He looked up at the operative nearest to him.
“You, take this.” He thrust the bullet into the man’s hand. “I want you to get that back to Santa Clarita. You guard it with your life, and you don’t let anything or anyone stop you. Do you understand me?”
The man nodded.
“You do not rest until you place that bullet in Moses Buchanan’s hand. Go.”
The operative stood, adjusted his helmet and the grip on his rifle, then fastened the bullet away in the pocket of his pants. He set off running into the crowd and out of sight.
Jericho knelt on the stage, surrounded by what remained of his handpicked team. He looked over at President Herrera, staring into his wide, lifeless eyes as he cradled Miller’s body in his arms.
It had only taken two seconds for the entire world to change.
7
Julie sat alone at the bar, elbows resting on either side of a half-empty bottle of beer, as if protecting it from danger. Every other stool at the bar was empty. Behind her, only a handful of tables were occupied.
It was quiet before lunch.
In front of her, the barman paced behind the bar, cleaning glasses and keeping the area tidy. Julie thought he was trying to look busier than he was to keep his manager happy.
A large TV mounted on the wall behind the bar showed a local news channel. It was playing live footage from the president’s public address in Paluga. She had spoken to Jericho a few moments ago and was now watching him in the background, professional and uncomfortable with the large crowd, waiting for the president to take the stage.
She took a long swig of her beer and let out a heavy sigh. She had barely slept over the last couple of days. Only one of her brothers lived in town, and his house was full, so she was stuck in a hotel.
It had been a long time since she had time to herself with no work responsibilities. Under any other circumstances, she would have done her best to enjoy the downtime, regardless of how guilty she felt. But right now, the last thing she really wanted was to be alone with nothing to do. It left her with far too much time to think about everything had happened, and she craved a distraction.
Two of her sisters-in-law had sorted through most of her father’s affairs and belongings. Her brothers couldn’t face it. She wasn’t sure she could have, either, but she would have tried just to keep herself busy.
She stared blankly at the screen and finished her beer. She looked over at the barman to catch his attention.
“Can I get another?” she asked.
He smiled at her sympathetically. “Sure thing.”
He reached beneath the counter and retrieved a fresh bottle. He placed it in front of her and popped the cap off.
“Thanks,” she said.
The barman nodded courteously and walked away. He had worked there long enough to know a troubled soul when he saw one. It was best to give them space unless they invited conversation.
Julie took another sip, still lost in the news. Every now and then, the camera panned across the stage, and she saw Jericho at the back, giving orders. She smiled to herself.
She missed him. Despite the first impression his size and unshakeable professionalism made, Jericho was a truly kind man. Gentle and compassionate. She imagined few people ever got to see that side of him. She felt blessed to be one of them. She knew he would comfort her right now if he could.
It didn’t hurt that he could bench press her, either.
Another smile crept across her face. She took a long swig of beer as she recalled a fond memory, enjoying the moment of respite from the grief that had consumed her life.
Then a voice pulled her from her daydream.
“Fisher?”
Slightly confused, she turned to see a man standing beside her, smiling. He had stylishly unkempt hair and two days’ stubble. He wore a fitted suit jacket and pants, a casual T-shirt, and business shoes without socks.
“Julie Fisher?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Um… yeah. That’s me. Do I know you?”
The man laughed, placed his own drink on the bar, and leaned next to it. “It’s Bobby. Bobby Greaves. From high school? We had chemistry together, last period on Fridays.”
Julie stared for a moment, trying to remember him. When she couldn’t, she realized she needed to be polite before it turned awkward.
“Yeah, of course… Bobby,” she said. “How’ve you been?”
His smile broadened. “I’m great, yeah. Doing really well, actually. What about you? I haven’t seen you since we graduated. No one ever really knew what happened to you. Did you go off to college?”
Julie smiled politely, trying to hide how overwhelmed she felt by his enthusiasm.
“I… ah… I joined the military, actually,” she replied casually. “Spent a lot of time overseas. What about you?”
“I work in the city. I’m a stockbroker. Got a strong portfolio now.” He paused to sniff hard, brushing the tip of his nose with his thumb. “Yeah, you remember the guys, right? Riggs, Vincenzo, Freddy… we were all on the football team together.”
Julie took a deep, patient breath. “Yeah, sure.”
“Yeah, well, we all went to the same college, got our qualifications, and walked straight into a job at the same firm. We make serious cheddar nowadays, y’know.”
“Good for you, Bobby.”
She glanced up and saw the barman looking on, smiling to himself. She rolled her eyes.
“What brings you back to town, Fisher?” asked Greaves.
“Oh… just visiting family.”
Greaves took a sip of his drink and edged closer to her. “Hey, the guys are all here. We’re having a full day on it, celebrating a big client coming onboard. You should come join us.”
She smiled apologetically. “Thanks, but I’m good. Just enjoying my drink and watching the news.”
Greaves scoffed. “Watching the… Are you kidding? You’d rather watch the news than come hang out with your old friends? What the hell, Fisher?”
She glanced at him, noting the change in his tone. It was darker. The friendliness had gone.
“Yeah.” She shrugged. “I’d rather watch the news and be alone. Good seeing you, though, Bobby. Say… ah… say hi to your boys for me.”
Greaves frowned. “Come on, Fisher. Drinks are on us. It’ll be great to catch up. The boys would love to see you, I’m sure. We can show you a good time.”
Julie took a deep breath. She was losing patience and wasn’t in the mood to find a fresh supply.
“I said I’m good. Thank you. Enjoy the rest of your day, Bobby.”
She went to take a drink, but he reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her from lifting the bottle.
She looked over at him. “Move it or lose it, asshole.”
She held his gaze until he did.
He laughed to himself. “Y’know what? Screw you. No wonder no one liked you in high school. Julie goddamn Fisher. You always were a frickin’ loser, y’know that? I bet you still haven’t gotten laid either. Just as cold now as you always were, am I right?”
He continued laughing to himself.
She did her best to ignore him, but he shuffled even closer to her, leaning heavily on the bar. He absently brushed at his nose again with his thumb.
“Yeah, look at you. Frigid Fisher. A guy’s just trying to be nice, and you’re rude to him. You know how many women I get? Huh? You should be grateful I’m hitting on you.”
She took a sip of beer. “Yeah, I’m really lucky…”
He slammed his palm down on the bar. The noise seemed even louder in the near silence.
“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?”
She ignored him.
He grabbed her arm again. “Hey, look at me when I’m talking to you, you frigid bitch.”
She didn’t turn to look at him. She just snatched her arm away and sighed.
Greaves continued. “Ah, screw this. You ain’t worth my time. I was just trying to be nice. I bet you’
re really just a loose whore with daddy issues, aren’t you?”
Julie turned on her stool to look at him, leaning back slightly. “The fuck did you just say to me?”
Greaves took a step back, shocked at the sudden aggression. He picked up his drink and stood straight. “I… ah… I said you ain’t worth my goddamn time.”
Julie held his gaze. “Listen, you little thunder-nugget. I don’t even remember you. I was trying to be polite. High school was over twenty years ago. Most people move on. You clearly haven’t. You even sound like the arrogant piece of shit who captains a team, gets all the girls, and thinks he’s God’s gift to the world. Which explains why you were so offended when I didn’t want to join you and your asshole friends for a day of drinking and playing at Wolf of Wall Street.” She paused to tap her nose. “You’ve clearly got so much powder up your nose, I could probably ski down your sinuses. Oh, and enjoy that shit while you can. Way I hear it, if President Schultz gets re-elected, legalized drugs will be the first thing to go. Now do yourself a favor and bounce back over to your friends. Forget you ever saw me. This is your only warning.”
She took a deep, soothing breath to calm herself, then spun back around on her stool to face the bar. She picked up her drink and turned her attention back to the TV. President Herrera had taken the stage and was in the middle of delivering his speech.
She looked over at the barman. “Hey, could you turn this up, please?”
He nodded hastily. “Sure thing, lady. Damn.”
Greaves was shellshocked, standing motionless beside her. He placed his drink on the bar, flexed his shoulders, and raised his hand. “Who the hell do you think you—”
Julie’s arm shot out to the side. She grabbed the back of his head and slammed his face into the bar. She heard his nose break under the impact. She lifted his head back up, then thrust her leg out, kicking him hard on the side of his knee, sending him crumpling to the floor.
He lay in a heap at her feet. A low, guttural moan sounded out, like a wounded animal.
She looked down at him. “Do you mind? I’m trying to watch the news.”
The barman moved in front of her. “Jesus, lady! You’d better watch yourself in here. His friends will—never mind. Look alive.” He gestured behind her with a flick of his head. “I’m calling the cops.”
She looked over her shoulder and saw three guys hurriedly approaching her, looks of concern etched on their faces.
“Cops… ambulance… whichever,” she said.
She stood and turned to face the men. They were big guys, but it was a safe bet they had snorted as much cocaine as Greaves, so they were likely to be as effective. She wasn’t fazed. She wasn’t afraid. In fact, she caught herself looking forward to blowing off some steam. She couldn’t imagine a group of people more deserving.
“Hey, what did you do to Bobby?” asked one of them.
Julie shrugged. “He slipped.”
One of the other men frowned. “Hey, don’t I know you?”
She rolled her eyes. “We apparently went to high school together.”
“Julie Fisher!” said the third man.
She nodded. “And you three must be Curly, Larry, and Moe, right?”
The first man stepped forward. “What? No, it’s me, Freddy Caulfield. And I don’t care if we went to high school. You just messed up our buddy, which means you gotta pay. One way or the other.”
As Freddy stepped forward, a loud noise erupted from the TV, followed by screaming and the voice of a panicked news anchor. Julie snapped her gaze toward it, staring intently.
“What happened?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” shrugged the barman. “I think there was a gunshot.”
She paced toward the bar, her eyes transfixed on the screen. The president appeared to be down. So were some GlobaTech personnel.
All eyes turned to the screen as more information came through. The barman turned it up even louder.
“…just chaos here right now,” said the male reporter, who was live at the scene in Paluga. “We’re getting early reports that President Herrera has been killed. He was surrounded by GlobaTech operatives, who were acting independently at the president’s request to help maintain peace here today, following recent protests. We think at least three GlobaTech personnel who were standing with the president are also injured. Possibly dead. The crowd here is in a state of panic. These are incredibly shocking and disturbing scenes here…”
* * *
“Oh, no…” she muttered.
She could see Jericho on the screen, kneeling to the side of the group surrounding the president’s body.
“Um, hello?” said Freddy. “What the hell, Fisher? We’re talking here!”
Julie ignored them and hastily gulped her beer. “I need to go.”
As she turned, the doors opened, and two police officers walked in. They quickly surveyed the layout, then marched toward the bar.
One of them pushed past the three men and stopped beside Julie. He looked down at Greaves, then addressed the barman. “We got a report of a disturbance at these premises. Is everything okay?”
The barman shook his head absently, also staring at the screen. “I don’t think so.”
One of the officers stepped in front of Julie as she went to leave. “Wait a second there, miss. We need to speak with you about whatever happened here.”
Just as Freddy and the others were about to chime in with their version of events, Julie reached into her pocket and flashed her GlobaTech ID at the police officers.
“My name’s Julie Fisher. I run a specialist taskforce for GlobaTech Industries.” She gestured over her shoulder at the TV. “One of my men is standing on that stage right now. I’m leaving.”
The officers exchanged a glance, then stepped aside, allowing her through. She walked past Greaves’s friends, who all stood staring with loose jaws and wide eyes. Julie ignored them. She was already dialing Buchanan’s number on her cell phone.
She needed a flight.
8
May 4, 2020
* * *
Santa Clarita was pure bedlam.
Since yesterday afternoon, the GlobaTech compound had been a flurry of activity. Personnel from all over the country had been recalled to the California headquarters urgently. Offices were filled with important people having important meetings with zero notice.
The city was gridlocked. Every major news outlet in the world was trying to get a glimpse of the GlobaTech compound and snatch a quote from anyone who worked there.
Even now, as the pink and orange streaks of dawn still painted the sky, the I-5 was backed up from San Fernando to Castaic.
Buchanan hadn’t slept. He was approaching his second thirty-six hour stretch of uninterrupted consciousness of the week, and it was beginning to take its toll. He paced in front of the window in his office, occasionally glancing down at the never-ending sea of humanity below as he tried to get through his seventh phone call of the hour.
He sighed impatiently. “Yes, I understand that, but… Of course, I… No, obviously. I’m trying to—”
He looked around his office, eyes bulging with frustration. He searched for somewhere he could throw his phone.
The door to his office opened, distracting him from his ire. Kim appeared. She made the phone sign with her hand, then held up three fingers, signaling which line had another call waiting.
Buchanan rolled his eyes and nodded a silent thank you. She closed the door again, and he turned his attention back to the window and the phone call.
“Look, you need to give me some time to find out what exactly happened,” he said. “And I can’t do that while I’m on the phone listening to you talk to me like a goddamn child. Just… let me work, okay? I’ll call you later.”
He ended the call and tossed the phone onto the sofa that rested against the far wall, beneath the TV mounted there. He moved behind his desk and sat down heavily in his chair. He stared for a moment at the blinking light on the des
k phone. Every line, along with his cell, had been ringing almost constantly all morning. He rested his elbow on the arm and placed his head in his hand, massaging the bridge of his nose to alleviate the tension in his forehead.
As he was about to answer the waiting call, the door opened. He looked up to see Collins standing there.
“I got here as fast as I could,” he said, slightly out of breath. “Is Jerry okay? Is he on his way back here?”
“Shut the door,” said Buchanan.
Collins did, then paced into the middle of the office, anxiously rocking his weight between his legs in front of the desk.
Buchanan rolled his eyes. “Do you need to pee or something? Sit down, would you? You’re making me nervous.”
“Heh… sorry, boss.” He sat opposite. “Where’s Jerry?”
Buchanan sat upright. “Jericho’s in Paluga, and that’s where he’ll be staying until this is over.”
“Are ya kidding me?” shouted Collins, momentarily forgetting himself. “Ya can’t leave him out there!”
Buchanan remained composed. “Ray, calm down. It’s not safe for him or any of our people out there to be moving around too much. And I need someone I can trust on the ground to help me solve this goddamn nightmare.”
Collins relaxed in his seat, breathing deeply. “What in the blue hell happened out there? Do we even know?”
Buchanan shook his head. “I spoke to Jericho briefly last night. We know a little more than what the rest of the world saw but not by much.”
“How is it out there?”
“It’s pandemonium. The military has effectively taken control of the country. Soldiers are patrolling major cities and towns, forcing people to stay indoors. Our people have been confined to their outposts.”
Collins shook his head. “Christ… Jerry must be loving that.”
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