded at each of us in turn. “I mean to see you all get credit for this. We're going to draw a line here. The Chinese have pushed us for years. No more taking it.” He looked right at Bilson. “You'll see to it that we author a policy that answers the Chinese strategy?”
Bilson nodded. “I will, sir.”
“Good,” Gondry said, giving us all a curt nod. “If you'll excuse me...I have to prepare for this press conference. I'll be announcing your advancement to National Security Advisor, Bilson, so you'll need to stick around. As to the rest of you – Ms. Nealon? Would you be so kind as to remain for the press conference as well? I want to make sure we recognize your fallen partner.”
I shot a look at Chalke, who gave me a grudging nod. “I am at your disposal, sir.”
“Excellent,” Gondry said, attention on the papers on his desk. “I know you've got a lot to do, so talk to my secretary on the way out. I'm sure we can find you somewhere to work until time.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said, and motored out the door before the rest.
“Nice job, Sienna,” Ngo said as she passed me.
I gave her a nod as she went by. I waited in the secretarial office. I needed to talk to Bilson, but Chalke beat him out the door. “We'll discuss this later,” she said, passing me. She looked so stiff it reminded me of a cat with its tail raised.
“I...ma'am?” I asked.
Chalke froze, turning back to me. There was unmistakable danger in her eyes, but it was under control. “Yes?”
“I couldn't just let them get away with killing Holloway,” I said.
Chalke's eyes softened maybe a millimeter. “I can understand that,” she said, so grudging I knew she was steaming pissed at me. Understanding be damned, I'd still crossed her.
“What do you want me to do now?” I asked, trying to offer a concession.
Her eyes narrowed again, but she spoke very evenly. “It's out of our hands now. The investigation will take its natural course, now that all this additional evidence has been turned up.”
“I'll make sure you get the credit for having the guts to follow it up,” I said. “Not many people would have done that after the bait the Chinese threw us to try and shut it down.”
Chalke hesitated. I could tell she was suffering from a lack of knowledge as to how the last stages of this had played out. Would she reveal that ignorance, here, in the White House, where she might be overheard? “We do what we have to in order to get the job done,” she said at last.
“Agreed,” I said. “Still, I doubt anyone could have predicted how far they'd go to try and build a metahuman army to replace their losses from Sovereign. Expats, serum, DNA tracking. I know I didn't get a chance to lay it all out before we set out to stop them, but I promise my report will be thorough, and the things they told me while on board their ship...it was a trap. For me. So they could harvest a bunch of succubus eggs.”
Chalke recoiled, a look of absolute appall twisting her doll-like face. It passed in a moment, but it was genuine – and horrified. “Good that you stopped them, then.” She gave me a nod, then turned on her heel. “Do us proud, Nealon,” she said, and then she was gone.
“She'll never admit that she didn't know,” Bilson said, slipping up behind me, whispering so low only I could hear him. “And that works to your advantage – for now.”
“Congrats on being named National Security Advisor,” I said, coolly, and at full volume. “You must be proud.”
Bilson smiled, deep, sincere. “It feels good to be in a position where I might be able to tip the scales for the good. For once.”
I nodded slowly. “And will you?”
Bilson paused, letting the idea steep for a second. “I will.” His smile faded. “Thanks to you.”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FOUR
The press conference was a long capper on the end of a long day of paperwork, coordinating, fighting...and of course talking to people.
Honestly, I preferred the fighting.
But as my rideshare dropped me off outside my apartment, thoughts whirling in my head from everything I'd learned and done, I found myself...
Utterly exhausted, of course. How could you go through what I'd been through in the last few days and not be spent?
“Hey,” someone said, emerging from the shadows to the left of my building.
I glanced, keeping my hand hovering close to my pistol, then relaxed. “Hey, Michelle,” I said as she slunk out of the shadows.
“Saw your press conference,” Michelle said.
“Some people might say it was the president's press conference,” I said. “Given it was held in the White House Press Room, he was like the keynote speaker, and I was just there to provide...I dunno, color commentary or something.”
Michelle snorted. “Yeah...it was your press conference. Gondry's fine and all, and I'm sure he'll work really hard at smacking around the Chinese government diplomatically and whatnot, but given that ninety percent of the questions started with, 'Ms. Nealon, Ms. Nealon!'...it was all you. America's got a raging hard-on for you, Sienna. Accept it.”
“Ugh,” I said, making a sound of disgust. “You say this to me after a day in which the Chinese government sets a trap to turn me into the egg donor of their superarmy?”
Michelle's eyes widened. “Ew! What? Really?”
I nodded. “Sorry. Forgot I hadn't seen you since this morning, before the boat. Their servants left breadcrumbs for me to follow. Not to play into your already-Sienna-centric theme, but...yeah...it was about me, at least in part.”
“I shouldn't be surprised,” she said, clearly giving it some thought, “given everything my family went through to get out of that country and everything they've done since, but...this is a new low. I hope the president really does sock it to them. Maybe the ruling class over there will learn something.”
“Yeah, but it'll hurt the people,” I said. “They don't deserve their current overlords.”
Michelle shrugged. “Who does?” She shook her head. “Well, I just wanted to say 'bye' before I blew town. I got word that the FBI seized a cargo ship in the Gulf of Mexico. My peeps were on board, so...thanks.”
“You're welcome,” I said, wondering how much these people meant to her. She'd certainly gone through a lot for them.
Michelle just stared at me. “I like that we've developed this unstated thing where I give you a little help on something but nobody owes any favors once it's done. Let's keep that up.”
I laughed. “You go on telling yourself you don't owe me anything, yoga pants. But 'someday – and that day may never come – I will call upon you to do a service for me.'”
Michelle made a face. “Yuck. I don't like that idea, Godmother Corleone. I don't want to contemplate the kind of favor you would ask me for.”
“As well you shouldn't,” I said, catching a glimpse of a pigeon flying off the building's facade. I could have sworn I saw it dipped its wing at me before it took to the skies. Maybe I'd imagined it, though. “As well you shouldn't.”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIVE
Julie
“Come on in,” Betsy said after Julie knocked on the door.
Julie did, indeed, come in, plopping down in the chair before Betsy Suffolk's desk. The comms department offices were quiet after a banner day. The president had undertaken a huge shift in foreign policy after the explosive events of the morning. Julie's inbox was filled, exploding, really. She'
d done her best to dig through, but this volume of emails...
Well, it'd take a while. It always did, but...this was more than usual.
“Guessing we're not going to get caught up anytime soon, huh?” Julie asked, tight smile stretching her face.
Betsy looked up, and Julie knew instantly something was wrong.
“What?” Julie asked. The little hairs on the back of her neck were standing up.
“I'm sorry,” Betsy said, “there's no easy way to say this.” Her eyes, usually rimmed with concern, quick and attentive, looked dull, disinterested. “Julie...you're fired.”
“What?” Julie asked. She couldn't have heard that right.
“Yes,” Betsy said, and there was a knock at the door.
“I...why?” Julie asked, turning to look. Two guys in black suits were standing there. Secret Service? Why were they...?
“You're going to have to leave now,” Betsy said. Julie half expected a joke, for her stern facade to break into a smile, Fooled you! and they'd have a laugh.
There was no laughing. Especially when one of the Secret Service agents wrapped a hand around Julie's upper arm stiffly.
“Betsy, what is this?” Julie asked in rising alarm. “What – what did I do?”
“We'll send you the contents of your desk,” Betsy said dully.
“I – but – what did I–”
“I'm going to have to ask you to come with me, ma'am,” the agent with the grip on her arm said. He started to pull, and she didn't resist.
Walking out, past the rest of the department, all eyes were on Julie. A pall fell over the place, and everyone was watching. Julie trudged in silence, a Secret Service agent steering her toward the exit.
Julie just walked, wide-eyed, trying to process this and keep her feet beneath her as the world seemed to collapse around her.
What was happening?
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIX
Sienna
The exhaustion was really setting in as I opened my apartment door. The place was deathly quiet, save for the refrigerator running, quiet hum of the machinery filling the place where nothing else lived.
“Home sweet home,” I said to my empty apartment. I'd left here this morning with an AR-15 slung on my shoulder and big ideas about how I'd finally bust open this Chinese kidnapping case for good.
Now here I was, fifteen hours later, after a raid, a presidential press conference and having done more paperwork than an IBS sufferer at a Taco Bell. If there'd been light in my eyes when the day had started, the disgust with all that the Chinese had planned in the course of trying to kidnap me had stamped it out. I didn't consider myself idealistic, but dayum, as the kids say. Their plan was stone cold horrifying, and was still roiling my stomach on a visceral level.
But I had shit left to do before I could sleep. I made my way to the fridge and threw it open, retrieving my phone and hitting the power button.
Sure enough, it lit up. Lucky me. It was durable enough to survive in a fridge all day, though the battery was a little low.
I stared into the screen, knowing that somewhere in California, someone was staring back.
“We need to come to an understanding,” I said into the blank screen. “I know you're watching, and I don't care. I'm not trying to thwart you here. China tried to trap me, and they baited it just right. I didn't mean to upset your applecart, and I'm willing to make amends, if you need them.” I sighed. “Whatever. Let me know.”
I plugged the phone in and then shuffled toward bed, throwing myself into the soft sheets, unworried about my dirtiness, my clothes, anything. I wanted to pass out, and I wanted to do it now. I hadn't really expected an answer immediately in any case, and I didn't get one. That was fine. It could wait until tomorrow.
EPILOGUE
Bilson
Triumphant.
That was what he was.
Russ Bilson stood on the balcony of his DC condo, staring out over the city. It wasn't a penthouse, not yet, but it was one floor below the top of the building. Clear sight lines in every direction for a long ways. Tenth-floor views, which, in a city where the average building was only three, four stories tall, was like being the one-eyed man in the kingdom of the blind.
Bilson couldn't help but feel that glow of ever-present self-satisfaction.
What had he wanted all this time? The National Security Advisor post. Why? So he could do the job. Add some expertise to his portfolio. And after a couple years – and a ton of added connections the world over – he'd come out of it worth millions per year in consulting fees.
Sure, he'd have to leave his current gigs behind for a while. That was okay, though. Hell, it was expected. It'd all be worth it in the end. Power was the game in DC, and he had to admit – doing the right thing in this case? It had been surprisingly pain-free, in terms of what it had cost him.
He chuckled. Maybe he'd even make a habit of it. It felt good, seeing an unambiguous wrong and stepping in to make it right. Usually his work dealt with a lot more gray. He hadn't seen things this clearly in years.
It was too bad, though, he reflected, looking down at his phone. Breaking faith with the Network had been something he'd done in the heat of the moment, when he realized how calcified their thinking had become. That was Chapman, of course. His billion-dollar deal was clouding his eyes. The rest of them would come around. Maybe Chapman, too. It was hard to say without talking to them.
Bilson pressed his thumb to the screen. It unlocked immediately, his biometrics accepted.
He started to touch the Escapade app, then stopped himself.
No. He'd made his stand. There was no room for regrets, even over the fact that they'd really only clashed over one piece of policy. All their agreements, and it had come to this one bone of contention.
Bilson twisted his lips as he thought about it. A little flash of anger lit him up.
Dammit, they should have listened to him.
He let the phone drop to his side as he looked out over Washington DC. This was going to be his city now. Foreign policy was his fiefdom for the next couple years. “And anybody who doesn't like how I do it can kiss my ass,” he said to the empty air beyond the balcony. He didn't shout it, just said it, feeling full and confident.
Bilson's eyes alighted on a rooftop in the distance. It was roughly the same height as his building, and he always regarded it like a distant mountaintop, or a personal rival to his building. How dare it ascend to his heights?
He chuckled. Silly, true. But when you were as ascendant as he was, you noticed your competitive set.
A momentary flash lit up atop the distant building. Bilson barely registered it, a little blink of light and then–
Something struck him solidly in the chest, taking his breath away. A whistling sound followed after–
A bullet?
Russ Bilson looked down at his chest. His pure white shirt was wet, darkening with claret like he'd spilled wine on himself.
He hit his knees, then sagged, cheek landing against the hard concrete floor of the balcony. He tried to take a breath, but it wouldn't come.
It came to him, in those last seconds, as his vision started to darken, just how unfair this was. He'd made it! To the top!
Only to have this happen. And out of nowhere.
No, not nowhere – out of the distance. Taken out by someone on that competitive building...
There was an irony there. And truth, too.
Taken out by a competitor at the moment of his ascension.
How gallingly unfair.
That was the last thought that went through Russ Bilson's mind before he died.
Sienna Nealon Will Return in
CONTROL
The Girl in the Box, Book 38
(Out of the Box 28)
Coming January 2020!
GET IT HERE!
BIBLIOGRAPHY/AFTERWORD
Normally, I don't do this sort of post-book explainer stuff. I mean, I write fiction. Citing sources is a non-fiction beat, the sor
t of thing I tired of in college and haven't had to bother with lo these many years after graduation. Except...
When I originally came up with the idea for Dragon, the concept was simple: Sienna versus the government of China. Not the people – who, like people the world over, are subject to the whims of their government. Sienna respects the people of China like she would any human.
No, the villain here is the government of the People's Republic of China, which (insert editorial opinion) really doesn't act in the best interests of the people at all. No government is perfect, and many are actively terrible. That said, the government of the People's Republic is horrifyingly bad in ways that have often been quietly whispered about and seldom reported in the Western corporate press for fear of adverse consequences landing upon them in the form of having their news bureaus in China forcibly closed by the government. Western films are censored in order to make certain they're fit for release in the Chinese market, which is rapidly becoming the largest film market in the world.
Now that I've made my feelings about the Chinese government clear (as though that didn’t bleed through in the story already), here's why I included a bibliography: because in all the chatter of modern life, and in the throes of the (mostly) fictive story I just presented you, it would be easy to assume that all the batshit crazy things I attributed to China in this book were entirely fictional for purposes of advancing the story.
They are not. To my knowledge, China is not kidnapping people outside their own country (mostly, though they absolutely have been accused of it in Hong Kong, extrajudicially), many of the other outrageous activities I mention in this book are alleged to actually happen, most especially the organ harvesting of prisoners.
So, to help separate truth from fiction, I offer this bibliography, with sources cited, as a “Worst of” list when it comes to the shit the People's Republic of China gets up to as they build their hegemony (in state propaganda, they regularly deny being hegemonic, which to me feels like a perfect reason to accuse them of it). Unless otherwise mentioned, the web links below were accessible as of the last week of September 2019. Apologies if any are offline when you go to check them now. If not, I'm sure you can search the web for additional horror stories of the PRC's behavior. There is certainly no shortage.
Dragon: Out of the Box (The Girl in the Box Book 37) Page 36
