Danger Close

by James P. Sumner

“I don’t need your help.” Hall looked him up and down, his face contorted with disgust. “You would do well to keep your nose out of other people’s affairs. Hell, you of all people have no business dealing with people on my level anyway.”

  Buchanan slowly got to his feet, resting his fists on his desk. “And what’s that supposed to mean, Mr. Hall? Me of all people…”

  Hall wavered for a moment but stood his ground. “Well, I mean, look at you. You’re not a CEO. You’re not a businessman. You’re… what? A retired grunt who walked into the wrong room at the goddamn plantation. It shouldn’t be allowed, if you ask me. Now you will stop investigating Tristar, or you will be sorry.”

  Buchanan had dealt with racism his entire life. He rarely encountered it anymore and with good reason. But a line had just been crossed.

  “Yeah? And why’s that?” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Because GlobaTech is still just a big fish in a small pond. I could buy you five times over and still have change. You don’t want Orion as an enemy. Trust me.”

  Buchanan moved to the side of his desk. “No, what I want is for you to get the hell out of my office before my black foot finds its way up your bigoted, white ass.”

  Hall’s thin lips curled into a sneer. “You just made the biggest mistake of your life. Mark my words, Mr. Buchanan—this isn’t over.”

  He turned and ripped the door open, then marched through it without looking back. A moment later, Kim appeared in the doorway. Buchanan looked over at her, still standing beside his desk, his fists still clenched. His jaw muscles ached from gritting his teeth.

  “Is… is everything okay?” she asked.

  He sat back down behind his desk and picked up the pen. “Never better.”

  4

  May 2, 2020

  * * *

  Jericho rode in the passenger seat of the Humvee, silent and weary, staring out the window at the unfamiliar landscape. He had seen much of the world. It was a blessing and a curse; he rarely had time to enjoy any of the places he had been. But he had never been to Paluga.

  Roughly the same size as Samoa but with twice as many people, Paluga teemed with society without feeling overpopulated. It joined the United Nations in 1981 but had remained a quiet nation on the world stage. Not known for its tourism, Paluga instead contributed to the global economy by exporting silk and marijuana.

  Jericho’s plane had touched down at the airport on a secluded runway at dawn. The thirteen-hour flight had allowed for some rest but had mostly been spent going over reports, preparing for the overwhelming task he was faced with. He was greeted by GlobaTech personnel already on the ground and hustled into the Humvee before he had time to take in a breath of fresh, warm air.

  The drive to the presidential palace in the capital region took a couple of hours. Having spent half a day on a plane and lost four hours of his life crossing time zones, Jericho was doing all he could to not show his irritation.

  The man driving turned to him. “We’re about twenty minutes out, sir.”

  Jericho looked over. “Thanks, um…”

  “Miller, sir.”

  “Miller. Right. How long have you been with GlobaTech?”

  “Coming up on three years, sir. I came up through the academy in Santa Clarita. Applied the day after 4/17.”

  Jericho nodded admirably. “And before that?”

  Miller shrugged. “Some security work. Nightclub doors, personal security… nothing intense or high profile.”

  “Nothing military?”

  Miller shook his head. “No, sir.”

  Jericho knew how good the academy was. He had helped Josh Winters fine-tune some of the training in the early days, after 4/17. Their recruitment process and standard of soldier rivaled that of any military he had encountered.

  “Okay, Miller. I’m likely going to be here a while, so let’s clear something up. GlobaTech is a company, not the military. While we have our own private armed forces, I’m your boss, not your CO. You don’t need to sir me, okay? Jericho’s fine.”

  Miller nodded. “Yes, sir… um, Jericho.”

  Jericho smiled to himself, rolling his eyes at the irony of having been on the other end of that exact conversation yesterday.

  “What’s Paluga like?” he asked.

  Miller thought for a moment. “If you were here as a tourist, I’d say it was a nice place, honestly. Mid-afternoon gets a little hot. The air stifles like in Cyprus or Greece. But it’s a beautiful country. The sunsets along the coast are something else. Great seafood restaurants too.”

  “Right. And given I’m not a tourist…”

  Miller sighed. “This place is a barrel of gunpowder, and everyone has a box of matches.”

  “Yeah. How many of our people are already in place?”

  “I believe around a thousand. We have security checkpoints in most major regions now. We’re bringing in roughly two hundred men a day now, so by the end of the week, we should be up to full strength.”

  “Any trouble so far?”

  Miller shook his head. “No violence. I’ve personally seen a few protests, but they were peaceful. I’ve heard of minor rioting closer to the palace. Nothing we can’t handle.”

  “Have the Palugan military been cooperative?”

  “Honestly, they haven’t been involved. We’ve seen a few patrols. They have a presence in and around the palace, maybe five hundred soldiers. There are four bases—one in each corner of the island. Our recon shows they’re at capacity. They seem to be sitting tight.”

  “Where have you been stationed so far?”

  “Just outside Maville, in one of the local towns.”

  “Maville. That’s the capital, right?”

  Miller nodded. “One of only two major cities in the country. Most other populated regions are towns or villages.”

  Jericho fell silent, allowing himself time to draw a picture in his head of what to expect.

  “Okay,” he said finally. “From now on, you’re with me.”

  Miller tried to hide his surprise and excitement, but the emotion slipped into his voice. “O-okay. Thanks! Thank you, sir. Jericho.”

  “I apparently have a squad waiting that will answer directly to me, but Mr. Buchanan sent me here to oversee all our forces until this settles down. I’m going to split our forces into divisions and then split those into smaller squads, each with a specific area to cover. I will assign my squad to manage these divisions. You and your team are with me from now on.”

  “And what will we be doing?”

  “We’ll be standing next to the president every second he’s awake.”

  Miller’s grip tightened on the wheel. Jericho noted how the color drained from his knuckles. He smiled to himself.

  “It’ll be fine, Miller,” he said. “We’ve got the easy job.”

  * * *

  They turned off the coastal road and merged onto the main strip that led through the center of Maville. Local time was a little after seven a.m. Market stalls were setting up. Shutters on windows were opening to let the pale, early light of a new day shine in. People seemed to be going about their lives like normal.

  But nothing was normal.

  Jericho had read up on the political upset plaguing the country on his flight. Roads were quiet. People feared being caught in a protest that would leave them stuck in their vehicles for hours until the roads were cleared. People were divided. Half of Paluga simply wanted to get on with their lives. The other half wanted their voices to be heard, unhappy with the proposed changes to their way of life that their president had declared.

  He wanted to remove some of the power the government had and give it back to the people. The democratic election he had won was just the first step. But the freedom and responsibility this gave the citizens of Paluga wasn’t welcome by everyone. Despite the tyranny the country had endured over the years, many people had grown accustomed to the security the dictatorship had brought. The uncertainty over what to do with so much control of their own
lives had resulted in fear.

  The polarization of the country wasn’t limited to its citizens. The military itself was torn, with one of the top-ranking generals publicly questioning his president’s leadership. Many soldiers were unsure whether their loyalty should lie with the country they served or their chain of command.

  Miller had said the Palugan armed forces had mostly stayed away from GlobaTech since they arrived. Despite being outnumbered three-to-one, GlobaTech was respected as a military force and as designated peacekeepers of the United Nations. Whether the Palugan military agreed with their presence in the country or not, that wasn’t a fight anyone was rushing to pick.

  For now, it was a waiting game.

  Rooftops peaked and troughed like a chart against the sky as they drove through the business district. Although the entrance to the city was rural and underdeveloped, the center was modern and bustling with progress—at least comparative to the rest of the one- and two-story buildings that lined the streets of Maville. Skyscrapers towered over the streets, housing the offices of companies from all sectors of industry.

  As the skyline cleared, the palace loomed proudly over its kingdom in the distance, standing alone atop a low hill to the northwest.

  The road ahead splintered. West led to the palace. East led back to the coast. Both directions were blocked by a checkpoint—the Palugan military on the left and GlobaTech on the right.

  “This looks cozy,” noted Jericho.

  Miller smiled. “Honestly, there’s been no trouble. The people this close to the palace support President Herrera. They seem to understand that we all want the same thing here.”

  “Let’s hope that professional courtesy lasts.” Jericho pointed to the right. “Pull over by our boys. I want to check in with them before heading to the palace.”

  “You got it.”

  Miller guided the Humvee to a stop, mounting the curb as he parked a few meters away from the checkpoint. Jericho climbed out and stretched, feeling the heat press against his face as if the air itself was tangible. He wore tan combat pants with two holsters strapped to his muscular thighs. One contained a tactical knife—an eight-inch serrated blade fixed to a carbon fiber handle with a molded grip. The other contained his personalized GlobaTech Negotiator, the prototype weapon given to Julie, Collins, and himself. His T-shirt clung to his frame and was already damp with sweat. His ID was clipped to his belt.

  He walked with confidence and authority toward the small cluster of GlobaTech personnel standing across from the checkpoint. Miller quick-stepped to catch up.

  One of the men stepped forward to meet him as he approached. He nodded a greeting.

  “Mr. Stone,” he said formally. “We got the head’s up to expect you. How was your flight, sir?”

  Jericho nodded back. “Good, thanks. What’s your name?”

  “Jefferies, sir. Mike Jefferies.”

  “How’s it going here, Jefferies? Any trouble this close to the palace?”

  “Nothing really. For now, most of the protesting has been contained to the smaller, outlying regions. Towns and villages. Been a couple of demonstrations in the city, but no one other than news crews have ventured this far close to the palace.”

  “Let’s hope it stays that way.” Jericho gestured with a casual nod to the other checkpoint. “And the locals?”

  Jefferies shrugged. “Again, no real trouble. We don’t exactly stand around shooting the shit, but they have their orders just like we have ours. We’re on the same side here, right?”

  Jericho ran a contemplative hand over his jaw and mouth. “Apparently. Listen, keep up the good work, okay? Once we get all our boots on the ground, I’ll roll out new assignments and get everyone in place where I need them. For now, just keep doing what you’re doing. Eyes open.”

  Jefferies nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Jericho turned to Miller. “Bring the Humvee around, will you? I’m going to go introduce myself to our guests before we head up to the palace.”

  “You got it,” said Miller. He turned and headed back to their vehicle.

  Jericho spun on his heels and marched toward the checkpoint opposite. No hesitation in his stride. No intimidation.

  As he neared the other side of the junction, two soldiers moved to intercept. They were dressed in desert camo and carrying silenced assault rifles. They walked in tandem and blocked Jericho’s path.

  “Morning,” he said.

  Neither responded.

  Jericho looked at them for a moment before realizing they might not have understood him. An overwhelming majority of Paluga spoke Portuguese. Some regions nearer the coast spoke Spanish, but he decided to play the odds.

  “Um… Manhã,” he managed. “Did I say that right?”

  “You did,” said a voice from behind the men.

  Jericho peered around them, but they soon parted to reveal who spoke. A short man with a thick, dark mustache walked over and stopped a few paces from him. The man gave up almost two feet in height as he stared up to look Jericho in the eyes.

  “I respect the fact that you tried our language,” he said. “Makes a pleasant change.”

  “Manners cost nothing,” said Jericho casually. “Besides, you apparently speak better English than I do anyway.”

  The two men exchanged a brief laugh as they shook hands.

  “I am Colonel Ramirez,” he said. “You are GlobaTech, yes?”

  Jericho nodded. “Jericho Stone. I’ve been sent to coordinate GlobaTech’s efforts here.”

  Ramirez smiled. “How does it feel to command two thousand men, Mr. Stone?”

  “Just another day in the office,” he said humbly.

  “Was your trip okay?”

  “As fine as a thirteen-hour flight can be, yeah. I have a meeting with President Herrera, but I wanted to introduce myself first.”

  “I appreciate the courtesy, Mr. Stone.”

  Jericho shrugged. “The way I see it, if things take a turn here, you’re the last line of defense. I believe in professional courtesy and respect.”

  Ramirez smiled again, wider this time. “You are indeed a man of honor. Our president chose well.”

  “Thank you. All the reports I’ve had from my men so far have been consistent; your armed forces have been nothing but civil and cooperative. Honestly, I was concerned there would be some resentment over us coming here.”

  Ramirez shrugged, stroking his mustache absently. “We are all soldiers here, Mr. Stone. Whether you are private sector or not, we just do our job, yes? I suspect if there is any resentment, it would be aimed at the person who hired you.”

  “And is there any?”

  “Resentment?” He paused. “I think there is some, but I believe this comes from ignorance and confusion, not malice. These are difficult times for my country. Uncertainty can be dangerous.”

  Jericho nodded. “I heard there is some dispute within the Palugan military over how this should all play out. Where do you stand, Colonel?”

  Ramirez stood tall, broadened his shoulders, and pushed his chest out proudly. “I am Palugan, Mr. Stone. I stand with my country, and I stand by the man I voted for to run it. My job is to ensure the safety of my countrymen. I leave the politics to the smart people.”

  Jericho smiled, appreciating his candor and humor. He extended his hand, which Ramirez shook again.

  “Thank you for your time,” he said. He glanced over his shoulder as the Humvee approached, pulling to a stop beside him. “Are we okay to head on up to the palace?”

  “Of course, Mr. Stone.” Ramirez moved to the side and signaled to his men to do the same. “I shall radio ahead and let them know you’re on your way.”

  “Appreciate it, Colonel. Stay safe.”

  “And you.”

  Jericho climbed in beside Miller, who set off navigating the minor obstacles. Then he gunned the engine and accelerated up the hill toward the palace.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  Jericho nodded. “Yeah. I just like
to introduce myself when I enter another man’s house. Let him know I’m not there to rob him.”

  “A show of respect, right?”

  “Mm-hmm. Goes a long way. Plus, I like to know who’s on my side in a fight. I’ve been burned before.”

  Miller had heard the stories of how Jericho came to be with GlobaTech but wasn’t sure how much had been embellished. He didn’t want to ask.

  “And is he?” he asked.

  “The colonel? Yeah, I reckon so. The biggest test will be when we arrive at the palace.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because soldiers, for the most part, keep things simple. They follow orders and leave the thinking to the people on bigger salaries. But the politicians? They’ll stab you in the back without a second thought, then sue you for getting blood on their knife. Watch your six in here, soldier.”

  Miller said nothing. He focused on not feeling intimidated as he guided them along the winding, narrow road, which was patrolled by Palugan soldiers. Up ahead, large gates stood open, and the outline of the palace gradually came into focus beyond. Up close, the building looked impressive. It was a mixture of Indian, Mediterranean, and Western architecture, accented with glass and gold. The result was a building that was somewhere between the White House and the Taj Mahal, combining both artistic styles without ever attaining the full grandeur of either one.

  Jericho tensed his jaw muscles, preparing himself mentally. He wished he had Julie and Collins with him. He hated diplomacy.

  5

  They rolled into the large, gravel courtyard of the palace, following the curve formed by the large water fountain in the middle. They stopped outside the steps leading up to the entrance. Jericho and Miller climbed out of the vehicle and stared at the building.

  “It’s bigger than I expected,” said Miller.

  “Have you not been here before?” inquired Jericho.

  “I’ve been in the country almost a week but never this far north. Only ever seen this place from a distance.” He paused, gazing around the courtyard. “It’s big.”