He sat straight, staring blankly ahead as he mentally arranged all the pieces together. He thought about what Stackhouse had just said to him, about GlobaTech being in the headlines he was looking for.
When the big picture finally revealed itself, he leapt to his feet.
“Sonofabitch!” he yelled out, forgetting himself.
The members of the committee, who were all standing and preparing to leave, turned to look at him.
“Mr. Buchanan,” said Stackhouse firmly, “I would ask that you refrain from—”
Buchanan held up a hand. “No, not you.” He looked over at Secretary Phillips. “When you checked the news just then, what site did you look at?”
Phillips shrugged. “WBM. Why?”
“World Broadcast Media, right? Who owns them?”
“Orion International,” said Stackhouse. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Sonofabitch…” muttered Buchanan. He looked at Stackhouse. “Check the news again for any mention of Paluga, but this time, look on the biggest news network not owned by Orion.”
Stackhouse exchanged looks with the people on either side of him, seemingly confused by the request. “Mr. Buchanan, I don’t see what use that would be. For a start, any news network that Orion International doesn’t own is unlikely to have the reach to cover global news.”
Buchanan rolled his eyes. “Yes… and yet, somehow, they’re not standing here on anti-monopoly charges. Go figure. Someone please just… look for me.”
Stackhouse glanced over at Secretary Phillips, who nodded. He then set his briefcase down at his feet and took out his phone. “Fine, I’ll humor you.” He began scrolling. “Honestly, Mr. Buchanan, I don’t know what you’re hoping to… my God…”
“What is it?” asked President Rutherford.
“Reports of civilians being arrested and beaten in the streets of Paluga by the military as nationwide martial law is invoked by General Guerrero. Details are vague at best but…” He looked up and stared at Buchanan. “It says there’s a siege at the presidential palace.”
Buchanan slammed his fist down on the desk. “Let my men do what they’re paid to do, please! If they don’t make a stand and defend themselves, they’re dead. Not to mention any potential civilian loss of life.”
General McFadden shook his head. “I don’t see how this changes anything. It’s one report on a piss-ant news website. Why wouldn’t any of the bigger networks be covering this? Answer me that, Mr. Buchanan.”
Buchanan took a deep breath. “Oh, you’re not ready for me to answer that, General.” He reached for his phone. “Give me two minutes to make a call. If you feel the same way after I do, I’ll drop this, I promise.”
He turned his back on the bench and dialed a number. He introduced himself when a woman answered and was immediately put on hold and transferred. A few moments later, the line was picked up again.
“Moses,” said a strong, Texan drawl.
“President Schultz, good afternoon,” said Buchanan. “I’m sorry to call, but—”
“I’ve been expecting it, son. And I want you to know if I could help you in any way, I would. Hell, Winters and I made that company what it is. It’s a goddamn tragedy those sonsofbitches are lynching you for what happened over there, but I can’t get involved. This is a U.N. matter, and I—”
“Sir, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m not calling you for that.”
“Oh. Well, what do you need, son?”
“It’s about Orion International, sir. I think we’ve finally got them.”
“You have my attention…”
Buchanan spent five valuable minutes catching the president up. Schultz listened quietly.
“That’s all a bit of a stretch…” said the president finally.
“Given the last couple of years, I honestly don’t think it is, sir,” countered Buchanan. “After my meeting with Quincy Hall a couple of days ago, and with the Palugan army using weapons made by Tristar, I think this whole thing could be Orion’s doing. Think about it, sir. From the moment President Herrera was killed, our biggest enemy in all this has been the media. Orion could easily have used their influence over the news to change the narrative of this story and make us look bad. I would say they’ve done an exceptional job, given I’ve just been told GlobaTech Industries has to close its doors indefinitely.”
“What do you need from me, son?”
“Sir, Jericho has about fifteen minutes before he’s in the center of a military skirmish on foreign soil. If he orders GlobaTech to intervene without the backing of the U.N., anyone who survives will be prosecuted under international law, and GlobaTech will be shut down by this absurd committee. If he doesn’t, he’ll be executed by the rogue general of a foreign nation who has pledged to attack the United States right after. I need you to buy me some time, sir. Let us defend Paluga without fear of reprimand. The rest of the team will investigate Orion and look for the link we need. We already have a bead on the shooter.”
There was a moment’s silence. “Put me on speaker and pass me to Secretary Phillips.”
All eyes followed Buchanan as he approached the bench. He placed the phone down in front of the secretary of state, near the mic. He nodded to her. “You’re on speaker.”
She frowned. “This is Secretary Phillips.”
“Elaine? It’s Ryan Schultz.”
A low murmur rippled around the bench. Phillips composed herself quickly.
“Mr. President, what I can do for you?”
“You can postpone this hearing. I want GlobaTech to help resolve this situation in Paluga. They can’t do that with their hands tied behind their backs.”
Rutherford cleared his throat. “Mr. President, as president of the United Nations, I must insist we follow protocol here. They are our peacekeepers, not America’s. Surely, this falls under our—”
“John, is that you?” asked the president, cutting him off.
“Um, yes, sir.”
“John, am I right in saying it’s already been established that GlobaTech isn’t in Paluga on U.N. business?”
Rutherford glared at Buchanan, who didn’t attempt to suppress a small smile. “Yes, sir. That’s correct. But—”
“Then you can sit this one out. Each and every man and woman in a GlobaTech uniform is an American citizen on foreign soil in a goddamn warzone. Pretty sure, seeing as I’m sitting in this office and you’re not, that their lives are my business. And I’m telling you all right now, whatever issue you have with GlobaTech is going to wait until this is over. You know how good they are, John. It’s why the U.N. hired them, right?”
His comments were met with a silence that said more than words ever could.
“Thank you, Mr. President,” said Phillips.
“Thank you, Elaine. Moses?”
“Yes, sir?”
“You know what to do, son. Don’t make me regret this.”
Buchanan stood tall. His expression hardened with renewed purpose. “Yes, sir.”
The call clicked off. He picked up the phone and dialed another number. It was answered after one ring.
“Yeah?” said Jericho, sounding out of breath.
“Jericho, it’s me,” replied Buchanan.
“You’re cutting it a little fine, boss. Should I be glad to hear from you?”
Buchanan fixed President Rutherford with an icy stare as he spoke into the phone. “The U.N. has backed down for now, Jericho. Order every single one of our operatives to protect any Palugan citizens they see under threat. Same goes for our allies in the military. If they meet with any resistance from the general’s forces, they put them down. Am I clear?”
“Exactly what I needed to hear, boss.”
“Do what you do best, Jericho. Stop the general, put an end to this goddamn coup, and get your ass back home.”
He ended the call and looked each member of the committee in the eyes.
“I swear to Christ, if my men are too late and I lose them because of thi
s bullshit hearing, I will dedicate the rest of my life to ruining yours. Every… last… one of you.”
23
The palace sizzled with renewed hope and purpose. In the president’s office, the former chief of staff, Raul Montez, stood behind his former boss’s desk, in the middle of two separate phone conversations. He alternated between the landline and a cell phone as he desperately tried to rally every remaining friend they had in what was left of the Palugan government.
It had been four minutes since Jericho had ended the call with Buchanan. He and Ramirez stood facing each other, arms folded, wearing serious and focused expressions. With them, anxiously awaiting instructions, were the highest-ranking soldiers and operatives both men had on site.
“What you’re suggesting is risky, Mr. Stone,” said Ramirez. He checked his watch. “We now have seven minutes until the general’s deadline expires. If we’re not in position when that happens, both our forces inside the palace will be slaughtered.”
Jericho nodded. “I understand that, Colonel. But you know as well as I do—probably better than I do—that in combat, it only takes a few seconds to make a difference. We have seven minutes. In five, my operatives would’ve reclaimed half your country for you. Trust me.”
Ramirez held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. “Fine. Do what you have to do. But I’m getting my men into position right now.” He turned to the sergeant standing beside them. “I want men stationed on the balconies along the south and east walls. In cover and ready. Get another squad into position in the courtyard. If the general’s forces breach the gate, their priority will be getting inside the palace, so concentrate on securing the most direct path to the entrance. Nobody moves until I give the order.”
The sergeant nodded. “Yes, sir.”
He quickly saluted and left.
Jericho turned to his man, who was looking at him expectantly. “Round up every one of our guys inside the palace. You support the colonel’s men with whatever they need. I want one of ours for every three of theirs in every position. I’ll be right behind you.”
The operative nodded and left.
He turned back to Ramirez and smiled. “Well, you’re in the shit now, soldier.”
“You have five minutes, Mr. Stone,” he replied. “Make them count.”
He nodded courteously and marched out of the room. Jericho glanced over at Montez. He saw the film of sweat on his brow and the redness in his face. He looked as if he were about to have a heart attack.
Jericho activated his comms unit and switched it onto all channels, so every GlobaTech operative in Paluga would hear him. He took a deep breath. The significance of the moment wasn’t lost on him. He knew his next words were likely to be the most important he would ever speak.
He began pacing around the room, thinking what to say. Then he placed a hand to his chest and pressed the button on the wire beneath his shirt to open a channel.
“Attention GlobaTech personnel. This is Jericho Stone. In five minutes, the presidential palace in Maville will fall under siege to General Guerrero and his men. Your orders so far have been to stand down, cooperate with the Palugan military, and not to engage under any circumstances. The volatile politics in this country and the bullshit politics back home have meant our hands are tied, which puts our own lives in danger. I know you’re scared. I know you’re angry. But the citizens of this country are also afraid. Their home is on the brink of civil war, and the people who should be protecting them are now attacking them.
“Well, as of this moment… I’m giving you the order to go get their backs! The U.N. has postponed its witch hunt, and President Schultz himself has given us permission to do what only we can. Today, you stand on the front line as the only thing stopping a country from tearing itself apart. You represent the United Nations, the United States, and your fellow man. You’re not soldiers. You are men and women who are paid to protect the people of this world… paid to help them. It’s time to go to work.”
He switched off his comms and looked over at Montez. He stood staring at him, holding two phones down by his side, his mouth hanging open.
“You okay?” asked Jericho.
Montez nodded vacantly. “I… that was…” He hung up both calls and stepped out from behind the desk. “Mr. Stone, I want to help.”
Jericho eyed him up and down, wrestling against his first impression of the man before him. Finally, he offered a grateful smile. “The best thing you can do right now, Mr. Montez, is find somewhere safe and stay there.”
He headed for the door, but Montez followed.
“Mr. Stone, I…” He hesitated. “What you said to your people… this is my country too. I want to help.”
Jericho’s expression softened. He turned and placed a hand on Montez’s shoulder. “And you will. When all this is over, someone is going to have to organize your government. Organize a new election. Advise the new president. I can’t think of anyone more qualified than you, but you can’t do any of that if the general shoots you. Gather everything you need, then get somewhere safe.”
Montez stood tall, his chest swelling with pride. “Yes, sir.”
Jericho left the room and ran toward the entrance, checking his watch.
Two minutes left.
He stepped out into the courtyard. It was late in the afternoon. The sun’s color had shifted to a deeper orange. It was still claustrophobically hot, but there was more shade and a stronger breeze than earlier.
He looked up at the sky. Because the palace was on a slight hill, it offered a panoramic view of the horizon and the sprawling city at its base. Under any other circumstances, it would have been one hell of a sight.
Ramirez turned as Jericho stopped beside him. A handful of men stood close by, their hands wrapped tightly around their weapons and their eyes fixed on the gates. Beyond those gates, men they had once considered brothers prepared to attack them.
“Apparently, the general has been giving orders to his men for the last ten minutes,” said Ramirez. “I think his deadline was a formality.”
“We’ll see,” replied Jericho.
“Tell me honestly, Mr. Stone. Your men… the GlobaTech operatives… how good are they? Really.”
Jericho turned and fixed him with a cold, calm stare. “We’re the best, Colonel. You have my word.”
Just then, the loud, high-pitched whine of the general’s megaphone turning on filled the air. Jericho and the colonel winced and turned their attention to him, staring intently through the gates.
“Colonel Ramirez,” bellowed the general. “Your time is up. I am ordering you and your men to stand down immediately and open these gates, or I will take this palace by force.”
Ramirez looked at Jericho again. His hand moved to his own sidearm, currently holstered to his hip. “Well, I guess we’re about to find out.”
Outside the gates, the general’s men began to move into position. Units spread across the hillside road, with two groups approaching either side of the gates. The choppers had disappeared, but the other vehicles remained, still parked haphazardly behind the general’s tank.
Jericho saw some of the colonel’s men start to twitch, restlessly shifting their weight between their legs and exchanging anxious glances.
He pressed the comms device beneath his T-shirt. “Squad leaders, check in. What’s your situation?”
He was met with silence.
Ramirez looked at him upon hearing his taut, impatient sigh. “Mr. Stone?”
Jericho ignored him and tried the comms again. “This is Jericho. Someone give me a sitrep.”
After a moment of continued silence, a crackle of static sounded in his ear. “Sir, we’ve apprehended Palugan forces along the west coast. Roughly fifty men. They were rounding up civilians at gunpoint and attempting to lead them away from their homes. We didn’t stop to ask where they were going.”
“Outstanding work,” replied Jericho. “Where are you now?”
“Sir, my team are currently traveling north
through Santuário pela Costa. There’s a roadblock up ahead, but we’re heading to you.”
“How many men do you have?”
“Eleven, sir. One got hit, but it’s a flesh wound. He’ll be fine.”
“Okay. I want you to stay where you are, understand? Santuário pela Costa is the only other major city in the country. If we can secure it along with Maville, the smaller towns and villages will fall in line. Any military friendlies?”
“Not seen any yet, sir.”
“Okay. Secure the roadblock, establish a perimeter, and coordinate with local teams. I want anyone within five miles of your location to rendezvous with you ASAP. Keep your teams no smaller than ten. More if possible. Sweep the city street by street if you have to. You see any of the general’s men, you warn them once, then shoot them if they resist. Am I clear?”
“Crystal, sir. Good luck.”
“You too.”
As the conversation ended, more reports came flooding in, overwhelming his comms. Across most of the larger, populated areas, GlobaTech operatives reported that they had easily taken down patrols of Palugan soldiers who were seen using excessive force on their own citizens.
Jericho let out a small sigh of relief and turned to Ramirez. “We’ve already stopped the general’s men from attacking the locals in multiple regions. We’re focusing on the major areas. The smaller, outlying ones will take care of themselves for now.”
“Thank you, Mr. Stone. If my men are nearby, they will know to help you.”
“Thanks, Colonel.”
He looked back toward the gate and locked eyes with the general despite the distance. “Let’s hope we’re not too late.”
Jericho shrugged. “We’re due a little luck, right?”
Both men stood watching from the bottom of the steps, trying to focus on the new glimmer of hope while simultaneously staring at an overwhelming number of adversaries. They were separated only by large iron gates and tradition.
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