A Better World (The Brilliance Trilogy Book 2)

by Marcus Sakey

  CBS:

  Are the Children of Darwin connected to the New Canaan Holdfast in Wyoming? Are they affiliated with Erik Epstein?

  Mr. Archer:

  We’ve seen no evidence of that. And let’s remember that the people who live in New Canaan, Mr. Epstein included, are United States citizens. This government respects the rights of all law-abiding citizens, normal or gifted.

  NBC:

  People in Cleveland are saying that the National Guard has no food to distribute.

  Mr. Archer:

  The National Guard is setting up camps in parks, churches, and gymnasiums. We ask that everyone exercise good sense when they visit, and understand that their neighbors also need help right now.

  NBC:

  I’m sorry, you didn’t answer my question. Is there food available in Cleveland?

  Mr. Archer:

  I, ah, it’s difficult to—I would refer you to the National Guard for operational details.

  Associated Press:

  There are also reports that guardsmen have threatened crowds.

  Mr. Archer:

  The National Guard is there to help. If a crowd is a danger to itself or others, it’s possible that they employ nonlethal crowd control measures.

  Associated Press:

  I have reports of guardsmen pointing rifles at citizens, even firing warning shots. If the situation grows worse, will the president authorize the National Guard to attack civilians?

  Mr. Archer:

  I don’t see it getting there. The president has the highest confidence in both the guard and the citizens of Cleveland, Fresno, and Tulsa.

  Associated Press:

  So the guardsmen will not be authorized to fire?

  Mr. Archer:

  I won’t speculate on that.

  CNN:

  I’m quoting a senior White House source here who says, “We have no operational knowledge of the Children of Darwin, literally none. They’re ghosts with guns.”

  Mr. Archer:

  I can’t comment on top secret intelligence. But I want to reiterate that every effort . . .

  CHAPTER 8

  It had been two days since government agents had dropped by to tell him that his boss had been kidnapped and his family was in danger, and Ethan had thought of little else since. Every stranger seemed filled with menace. Every parked car might be scoping out their house. He’d spent the time in an edgy fugue, peeking out the curtains and fingering the business card Special Agent Quinn had given him.

  What had made it worse was not being able to share the whole load with Amy. Ethan had told her about Abe’s kidnapping, of course, but he’d downplayed the notion it was connected to their work. For one thing, there was no proof. For another, there was no way to tell her that without telling her what he was working on. Which he couldn’t do, not if he wanted to keep his job. Abe didn’t mess around with that kind of thing; Ethan had no doubt his boss would fire him without a second thought.

  And that can’t happen. Not with a ten-week-old baby. Not when you’re about to succeed.

  He’d taken to keeping the gun in the nightstand, though. Just in case.

  So when his neighbor Jack had called and invited him to the meeting, Ethan had jumped at the distraction. The idea was silly—a neighborhood watch to protect their homes? The cadre of lawyers and marketing execs was about as threatening as a middle school choir—but here he was, along with most of the guys on the block, crammed into Jack’s living room, eating pretzels and drinking Diet Coke from red Solo cups.

  “So what,” Ethan said, “are we talking pitchforks and torches?”

  “No, of course not.” Jack looked disappointed. “This is about neighbors helping each other, that’s all.”

  Ethan thought of the case of milk his neighbor had given him and felt a flush of shame. “I don’t mean to be a smart-ass. I just don’t understand.”

  “It’s simple. Right now we can’t count on the government to keep things working. It’s been five days since the stores were cleared out, and still no food. There are robberies and arsons and shootings, and not enough cops and firemen to go around. The system has broken down, so let’s work together to get through this.”

  “You mean like patrol the neighborhood?”

  A man Ethan didn’t know said, “Why not? I know it’s not politically correct to say, but if you’re a crackhead from the east side, who you going to rob? The crackhead next door who’s got nothing? Or one of us?”

  “We’re not forming a posse,” Jack said. “But if the government doesn’t work, then it takes a village.”

  “I’m happy to help any of you,” Ethan said. He looked around the room, mentally categorizing: guys you stop to chat with, men you wave at whose names you think you know, men you wave at whose names you are certain you don’t, total strangers. Three or four of them were decent friends, guys like Jack. Or Ranjeet Singh, who, as Ethan’s eyes met his, mimed King Kong chest beating. Ethan started to laugh, covered it with a cough. “I’m just not sure why we should make it formal.”

  “Because we need to organize. Let’s say, God forbid, Violet gets sick. You think if you call an ambulance, it’ll be here two minutes later?” Jack shook his head. “But Barry is a doctor. Or say that Lou is right”—nodding to Political Correctness—“and some bad characters come up here to rob your house. If we’re organized, everybody on the block will show up to help.”

  “Bad characters?” Ethan cocked an eyebrow.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I’m not sure I do. How do I tell if someone is a bad character? If I don’t recognize them? If they look poor? If they’re hungry?”

  “What’s your problem, guy?” Lou was short but barrel-chested, with a coiled-spring tension.

  “It’s okay, Lou.” Jack smiled, held his hands out, palms. “He’s right to ask. And we should be able to answer. We’re not a street gang.”

  That was smooth, Ethan thought. Jack had disarmed the tension without insulting anyone, and his use of “we” drew them all together on a subconscious level. The term alpha male had taken on a knuckle-dragging context, but in truth, it described a subtler and more powerful attribute than physical superiority. The desire to organize was ingrained in DNA; groups fared better than individuals, and so, a priori, the individuals around whom groups naturally formed tended to be very attractive. A survival advantage reinforced evolutionarily.

  Gee, thanks, Professor. Ethan mentally slapped himself, then tuned back in to what Jack was saying.

  “—is having a tough time. I think we all understand that. But if someone is trying to rob one of you, then to my mind that makes him a bad guy, and you should be able to protect yourself. And I’ll have your back.” Jack turned to look at Ethan. “Is that a definition you can live with?”

  A glance around the room told Ethan that the twenty or so men looking back were already united into a tribe. Let it go. No harm indulging the fantasy. “Sure.”

  “One idea,” an engineer named Kurt said, “we should set up a group on our cell phones, so we can send one text and it goes to all of us. Our own local 911.”

  “Great thinking.”

  “I’ve got an idea,” Lou said. “We got a lot to organize, right? Let’s put Ranjeet in charge of that. He’s an abnorm, he’ll be better at it.”

  An awkward silence fell. Ethan glanced at Jack, hoping the man would have a quick save, but his neighbor said nothing.

  After a moment Ranjeet said, “I am an abnorm, Lou, but my gift is high-digit numerosity.”

  “What’s the hell’s that—”

  “It means,” Ethan said, “that he can instantly estimate high-digit systems. Leaves on a tree, matchsticks dumped on the floor, people in a stadium.”

  “I’m murder at county fairs,” Ranjeet said. “That jar where you have to guess how many jelly beans? Whoo-eee.” He flashed a smile, the white of his teeth dazzling against his dark skin.

  Jack snorted a laugh, and it broke the tension.

>   They spent the next hour divvying up responsibilities. Talents were volunteered—who was a fair carpenter, who had first aid training—and cell numbers were exchanged. Then, as the windows darkened, men started to drift away. Most of them waved a generalized good-bye to the group; all of them took the time to shake Jack’s hand. Ethan waited until he saw Ranjeet putting on his coat before he said good-bye to their host.

  “Thanks for coming,” Jack said.

  “Sure.”

  Jack held the handshake, said, “Hey, how’s Violet doing on that milk?”

  Is that your way of reminding me I owe you one? “Great, thank you.”

  “Let me know if you need more.”

  “We’ll be all right. Thanks, though.”

  The air outside was crisp and fresh after the humidity of the crowded living room. Ethan took a deep breath, let it fill his lungs. Twilight was surrendering to night, the sky a deep indigo smeared with charcoal clouds. He held the storm door for Ranjeet, then let it swing shut behind them with a bang. The not-quite-quiet of the city surrounded them, faint traffic noises and a distant siren.

  Ethan said, “Wow.”

  Ranjeet nodded, reached into his pocket for cigarettes. He lit one with a yellow Bic, then offered the pack. Ethan shook his head. Up and down the block the houses looked warm and cozy, tri-ds flickering in living room windows, porch lights shining on well-tended yards.

  “What that room needed,” Ranjeet said, “was a woman.”

  “No kidding. One wife laughing and all that John Wayne machismo would have evaporated.” He shook his head. “And that thing from Lou, Je-sus. He’s the kind who when he plays basketball says he wants the black guy on his team.”

  “Ah.” Ranjeet waved it away with a cigarette flourish. “Doesn’t matter. We’re toying with leaving town anyway. We have a timeshare in Florida and thought we might claim our turn.”

  “Amy and I have been thinking the same. Go stay with her mom in Chicago. Don’t know why we haven’t yet.”

  “Same reason we haven’t. You go to bed deciding to do it, but when you wake up, the sun is shining, and you figure, no way this can go on another day.”

  “So how long do you keep doing that?”

  “Until the freezer is empty, I guess.” Ranjeet shrugged. “You know, it will probably blow over tomorrow. By next summer we’ll have forgotten it. The Great Neighborhood Posse of 2013 will be a joke.”

  “No doubt,” Ethan said. He was about to add, Everything will be okay, when in every house, every light went out.

  Simultaneously.

  CHAPTER 9

  Air Force One was an hour shy of DC when the Secret Service agent told Cooper that he was wanted in the conference room.

  Across a military and agency career, Cooper had ridden on posh private jets and rattling army transports, had soared in a glider over the Wyoming desert and jumped out of a perfectly good C-17 with a chute on his back. But Air Force One was unlike any aircraft he’d ever been on.

  A customized 747, the plane had three decks, two galleys, luxury sleeping quarters, a fully equipped surgery, national broadcasting capabilities, first-class seating for the press corps and the Secret Service, and the capability to fly a third of the way around the world without refueling—which it could do midair.

  Cooper unbuckled his seatbelt and walked fore. The agents at the door of the conference room nodded at him.

  The room was a mobile version of the Situation Room, with a broad conference table and plush chairs. A holo-conferencing screen showed a sharp tri-d of Marla Keevers in her office at the White House. The president sat at the head of the table, with Owen Leahy at his right and Holden Archer at his left.

  Archer glanced at him, said, “Tulsa, Fresno, and Cleveland have lost power.”

  President Clay said, “Marla, how bad is it?”

  “Based off satellite imagery, we estimate that the entire metro area of all three cities has gone dark.”

  “Why based off satellite imagery?” Clay asked.

  “Because engineers in charge of the power grid for each region report no unusual activity. All substations report back green.”

  “A cyber attack,” Leahy said. “A virus tells the system to send massive amounts of power from the grid to individual transformers, blowing them out, while at the same time co-opting the safety systems so that there’s no warning indicator.”

  “Yes,” Keevers said. “That’s what’s got the engineers rattled. Work crews say there’s no damage to the substations. The transformers are working. They’re just not providing power to the cities.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “The Children of Darwin,” Cooper said.

  Keevers nodded. “It would appear our protocols have been rewritten. It would take abnorm programmers to pull that off.”

  “So what you’re telling me,” the president said, “is that a terrorist organization has turned off three cities like they flipped a switch?”

  “I’m afraid so, sir. With some anomalies. In each city, several regions still have power. Two in Fresno, three in Tulsa, and two in Cleveland.”

  The image of Keevers was replaced by live satellite footage. The view was haunting. Instead of the riotous glow of cities at night, the holograms showed deep black marked by faint ribbons of light that must have been highways. The only bright spots were in discrete blocks, roughly rectangular, where things looked normal.

  “So the virus wasn’t a hundred percent effective,” Archer said. “It’s a small comfort, but it’s something.”

  Cooper leaned forward, staring at the maps. There was a pattern, he was—

  Two areas in Fresno, three in Tulsa, two in Cleveland.

  What connects them? Some are on major highways, some nowhere near. Some downtown, some not.

  And yet this doesn’t look random. The virus was too successful everywhere else to have failed completely in these spots.

  These areas were left powered on purpose. Which means that they hold some value.

  So what unites these seven areas?

  —certain. “Hospitals,” Cooper said.

  Archer looked at the screens, then back at him. “What?”

  “Those regions all contain major hospitals.”

  “Why would terrorists take out the power to three cities but leave hospitals functioning?”

  “Because they need them,” Leahy said. He turned to the president. “Sir, I’ve spoken to the director of the FBI and the DAR, as well as the head of the National Institutes of Health. They all believe, and I concur, that this may be the precursor to a biological attack.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Archer said. “Why leave the hospitals running if they’re trying to release a biological weapon?”

  “Because,” Leahy retorted, “hospitals are the best way to spread one. People get sick, and they go to the hospital. While there they infect others. Doctors and nurses and receptionists and janitors and patients and families. With a really infectious biological agent, the number of cases can expand massively even under normal circumstances. But because these three cities are lacking food, and now power, the situation is far worse. Instead of resting at home, people will flee. They’ll go to stay with relatives, or to second homes. And in the process, they’ll swiftly vector the disease across the entire country. Sir, we believe the COD created this chaotic situation to mask their real attack.”

  “That’s a huge stretch,” Cooper said. “Abnorms would be just as vulnerable to infection. What good would a biological attack do the COD?”

  “I don’t know,” Leahy said, with a hard look at Cooper. “But the COD are terrorists. We don’t know what their endgame is.”

  “Of course we do. They’re upset over the treatment of abnorms, and they want change.”

  “What are you basing that on, Mr. Cooper? Abnorm intuition?” Leahy smiled coldly. “I understand your sympathy for their situation, but that can’t be allowed to color our response.”

  Would you count my respo
nse colored if I called you a close-minded bigot mired in old-world thinking? Instead, Cooper said, “Response to what? You’re wasting time on a hypothetical situation when we have actual disasters in these cities. People are starving. With the power out, they’ll be freezing, getting desperate, violent. Instead of worrying about phantom attacks, why don’t we start getting them some goddamn food and blankets?”

  On the screen, Marla Keevers coughed. Press Secretary Archer made an elaborate show of looking at his watch. Leahy fixed Cooper with an icy stare. “Mr. Cooper, your passion is quite touching, but you’re a bit above your pay grade here. And you’re not qualified to speak to what is or is not hypothetical.”

  “Maybe not,” Cooper said. “But I can speak to what’s right.” He glanced around the room. You guys don’t get me, do you? I don’t even want this job, so I’ve got nothing to lose by telling the truth. “The people need food. They need medicine. They need electricity. That’s what we should focus on. That’s our job.”

  “It’s also our job to protect them from attack,” Leahy fired back. “Food and blankets in Cleveland don’t protect people dying in Los Angeles.”

  Before Cooper could respond, the president said, “Owen, what exactly do you suggest?”

  “Immediate quarantine of all three cities, sir. The National Guard has already been called up. Assume federal command, back them up with army troops, and shut these cities down completely. No one in or out.”

  For a moment Cooper thought the plane was banking wildly, until he realized that was just his head. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “I don’t find anything about this funny.”

  Cooper turned to Clay, expecting to see the same thought, the belief that this was beyond preposterous. Instead, he saw that the president was nervous.