“I’m Captain Daniel Ortiz, 24th Marines.” Ortiz’s voice boomed in response, with no hint of fear. “I ask you to stand down and hand over Richard Hall.”
Ortiz kept his weapon raised but turned his head away from it. He caught Jack’s eye, hidden from the view of the attackers, and winked once. The message was clear: they can’t see you, so stay hidden. Jack wanted nothing more than to shout out, to give himself up and save these lives, but every man here had known their fate in the event of capture. Whether it was in a fire fight or in a FEMA detention center, death was certain.
“Last chance, Captain Ortiz.”
“Fuck yourself!” Ortiz fired.
Jack screamed as the world exploded in front of him. There was no way his voice could be heard over the roar of gunfire, the screams of combat troops and the cries of wounded men. Ortiz’s team got some shots of their own off, but it was a drop against an ocean. Jack had never seen anything like it. In action movies, the heroes win regardless of numbers or positioning. Not this time. This time they were slaughtered.
He turned and ran back across the street, toward the sewer, with tears streaming down his cheeks. He fought hard to stay composed. With three steps to go, he tripped and fell, landing hard on the road. He sucked at the air, but none entered his lungs. He started to panic until, after a few moments, his breathing returned. He scrambled to his feet and to the manhole. He hauled it open and climbed down, replacing the cover.
Darkness was the only ally he had left.
***
Richard strode forward from the elevator and inspected the carnage from moments earlier. He’d ridden down as soon as the fire fight was over, but could still smell the smoke. The scene was chaos. Around a dozen dead men in marine uniforms were sprawled in tight formation in the middle of the lobby. Their guns had been taken but no other effort had been made to move them. Emery was not among them.
He growled in frustration as he took in the scene. “How fucking hard can it be to catch one man?”
The State Guard attaché to FEMA Area V, who’d ridden down with him, did his best to soothe Richard’s anger. “All attention has shifted to finding Emery, sir.”
Richard turned, grabbed the man by his collar and looked him straight in the eyes. “I’m sick of this. Find him. Kill him.”
The man nodded. Richard let go and turned back to the dead soldiers. He took a few steps toward them, then stopped when he heard a cough. One of the soldiers he’d thought dead a moment ago was apparently still alive. Yet another fuck up from the State Guard troopers. He approached the wounded man, just as a guardsman hovered over the Marine and prepared to finish him.
“Don’t you dare.” Richard grabbed the man from behind and pulled him back. “Give me your weapon.”
The young trooper looked confused, but handed over his rifle. “Sir, be careful, if you’re not careful he’ll—”
“Be quiet.” Richard crouched down to the dying soldier. “What’s your name, young man?”
“Daniel Ortiz.” The soldier coughed hard once, then again. Blood dribbled down his chin.
“Here’s the situation, Daniel.” Richard leaned on the rifle as he crouched. “I have you and a lot of your comrades. To help all of you, I need you to tell me where Emery is.”
“Go fuck yourself.” Ortiz smiled. His teeth were bloody. “Just kill me. I’m not telling you shit. Neither will any of the others you’ve captured around the city.”
Richard sighed and stood. He looked around. The State Guard troopers were searching the ground level of the building, as well as the basement and the stairs, but he had no faith in their ability to find Emery. He looked down at Ortiz again, struggling for breath and clearly fighting the pain. He pressed the barrel of the rifle into the man’s stomach, right where he could see a bullet wound. Ortiz gasped and cried out.
“Where. Is. He.” Richard pressed the barrel harder and ignored the man’s shrieks. But the effort was hopeless. Ortiz bled out. Richard roared with rage. “Just find him!”
Richard threw the weapon onto the tiled floor then stalked back toward the elevator. There was no point in him staying here much longer, among the slugs crawling around trying to please him. He could do more back in the Command Center, coordinating effort across the city to find Jack Emery. He rode the elevator on his own, using the time to think about what he’d missed, where Emery could be.
Hours passed as Richard waited futilely for his people to get results. Without Emery’s head on a pike, he’d have no enemy to parade before the public, to take the attention off the information that had briefly leaked. With Emery, he could torture the other man to say the evidence was all fabricated. He made his way through four coffees and eight fingernails. He’d never felt like this before, his future so contingent on something so completely out of his control.
After yet more hours, his phone rang. He nearly screamed. He was not in the right frame of mind for this phone call, but had no choice but to take it. “Mr President.”
“Administrator Hall.” The President’s tone was cold. “This is a courtesy call to inform you that I’ve revoked all executive orders relating to FEMA and the State Guard. My attorney general has also informed me that you’re to be arrested on a long list of charges. I suggest you wait where you are prior to being taken into custody.”
“Mr—” Richard stopped speaking when the line went dead.
He threw the phone across the room. He’d known this might be coming, but had hoped to fight it off by capturing Emery. The information that had been leaked had obviously run wild in Washington. Richard had hoped to turn the tide, but now it had washed over his head. He turned and made his way to the elevator and toward the roof. He didn’t even wait for his guards. Now he had to think about survival. All he needed was his helicopter pilot.
Once he reached the roof, he was pleased that the helicopter was still there, sitting like an old friend in the night. He called out. “John! Fire it up! We’re out of here.”
“Hall.” The voice came from beside him.
Richard knew it instantly. He turned to his left. Though the roof was only dimly lit, he could see Jack Emery emerge from behind an air-conditioning unit. He looked like hell, but he held a pistol in his hand. Emery raised the weapon and took a few quick steps toward Richard. With a shake of his head, Richard raised his hands lazily. He steeled himself for the inevitable, the irony of finally having found Emery not lost on him.
“Turn around.” Emery’s voice was all business. “Back to me.”
Richard laughed as he turned. “Just how the hell did you get up here?”
“That’s the thing with absolute dictators, isn’t it? You think you control everything, but miss the detail.” Emery jammed the gun into the back of his head. “Down.”
Richard fell to his knees. His best chance at survival had shifted. “You realize that I’m about to be arrested? That I’m powerless? Your little vigilante job is too late.”
“I don’t care. This ends here.” Emery’s voice was cold as he pressed the weapon into the back of his head. “This ends now, you cunt.”
***
The pistol was shaking in Jack’s hand as he held it to Hall’s head. The other man said nothing else, apparently at peace with what was to come.
So much emotion and fury was flooding through him, he was unsure what to feel. He’d waited for hours in the sewers, unsure about what to do. He’d thought about fumbling through the sewers, until he found daylight and freedom, but that would have wasted the lives of the marines who’d fallen. He’d known he still had a role to play, even if there was nobody else left to help him and very little chance of success.
When he’d fought the Foundation for a New America, he’d been content to sit in a hotel room while the FBI wrapped up the threat. But this time was different. Even though the choicest pieces of Mariposa’s information were now percolating around the country, and he was certain it would be enough to topple Hall, he still had a score to settle. He had to be sure th
at this was the end of it.
He’d waited until night, then climbed out of the sewer and crossed the street. Then, instead of going upstairs, he’d spotted something – a window-cleaning rig outside the building. Silently and in darkness, he’d enjoyed the wind through his hair as he rode it to the top. On the roof, he’d waited, hoping that Hall would emerge and head for his helicopter.
Now, he had the administrator right where he wanted him. Right where he’d wanted him for months. His finger squeezed the trigger slightly, but Jack held off when he heard the thock-thock-thock sound of helicopters drawing closer. They moved quickly and soon there were two circling above. Jack could barely hear himself think over the noise.
“My name is Special Agent Roberto Garcia, FBI.” A voice boomed over the sound of the choppers. “Richard Hall is to be arrested and charged with treason and multiple counts of first-degree murder. Put down your weapon.”
Jack shook his head at the irony. He’d fought so hard for nearly a year to fight Hall’s control and got nowhere, but now he had a choice about how to do it. Whether his inner circle was breached or not, Hall still had a great deal of power all across the country. There was no guarantee that Hall would end up in the slammer if Jack let him live.
“Listen to him, Jack.” Hall’s shout could barely be heard over the noise. “Put your faith in the people, in the justice system. You don’t need to do this.”
Jack had been a reporter for ten years and had covered enough injustice to know the system got it wrong sometimes. On the other hand, if America was to have a chance of rediscovering itself, its freedoms and its moral purpose, then men like Richard Hall needed to be brought to justice, not executed.
Jack lowered the weapon, tossed it aside and stepped back, even as FBI agents began to rappel down onto the roof. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
It was over.
EPILOGUE
“Attention passengers, this is your captain. We’re about to enter a small patch of turbulence. I’d ask that you return to your seat and buckle up for a few minutes.”
Jack sighed and opened his eyes as the aircraft started to shake. He was already in his seat and buckled up, but after the pilot’s announcement, he was no longer asleep. He’d been sleeping fairly lightly recently – the slightest noise or flash of light enough to wake him – much to his annoyance. While this wasn’t surprising, given the events of the past few years, what he’d never considered before was how many minor irritations could be found on a plane flight.
Even Air Force One.
He was flying from Los Angeles to Washington DC in time for the State of the Union address. The President’s chief of staff had invited Jack along. He’d buttered Jack up, telling him that the President wanted him as an honored guest and that the President would be pleased to share a meal with him on board the aircraft. It hadn’t happened. The turbulence lessened and he turned to Celeste. She was still asleep. Jack closed his eyes and started to drift off again.
Just as he was nearly out the cursed chime sounded again. “Jack Emery, please report to the President’s office for your appointment.”
Jack’s eyes shot open, more quickly than the last time. He prodded Celeste and she woke with a start. Jack leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “Just going to meet with McGhinnist.”
“Okay.” Her voice was groggy, and he knew she was no good in the moments after waking. “Good luck.”
Jack made his way through the aircraft. Once he arrived at the office, he exchanged a few pleasantries with the Secret Service agent stationed outside, even as the agent used his radio to report Jack had arrived. He obviously heard what he wanted to in his earpiece, because the lock on the door give a heavy clunk and the agent pushed the door open and stood aside to let Jack inside.
President Bill McGhinnist was seated behind his desk. Though this was not the first time he’d met world leaders, or even Bill McGhinnist, it was the first time he was both one on one with the President and also likely to be the major topic of conversation. Jack waited nervously as McGhinnist finished signing some paperwork, then looked up with a broad smile.
“Mr President?” Jack had planned what he’d say to the most powerful man in the world, but it had escaped him. “Thanks for inviting me to meet with you.”
“Come on, Jack.” McGhinnist stood, walked around the desk and slapped him on the back. “How many times do we need to save the country before you’ll start calling me Bill in private?”
“A few more times yet, given your new job, sir.” Jack laughed.
One of the pleasant surprises in the aftermath of the arrest of Richard Hall and the return to normalcy had been finding out Bill McGhinnist was alive. Somehow he’d survived the assault on the New York resistance cell and gone to ground. Along with Celeste, he was one of the few involved who’d survived Hall’s decapitation of the resistance. A lot of good people hadn’t. Jack mourned them all.
Hall was still on trial, but the daily court reports showed little chance of him being freed. Though he’d had a mandate to take over the country, he’d gone a mile beyond it. Every day new information emerged about the atrocities Hall and his organization had committed in the name of order and safety, and it sickened him. FEMA had already been gutted and the State Guard abolished.
In the aftermath, Jack had traveled to Europe with Celeste, to visit her family in the UK and get as far away from the States as he could while it healed. At the first elections following the collapse of FEMA control, Bill McGhinnist had been elected in a landslide for the Republican Party. Though he’d seemed a reluctant candidate, the public had bonded with his call for a whole lot of fresh air through Washington.
Jack had worked closely with McGhinnist to end the threat of both the Foundation for a New America and FEMA, but those interactions had been brief and for a sharp purpose. He’d had no real time to get to know the man beneath the bureaucrat, who now happened to be President. Jack couldn’t guess what McGhinnist had up his sleeve, but he wasn’t sure he’d like it.
McGhinnist gestured toward a lounge chair, then took a seat himself. “I’ve got to be upfront. I didn’t just ask you along for the ride.”
Jack kept his features even. “What can I do for you?”
“I need you to come work for me, Jack.”
Jack didn’t hesitate. “Not interested.”
“I’m not asking, Jack.” McGhinnist’s features hardened. “Your co—”
“I’m Australian, don’t forget.”
McGhinnist laughed and his face softened. “Fine, the country needs you. While I think we’ve purged most of the cancers, I can’t be completely sure.”
“Well, I did try to shoot Hall.” Jack shrugged. “The FBI stopped me. Even given that, I still nearly pulled the trigger.”
“A shame, if you ask me. But don’t worry about Hall. He’s sorted.” McGhinnist sipped his coffee. “I need you, Jack. I need you on my side full time.”
Jack leaned forward in his chair. “Why me, though? There’re better people for the job.”
“No, there aren’t. You’ve got a knack for this stuff. But more importantly, you’re also above reproach. You’ve saved America from itself and its leaders twice. I need you on the payroll.”
Jack stayed silent.
“The first time, it took us to war with China and we nearly had a large chunk of Congress controlled by maniacs. You put a stop to that, though not without cost. The second time, it was our own agencies attacking America while pretending to save it, using the very laws designed the safeguard us all. Again, you stopped it.”
“At great personal cost.” Jack’s voice was soft.
“I know that.”
Jack sighed. “Okay, so theoretically, what’s the job?”
McGhinnist smiled. “Winding back the clock twenty years. While terrorism is a serious threat, it pales in comparison to the loss of our freedoms over the past few decades. To sleep soundly at night and keep the shadows at bay, we’ve unshackled a much greater da
rkness. It is too open to abuse and must be put right.”
Jack didn’t disagree. Since 9/11, the Patriot Act and its various add-ons had combined to form a miasma of abuse. Civil rights had been curtailed. Bureaucracy and red tape had been allowed to stifle good sense. A minor increase in security from the unlikeliest of events had been given primacy over everything that made America what it is. And, while he doubted it could be unwound entirely, there were definitely improvements that could be made.
“Put right…” Jack’s voice trailed off.
“Reviewed and abolished where sensible. I’m talking about a full, independent inquiry into the laws, regulations and actions of government that have gone too far, and a combined effort of my entire administration to fix it.”
Jack would have doubted the words if they came from the mouth of any other person on the planet. Governments the world over were pleased to take more power on the slightest pretext, but didn’t like to give it up. Curing the addiction of America’s government to this power would be difficult, if not impossible, but Bill McGhinnist had done his absolute best to fight both the Foundation and FEMA. He mightn’t succeed, but Jack knew he’d try.
“You don’t need me for that.”
“You’re wrong, I do.” McGhinnist sighed. “I’m the former Director of the FBI, I helped to devise and enact some of the laws. Others? They’re too blinkered to see what needs doing. I need someone who has been proven to have America’s best interests at heart, who’s smart and who can lead this change.”
“Me.”
“You, Jack.”
“Okay.” Jack stood after a moment and held out his hand. “I’m in. But I think you’re crazy brave. If you pull this off, they’ll need to make some space on Mount Rushmore.”
McGhinnist stood, beaming, and shook Jack’s hand with vigor. “When I agreed to run, I hoped you might agree to join the team. You won’t regret this.”
“So, what’s that make me?”
“Special Advisor to the President of the United States of America. It’ll look good on your CV, though it’s not quite a third Pulitzer.”
State of Emergency: Jack Emery 2 Page 26
