by Mark Goodwin
Blackwell replied, “CIA, NSA, DIA, they’re all in DC. And the top levels have long been infiltrated by the same people who are trying to pull off this revolution. Do you think people like Szabos would have ever been able to push the overthrow of America this far without those agencies being complicit in the scheme? Sure, we’ve had some good people from the intelligence community defect to the Alliance, but remember, they worked side by side with the enemy. And don’t think for a minute that Markovich isn’t watching their every move.”
“You think he isn’t watching me?” Ava asked. “My face was plastered all over the news after the explosives heist and the collection-point bombings.”
“The news cycle is pretty short. People don’t remember stuff from one week to the next. Besides, we could help you with a disguise, although I suspect you may know a thing or two about that already. Your face being on the news didn’t seem to deter additional attacks,” said Blackwell.
“What exactly would the mission entail?” she inquired.
“Slip into California, as a leftist refugee perhaps. Get close to Lawrence and take him out.”
Ava threw her hands in the air. “Oh, is that all? Why didn’t you just say so?” She got up from the couch. “Mr. President, it was an honor meeting you, but whatever role I had in the resistance, if any at all, I’m done. Could you please ask Agent Schaub to take us home?”
Blackwell said nothing for a long time. Ava stood, waiting for his response.
Finally, he looked up, staring deep into her eyes. “When the Alliance falls, best case scenario, you’ll go to an education center. So will your father. So will I. And if your husband manages to live long enough, which is highly unlikely, so will he. If you have any other friends or people that you care about, so will they.”
Ava swallowed the lump in her throat as she thought about Foley, her father, Charity, Megan, her neighbor from her apartment building in Austin, and Megan’s little girl, Danielle.
Blackwell did not relent. “You know what Markovich has planned for the people who can’t be rehabilitated, don’t you?”
“What?”
“Euthanization.”
Ava looked back up at him in animal terror as she thought about the people she knew and loved being put down like unwanted strays.
“Don’t tell me you're shocked. These are the same people who fought to block a five-month abortion ban in the Senate years back. Anyone who doesn’t encounter a moral dilemma with murdering an innocent child who could easily survive outside of the mother’s womb really shouldn’t see anything wrong with killing off unwanted members of society. And in the same way that Planned Parenthood sold off the body parts of those well-developed murdered children ripped from their mother’s wombs, Markovich will be making the organs of those who can’t be reintegrated with the revolutionary society available for sale on the world market.
“Just imagine, all those Christians who don’t drink and don’t smoke, that’s a huge supply of healthy lungs and livers available to those who may have been just a little too excessive in their lust for life. Yes, I know gluttony is the Christian sin of choice. Obesity and cholesterol levels might be a little high, but that’s not anything a re-education camp diet won’t cure. In six months’ time, the regime will also have a healthy supply of hearts ready for transplants!”
Ava gritted her teeth, clenched her fists, and would not look at Blackwell.
“But you’ve done your part. Thank you for hearing me out. I’ll have Agent Schaub take you home so you can live out the next twelve to twenty-four months in relative comfort. Good evening, Mrs. Mitchem.” Blackwell began to walk out of the room.
Her blood seethed in her veins. “Wait!”
Blackwell stopped but did not turn around.
“Suppose I agreed to take on this impossible task. What kind of support would I have from the Alliance?”
Blackwell rolled his head to the side. “Colonel Barr would discuss that with you. I could never have any official knowledge of any such activities. I’m sure you understand.”
Ulysses cut in. “So, it’s a black op, meaning that if Ava is captured, she’ll be left to rot in one of Markovich’s death camps.”
“Which will be all of our fates if nothing happens to correct our present course.” Blackwell returned to the couch and sat back down. “This mission can never be acknowledged as being condoned by the Alliance States. I have to think about the future. If the Alliance is able to survive, and that’s a big if, we’ll need to reach a peace agreement or at least a ceasefire with Markovich. As you said, Mr. Adams, forty years of communist indoctrination can’t be undone in the blink of an eye. In the best possible outcome, we end up with two separate Americas that are able to coexist in relative proximity without killing each other. Admitting to officially sanctioning an assassination would severely hamper reconciliation efforts.”
Ulysses shook his head. “No, Ava. You can’t do it. You cannot fathom what it is like to be left behind by your country; to be abandoned to decay in a musty, dark hole; essentially buried alive.” He gazed at the wall as if looking beyond it for several seconds without speaking.
Ava put her hand on his shoulder softly. “But, Dad, that will happen anyway.”
He blinked several times as if trying to escape a trance. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”
“Left to die in a hole, that’s where we’re headed anyway.” She looked at him with compassion. “At least this way, we have a chance, even if it’s a small one.”
Ulysses took her hand. “No. We can get out of the country. Start over somewhere else.”
“Where?” Blackwell asked. “America is the last bastion of freedom. The rest of the globe has been consumed by some variant of communism.”
“Plenty of countries are better off than where we’ll be after Markovich controls the entire country.” Ulysses stood up “Come on, Ava.”
Blackwell countered, “Ava thinks Markovich killed Woods just to get into office two months early. Does that sound like a man who will be content with one country or do you suppose he’ll want to take over the world? I hate to be a wet blanket here, but I don’t think there’s anywhere left to run.”
Ulysses retorted, “You’ve obviously seen my resume. I’m confident that I can find some remote corner where we’ll be left alone.”
Ava did not get up from the sofa. “I don’t want to run. You don’t have to help me, but I’m going to do this.”
“I thought you said you were finished fighting.” Ulysses’ face looked unsettled.
“I was.”
“Then you’ll do it?” Blackwell asked.
Ulysses put his hand up. “Hang on. Like she said, all those actions you talked about took planning and teamwork. Many of the skills required to pull off what you’re asking, she doesn’t have. If I’m going to fill in those gaps, I need some assurances.”
“I’m listening,” Blackwell said.
“You don’t have to acknowledge the mission. I understand what that means, probably better than anyone. But you do have to promise that if things go wrong and you have a chance to get her out, you’ll take it.”
Blackwell nodded. “Like you, First Sergeant, I served. I understand what it means to leave a brother behind. And I can give you my word, that if things do go wrong, leaving you, Ava, or anyone else behind will only happen after every other option has been exhausted. The good of the country has to come first, so I can’t swear that I’ll bring you home at all costs, but I’ll utilize every covert means at my disposal to get you both back.”
No one said anything for several moments.
Blackwell finally broke the silence. “Is that good enough for you, First Sergeant Adams?”
Ulysses looked at Ava who had a grin of determination growing on her face. His jaw tightened. “I guess it will have to be.”
CHAPTER 10
A prudent man concealeth knowledge: but the heart of fools proclaimeth foolishness.
Proverbs 12:23
Ava continued petting Buckley who was curled up on the couch next to her. “Research.”
“I can’t even believe TMZ is still on with a civil war raging.”
“It’s part of the bread-and-circuses campaign the left uses to keep people from paying attention to what’s really happening. Markovich will make sure it stays on the air, even if the regime has to foot the bill.”
Charity put her hands on her hips. “And what, pray tell, are you researching?”
“Not what. Who.”
“You’re gonna make me beg, aren’t you?”
“Dad and I may be going on a little trip. We could be gone a while.”
“This is about your little get-together with Blackwell, isn’t it?”
Ava wished she could tell her friend more. “Can you keep an eye on Buck while we’re gone?”
“Okay, I get it. It’s for my own good to stay in the dark about what you’re up to, but can you at least tell me when you’re leaving?”
“I don’t really know. Soon.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“Not long, I hope.”
“Is that less than a week, more than a week?”
“A week, maybe two. But I really don’t know.” Ava held up her hand. “Hold on, I need to hear this.” Ava listened closely to the late-night tabloid gossip show as the people began discussing Shane Lawrence. Paparazzi photographs showed Lawrence dipping into a limousine with a scantily-clad young woman. The photos of the girl were not clear as the shot was from a distance and from a rear-side angle, so the gallery of commentators speculated on who the mystery starlet might be. The segment was short and soon over. Afterward, Ava turned off the television.
Charity watched quietly, but it was obvious that she was wondering why Ava had been so interested in Lawrence. “So, whenever whatever happens, will I know it was you?”
“Probably.” Ava got up from the sofa. “I’m going to turn in.”
“Your dad still isn’t home?”
“No. Late night for him, I guess.” Ava let Buckley out to do his business before bed.
Charity waited by the door with Ava for the dog to return. “I know you’re short on help with Foley gone—and James.” Charity looked at the floor. “But if you need me for this, I’ll do what I can.”
“Thanks, but taking care of the house and Buck is what I need. With everything else I have to deal with, at least I don’t have to worry about him, knowing that you’re taking good care of my buddy.”
Ava saw headlights turn into the long drive. “Buck! Get in the house, now.”
She was pretty sure it was Ulysses’ truck but couldn’t be certain. Buckley came up to the porch but paused to look at the vehicle before coming inside. His tail wagged, which gave Ava confidence that it was indeed her father’s vehicle.
“Where has Ulysses been all day anyway?” Charity watched him pull up to the house.
Ava smiled apologetically but didn’t answer.
“Never mind.” Charity rolled her eyes. “I’m going to hit the hay before I hear something that will get me killed.”
“Goodnight.” Ava hugged her friend.
“If you’re not here when I wake up, I guess I’ll see you later.”
“I’ll be here,” Ava said.
Ulysses closed the truck door and walked up the stairs with a backpack slung over his shoulder.
Ava waited for him to come in, then locked the door behind him and Buckley. “Did the colonel give you anything good?”
Ulysses listened for Charity’s door to close all the way. “Let’s go into the kitchen.”
Ava followed him.
He unzipped his pack. “New identities and supporting documents for both of us.” He handed her a Utah driver’s license.
“Paul Whitmore, from St. George. What brings you to the sunny state of California, Paul?”
Ulysses looked too tired for role-playing games, but he went along with it. “I’m a registered Democrat. It’s not safe for people like me in Utah.”
“They have democrats in Utah?” Ava tilted her head as if she were suspicious of the answer.
“My town was 17 percent Democrats; before the war broke out, that is. We quickly became a persecuted minority.”
Ava shook her head and made a tisking sound. “Too bad, too bad. But you’re among friends now, in the utopic land of tomorrow, the People’s Socialist Republic of California. Welcome, Comrade Whitmore.” She handed him the ID. “Where’s mine?”
He frowned. “Before they mock up your ID, you’ll have to cut and dye your hair again. And put on those goofy glasses that you love so much.”
She huffed. “Great.”
“The colonel wants you to get some collagen treatments also.”
“Are you serious? You mean big fat lips like Angelina Jolie?”
“Not necessarily. You have that very distinct jawline. He thinks they can soften that up enough and do a few other key spots on your face to trick facial recognition software.”
“It’s supposed to be a disguise to help me blend in. I’m going to end up looking like a circus freak; like someone who got a botched facelift.”
Ulysses crossed his arms. “You do realize we’re going to LA, right?”
“Oh yeah, never mind. I’ll fit right in.” Ava took a seat at the kitchen table. “What else did you talk about with the colonel?”
“Our profiles are of people from St. George that have been killed since the war. He’s got a guy from NSA that has a backdoor into Facebook. They’ll photoshop us into their pictures and the posts will keep the original timestamps.”
“Their friends will recognize that the photos have been changed.”
Ulysses shook his head. “Being Democrats in Utah, both of them were loners. Didn’t really have many real friends. Most of their Facebook friends are just people they’ve connected with online and in socialist Facebook groups. The few people who are real-world friends or relatives are being fed a static ghost feed that shows the original content. Everyone else navigating to the actual Facebook pages will see the doctored content.”
“Sounds risky.”
Ulysses nodded. “You signed us both up for risky.”
“No,” she protested. “I signed me up. You signed yourself up.”
Ulysses cleared his throat. “Anyway, the NSA guy also has backdoor access into most operating systems: iOS, OS X, Android, Windows.”
“That could be helpful.”
“Yeah. He’s able to monitor all of Lawrence’s emails and texts. The problem will be getting that information to us. Markovich has blocked out all phone calls and web traffic from outside the states he controls.”
“A communist censoring the internet? Who’d have thought!”
Ulysses snickered. “Yeah. Colonel Barr has an email account set up for us inside the regime. We’ll use it like a drop box. We’ll never send or receive emails with the account.”
“Then how will we get information?”
“The colonel will send an operative across the border, have him login to the email account and save our messages as an encrypted draft. We’ll log in periodically and read the encrypted messages.”
Ulysses took out a small bottle.
“Hand sanitizer?”
“Don’t judge a book by its cover; or in this case, a bottle by its label.”
“Poison?” Ava asked.
“VX nerve agent. It’s what Kim Jong Un used to kill his big brother, Kim Jong Nam. He basically sent a woman carrying a towel laced with VX into Kuala Lumpur International Airport where Nam was waiting for a flight. She walked up behind the brother, wiped the rag across his face and ran off. You can watch the video on YouTube. Being the brother of such a notoriously nice guy, Nam immediately knew he’d been attacked. He informed authorities then headed for the airport clinic. By the time he’d crossed the terminal, he was already experiencing paralysis. You can see h
is legs getting stiff as he walks in the video. A few minutes later he was dead.”
Ava held the bottle in her hand. “I guess you’d want to be wearing gloves when you open this.”
“That wouldn’t be a bad idea at all.”
“So, is that what we’re going to do?”
Ulysses nodded. “Getting the VX on his face will be the easy part. Getting away before we’re caught will be the real challenge. The only way we’ll be able to get close enough to him will be to do it in a public place. We’ll have to think of ways to minimize our exposure to cameras and eyewitnesses.”
“What about a bathroom? What if we set it up to look like an accident? You said the nerve agent didn’t act instantaneously. If it looked like a casual mishap, maybe we could get out of the area by the time he started feeling the effects.”
“It’s possible. We’ll have to see what opportunities present themselves.” Ulysses seemed apprehensive about the operation.
Ava asked, “What’s my refugee name?”
Ulysses pulled a manila envelope from his pack and handed it to Ava. “Tamara Jones. We’ll work on your appearance tomorrow so the colonel can have your IDs made up. We’ll need to head to California no later than Sunday. Once those Facebook profiles have been modified, we’ll be up against the clock. We have to get in, eliminate our target, and get out before anyone discovers they’ve been tampered with.”
Ava felt the intense pressure of the insane mess she’d volunteered herself for. That was bad enough, but she also had the weight of dragging her father into it. Although he’d volunteered, he never would have done so if she hadn’t jumped head first into this muddle.
CHAPTER 11
And Joshua the son of Nun sent out of Shittim two men to spy secretly, saying, Go view the land, even Jericho. And they went, and came into an harlot's house, named Rahab, and lodged there.
Joshua 2:1
Ava handed her driver’s license to the SJL soldier manning the checkpoint in Utah, adjusted her thick black fake glasses, and ran her fingers through her, once again, too short, too black hair.
