A whisper escaped her lips. “Please don’t.”
“This is not going to happen here, you fuck!” Celeste voice was shrill as she jumped on the guard’s back.
Mariposa cried out in pain as the guard fell to the tiles, yanking her hair on the way down. As she hit the ground beside him, she struck his hands as hard as she could with her fists, trying to break his grip. It was no good. After that, she did her best to push the guard away. She kept her left palm over his face while punching out at every part of him with her right hand. It was pointless. He was twice her size and as strong as an ox.
At some point in the rolling melee he let go, distancing himself from Mariposa and Celeste, who’d been wailing on him from behind. He scampered away on the tiles then stood up, panting and heaving. His hat was on the tiles and he was glistening with sweat. His eyes were menacing and his mouth twisted with rage as he reached down for the nightstick. Celeste was already standing as Mariposa struggled to her feet.
“Stay away from us!” Mariposa didn’t recognize her own voice, hoarse and guttural. “Leave us alone.”
“You can lock us up, but you can’t rape us, you fucking asshole.” Celeste was panting, her sweat-soaked red hair matted over her face.
Mariposa did her best to stay brave as he advanced on her again. Celeste stepped between them. Her fists were at her side but her knuckles were white. The guard smiled darkly. Blood covered his teeth, the legacy of some blow or another. He advanced further and raised the baton. Celeste gave an ear-curdling scream as the baton connected with the side of her knee. She crumpled to the wet tiles.
As if snapped out of her paralysis, Mariposa shuffled forward to help, her heart torn in half as the younger woman shrieked in pain and held her knee. Mariposa placed a hand on her head and stroked her hair. She looked up at the guard, waiting for him to strike her. The blow didn’t come. Whichever emotion had driven him to rape and violence was apparently satiated for now. He took a step back.
“Cock teases, the fucking lot of you.” He shook his head and then spat at them, the fury draining from his eyes. “You’re both in here for a long time. Your life just got harder.”
As the guard turned away, Mariposa cradled Celeste’s head in her lap and watched as blood, tears and the guard’s spittle mixed with the water on the tiles.
***
Jack held his arms out as the Secret Service agent ran a metal detecting wand along his arms, down his torso and his legs. Though the device made an occasional squealing noise, none were apparently large enough to cause any concern. The metal detector completed the trifecta after they’d patted him down and scanned him for bomb residue. He was glad he’d left his Swiss army knife at home.
The agent stepped back and gestured Jack forward. “Follow me, sir. Please stay close and display your tag at all times.”
Jack felt for his temporary security pass, hanging by a lanyard around his neck, and did his best not to be overawed by the West Wing of the White House. While he walked, he reflected on the events that had carried him here. He’d thought he was done with all of this, the politics, the intrigue, the danger. He wanted nothing more than to opt out and wait for it all to blow over, but he had too much skin in the game to do that now.
He’d made a start on leading the resistance: the first cells had been established, resourced and equipped. Hickens had come through with the technology, Cormac Thomas had come through with the dollars, McGhinnist had helped Jack to configure the ever expanding operation in a way that was less likely to be exposed, and everyone had helped with contacts, friends and influencers in government, media, law enforcement, the military – anyone fed up with things. Elena had been the star. She was recruiting all over the place.
The Secret Service stopped and held out his hand towards a sofa. “We’re here.”
Jack nodded. “Okay, thanks. What now?”
The agent smiled. “You sit just over there until the President is ready to see you, then you say ‘Hello, Madam President’ and go from there.”
Jack took a seat and settled in. He knew that it could be a while, and thought again that he shouldn’t even be here. The others had advised against it, but he had to try. He had the celebrity and the credits in the bank to get an audience with a grateful President. He had to know if the belief in what FEMA was doing went all the way to the top. He owed it to everyone he was asking to risk their life to try the direct route. Before he flicked the switch on open rebellion, he needed to be sure that the takeover couldn’t be reversed by negotiation between reasonable people. It was a risk, but one he needed to take. He gently drummed his knuckles on the armrest of the sofa, until the President’s secretary approached and invited him inside the Oval Office.
“Mr Emery.” President Helen Morris stood and rounded her desk to greet him just inside the door. She held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure.”
Jack shook her hand. “Thanks for meeting with me, Madam President.”
“Come and sit.” She smiled as they walked over to the couches.
Jack was a little surprised by the warm reception. “Thanks.”
She sat opposite him, leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. “Now, what can I do for you? I was surprised to see you in my diary.”
Even though she’d largely been sidelined by FEMA, Morris was still the President. He needed to make each word count, because he wasn’t likely to get many. “Madam President, I’ve come here to implore you to revoke the executive order granting FEMA extensive control over the country. The consequences have been enormous.”
Morris considered him for a few moments. “Mr Emery, while I respect your impressive career and the help you’ve provided this country, I disagree.”
“But—”
Morris held up a hand, frowning. “We’ve taken the actions necessary to safeguard the country and the measures are working, more or less.”
Jack shook his head. Though he’d considered the chances of changing Morris’s mind to be remote, he’d been entirely unprepared for the strength of her convictions. She seemed confident in the decisions she’d taken and that the response was proportional to the threat. It defied belief. She apparently had no problem with the abuses taking place. Or she didn’t know about them. The leadership of the country had been bubble wrapped by FEMA.
“Madam President. You need to get outside the Oval Office more often. Your country is burning around you.”
Morris laughed softly. Her continued smile didn’t hide the frostiness in her eyes. “Don’t mistake me welcoming you here as an invitation to flippancy, Mr Emery. Let me be clear. Administrator Hall has my complete support. Your past service was exceptional, indeed, exemplary, but you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Jack nodded, even though he didn’t agree. The conversation was over. He stood. “Madam President, thank you for your time.”
She nodded, but stayed seated. “I hope you’ll think carefully about your next move. America needs patriots, not more loose cannons.”
Jack nodded and turned to leave the office. He’d tried staying out of the situation, then been dragged in. He’d tried resisting with information, and his friends had suffered. He’d tried to directly question those in power, then been threatened. Deep down, he knew there was only one course of action left open to him, one he was prepared for but loath to commence. He saw no other way.
It was time to go to war.
***
“I see. Thanks for letting me know.” Richard frowned, trying to process the information being fed down the phone line. Then he made a decision. “Pick him up. I want a chat.”
He hung up and tossed his cell phone onto the desk, where it found a place among the mountains of paperwork. He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. The call had been from his mole in the Secret Service, who’d escorted journalist Jack Emery through the West Wing to meet with the President. His man couldn’t tell him what they’d discussed, only that the meeting had been brief. While Richard do
ubted anything Emery could say would impact too heavily upon his efforts, to have another bird chirping in Morris’s ear was not something he needed. When that particular bird was Jack Emery, it was all the worse.
Emery’s successes in exposing the corruption in Washington by Michelle Dominique and the Foundation for a New America were legend. Dominique had been an egotistical sociopath who’d caused havoc throughout the world in an attempt to control the political agenda in the United States and stack Congress. She’d also been an idiot, trying to influence events from outside of halls of power, thrashing madly to control those inside and trying to join them as equals. It had brought her unstuck. Richard knew that true power, true influence, was wielded from the inside. Anonymous. Sudden. Final. He’d been glad to see her go.
Jack Emery wasn’t his enemy, or shouldn’t be. He should be a natural ally in bringing peace and stability to America, yet somehow he doubted Emery had met with the President to express faith in the administration. With Emery circling, there was no telling what was coming next. On top of that, there were rumors that a more organized resistance was being established, which made him furious. He’d wanted the dismantling of the journalist network to be the end of it, but they clearly couldn’t take a hint. It was possible that a new, more dangerous beast could rise from the ashes of Guerrilla Radio like a phoenix. He was going to have a chat with Jack Emery.
He let out a long sigh and was about to start back on his pile of paperwork when the phone rang again. He answered. “Hello?”
“Good morning, Administrator, this is Ashley Madigan at the Effingham Detention Center. We’ve had an incident with Mariposa Esposito. You asked to be notified in such a case.”
“Yes.” Richard closed his eyes. “What is it?”
There was a pause on the other end. “She was assaulted by one of our guards. Another detainee was hospitalized.”
“I see.” He reached for a file and flicked through it. It had Mariposa’s photo clipped to a series of copied pages. “Tell me what happened.”
As the news filled his ear, he only partially listened. With the rest of his attention he flicked through Mariposa’s file, trying to answer a question that had plagued his mind for several days. Though she’d betrayed him badly and been detained, she was still one of his people. Where possible, he looked after staff at FEMA. They were his foot soldiers in the war to achieve stability. That’s why he’d been so hurt by her betrayal. The young woman he’d entrusted with FEMA’s Area V command had copied classified documents with the intention of leaking them. She’d been interrogated, out of necessity, but he hoped that she could be rehabilitated once the crisis was over.
He searched through the file, his eyes scanning the pages. He wanted badly to find a reason to let her out of detention, but her crimes were serious. If she was smart, she’d keep her head down and stay out of trouble, despite the issue with the guards. But he was concerned by her apparent lack of remorse. He could free her, under the right circumstances, but he wasn’t able to abide the risk of her spreading more information, telling more secrets, riling up more dissent. There was no telling what she still knew, gleaned from her time spent in his inner sanctum. If she was to ever see the light of day, she had to repent and he had to be convinced that it was safe to release her.
He was about to close the file, his decision deferred for now, when his eyes grew wider. He stared at the sheet for several moments, the voice in his ear becoming so much noise as his mind worked frantically to understand the ramifications. He cursed himself for not looking more closely earlier. Richard pounded the table with his fist. “Fuck!”
“Excuse me, Administrator?”
He was surprised that the woman was still on the phone. He ignored her, enraged that he hadn’t put two and two together. For someone in such immense command of his organization, his people and most of America, he’d missed a critical detail. Mariposa Esposito had documents linking FEMA to supplies that had been provided to One and her team. It had all occurred through back channels, of course, but with enough analysis the documents could be used to prove his link to One. A list of documents she’d copied – many damning – had been inside the folder on his desk for days. But he’d delayed looking at it, wanting to find a way to free her. He’d been careless.
“I want her dealt with.” He pressed the button to terminate the call.
He hadn’t wanted to keep her detained, but by trying to find a way to free her he’d exposed himself. No more. She’d be dead within twenty-four hours.
CHAPTER 14
As arrests continue across the country and the first of the detainees start to face justice, FEMA can announce the resumption of some private internet service to approved families. Households with no criminal convictions and with no web history of searching for prohibited topics will be provided with a login to the FEMA administered gateway, which allows access to a large number of websites.
Federal Emergency Management Agency
News Release
Jack felt his stomach rise to somewhere near his throat as the helicopter started to descend. He mumbled a curse under his breath and gripped the overhead rail so tightly that his knuckles went white. It was irrational, given he was seated and strapped in, but the last time he’d been aboard a helicopter he’d thought safe it had crashed into the South China Sea. His heart was pounding when the helicopter touched down with a light bump. He waited. When there was no hint of fiery explosion, he opened his eyes. He realized he’d been holding his breath and exhaled slowly. It had taken a lot of convincing and coercion to get him aboard. He’d never make the mistake again. He was done with helicopters.
“Mr Emery? You can let go of the rail now, sir. We don’t want you to damage it.” The pilot’s mocking in Jack’s headset was made worse by his southern drawl. “We’re here.”
Jack looked up. The pilot and co-pilot both had their necks craned to watch him, doing their best to conceal their smiles. He gave them a thumbs-up and removed the headset as one of the ground staff slid the door open and gestured for him to exit. He unbuckled and climbed out, keeping his head ducked low as he walked to the waiting convoy of vehicles. Or golf carts, anyway.
He approached a crowd of men and women surrounding one older man, who appeared to be sipping iced tea. This man was the whole reason he’d ventured onto the helicopter – despite his better judgment – and agreed to be flown right to the tee of the third hole at the East Potomac Golf Course. He was hardly able to refuse the invitation of FEMA in the current climate.
After his meeting with the President he’d checked in to a Washington hotel, given it had been too late to fly. He’d slept soundly and woken early, only to find Hall’s people waiting for him the minute he reached the lobby. They’d obviously known about his meeting with the President. They’d asked him to join them for a helicopter flight to meet with Richard Hall. He’d hardly had a choice.
As he reached Hall and his entourage, he lifted a hand in a lazy greeting. “Good morning for it.”
Richard Hall took one last sip of his iced tea, handed the glass to an assistant then pushed himself off the golf cart he’d been leaning on. “Good to meet you, Jack.”
“Likewise.” Jack kept his expression neutral, but was unable to resist the chance for a jab. “Didn’t think a man of your stature would have to work so hard to make friends, though.”
Hall’s lips thinned in what Jack gathered was a smile. “You’ve become a person of interest. I wanted to meet before you disappeared down your hole again.”
Jack doubted Hall would have any trouble finding him down any hole and suspected the timing of their meeting had been calculated for maximum impact. Though Hall might know he’d been involved in Guerrilla Radio and that he’d met with the President, Jack felt for sure that Hall was trying to work him out and intimidate him. Jack nearly laughed at the thought. Hall may have a lot of power, but he was an elderly career bureaucrat. He was hardly tough as nails.
Hall reached out and placed a hand on
Jack’s back, directing him gently toward the tee. “Walk with me, Jack. I need to have a discussion with you.”
“Okay.”
“I need you to understand the bind I’m in.” Hall looked pained as he reached the tee. “Against every fiber of my being, I’ve given you a degree of special treatment already.”
“You have?”
“Yes, I have.” Hall sighed and selected a driver from the bag of clubs that was waiting next to the tee. “What’s your handicap, Jack?”
“My swing.” Jack gave a small laugh. “I’m not much of a golfer, Administrator. I tend to whack and pray.”
Hall smiled, a twinkle in his eye. “I respect a man who appreciates his own limitations enough to make light of them.”
Jack watched as Hall reached down and placed the ball on the tee then stood up straight. He seemed transfixed on the ball. He lined his shot up, drew the club back high and gave it his full swing. It was an exceptional shot. Hall held the club still as he watched the ball sail straight and true down the fairway. Jack doubted he could do better in a hundred tries. Hell, even a thousand tries.
“As I mentioned, I’ve given you a degree of special favor already.” Hall turned back to him, his face a picture of seriousness. “My bind, Jack, is that I know your agenda.”
Jack showed no emotion, though he did inch closer towards the golf bag. If this was an ambush it might help to have some iron in his hands. “I have no agenda, Administrator.”
Hall sighed. “Can we be honest? I know of your involvement in Guerrilla Radio. I know you were helping to stir up events in Indianapolis. I know you met with the President. I also know you’re not the kind of man to be easily dissuaded, but I need to try anyway. I owe you that much, out of respect for your achievements.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed, as his mind struggled to find Hall’s angle. Then, it hit him like a brick. He nearly laughed. “My achievement against the Foundation? That was a long time ago. And you’d be surprised by the number of times I heard that right before people tell me something I don’t want to hear.”
State of Emergency: Jack Emery 2 Page 17
