Clipboard man wasn’t idle. He bucked and did his best to dislodge Jack as he pounded his fist into the other man’s face. At the same time, clipboard man reached for the pistol that had slipped from his grip. Jack couldn’t let that happen. He brought down his clasped hands on clipboard man’s arm. He heard a crack and the other man screamed. Jack swung punches wildly as clipboard man changed tactics and started to aim blows at Jack.
Jack winced in pain as he took one glancing hit to the head, then a second to his nose. Stars exploded in his vision and he fell backward. His face felt like it was on fire. He blindly swung another punch as he fell, but hit air. He grunted and heard a crunch as he landed on his back, but didn’t have time to consider the glass he’d landed on because the other man threw himself on top of him.
“I was going kill you quickly.” Clipboard man wrapped his hands around Jack’s neck. “Now I’m going to crush your fucking throat.”
Jack struggled to breathe and to dislodge the other man. He clawed at the hands gripping his neck, then attempted to buck the other man off. But it was no good. Clipboard man had fifty pounds on him and the strength of an ox. He started to black out. His vision narrowed. His body screamed in agony. His muscles burned. He lost the strength to struggle against the man, who had his thumbs dug into Jack’s throat.
He closed his fingers into a fist and used the last of his strength to swing his hand toward clipboard man’s throat. He heard a gurgle and the pressure on his own throat was immediately gone. Jack wheezed and coughed, sucking at air but struggling to breathe even as a torrent of blood sprayed over him. Clipboard man fell off him, clutching his throat, trying to stem the bleeding from his severed artery. Jack rolled over, gripped the piece of glass in his hand tighter and stabbed it into the man’s face several times.
Jack kept sucking in air and, as his peripheral vision started to return, he saw the other man struggling with Elena. He must have left clipboard man to finish off Jack and moved in to claim his prize. Her top was ripped and he raised a fist to strike her. Jack dropped the glass and propped himself up onto an elbow. He was surrounded by glass, covered in blood and struggling to stay conscious. He looked at his hands. They were bloody and cut open from the glass. Then he saw the revolver.
He reached out. It was so close, yet the effort required to grab it seemed superhuman. When his hands wrapped around the grip, he pointed the barrel to the floor and used it to push himself off the ground. He coughed hard as he struggled to his feet. He staggered forward, bracing himself on the frame of the door as he raised the revolver unsteadily and fired. Miss. As the other man started to swing around Jack accounted for the recoil and fired again. The second shot hit true. He fell to one knee and dropped the revolver.
He steadied himself then looked up as Elena walked toward him, a step or two away from the body of her attacker. Jack wasn’t the best shot, but it was hard to miss from six feet away. The dead man had never seen it coming. She fell to her knees and wrapped Jack in a hug. His mind screamed in protest, despite the battering he’d taken. He pushed her away and struggled to his feet. It took an eternity, but he made it. He said nothing else as he started to walk to the elevator.
“I’m sorry, Jack!” She was crying. “I’m going to fix this.”
He didn’t look back.
CHAPTER 17
Terrorist cells in more than forty cities have been disrupted or destroyed in simultaneous operations by the State Guard and other federal and local authorities. Administrator Hall called it the most significant development since the onset of the crisis, and also released details of the group’s leader: Mr Jack Emery. Mr Emery is wanted on a range of terrorism-related charges, which center on a conspiracy to disrupt and degrade the capacity of FEMA and the United States Government. Anyone with information should contact the National Security Hotline.
Federal Emergency Management Agency
News Release
Richard approached the President, who held her arms wide and sported a broad smile on her face. Though he usually didn’t like physical contact, he moved in closer and hugged her. She slapped him on the back a few times and then backed away. Richard took a moment to compose himself, then sat in the chair she was gesturing toward. It was probably worth more than he earned in a week on his government salary.
“Richard, hell of a job.” She beamed as she took a seat on the sofa opposite him. “Sorry for calling you in, but I read your briefing and couldn’t quite believe it.”
He’d never been to Camp David before and, as he looked around the President’s office, he felt a wave of relief wash over him. The patience to get the resistance in exactly the right spot hadn’t been without risk, but it had paid off handsomely. Clearly Morris felt the same way. Usually she was reserved, critical and very sparing in her praise, but from the moment he’d walked in the mood had felt festive.
He sat a little bit taller. “Not a problem, Madam President. The operation was without setback and was a complete success.”
She frowned. “As simple as that?”
“As simple as that.” He smiled again, so widely his cheeks hurt. “This is the coup we’ve been waiting for. The resistance has been annihilated. It’s over.”
“Run me through it.”
“Okay.” He tried not to show his displeasure – it had all been in the report. “Under FEMA direction, the State Guard and local police forces undertook operations across forty cities in thirty-one states. All known locations of resistance activity were assaulted and the perpetrators arrested or killed. It’s as complete a decapitation as possible.”
It was true. With Elena Winston’s information and the combined resources of the Federal Government, he’d managed to locate nearly the entire network of the resistance: Jack Emery and the leadership, the influencers, the cell leaders and the foot soldiers. His forces had crushed them all. His only mistake had been trusting Winston and the two agents he’d assigned to kill Emery. They’d failed.
“If it’s not a complete lopping off of the head, to use your parlance, then what’s left hanging from the neck, Richard? I’ve been burned by your assurances before. If I’m going to close the book on this, I want to know that I’m at the end of the story, and not just starting another chapter.”
Richard sighed. He’d hoped to avoid this. “Jack Emery, their leader, is alive. But he’s now irrelevant. He has no power base and he’s on the run. We’ll catch Emery and mop up the remains of his mess in the next few days. There’s nothing else left to worry about regarding the resistance in its current form.”
“Excellent. Thanks for coming in, Richard.” Morris smiled as she got to her feet and extended her hand. “I’m going to ask my chief of staff to prepare for the rescinding of the executive orders. Our regular structure can sort things from here. I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done. You’ve been a great help to this administration. Stay the night.”
Richard frowned and remained seated as alarm bells rang in his head. He’d waited for the right leader and been disappointed each time. Now he’d taken matters into his own hands, he’d grown accustomed to the power and the ability to shape the country. The last thing he’d expected was for Morris to attempt to seize back the initiative moments after his greatest success. He needed time to secure his legacy before handing back the reins.
“Richard?” Morris raised an eyebrow, the smile still on her face. “Is something wrong?”
Richard shook his head. “Madam President, that would be a mistake.”
She hesitated and her smile vanished. “I’m sorry?”
“Rescinding the orders would be a mistake. The state of emergency isn’t over.”
She sighed and shook her head. “Richard, I know you might have come to like some of this extra power, but the work is done. There hasn’t been an attack for a while now, the resistance is smashed – you said so yourself – and order has been restored. I can’t ask the American people to continue to live restricted lives. I won’t.”
Ric
hard had never felt this way about a meeting with the President before. She’d resisted at times, had concerns at others, but for the most part she’d been malleable. He’d come to expect her to swallow her pride and let him do what was necessary to stabilize the country. Morris asserting herself was a new development. An unwelcome one. He laughed. Long and slow and cruel.
“Something funny?” She crossed her arms, displeasure clear on her face.
“With respect. I’m honestly shocked by your lack of understanding.”
Her eyes became glaciers and the temperature in the room dropped as she leaned forward, towering over him. “You’re staring down the barrel, Richard.”
“I understand that.” He stood, removing her height advantage. “I’ve given everything for this country during the crisis, yet you’re ready to discard me before my work is complete.”
“No. Things need to return to normal and—”
“Normal?” He hissed the words. “The only reason there’s order is because of the control FEMA has managed to exert. And the minute we have a comprehensive success you want to give up all of our hard won gains. I’m not convinced that this is over, not by a long shot. I want to continue to have the tools to protect our society for a while longer yet.”
“It’s over, Richard.” She shook her head. “There’s no reason to keep a superagency that crushes the liberty of America and its people for no good reason?”
“No good reason? Safety. Order. Those are the reasons, Madam President.” Richard scoffed and started to walk toward the door. He paused and turned, feeling the anger surge inside of him. “I came here to report on our greatest success and you propose to pull the rug out. You should hang for treason.”
Her face flushed red as her iciness was replaced by rage and fury. She pointed her index finger at him and started to talk, but he didn’t want to hear it. She’d made up her mind, and he was wasting his breath and his time. She’d been a patsy, sure, but now she was dangerous. An enemy. If she wasn’t prepared to let him do what was needed, she was of no use to him. Or anyone.
He took no notice as she continued to vomit words at him. If the air had been festive a moment ago, it had now become flammable. Morris’s stupidity had created a conflagration that would consume everything if it was allowed to. He turned and walked to the door, in no doubt that under her leadership the orders would be revoked and he’d be out of a job within a day.
***
Jack woke with a start and winced at the shot of pain from the sudden movement. His eyes opened in time to see the pigeon that had been resting on top of him take flight. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, then hugged his torso to try to warm up a little. He wasn’t surprised to discover that sleeping on a metal park bench was not good for the retention of body heat. It was the best he’d been able to manage.
He sighed and placed his head in his hands. Everything had gone to shit. On his way out of the Old Town office building he’d grabbed his phone and his wallet and then stumbled as far away as he could, given the pain and his exhaustion. He’d thought about a hospital, but that was the first place FEMA would look. He’d tried to think of somewhere smart to hide, but in the end, exhausted and needing sleep, he’d settled on a park bench.
He thought hard, trying to forge some sort of plan, but his mind had abandoned him. He’d lost a friend, been betrayed by another and, to the best of his knowledge, the resistance had been crushed. Losing had been a possibility, but not this way. Of all the scenarios he’d imagined might befall the resistance, this hadn’t been one of them. It was over. No smart plan or twist of fate could undo the strategic Armageddon that faced him.
But he needed to know how bad it was. He swung his legs to the ground, stood unsteadily and started to walk. He shuffled, in great pain, to where a mother and young son had their backs turned and were having a picnic. He nearly laughed at the sight of two people so carefree, eating sandwiches on a rug despite the disaster that had played out in the last 24 hours. They weren’t to know though.
He kept some distance away from them and cleared his throat. “Excuse me.”
The mother turned. She was a cute blond with bright eyes, but her kindness and warm smile evaporated when she looked up at him. Her eyes widened as she reached for her son and her purse simultaneously. She gripped both with the ferocity of a lioness. “Please just leave us alone.”
Jack held up his hands. She obviously thought he was a beggar or some kind of creep. “No, you don’t—”
“Just go.” Her voice was cold, far beyond what Jack would have expected. He must look worse than he thought. “I know who you are. Please go.”
He rubbed his face and ran a hand through his hair. He was confused by the woman’s reaction. He’d only wanted to ask her about the media coverage of the resistance, but she wanted no piece of it. He complied and walked away, determined to check the news the old fashioned way. Since Hickens had expressly told him not to check the news on his phone, he rummaged through a trash can and found a newspaper.
It was bleak. Though the coverage was heavily influenced by FEMA, it was reporting that a large number of operations had been conducted against terrorists all over the country. It reported that casualties were high and that the threat had been obliterated. Jack winced at the next line. Though the majority of the threat had been dealt with, it said, terrorist leader Jack Emery was still at large. His photo was splashed everywhere and there was a reward.
He cursed. That explained the behavior of the woman. It also told him everything he needed to know about his chance of survival and the future of the resistance. He threw the phone onto the grass, collapsed to his knees and then fell to his side. Months of effort and conflict had finally caught up with him. He was spent and on the run, with no resources and no support. The woman might have called and FEMA could already be on their way. He struggled to care.
He wasn’t sure how long he laid there, eyes closed and despondent, before his cell phone started to ring. He opened his eyes and stared at it, confused. Everyone who had the number to the phone should be dead or detained by FEMA. Every part of him wanted to let it ring out, but he owed it to the people who’d been smashed because of his carelessness to answer. If just one of them was alive, he’d help them with everything he had left in his body.
He answered. “Hello?”
“Jack? Fucking hell. Jack?”
“Hi Celeste.” His head felt light at the sound of her voice, and a few moments passed before he could comprehend what she was saying. He’d never expected to hear her voice again, either because she was dead or he soon would be. An overload of emotion coursed through his body.
“I thought you were dead, Jack.” She laughed and he heard her sniff and choke back tears. “I thought I’d escaped only for you to be taken away.”
“Afraid not. May as well be, though. It’s all gone.” He rolled onto his back and looked up at the sky. “I’m glad you’re out, though, Celeste. How? And how did you get this number?”
“A guard let me escape.” There was a pause. “As for the number, I saw the news and that you were alive, so I called Hickens.”
Jack smiled. “Simon is alive?”
“Sure is. He’s a broken man, though. I don’t know what you guys were cooking, but he tells me most of the rest are dead or in custody, Jack.”
“I know. Well, I’m glad he’s alive. We need to stay separate, Celeste. They’re after me. I’ll be lucky to last a day now I’m all over the news.”
“No way.” Her voice was pure, cold fury. “I didn’t get out of there, thinking you’re dead then finding out you’re alive, only to be told to stay away. I want to help.”
“But—”
“You are not sidelining me again, Jack. You are not cutting me off.”
He laughed despite the seriousness of the situation. She’d been furious at him for going to Taiwan to confront Chen Shubian and get what he needed to expose the Foundation. She’d been even madder when he’d retreated to Syria to escape from his lif
e. He’d been forgiven, they’d made love and he thought he’d lost her for good. Now, staring into oblivion, he was faced with a choice: to let her in or lose her.
“Jack, I’m a fugitive as well.” She was persistent, that was for sure. “If they capture me on the road or hiding or with you it’s the same result.”
“Okay, Celeste.” He shook his head, not quite believing what he was doing. “But being with me is dange—”
“I know.” Her voice was sharp.
“I mean it, Celeste. I—”
“Jack, I know.”
He wasn’t sure that their reunion was a good idea, given the likelihood he’d be dead or in cuffs by the end of the day, but he was done trying to protect Celeste by pushing her away. All that did was enrage her and undermine the feelings they shared. It might end poorly, but it’d end together. His heart thumped, his head screamed, his veins burned with energy and his muscles twitched for him to get up. To see her. To act.
“Plus you really want to see me, right? Pick up where we left off?” Her voice was a little playful, clearly trying to break the awkward silence.
“Okay.” He smiled as he pictured her naked body on top of him, despite everything else that was at stake. “I look forward to it.”
She laughed. “I bet. But we’ve got some business to take care of too. You’re not going to believe what I’ve found.”
He got to his feet. “What do you mean?”
“I’ll explain when I see you, but it’s dynamite. I’ve linked FEMA to the attacks. All of them.”
He was confused. “Just how long have you been out, Celeste?”
There was a pause. “Oh, three months or so.”
State of Emergency: Jack Emery 2 Page 21
