by Robert Boren
Linda’s brow furrowed. “What should Craig do, then?”
“He should leave the area without Pat, but he won’t,” John said.
“Yes. I consider him to be in as great a danger as you are, but the enemy must be very careful how they handle him, or they’ll have all the best hackers in the community screwing things up and making him a martyr.”
“When should we be leaving?” Linda asked.
“Tonight,” Salvatore said. “They’re going to move in before you can publish the next book.”
“Before my points have reached the limit?” John asked.
Salvatore chuckled. “Rules are only for the little people. We’ve been watching. They’ll come for you at about 3:00 AM. Every enemy operative who participates in that will be killed. Our people are set and ready to go, but we need to be secretive, so they don’t decide against it.”
“We need to warn Craig and Pat,” Linda said.
“Contact them on the way, but don’t mention my name. Also convince Craig that if he is captured, he must not resist. He must not give them an excuse to kill him. We know where he will be taken. I have operatives there. We’ll make sure his work gets out.”
“What about Pat?” Linda asked. “She’s my sister. I love her, warts and all.”
“She will not be harmed if Craig doesn’t resist. She won’t even be thrown into prison. They’ll let her go free and attempt to turn her. That’s the most difficult part of this. You’ll have to recognize what she’s asked to do and avoid helping.”
Salvatore’s phone dinged. He pulled it out, his eyes getting wide. “They’re starting the operation early. We need to leave now. Gather the essentials and let’s go.”
“Isn’t it too late?” Linda asked, her eyes darting around the basement.
“We’ll kill the first wave before they get here,” Salvatore said.
“I’ve got to grab my laptop,” John said, getting up, rushing for the stairs.
“We aren’t going to talk about this?” Linda asked.
“We just did,” John replied as he bounded onto the first floor, racing to his office. Gunfire started, sounding several blocks away. Linda sprinted after him, Salvatore pausing to type a text message, then joining them.
“Whoa, that gunfire is ramping up quickly,” John said, tossing his laptop into its case, grabbing his backup drive, then joining Linda in the bedroom, where she was stuffing clothes and other stuff into pillow cases.
“We have to go now,” Salvatore said. “The second wave is already on the way.”
“We’re ready,” John shouted, running into the garage, tossing stuff in the back seat of the big SUV, opening the back for Salvatore, who climbed in and pulled the shield over himself. Linda got into the passenger seat, John behind the wheel, not opening the garage door until the engine was running. “Which way?”
“Get on route 422 and head for Pottstown,” Salvatore shouted from the back.
“Got it,” John said, heading in that direction, tires squealing as he went around corners, not slowing until he was on the highway. Linda’s cellphone rang.
“It’s Pat. Should I answer it?”
“Yes, chat with her for a moment, then get Craig on there and let me talk to him.”
Linda nodded, accepting the call.
“Linda, are you okay? That gunfire is coming from your side of town.”
“We’re leaving,” Linda said. “They’re after us. John needs to talk to Craig.”
“Wait, where are you going?”
“We’ll chat when we get someplace safe. Is Craig with you?”
There was a pause on the line. “Yes, he’s here. This is about the books, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s about tyranny. Craig?”
“All right,” Pat said, her voice having an edge. “I told you this would happen.”
Craig got on a second later. “Linda? What’s going on?”
“Here’s John.” She handed the phone to him.
“Craig, you’re going to be arrested. Don’t resist.”
“Nonsense. What are you talking about?”
“I’m serious. Don’t resist. Don’t give them a reason to shoot you. Help will come. Understand?”
“Why would they come after me?”
“Check 8chan. Your articles have gone viral. You’re a celebrity, which also makes you a target, and you’re related to me which makes things even worse.”
“Oh geez, this is really happening.”
“It is. Protect Pat, but be careful what you tell her. They’ll try to turn her.”
Craig sighed. “I know. Okay. How can I contact you?”
“I’ll contact you if I can. Talk to you soon. Take care.”
John handed the phone back to Linda.
“Pat?”
Linda held the phone away from her ear as Pat screamed over the phone at her. “Calm down or I’ll hang up.”
“You’re in on this,” Pat said. “It’ll get you killed.”
“Stop it. Stay calm and follow Craig’s instructions. Do you understand?”
“You’re on his side again?”
“Dammit, it’s not about that,” Linda said. “The government will try to get at John through you and Craig, and Craig has become important to the movement in his own right.”
“What movement?”
“The resistance.”
The SUV barreled up Highway 422, gunfire still sounding behind them.
***
The door opened, a sliver of light growing, footsteps approaching. Tracy McCain trembled, sitting on the cement floor, wrists zip-tied around a pipe. Her head throbbed where they clubbed her, parts of her capture creeping back into her brain.
“Leave us,” said a woman’s voice.
“You sure?” asked a man.
“She’s tied up, and I’m in better shape anyway. Leave us, and turn the lights on, but use the dimmer. It’s been dark.”
The lights came up slowly. Tracy gasped.
“You? Romano’s secretary.”
Clara smiled. “I was chief of staff.”
“That was acting, not official,” Tracy said. “How dare you kidnap me? I’m the Governor.”
“Back when the United States existed, you’d be right,” Clara said, still sporting the smile. “The UN is now the governing body worldwide. There is no more national sovereignty. That horrible part of our history is now a closed chapter.”
“I was elected.”
“Yes, elected by the very sheep who let their country go without a shot fired,” Clara said. “This can go two ways for you. We will keep you around as a figure head, or we can take you out of this facility horizontally. I’m hoping you resist us. You’re not too bright. I’ve known that for quite some time.”
“People know I got back.”
“The TV broadcast. Who gave you that idea?”
“Mayor Fine.”
Clara chuckled. “He’s no longer the Mayor. He’s in hiding, with what’s left of the city government. He’s already been warned. We’ll catch him and shoot him.”
Tracy’s face flushed. “You’re quite the little Nazi, aren’t you Clara? Probably a good piece of ass too. Is that how you got your phony stint as Chief of Staff?”
Clara got up, walked over to her, and punched her with a closed fist. Tracy spit blood on her business suit.
“You’ll regret that,” Clara said.
“I’m dead no matter what, you feckless cow. How many times did you have to do him? Romano always had bad breath. How was it when he was on top?”
“This isn’t going to help you,” Clara said.
Tracy laughed. “You need me, or I’d already be dead. Mayor Fine was right on the money. You and your illegal government won’t be able to stand. Mayor Fine and the other survivors will see to that.”
“He’ll be dead within the week.”
“Oh, is that right?” Tracy asked. “Why did the UN pull out of the city?”
“That was a strategic move,” Clara s
aid, sounding unsure of herself.
“No, the citizens and the NYPD kicked their asses out. I was fully briefed before your thugs kidnapped me.”
“Those are false reports.”
Tracy snickered. “Yeah. Screw you. I want to talk to your boss. You’re just his nooner action. I’ll make no agreements with you, and if you kill me, this job will go to Dan Dannon. He’ll barbeque your ass in molasses, and then go after your wimp of a husband and the brats you squeezed out. Hell, he probably already killed off Walter, and that was his only rival.”
“Speculation.”
“Walter disappeared, leaving his possessions in his room. There was a description of his last visitor. Sounded a whole lot like Dannon to me.”
Clara stared at her silently.
“Oh, you didn’t know? Pucker up, honey. He might keep you alive for a while. You do have a nice little body. We already established that Romano liked it.”
Suddenly the door swung open, another woman coming in. She pointed at Clara.
“You. Leave.”
“You can’t order me around, Lotte.”
The woman pulled a pistol out, aimed, and fired, hitting Clara in the chest. She looked down in shock as the blood oozed through her white blouse, then back up at Lotte, who smiled as she pumped several more shots into her, the last hitting her forehead.
Tracy sat watching, showing no emotion. Lotte walked over to her.
“Oh, you gonna kill me too? Stuff it. You’re just a Eurotrash whore. I knew that when I met you.”
“Clara was clearly not ready for this job,” Lotte said, sticking the gun back in her pocket. “Let’s make a deal. You can stop with the insults. It was just part of the job, and I do my job well. Are you ready to re-take control of the state?”
“What’s in it for me?”
“The Governor’s office, and protection from Dannon. He’s on his way here to kill you. If you’d have met him in Utica, you’d be dead already.”
“That’s what Mayor Fine thought,” Tracy said. “Untie me.”
“You’ll behave, correct? I’ve still got half a magazine, and I’m a former member of the Dutch Secret Service. You won’t be able to beat me.”
“I understand. Who’s the boss?”
“Mateo, ultimately.”
“Mateo is a fool. Mayor Fine chased his cute little peacekeepers out of the city. You do know that, I hope.”
“Yes I do, but there’s nothing I can do about Mateo yet.” She pulled out some dykes and snipped the zip ties around Tracy’s wrists and ankles. “Mayor Fine managed to sneak out of the City Hall bunker. We haven’t figured out how yet. He’s getting some very high-powered help.”
Tracy stood, rubbing her sore wrists. “I can get his trust.”
“That’s why I wouldn’t carry out Mateo’s orders to kill you.”
Tracy eyed her. “Who are you working for?”
“Daan Mertins has overall responsibility for the operation, but it’s really being run by a small group of mega-rich globalist true believers. Mateo is in the chain of command, but he’s considered a joke by the leadership. There are a lot of UN Peacekeepers available, which is why we are bothering with the UN at all. Let’s go.”
Tracy followed Lotte out of the cell, down a long, dark hallway.
***
Charles Livingston was lying in bed next to Maggie Hines. His phone rang.
“You gonna get that?” Maggie asked.
“It’s Mateo. I don’t want to talk to him right now.”
“What if it’s important?”
“His operation to neutralize John Clancy failed, and Clancy escaped.”
“Why the big deal? He’s just a writer. He’s not even a good writer.”
“His books have a growing readership, and they’ve been downright prophetic so far. It’s a little uncanny. We need to kill him or discredit him.”
“Want some more Champagne?” Maggie asked, getting out of bed, her naked curves making Charles groan. “Sure, but then get back here and show me the attention I deserve.”
She giggled, taking her glass and his, pouring them full.
“Here,” she said. Charles took the glass from her hand and had a sip. His phone started ringing again.
“Dammit,” Charles said, reaching for it, hitting accept and putting the phone on speaker. “Yes, what is it Mateo?”
“John Clancy got away. He had help. Several of my best operators were killed during the event.”
“That’s not my problem,” Charles said. “Do your job. Catch him. He’s just a nerd writer, for God’s sake.”
“I just said that he had help.”
“Who?”
“Salvatore.”
Charles’s face turned red, and he set his glass on the bedside table, sitting up. “He’s dead, or at least that’s what your people told me.”
“I believed it, but an attacker we killed was part of his organization.”
“Maybe they’re just following in his footsteps,” Maggie said, her expression showing worry.
“That is possible, of course,” Mateo said.
“Look, Mateo, this is your job. Get it done. If Salvatore is still alive, find him and kill him. If he’s not, figure out who took over and kill them. It’s not rocket science.”
“Watch your mouth,” Mateo said.
“Yeah, I know, you think you’ll end up running everything. Your incompetence tells me we’ll have somebody else in your slot before this is over. Mess with me and I’ll cut the purse strings. Now go get Clancy. We’ve got enough problems.”
“All right, I’ll get it done,” Mateo said. “Sorry to bother you.”
Charles ended the call, set down his phone, and picked up his Champagne, taking a sip, then eyeing Maggie.
“What?” she asked.
“Your expression was priceless.”
“What are you talking about?”
Charles laughed. “I know you screwed Salvatore to help me out of a jam. You thought I’d be mad about it if I found out. It was a sacrifice on your part for which I’m very grateful. Now come here. My blood’s up.”
She smiled, setting down her glass and rolling onto him.
{ 16 }
Paine
C raig got up, going to the kitchen to get a beer, coming back into the living room.
“You’re drinking now?” Pat asked. “What if Linda and John are right?”
“This will settle my nerves. You need to watch who you follow when I’m gone.”
“Gone?”
“Didn’t you listen to that conversation?”
“The government isn’t evil.”
“We aren’t being served by a legitimate government anymore. The invaders are taking over. Don’t you get it?”
“We voted for President Simpson. He’s still in power. Governor Dunton is still in power too. He was on TV yesterday, remember?”
“Yeah, telling us how he’s going to stomp on the Bill of Rights. He’s compromised, either by choice or by force.”
“You’re impossible.”
There was a loud knock on the door.
“That was faster than I expected,” Craig said, gulping down half of his beer, then getting up. “Don’t resist.”
“Open up. Police.”
“I’m coming. I won’t resist, and I’m not armed. Don’t shoot me.”
“Open the door immediately.”
Craig’s hand trembled as he undid the night chain and unlocked the door. He opened it, facing several assault rifles aimed at his head. “I said I wouldn’t resist.”
“Turn around and put your hands behind your back,” barked the leader, in a slight French accent.
Craig did as they asked. “Left your blue helmets at home, huh?”
“Silence.”
“Please try to resist,” said another of the officers, in a Scottish accent. “I need another notch on my rifle.”
“Shut up, Sean. Who else is in the house?”
“Just my wife Pat. She’
s done nothing wrong.”
“We’re aware. Pat, come out here please.”
Pat appeared, tears running down her cheeks. “Why are you doing this?”
“Your husband is an enemy of the state. You are not. We’ve seen your score. Keep up the good work. I’ll make sure you’re notified of your husbands’ location and status.”
Craig turned towards her. “Trust no one. I love you.”
The Scottish officer elbowed Craig in the face, blood flowing out of his nose as the lead pulled him roughly down the walk towards a waiting van. “Stay in the house, Pat.”
Pat broke down crying, Craig turning towards her, smiling, trying to tell her to take care with his eyes. He was shoved into the back of the van and chained to a ring in the floor.
“Let’s get out of here,” said the Frenchman. The Scottish man got behind the wheel of the van and drove onto the dark road.
“See what that kind of inflammatory writing gets you?” asked the Frenchman, sitting down next to him.
“What’s your name?” Craig asked, a strange calm filling his mind.
“Lieutenant Fauré.”
“Love the requiem. Related?”
“Huh?” the Lieutenant asked. Sean laughed.
“He’s talking about Gabriel Fauré, you fool. Great composer. At least we know this man isn’t an idiot.”
“Thank you, I think,” Craig quipped. “Where are you taking me?”
“To the detention facility in Philadelphia,” Sean said. “If you play your cards right, you’ll be released.”
Lieutenant Fauré eyed him. “This one is like a caged tiger. He won’t survive. He’ll continue his revolutionary tactics until we have to execute him.”
Sean laughed. “We won’t execute him.”
Craig chuckled.
“Why not?” asked Lieutenant Fauré.
“It’ll make him a martyr. He’s popular enough as it is.”
“I wrote two articles for a local paper. The first one was only a week ago. You guys are nuts.”
“He doesn’t know,” Sean said. “Dunton’s Chief of Staff figured that too.”
“I still don’t believe it. You got any proof?”
“Show him,” Sean said.
