Danger Close

by James P. Sumner

  The man speaking to him was a representative of the Federal Trade Commission named Stackhouse. He had white hair and a thin face. His voice was slow and deliberate.

  “…and you have continued to act with a startling level of assumed impunity, which has ultimately led us here. So, I ask you again, Mr. Buchanan—what do you believe gives GlobaTech Industries the right to do whatever it wants?”

  Buchanan looked at him. “I don’t believe we do whatever we want. We’re a private security firm, and we do what our clients pay us to do, providing it’s within the boundaries established by law.”

  “But you’re not just a private security firm, are you?” said a man sitting in the middle of the bench. He wore a military dress uniform with an array of medals attached to the left breast. “You’re a private army with advanced weaponry and technology that you’re unwilling to share with the United States military.”

  Buchanan sighed again. “Forgive me, sir. I don’t know your name.”

  The man shifted in his seat, sitting straight and proud. “I’m General McFadden, the chief of staff of the United States Army.”

  “Okay, General. Our operatives are highly trained security personnel. They’re not soldiers.”

  “Is there a difference?”

  “Yes. My men are employees who carry out jobs given to them, not paid volunteers who service a political agenda.”

  The general’s face tensed to subdue his disdain for the comment. He chose to ignore it and move on.

  “How many operatives do you employ, Mr. Buchanan?” he asked.

  “We have around three hundred thousand security personnel working around the globe.”

  “That sounds like a large army to me…”

  “I’m not sure we would even break the top fifteen globally,” said Buchanan dismissively. “But again, they’re employees. There are companies who operate internationally with more people on their books than that. In fact, the DoD technically employs all one-point-three million U.S. soldiers. It’s not as if their missions have never gone wrong. Why aren’t you sitting here beside me, General?”

  “Because the U.S. Army didn’t stand by and watch the president of another country be killed,” he replied sharply.

  Buchanan’s jaw muscles instinctively tensed. His mouth narrowed to a thin line. “Due respect, sir, but neither did we.”

  “Says the CEO—”

  “Say the families of the men I lost that day, General.”

  A tense silence enveloped the room, amplified by the emptiness in the closed hearing.

  Stackhouse cleared his throat. “Mr. Buchanan, perhaps we can move on to the other areas of industry that GlobaTech Industries monopolizes.”

  Buchanan shook his head and looked over at him. “Such as?”

  “You have, as I understand it, research and development facilities all over the world?”

  “I wouldn’t say that. Most are based in the U.S. We have one in Switzerland and, I believe, two in the U.K.”

  “And what do these facilities do, exactly?”

  Buchanan shrugged. “They research and develop things.”

  “Moses?” said the secretary of state firmly.

  Buchanan turned to her. He knew Secretary Phillips well. She was one of the few people President Schultz kept from his predecessor’s staff. She was about as fair and honorable a person as one could ever hope to find in government.

  “Madam Secretary?” he said respectfully.

  She leaned forward on the desk, and the sleeves of her light gray suit rode slightly up her arms. “While these hearings are preliminary and your presence here is requested, rather than required, you would do well to refrain from sarcasm.”

  He nodded. “My apologies.” He turned back to address Stackhouse. “We primarily develop and manufacture weapons, technology, and medicine. We do this to fulfill contracts we’ve secured or to provide free aid around the world.”

  “The concern of this committee is that your company monopolizes those sectors of industry to the point where you have no competition. As things stand, there’s nothing stopping you from increasing prices and essentially holding your clients to ransom.”

  Buchanan shrugged. “You’re right. But we haven’t done that, and we have shown no intentions of starting. You can’t penalize me for something I might do, Mr. Stackhouse. I wish someone would tell me what this hearing is really about.”

  “Would you care to clarify that last statement, Moses?” said Secretary Phillips.

  “I mean that everyone here—” He gestured to the bench with his hand. “—seems to have taken great issue with every area of GlobaTech’s business, yet they’ve only acted on those concerns in the last forty-eight hours. We’ve been doing what we’re doing for the last three years, Madam Secretary. It’s never bothered anyone before. So, why now?”

  President Rutherford leaned toward his mic and cleared his throat, preparing to speak for the first time since the hearing began.

  “Mr. Buchanan, this hearing is taking place on my recommendation. You’ve already spoken with the U.N., and I told you then what I’ll tell you now. The tragic events that took place in Paluga have unfortunately shone a large spotlight on your company. It’s caused questions to be asked that no one felt needed asking before. Your failure to protect such an important client has highlighted just how much of a potential threat GlobaTech Industries could be. We’ve been here before, Mr. Buchanan, and I’m sure we’re all eager not to let history repeat itself.”

  Buchanan sat in silence, letting the words sink in. He knew this whole charade was a gross over-reaction. He even knew what it could all mean for the future of GlobaTech. But it wasn’t until just then that the true gravity of the situation he was faced with really hit home.

  GlobaTech was no stranger to bad press. But Rutherford’s case, in its own way, did make a lot of sense. He knew he could argue against every point being made, but that wouldn’t matter if this got out. All it would take was for this committee’s concerns to leak to the media, and without the necessary context or his defense, GlobaTech would be finished overnight.

  “Mr. Buchanan, do you have anything you would like to add?” asked Stackhouse.

  He looked at each member of the committee in turn, staring at their judgmental and dismissive expressions. Every one of them had clearly made their mind up already. All except Secretary Phillips. She watched him with a look akin to hope. He knew she was his only real ally in the room. But he also knew her support of him could only go so far. She was restricted by the position she held. She couldn’t help him.

  Whatever he said next would be futile. But he had to try.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of this… committee,” he began, trying to choose his words carefully. “I’m not a politician or a diplomat. I’m a soldier who was injured fighting for his country. I found myself in an incredibly important and powerful position not through a long journey climbing a corporate ladder but because a great man chose me based on my principles and moral fiber.

  “GlobaTech Industries has grown to be what it is organically. We’re the best at what we do in all areas of industry.” He paused to look at General McFadden. “That’s why we have so many defense contracts with different branches of the military. You don’t have a problem with the weapons and technology you pay us to make for you… but you begrudge us making those things for ourselves and others? Double standards aren’t becoming of a man in your position, General.”

  He looked along the line again. “After 4/17, we put ourselves at the forefront of the global efforts to help rebuild communities and nations affected by it. We gave technology and medicine to people who needed it for free. The cost to us didn’t matter. What mattered was helping people.”

  McFadden scoffed into his mic. “No doubt acting out of guilt for your involvement in it all.”

  Buchanan shot him a look that would have turned a lesser man to stone. “That, General, is a flat-out lie. GlobaTech spear-headed the efforts to prevent 4/17, despite ev
ery branch of the federal government trying to stop us. We had undeniable proof of what was happening, yet no one believed us because, once again, the people with power were more concerned about keeping the media happy than they were with uncovering the truth.”

  McFadden went to speak, but Buchanan cut him off before he could.

  “It’s also worth pointing out, General, that the person in charge of GlobaTech at that time, who stood alone against a corrupt government to fight for the truth, is now the president of the United States. So, if you’re going on the record here to say you’re calling into question the integrity of the leader of the country you serve, I will be first in line to testify against you when you’re called up on charges of treason.”

  McFadden shrank back into his chair. Buchanan glanced over at Secretary Phillips, who betrayed the smallest of smiles.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, what happened in Paluga was a tragedy. We are doing everything we can to find out who’s behind it. We have a lead on the shooter, and I still have men on the ground in Paluga who are working with the local military to keep the peace until this is resolved.”

  Rutherford slammed his hand on the desk. “You were told not to get involved, Mr. Buchanan. You were told GlobaTech are no longer representing the United Nations.”

  “Due respect, President Rutherford, but in Paluga, we never were. We were hired in a private capacity. We were not dispatched there as Peacekeepers. Even if I were inclined to let my men be dictated to by the U.N., right now they’re trapped in a country with no leader, where the citizens are being forcibly curfewed and the military itself is on the brink of civil war. They will protect themselves, and they will protect innocent people from harm, no matter what anyone tells them. That’s just—”

  The large mahogany door leading out of the chamber opened, slamming against the near wall. The bang echoed around the room, stunning everyone to silence. A young aide wearing a creased suit ran across the floor toward Buchanan. He was holding a cell phone.

  “What’s the meaning of this interruption?” demanded Rutherford.

  The aide looked terrified. His hands were shaking as he held out the phone to Buchanan.

  “It’s f-for you, sir,” he whispered. “I-it’s urgent.”

  Buchanan took the phone, confused, and held it to his ear. “This is Buchanan.”

  “Boss, it’s Julie. Jericho needs your help.”

  22

  Buchanan turned to the bench. “I’m sorry, but I need to take this.”

  He unclipped the lapel mic and stepped away from his desk without waiting to hear any protests. He paced away toward the large horseshoe of empty seats behind him.

  “Fisher, what’s going on?” he asked urgently. “I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”

  “Jericho’s just called. The situation in Paluga is bad and getting worse. He’s in real danger. We have to do something.”

  Buchanan could hear the urgency and panic in her voice. It wasn’t like her to be so shaken, and that concerned him.

  “Okay, okay. Tell me what’s happening.”

  Julie took a deep breath, blowing static down the phone. “General Guerrero has seemingly assumed leadership of Paluga. He used military force to essentially take over the country. He’s outside the presidential palace right now in a goddamn tank. He’s got twice the number of men with him that Jericho and the friendly Palugan soldiers have inside the palace. He says he has evidence that GlobaTech was responsible for the assassination, and we’re to surrender to his men or be killed. He also says GlobaTech was acting on orders from our government, and he intends to retaliate against the U.S. once he’s taken the palace. The general’s men are armed with state-of-the-art tech that Jericho says looks better than anything we’ve got. He says it’s made by Tristar, which I didn’t think was possible. The general gave them one hour to surrender, or he’s storming the damn gates. That was about twenty minutes ago.”

  Buchanan had stopped pacing. He stood staring at the floor, dumbstruck by the plethora of revelations Julie had just delivered.

  “Okay,” he said finally. “I’m gonna need a minute here.”

  “Boss, that’s the one thing we don’t have…”

  “I literally just got done explaining to this sideshow they’re more worried about bad press and assigning blame than they are about finding out what happened, and now this. I hope they don’t check the news during recess.”

  “Wouldn’t matter if they did,” said Julie. “This isn’t on the news.”

  “What?”

  “Not a single word of any of this is being reported anywhere, Moses.”

  “That’s impossible. You’re saying a rogue general has taken over his own country three days after their president was killed on international television, and no one’s saying anything about it?”

  “It would seem so,” she said wearily. “Boss, what can we do?”

  Buchanan looked over his shoulder at the makeshift committee. They were all sitting there, muttering among themselves, occasionally casting a cursory glance in his direction.

  “Stay on the line,” he said as he walked back to his desk. He held the phone against his chest as he clipped the mic back to the lapel of his suit jacket. He addressed the bench. “Someone check the news.”

  “Excuse me?” asked Stackhouse.

  Buchanan rolled his eyes. “One of you get on your phone and check the goddamn news, now! Is there anything breaking about Paluga?”

  No one moved.

  Buchanan threw his head back, sighing exasperatedly at the high ceiling. “For the love of God… Will somebody just—”

  “I’m checking now,” said Secretary Phillips finally. Buchanan watched her impatiently as she scrolled up and down the screen of her phone. After a minute, she looked up at him. “There’s no breaking news coming out of Paluga. No mention of… well, anything.”

  Buchanan moved the phone to his ear. “How long has Jericho got?”

  “About thirty minutes,” said Julie.

  “I’m going to call him in five. I want you and Collins to head back to Santa Clarita and wait for me there.”

  He hung up and looked at the bench, who were all staring at him, bewildered. He took a deep breath.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, there is an escalating crisis in Paluga that, as we speak, is endangering the lives of every operative of mine still in the country. My men are currently under orders not to intervene, as per the U.N.’s decree. However, the situation has gotten worse, and it’s my belief that if we don’t act now, we could see hundreds dead within the hour.”

  Looks of concern and skepticism were exchanged among the committee members. It was Secretary Phillips who was first to speak.

  “Moses, what’s going on here?” she asked.

  “Madam Secretary, I’m afraid I don’t have time to fully explain. I’m going to have to ask that you trust me. Whatever this is, whatever decisions you feel you need to make about GlobaTech’s future, you have my word I will cooperate. But right now, this needs to be put on hold before we’re all faced with an international crisis that—”

  Rutherford held his hand up. His eyes narrowed. “Mr. Buchanan, you’re not making any sense. Secretary Phillips just confirmed there’s nothing in the press to corroborate anything you’re saying. We have… what? The word of one of your operatives? I think I would be forgiven for assuming this was a tactic designed to stall these hearings simply because you don’t agree with them.”

  Buchanan took a few steps toward the bench. He gripped the phone tightly in his hand until his knuckles ached. “No, sir, I don’t think you would be forgiven. There are men’s lives at stake here. My men! The general of the Palugan army has assumed leadership, and the entire country is currently locked down under martial law. The last bastion of President Herrera’s legacy stands in the palace with one of my best men, a single squad of operatives, and what’s left of the small part of the local military we can trust.”

  Secretary Phillips sighed heav
ily. “Moses, there is nothing to support your claim—which, frankly, is outlandish at best. The military was cooperating with GlobaTech up until three days ago. There’s no way a percentage of an already small army could secure an entire country by force in that time. If what you say about the general is correct—and that’s a big if—it would surely take weeks of planning. We would’ve known. You would’ve known when you were hired by Herrera. You must see how this looks for GlobaTech?”

  Buchanan fought to remain calm. Frustration was consuming him. He felt like he was running on the spot, working hard to achieve nothing.

  “Madam Secretary, please. If I can—”

  Stackhouse slammed a gavel down on the desk in front of him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Buchanan, but we’ve heard enough of this. I’m moving to begin formal hearings to investigate GlobaTech Industries for violating anti-trust and anti-monopoly laws. All GlobaTech assets and accounts will be frozen with immediate effect. You are to order all your operatives to return to your headquarters. You will not be allowed to conduct any further security work until a decision is made about the future of your company. This meeting is adjourned until the day after tomorrow, when the first public hearing will commence. I’m sorry, Mr. Buchanan. I’m afraid you might now find yourself in the headlines you’re seemingly so desperate to read.”

  Buchanan returned to his chair and sat down with a heavy sigh, slouching with defeat. He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face, massaging his forehead. He had failed. The guilt and the shame devoured him. He had let Jericho down. He had let the company down. He had let Josh Winters down—the man who had put his faith in him to manage the global juggernaut he had helped build. The defeat was total, and it would likely cost people their lives.

  Goddammit, he thought, screaming with anger inside his own head. This couldn’t have gone any worse if it had been—

  He stopped rubbing his head and opened his eyes.

  Planned.

  His gaze darted back and forth along the surface of the desk as his mind set to work. The inadvertent revelation suddenly gave everything that had happened in the last week a fresh perspective. Everything that had happened… it wasn’t just bad for GlobaTech. It was catastrophic. It was every possible worst-case scenario at once. What if it was orchestrated in some way?