“What do you mean?”
“Come with me.” She stood. “I have to show you. You’re not going to believe it.”
He didn’t think it could be as good as she was claiming. He didn’t really care what it was, but he wanted nothing more than to be close to her so he followed. He figured it must be good if she’d sat on it for months and then called him here at great risk to both of them. They walked down the hallway and down the steps to the basement. She turned on the lights and he was amazed by the piles of documents around the room.
She smiled and held her hand out like a game show host presenting a prize. “It’s all we need. It’s all we’ve ever needed.”
His eyes narrowed, not wanting to believe she’d found a treasure trove. “Is any of it any good?”
“It’s better than good.” She wrapped an arm around him and ushered him downstairs. “Take a look.”
He chose a random pile, picking up a piece of paper concerning the attack on the Hoover Dam. It was a supply manifest of weaponry sent to a warehouse near the Hoover Dam on the eve of the attack. He replaced it and moved to another pile and picked a document. This pile was all about an attack in Phoenix. He whistled. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble and had an awfully high level of access. No wonder it had taken Celeste months.
“Where did this all come from?” Jack turned to her, his eyes wide. “If we can get this out, it’s over.”
Her features hardened. “Mariposa, a friend inside the camp. She used to be a senior employee at FEMA. She gathered it all. They imprisoned and killed her because of it.”
Jack moved closer to her and hugged her again. They embraced for a couple of moments, then she seemed to gather herself. “She never released any of it?”
“Never got the chance. This is why I’ve stayed off the grid all this time, Jack. It took some effort to get through it all. You should see how many printer cartridges I went through.”
“I can imagine.” He laughed and looked around again. “Why the hell didn’t FEMA find all of this when they arrested her?”
“Looks like they found the hard copies she’d made, but she left it all on a flash drive in the urn containing her mother’s ashes. They flipped the whole house but missed it.”
He smiled. “Have you looked at it all?”
She nodded. “It’s a paper trail linking FEMA to nearly everything, linking Richard Hall to everything. Or a lot, anyway. If this isn’t enough to bring him down then he’s bulletproof.”
“The attack on the President?” Jack raised an eyebrow. The news that President Helen Morris had been gunned down shocked him, not that he’d had any huge love for her.
She shrugged. “Mariposa couldn’t see that far into the future and none of the documents I’ve seen mentions it. But everything else is here.”
“It’ll do.” He couldn’t quite believe it, but was unable to deny what was in front of him. He laughed. “I’m impressed. Looks like it’s time to pass the baton. Who needs me anymore?”
She nestled in closer. “I do, Jack.”
***
Jack looked up at Celeste and smiled as she placed the coffee cup in front of him. He took a sip, then put it down and rubbed his eyes. Though Celeste had sorted most of it, they’d been reviewing the documents all afternoon and evening. The work made him feel like he was back at university or in the early years of his career, when all-nighters spent poring over reams of documents weren’t uncommon. He was too old for it now, though.
They’d struck gold. The story was damning and Jack had reached the conclusion that Richard Hall was the most dangerous man in the history of America. Though he was still technically subordinate to the President, he’d shown that meant nothing. He’d monopolized institutional power and the use of force in America, using it to keep the entire country suppressed and compliant. Only J. Edgar Hoover’s FBI came close.
“You look tired.” Celeste sat down next to him and took a sip from her own coffee. “Why don’t you take a break?”
“Yeah, okay.” Jack nodded and leaned back on the sofa. It was a ratty old thing, a castoff that had been exiled to live the last of its useful life in basement purgatory.
She touched the bruises on his face. “I wonder if we should just burn these documents and hide here for a year or two.”
Jack smiled and stroked her hair. “I’d love to, but we’d run out of tinned tuna before too long. Besides, I hate this décor too much to call it home. We’ll just have to stop Hall.”
While the US had seen its share of lunatics, extremists with poisonous ideology, Jack felt that Hall was the first with the unfettered power to back him up. In a year he’d created a police state without parallel in recent history, with more sophisticated surveillance than the East German Stasi and more military might than any regime in history. He had to be stopped.
She pursed her lips. “Easier said than done.”
“Totalitarianism and oppression only last as long as there’s a threat to make people afraid. Once there’s nothing to fear they want their rights back. Plus, if we don’t fight, nobody will. I’ve seen a lot of good people die this year, trying to do the right thing, some of them because of my mistakes. It needs to end.”
He was about to say more when there was a knock at the front door, a pounding that they could barely hear in the basement. Jack tensed and wished he had a weapon, but found it strange that the authorities would knock. That wasn’t FEMA’s style. They were more the ‘have goons kick in your door and shoot you in the face’ type. He looked at Celeste. She seemed relaxed as she stood. She smiled and gave him a single nod as she started up the stairs.
He thought briefly about trying to hide the papers, but there was no point. They were both fugitives, and there were so many classified documents in the basement that if it was the authorities at the door then they’d have ample evidence of wrongdoing. He sat back on the sofa and sipped his coffee, waiting for whoever Celeste had invited into the house. He wondered if it was a relative of the owner, Mariposa, or a straggler from the resistance.
It turned out to be neither. Jack gasped when he saw who was following Celeste down the stairs. He flared with anger and pitched his coffee cup across the room toward her. Elena flinched and cowered as the cup sailed past her head and shattered on the brick wall behind her. She held up both hands as he looked for something else to arm himself with. He stood and lifted the ashtray in the middle of the coffee table. He hefted it.
He didn’t get the chance to throw it before Celeste was in front of him, wrapping her arms around him and saying words he couldn’t process. Slowly, the red mist receded and he could hear her telling him it was okay, that she’d planned it, and that Elena was here to help. He growled in frustration and stepped backward, which seemed to satisfy Celeste. She let go, but remained between Jack and Elena, who was still on the stairs.
“Jack, please.” Elena’s voice was soft with emotion. He wondered what she’d been doing in the days since she’d sold him out. It had probably involved champagne and caviar.
“Elena, if you were on fire I wouldn’t piss on you.” He exhaled strongly through his nose and looked at Celeste. “Why did you bring her here?”
Celeste stepped close to him again, took hold of his hands and smiled. “Because she can help us, Jack. She’s scared, just like us. She wants to act, just like us.”
“The resistance is in tatters because of her!”
“You’re wrong.” Elena shrugged. “While I may have sold you out, the only other thing I did was confirm some information FEMA already had about the resistance and its members.”
“So they could kill them.”
“They’d have done that months ago, Jack, if you hadn’t been hiding. Hall was waiting for you to re-emerge. Once you did, he struck.”
Jack didn’t care what role she’d played in the dismantling of the resistance, either central coordinator or bit player. She’d betrayed him, betrayed their cause and helped to get a lot of people killed in the meantime. P
ersonally, he’d never felt a punch to the guts like the moment she’d shown her true colors. It had been worse than the beating he’d taken. Worse than any beating he’d ever taken.
He was about to say more when Celeste put a hand on his shoulder. She leaned in close to his ear. “Jack, give her a chance. I think you should hear her out.”
He sighed. If he wasn’t so happy to be alongside Celeste, against all odds, he’d have resisted her advice. He clamped his teeth together. “Why are you here, Elena?”
She smiled sadly and started to walk down the stairs again. He put down the ashtray and stood with his fists balled by his side as she joined them, and they all took a seat on one of the two sofas. She crossed her legs in front of her and seemed to consider her words carefully before she spoke. He waited, impatiently, while she seemed to struggle to find what she wanted to say.
Finally, she spoke. “Jack, I just want to say that I’m sorry. Beyond sorry. Hall imprisoned my fiancé, as you know, and he’s been used as leverage against me.”
“Sorry, but I don’t care.” He stared straight at her. “A whole lot of my friends are dead now because of the action you took.”
“I know.” She smiled sadly. “And I’m sorry. I made the wrong choices. But I knew you wouldn’t be giving up. That’s why I’m here.”
“How did you find us?” Jack’s eyes flicked to Celeste, then back to Elena, when finally the realization hit him. “Hickens.”
She nodded. “He’s been my friend for a long time, Jack. I didn’t sell him out. He tracked your phone to this location, though he assures me the NSA can’t do the same.”
“Fuck me, did he give my number or location to everyone who asked?” He sighed and rubbed his face. “Just go, Elena. There’s nothing you can do that I’d trust you to do.”
“I can get a message to Hall.” She dropped the revelation like a bomb. “I can tell him where you are. That must be a massive opportunity in some way.”
Jack paused. A plan began to form in his head. Several times the women asked him what was going on and if he was okay, but he ignored them. It would be a long shot, but if Elena really could get a message to Hall, then it might work. He closed his eyes and turned the fledgling plan over in his head, probing for flaws and trouble spots. Hall had proven to be a detailed planner, but consistent in his habits. Predictable. It just might work.
He opened his eyes and smiled. They had to stop Hall, who now had the entire apparatus of the US government and military at his disposal. If they failed, there wouldn’t be a country worth living in. It was time to take a final stand. He spent the next hour explaining the plan to them. At first, they doubted him, then they started to come around to his thinking.
When he was finished, Elena laughed. “More than happy to do my part in that, Jack.”
“Wait a minute.” Celeste looked concerned. “He’s got the military, Jack. It’s impossible.”
“Not impossible, just difficult.” He shared her grim expression. “We win or we die.”
CHAPTER 19
FEMA has today released footage of a man believed to be wanted fugitive Jack Emery, taken on a camera near a gas station in Chicago. The Agency and other federal authorities believe that Emery is still located in Illinois. Emery, wanted on dozens of terror-related charges, is considered to be highly dangerous and may be armed. He should not be approached by members of the public.
Federal Emergency Management Agency
News Release
Jack sat on the bench, a baseball cap covering his head and his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. His disguise wouldn’t deter a keen observer, but he had to hope that his efforts would hold up to a casual glance by a passer by. For extra concealment, he had his back to the road. He stared out into the distance, enjoying the fact that he had little but the giant mass of Lake Michigan for company.
“Jack Emery. I knew they couldn’t fucking kill you!”
Jack smiled when he heard the voice. It was barely a loud whisper, but the speaker was close enough that Jack could hear every word. He’d know that voice underwater. He turned and his smile only grew wider. Dan Ortiz was standing there in uniform, looking a lot less scruffy than the last time Jack had seen him. The meeting they’d had in Millennium Park felt like it was a century ago.
“Good to see you, Dan.” Jack reached out a hand and they shook. “You’re late.”
Ortiz laughed. “They had bacon in the mess this morning.”
Jack scoffed. “Take a seat, Dan. I need to talk to you. I need your help.”
Ortiz nodded, rounded the bench and sat down. He pulled out a cigarette, saw the look Jack gave him and then put the packet away. He shook his head. “Don’t judge me.”
“Didn’t say a word.” Jack smiled.
“Like hell.” Ortiz sparked the cigarette and took a long drag, then blew it out slowly.
“Thanks for meeting with me. I know it’s not safe.”
“You’re telling me it’s not safe? I’m the one got you involved in all of this shit, Jack. I reckon we’re even in the danger stakes.” Ortiz shrugged. “So what do you need?”
Jack had considered his next words for the past week, but they still didn’t come easily. He’d spent that time working up the plan with Elena and Celeste. They’d concluded that while it had a theoretical chance, there was a high likelihood that they’d end up dead. They’d all come to terms with that fact, but asking Ortiz to help – a man with a career and a family largely untouched by the takeover – troubled him.
More troubling still was the idea of Richard Hall continuing to tighten his grip on a country that was nearly exhausted. Whatever the risk, whatever the threat, he knew the plan and what it could achieve was worth it. Between them, Jack, Celeste and Elena had considerable talents in analyzing information and telling a story, but without the means to broadcast it they were toothless. Jack knew a solution.
“We’ve got everything we need to bring down Hall and FEMA. It’s as simple as that.”
“No, it’s not, or I wouldn’t be here.” Ortiz slapped Jack on the leg. “Get on with it.”
Jack stared down at his feet. “I have information, but no way to broadcast it.”
If only Ortiz knew the half of it. He dug into his pocket, pulled out a few folded sheets of paper and handed them over. The sheets were a typed summary of events between the start of the attacks and now, with highlighter marks next to the events that Jack had managed to link to FEMA. He waited as the other man scanned the documents, a range of emotions rolling across his face. Mostly anger.
After a while, Ortiz handed them back and looked squarely at him, his eyes probing for any hint of mistruth. “I’m listening, Jack.”
Jack stared back at the lake. “What’s the feeling inside the Marines?”
“People are shitty we’re taking orders from FEMA now.” Ortiz’s voice dripped with disdain. “From the same guy that shot up the 38th Infantry in Indianapolis.”
“So, big fans then.”
“Yeah, the boys are getting their tits out for autographs. But why do you ask?”
Jack smiled. “I have a mountain of stuff. If I can get it out, it’ll topple Hall, FEMA and the State Guard. It has to. But I need your help. Lots of it.”
“OK.” Ortiz tapped his foot. “I’ll play along. If I help you out with that, what happens? We take back the country?”
“Something like that.” Jack nodded. He didn’t need to tell Ortiz that his ambitions were a hell of a lot bigger than that. “But there’ll only be one chance. If we fail, we die.”
“I’m used to those sort of odds.” Ortiz smiled. “But how can some grunts help with what you need? They’re blocking our comms, so it’s not like you can use the Marine network.”
“Well, that’s the thing.” Jack turned his head to look at Ortiz, whose gaze was locked on him. “Have you ever heard of the Emergency Alert System?”
***
Richard watched with interest as the man’s eyes bulged and his body fought h
ard against the restraints. The medical professionals kept their distance from the gurney, even as the guard and priest did their best to calm the man down. Richard couldn’t hear what they were saying through the glass, but guessed it had something to do with the futility of the struggle. Though the man was strapped in tight, Richard respected the effort.
He leaned forward, his face inches from the glass. He’d never seen a man die and the process of a state-sanctioned killing – calculated, clinical and just – fascinated him. It was the ultimate manifestation of the power of the state over the individual, the ultimate upholder of order against the worst crimes: in this case, the efforts by rebels to undermine his important work. He didn’t like having to do this, but nor could he cower from it.
Eventually, the staff inside the room calmed the man down enough for the two orderlies to go to work. Richard was amused by the fact that they still swabbed the man’s arm with alcohol, considering infection was probably a moot point for someone who’d be dead in an hour. They then inserted a pair of IV tubes into his arm, attached the line and secured the whole setup. After a saline drip and a heart monitor were attached, it was ready.
As the priest did his work, the prison officer keyed the intercom. “Administrator Hall, we’re about to begin.”
Richard smiled. Even though he had no role to play, the staff were clearly unnerved by his presence. He pressed the button on his own intercom panel. “Don’t let me stop you.”
“Okay, sir.”
Richard sat back and waited as the final spiritual preparations were made. Though there had been other executions under FEMA’s watch, this was the first he’d watched. He cursed as his phone suddenly started to blare. He stared down at it and felt faint as soon as he read the message. It was as if all of his Christmases had come at once. Elena Winston had texted him that Jack Emery was alive and was planning a major broadcast of information against FEMA. Most importantly, she knew where he was.
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