by Alex Siegel
Tinker stood up. "What's going on? Is this a robbery?"
Ethel smiled at him. "A limousine was parked here this morning. This one specifically."
She took a stack of printed photographs from her pocket and placed them on the desk. News crews had taken some good pictures of the limousine during the President's abduction. It was a standard, black model used commonly by VIP's in Washington.
"Maybe." Tinker shrugged. "So?"
"This vehicle was used to kidnap the President."
He stared at her.
"And you're going to help me figure out who owns it," Ethel added. "Now pay attention, because I want this point to be crystal clear. If you don't cooperate fully, if there is the least bit of resistance, you will deeply regret your foolishness." She looked at Boreas. "Demonstrate what I mean on the other one."
Boreas kicked the sitting man in the ribs. He wheezed and fell over. He made little choking noises as he tried to get his breath back. Tears ran down his cheeks.
"You see?" Ethel said to Tinker. "Tell me about the limousine."
He raised his hands in surrender. "I can't help you! We don't keep track of who owns what cars. Members don't share that kind of information with me."
"What about surveillance video?"
"We don't have any cameras on the property. Members like to come and go without leaving evidence behind."
"Because of the brothel?" she said.
He nodded. "That's part of it. Arrangements are made here. Alliances are formed. Coolidge Manor is a place where men can have frank and open discussions without worrying about public repercussions."
"In other words, the slimy, backroom deals that make the wheels of politics go 'round."
"Yes, so I have no way of determining who owns that limousine. Did you look up the license plate?"
"Of course," Ethel said. "It's fake."
"Then I can't help you."
Ethel narrowed her eyes. "I have a feeling none of you were happy to see a black President in office. Hearing about his kidnapping didn't exactly ruin your day."
Tinker shrugged.
"Ma'am," Tawni said, "the President took a photo of a partial face. Maybe the guy was a member of this club. If we had the membership list, we could match names with faces."
Ethel smiled. "That's very smart."
"Thank you, ma'am."
Ethel faced Tinker. "We need your membership list."
"I can't." He shook his head. "Coolidge Manor prides itself on discretion. Membership is a closely guarded secret."
"I don't care."
"Who are you? Do you have a search warrant?"
Tawni unzipped a seam along the side of her pants. She drew a wakizashi, or Japanese short sword, from a sheath. Black shadows streamed upwards from her right hand. The darkness wrapped around the blade until it was solid black. She walked over to the ivory desk and cut it cleanly in half.
She held the sword near Tinker's neck. "This is my search warrant. Where is the fucking list?"
His arm was shaking as he pointed to a huge portrait of "Stonewall" Jackson. "In the safe," Tinker said.
She ripped the portrait off the wall to reveal a large safe. It had a sophisticated, electronic lock.
Tawni sliced through the thick, steel hinges with a quick cut. After a few more passes with her blade, the door of the safe fell out. It hit the floor with a thud that shook the walls and rattled the windows.
She began to pick through the contents of the safe. "There's too much shit in here. Tinker, find the list for me!"
Tinker walked over on stiff legs. He kept glancing at the door of the safe on the floor.
He picked out a blue folder tied with a black ribbon. "This is the only copy."
Tawni dumped out the contents of the folder and spread the papers on the floor.
"Take pictures," Ethel said. "Send them to headquarters with a note explaining what they are."
Tawni took out her phone and used it like a camera. She photographed each page a few times. Then she typed a text message with her thumbs.
"Done, ma'am," she said.
"Good." Ethel nodded. "Now we wait for the hackers to do their work." She looked at Tinker. "Sit with your friend."
He sat down beside the other man in the corner. She stood before them with a grim expression.
"What's wrong with your eyes?" Tinker said. "The pupils are enlarged."
"They've seen too much death," she answered.
He shuddered.
She turned to the first man. "What's your story? What do you do for a living?"
"I own a lobbying firm," he said. "We represent the financial industry."
"In other words, you help rich people buy congressmen."
"That's not quite accurate."
"Close enough," Ethel said.
These people disgusted her, but she knew they were a common breed in Washington. The whole city was a cesspool of corruption and a prime source of recruits for God's enemies.
That thought reminded her that the Washington cell had to be rebuilt. Finding a new commander was the first step. She would have to promote a legionnaire from another cell, which entailed a tedious process of selection and evaluation. The work of a legate was never done.
After fifteen minutes, Ethel's phone rang. The caller ID showed Todd's code number.
She stepped out of the office and said, "Yes?"
"We went through the membership list, ma'am," he said. "We tracked down a picture for every name and compared them to the photo President Haley took. We got a match."
"Great!"
"His name is Nathan Forrest. He was in the car with Haley."
"Where is he now?" Ethel said.
"We have his home address, ma'am," Todd said. "It's a house in Linville, Virginia, but we don't know if he's actually there. His cell phone seems to be turned off."
"We'll go there anyway. Thank you. Nice work."
"You're welcome, ma'am. All of us in headquarters are feeling pretty bad."
"Understandable," Ethel said. "I wish I knew how to take away the grief. Some things are beyond even my power."
She hung up and went back into the office.
She glared at Tinker. "Tell me about Nathan Forrest."
"Good kid," he said. "His father is a very important senator."
"And he likes to abduct presidents."
Tinker shook his head. "That's hard to believe." He glanced at Tawni's black sword.
"Nonetheless, it's true," Ethel said. "Do you have a theory that might explain this aberrant behavior?"
"The Forrests certainly don't have nice things to say about Haley, but they would never abduct him. They aren't criminals. It's inconceivable."
She studied him. She was an expert at reading body language, and he wasn't showing any signs he was lying. He was too frightened to lie convincingly.
Ethel now had to decide what to do with the two men. If she let them live, they might warn the enemy she was coming. It was impractical to take captives with her. Killing them was against the rules.
However, the rules didn't matter as much these days. God had explicitly told her that protecting the twins was more important than the rules. Aaron had told her that rescuing Haley would help protect the twins. The conclusion was clear.
"Boreas," she said, "finish them both."
Boreas gave her a questioning look.
"Do it," Ethel said.
"Yes, ma'am."
The whites of his eyes turned blue. The men on the floor sighed and fell over. After a few seconds, they stopped breathing.
"Where are we going next?" Tawni said.
"Linville, Virginia. Let's hurry." Ethel walked off.
Chapter Seven
Roy Haley had a full bladder. He was seriously considering pissing in his pants. It wasn't a presidential thing to do, but these were desperate times.
He had been riding in the back of a black limousine for what had seemed like an eternity. Four large, white men with foul dispositions were ke
eping him company. They were dressed as Secret Service agents but smelled of tobacco and sweat.
Haley's wrists and ankles were bound with tight ropes. He wasn't going anywhere. Even if he managed to free himself, he didn't have the strength or skill to beat even one of his captors. He wasn't any kind of legionnaire.
"I swear," Haley said, "if you don't let me out of this car, I'm going to piss on the seat."
"Hold it, or I'll punch you," one of the men said. "We're almost there anyway."
Haley had tried to determine his location by peeking out the heavily tinted windows. His best guess was that they were in the mountains of West Virginia. The land consisted of rugged hills and valleys covered with dense forest. The population was thinly scattered and poor. It was a place where mobile homes were as common as regular homes. There was a little more snow here than in Washington, but driving conditions were still good.
The limousine turned onto an unmarked, dirt road. They started bouncing over ruts that tortured his full bladder. The road was so narrow, the limousine was barely able to make the turns without crashing into a tree. Rocks smashed into the underside of the vehicle. Branches struck the roof.
Haley was surrounded by forest, and he quickly lost track of direction. He didn't see any signs. They seemed to be climbing up the side of a mountain.
"Where are you taking me?"
"Shut your fucking mouth," a man said.
Haley was terrified, but he was putting on a brave show. There was no point in letting his captors know he was afraid.
Finally, the limousine came to a stop in front of a primitive log cabin. The car doors opened, and cold air rushed in. One man cut the ropes around Haley's ankles but left his wrists bound.
He was pulled outside. A few inches of snow covered the ground, and he wasn't properly dressed for the cold weather. It had been warmer in Washington. The mountainside offered a spectacular view facing west. A low sun cast long shadows across deep, verdant valleys. Bare granite showed through in spots. He couldn't see any other signs of human habitation.
"Now you can piss," one man said.
Haley unzipped his pants and urinated in front of everybody. His humiliation amused his captors.
The limousine driver turned the car around and headed back down the mountain. There were no other vehicles in sight. If he wanted to get out of here, he would have to hike through the wilderness. He might die of hypothermia before he reached civilization.
The cabin was made of rough-hewn timbers. A stone smokestack came up through a tarpaper roof. The windows were tiny and filthy.
Nobody will ever find me up here, he thought.
The men shoved Haley towards the cabin. They went through a narrow, low door. The interior was just a single room. A fire in a stone fireplace provided a little warmth, but it was still uncomfortably cool inside. There were no electric lights. Some old cots made of green cloth and wood were arranged along a wall. Shelves held a large quantity of canned and dried foods, and more was stacked on the floor. He also saw camping fuel, sleeping bags, gas lamps, and other supplies.
The only high-tech item was a military radio in the corner. The green device had a number of knobs and switches. A stack of car batteries provided power. A big antenna went up to the ceiling of the cabin.
One man was waiting inside. He was big and beefy in all dimensions. His blond hair was cut short in a military style, but his beard was long. He was dressed like a hunter, and his clothing had a white and tan camouflage pattern suitable for winter. He had a pistol in a holster. A huge sniper rifle was propped against the wall within easy reach.
The other men hustled Haley over to a support pole in the center of the cabin. A chain was wrapped tightly around his neck and padlocked. The other end of the chain went around the thick pole and was also locked. He yanked on the heavy chain experimentally. He felt like a dog on a leash.
The men immediately began to strip off their Secret Service costumes. They went to a pile of duffle bags in the corner and pulled out white and tan hunting outfits. They were soon dressed the same as the blond man who had been waiting in the cabin. They put on matching body armor.
Shelves held an impressive selection of military-grade weapons. The men took their pick and soon looked ready to fight a war. They favored giant rifles with telescopic sights. Haley wasn't an expert, but he guessed the weapons were .50 caliber.
"Go," the blond man said. "Get in your blinds. The others are already in position."
Everybody but him went back outside.
The cabin had a small table made of rough, unpainted wood. Two chairs made in the same style were the only other furniture. The blond man was sitting in a chair and smiling.
"What is this about?" Haley said.
"We're proud Americans," the man said.
"Who kidnap presidents?"
"Just the nigger presidents."
"So this is a hate crime?" Haley furrowed his brow.
"It's not a crime at all. We're correcting a mistake made by the people. They voted for the wrong guy in November."
"If you were really a proud American, you would know this country was founded on the principles of democracy. By abducting me, you're opposing the will of the citizens. You're subverting the election process."
The man shook his head. "You can't talk your way out of this, so don't waste your breath."
Haley took another look around. The cabin was cluttered with supplies, but everything was neatly stacked and organized. The floor had been swept clean. It looked like a professional operation.
The short chain around his neck prevented him from reaching anything, and his wrists were still bound. He was stuck.
"If you hate me so much," Haley said, "why don't you just kill me?"
"We're under orders to keep you alive for now," the blond man said.
"Orders from whom?"
He shook his head. "You don't need to know."
"What's your name?"
The blond man just stared.
"You're making a huge mistake," Haley said. "I hope you realize that."
"Because the Secret Service will come for you? They'll never find you up here, and if anybody comes poking around, we'll kill them. I got men all over this mountain with orders to shoot trespassers on sight."
"It's not the Secret Service you should worry about. It's my girlfriend."
The blond man sneered. "Girlfriend?"
"She's the last person in the world you want to piss off. Her blood runs dark with God's fury. Her blades are like lightning bolts from Heaven. By the time she's done, the only people left alive on this mountain will be her and me, and I guarantee your death will not be quick or easy."
"I'm shaking in my boots."
Haley took a deep, calming breath. He had total confidence in Ethel. She would certainly come for him and slaughter these bastards, but it might take some time. His job was simply to stay alive until then. Of course, the Secret Service might also rescue him, but he hoped Ethel would get here first. Her brand of law enforcement was more satisfying.
* * *
Aaron walked into the science laboratory. It was so cluttered with equipment, he had to walk sideways. Expensive scientific instruments were lying on the floor and stuffed under tables. It was a junkyard of stainless steel, glass, and buttons.
Three scientists in white lab coats were working on mysterious tasks. Their faces were sagging, and their eyes were bloodshot. The twins kept their assistants very busy.
Aaron wondered what would happen to the fifteen scientists after the project was done. They couldn't stay in Chicago. He presumed they would return to the Society cells that they had originally come from, but some of those commanders had already recruited replacement scientists. It was going to be an awkward situation.
Perry was also working in the laboratory. He had the Red Eye radio on a workbench. The cover had been removed, and the interior was packed with electronic components. He was poking at the mess with small tools.
Aaron wal
ked over and said, "How is it going?"
"This could take a while, sir," Perry said. "This thing is complicated. It's not like any radio I've ever seen."
"Any progress on who shot down the legate's jet?"
"I've been working on this, sir."
"Do you have an update on the electronic warfare campaign?" Aaron said.
Perry straightened up and looked at him. "I'm just one man. I can only do one thing at a time. And let's not forget, I'm also supposed to be finding out who paid Unit K."
"Don't get snippy with me."
"Sorry, sir."
Aaron furrowed his brow. "We have lots of resources. Let's farm out some of these tasks. Call the hackers in Washington for me."
Perry took out his phone and dialed a number. He gave the phone to Aaron.
"Hello?" a man said.
"This is Aaron, acting legate. Who am I talking to?"
"Todd, sir."
"Good," Aaron said. "I want you and the other hacker there to find out who shot down the legate's jet. All we know is an energy weapon was used. It was probably some kind of top secret military gizmo. It would take something special to knock down that plane. Dig around in the Pentagon computers."
"Actually, we've already started digging. The legate asked us to help her find the President, but our commander went down with that plane. We really want to know who killed him. We've been investigating on the side."
"Now you have my official blessing. All roads lead to Rome in this case, so if you find out who is responsible for the loss of your team, you might also discover who is holding the President."
"Yes, sir," Todd said. "We'll do our best."
Aaron hung up the phone and gave it back to Perry. "That's one task off your plate."
"Thank you, sir," Perry said.
Aaron took out his own phone and called Wendy. She was the special banker in Manhattan who managed his finances. The Manhattan team acted as bankers for the entire North American division. All the money flowed through their expert hands. During the construction of the Rosemont Tower Hotel, Aaron had been in contact with Wendy as bills needed to be paid. They had also spoken often during the expensive remodeling of the building in Chinatown.
