2047: Hell In A Handbasket

by D. Frank Green

  He glanced at Sarah. The lop-sided grin on her face worried him more than anything else he'd seen.

  A throat clearing from General Carr snapped him out of his thoughts.

  "Thank you, General. That was most instructive. Can this system defend itself?" Gwinnett asked.

  The General's face broke into a large grin. "Yes, Sir, any time you command it to go active. It contains anti-satellite and anti-debris technology and is surrounded by other versions of itself as decoys. We can rule the skies and earth and there's nothing stopping us at the moment, Sir. The Chinese are working on a similar satellite but to our knowledge they haven't launched yet. If they had, they'd have taken us out by now."

  "You have an executive, command decision, General Carr. Make this fully operational in a defensive capacity. Now. Mr. Hagin will prepare the documents for my signature. No, from the look on his face, he has the documents already prepared, and he's giving them to me shortly. You see, General, Mr. Hagin is most efficient." Gwinnett smiled and thought this was the first bit of good news he'd received in quite a while. Too bad about those men, and woman, he corrected himself, but they'd made their own call.

  "Lead on, General, let's get me back to my desk so I can sign your authorization and we can move to the future."

  He saw Sarah's face as he turned to follow the General out of the room. Her shining eyes and broad smile reminded him of when she got a two-wheel bicycle for her fifth birthday.

  30/07/2047 09:00

  "Fuck 'em all," said Ro. His lieutenants didn't know what he was talking about, Ro hadn't been sharing his thoughts but they all smiled back with the cocksure grins of those ready to beat the shit out of somebody. Or thought they were.

  They sat, coffee cups in hand, looking at each other knowing today would either set them on the course to real power or they'd all be running for their lives by nightfall. Or worse, they'd be dead and forgotten in the ruins.

  Ro was confident of success but like all good commanders, there was an element of doubt and fear lurking around in the dark of his mind. He played and replayed his plan and couldn't see a way to improve it.

  "Has that ZeeVid whitey shown up yet?" he asked.

  "Out in the hall."

  "Our guys in place?" Ro asked, checking for the third time.

  A nod from his second-in-command confirmed this.

  Ro looked at the second-in-command, saw the raised questioning eyebrow, smiled and said, "Let's do this."

  The regional police headquarters occupied a city block, was fifteen stories tall and was full of cops and their equipment. An abundance of entryway sensors protected the building from all common explosive materials and weapons. Everyone entering received a full-body scan before getting past the main doors. Nobody got into these buildings with so much as a nail file, never mind bombs and automatic weapons. Every window was double-barred, inside and out. The glass was aircraft quality plexi and not your regular old-fashioned shatterproof glass. The police and their consultants considered the building impregnable.

  To most conventional attacks, it was. The building's security was state of the art and would stop the most determined army until reinforcements arrived.

  But Ro was not going to attack it in a conventional manner.

  "I've talked to each of your groups separately so you all know your individual targets and goals. But here's the overall plan so you'll understand why it's important you not screw up.

  Ramon. Your group on the west basement wall will blow the power and comm lines. That'll leave the cops without primary power and no outside hard lines for communication or power.

  Terrance. Your squad will blow the northeast wall right at the corner foundation. Your charge is large enough to blow out a big hole so our people can get inside easily. Remember, right after you set it under the ledge we carved, you and your team get the hell back to those marked-off spots.

  Everybody - cover your ears. If you don't you'll be deaf by noon.

  As soon as both groups have entrance holes, Ramon, you and your people are going in with your secondary charges. Those are placed at the spots on your basement maps. You've studied those. Right? Ramon? Good. Lay those charges, set the timer for 45 seconds and get your asses out of there and as far away as possible."

  Over the last week the gang worked on Ro's plan. Cutting small entry holes behind boilers or other major basement services to hide their pathways, they carved a path through the basements towards the police building. Slowly, but surely they'd moved underground across three city blocks to the buildings on two adjoining sides of the police headquarters.

  Ro smiled at the thought of the plan and how QuellCorp or the army had trained all his best men. It seemed fitting in a curious way the system taught the important lessons to those who were about to destroy it.

  "Let's go," he ordered.

  His lieutenants moved to their assigned tasks; each had specific responsibilities. These men led from the front, taking the same level of risks as their followers, unlike the modern forces where command was isolated from the front and what was happening.

  Ro took his sawed-off shotgun, he preferred it for in-close fighting, and joined his command group. His bodyguard unit cleared the areas ahead and guarded the flanks and rear as this soon-to-be warlord moved towards his own position across from the police building. He'd command from there and control the situation as best he could.

  The hallway reeked of boiling cabbage but Ro took a deep breath. He stood silent for a second and then exhaled. "Go."

  Security cameras showed a decoy team running along the back of the building. Sensors inside the police building recognized the automatic weapons. Sirens started wailing.

  A few cops were caught in front of the building, all but one died quickly from shots across the street. The survivor, wounded in the leg, rolled into the gutter and partially underneath a patrol car. He neither returned fire nor took any but huddled there waiting for help.

  Gang members kicked in apartment doors on the alley side of the police headquarters and ran in yelling at those inside to get out and run for their lives. None disagreed, except for one old man who refused. He was shot. Ro's people targeted open windows across the narrow alleyway and kept a steady firing rate into those spaces. The windows automatically closed and locked.

  They also fired a rocket at the main entrance from across the street. Automatic gates dropped and the defensive bars prevented any of the attackers from gaining entrance. All other doors went to full lock status and would not release until the main computer was reset.

  If we can't get in, they can't get out. Ro smiled.

  His men fired another volley of rockets. The cruiser at the front of the building took two hits. The sole police survivor huddled under it died instantly.

  Even though the windows were shatterproof, Ro knew the police would believe the attack was a general one coming from multiple directions outside. This would be their fatal mistake.

  "All teams set?" Ro received the sapper commanders' confirmation.

  Ro didn't just want to control access, he wanted the building destroyed. He wanted both the police and the symbols they represented eliminated from, what he now thought of as, his city. And he didn't want them returning.

  The first set of explosions in the tunnels took out the power and battery backups. The building shook but with all the sirens, weapons firing, rockets smashing into the building and nervous energy, few of those inside acknowledged the blasts as a major problem.

  Inside the building, small, self-contained, battery-powered emergency lights flickered on, computer screens went dark, phone calls stopped, and the emergency sirens stopped. Internal emergency doors shut, top-security area doors automatically bolted, and the building entered total lockdown condition.

  Those inside the building waited for their lights to come back on and when they didn't, one Commander organized a group to investigate the basement.

  Each initial demolition squad separated into two, one for each building corne
r, re-entered the basement through the blasted holes and placed charges to take down the building. This took a mere twenty-seven seconds.

  The police were halfway down the stairs. They moved slowly and cautiously one landing at a time.

  "Charges set for forty-five seconds. Go, go, go."

  Ro smiled at this warning from the lead sapper and started counting. In the basements, the demolition teams ran back the way they came. They zigzagged back through buildings, every one of them screaming at the top of their lungs to avoid the worst of the pressure blast that would chase them. Their job was to get far enough away so it wouldn't blow their eardrums.

  Forty-five seconds later, the building foundations disappeared in the explosion. The shaped charges blew the walls in precise directions and the building collapsed, in what seemed like slow motion, inwards on itself.

  There may have been survivors under the rubble but there'd be no help coming. His snipers would see to that. Ro owned this section of the city.

  05/07/2047 09:00

  "Got a minute, George? Good news." The text message from Francis Cummings, QuellCorps VP Technology, scrolled across Gwinnett's heads up display. Gwinnett blinked twice. Cumming's face appeared in his glasses. His face was red and beaming. He bounced up and down.

  Gwinnett smiled. Cummings was as transparent as a pane of glass. There wasn't an ounce of guile in the man but he was a fine coder and knew how to handle his tech team. He spoke to the tech people in their own language, and that counted for a great deal, it seemed, if his mood at the moment was any indication. His face was now bending out of shape with the biggest grin Gwinnett had ever seen on him.

  "You're looking rather pleased with yourself. What's up?" said Gwinnett.

  Cummings pulled himself forward on the chair and it seemed as if he might fall off at any second. His face became huge in Gwinnett's glasses. "Got him," he said and leaned back, his face shrinking in the feed as he did so.

  Gwinnett nodded. It's going to be one of those conversations, he thought. He returned Cummings grin. "Got who?" he asked. Leaned back in his chair. He didn't know how long this game would be played.

  "Got Gordon," said Cummings and crossed his arms over his chest. He took a deep breath and slumped down in the chair.

  Gwinnett thought he looked like a balloon that's just lost its air. "Good for you! So give me the details. How did y'do it? And what did y'all do?" said Gwinnett.

  "That new hire is hell on wheels with databases so I let him loose on Gordon and ZeeVid. Bottom line. We're into both Gordon's personal files and ZeeVid's database," said Cummings. "All we killed were the files related to Sarah, but we copied everything else we could access. Got ZeeVid's and Gordon's backups - there were multiple backups on different servers. But all are gone, never more to be seen in the land of light and goodness. Plus we downloaded a ton of other data we're sifting through now."

  Gwinnett smiled. Cummings was a class-A flake. No doubt about it. But he's my flake, and he'd just done something the military and government couldn't. He thought Cummings looked like a puppy asking for a pat.

  "Francis, I think you and your team need a bonus. Go back to them and ask them what they and you want. I want to be fair and generous because you've just solved a problem for me and I'm a very grateful father at the moment. Let me also suggest you figure out a way to pull information off their servers. Now you've seen their server architecture, you might be able to figure out how to access it without them knowing. But let's work on rewards first," said Gwinnett.

  Cummings' smile grew wider, he nodded and with no further discussion, he jumped up and disappeared off the screen.

  Gwinnett leaned back in his chair, turned to look out the big window and wondered whether tech people of Cummings type could be trusted to cross the street by themselves.

  05/07/2047 09:02

  "Thanks for the heads up on Cummings work. Appreciate it," said Sarah. "This is just a quick call to tell you to ignore Gordon and his innuendoes. I put Fraser in charge of the entire Savannah team and sent them north to give us a scouting report from the site. They're officially awol but I told them all the real nature of our mission. I have to say if their reaction represents the rest of the country, we're in good shape."

  "You sure they won't be found?" said George.

  "Not a chance in hell. I don't even know where they are and they're the best at disappearing into whatever zone we drop them," said Sarah. "I gave them their destination, their reporting parameters and their mission. We disabled their chips so they're offline and can't be tracked as far as we know. I took care of this end as you asked and you've obviously secured that end. I don't see any loose ends," said Sarah.

  "Good. That should give us some breathing room. Anything else?" asked George.

  "Don't think so. Give my love to momma," said Sarah.

  "Will do. You take care."

  Both disconnected and mirror-like, locked their fingers behind their heads, leaned back in their chairs and smiled.

  31/07/2047 15:45

  Gwinnett faced the Press Corps at a hastily scheduled news briefing. As he collected his thoughts and looked down at his handwritten notes, he decided this was how a gazelle must feel when she sees a pack of lions stalking towards her. With a soft smile, he thought he had never been a gazelle. But when he looked at the assembled group, lit by a multitude of video lights resembling a bright constellation, he had to take a deep breath and calm himself. He either made a good impression, established himself as a lion, or he'd be dead meat by the end of this telecast. And worse, so would the country.

  Gwinnett made a conscious decision to place his hands on the podium in front of him. Waving them around would send a message of anxiety and he wanted to avoid that. He took a deep breath, held it for a moment and slowly let it out.

  "Ladies and Gentlemen. Thank you for coming at such short notice."

  There were a few snorts. Both Gwinnett and the press knew none of them had left the room for the last six hours since the New York story broke.

  "I want to make a brief announcement and then I'll take a few questions. Let me begin by thanking you and the American people for your patience with the problems in New York City. And allow me to summarize and bring you up to date to the current situation as honestly as I can. As y'all know, I'm not one for much political double-talk yet..." He heard a few more snorts from the reporters.

  "And I hope to never learn this skill. The American people demand better than that, and they deserve honest answers to tough questions. So let me start with the hard ones.

  Yes, domestic terrorists destroyed the entire precinct command headquarters on the East Side yesterday afternoon. We are still working on identifying how many brave officers died in the explosion and firefight."

  Gwinnett hung his head for a second as if in prayer. The nation stopped with him.

  "Yes, we have identified those responsible. They are composed of the West Side Gang members led by a convicted criminal named Robinson Taylor.

  Yes, it is a black gang, but race has nothing to do with this; let me make this clear right off the top. This is a terrorist attack on the lawful authority of the police of New York City," he said.

  One hand escaped from the podium, and a finger slashed up and down emphasizing the point. Gwinnett realized his mistake. Put his hand back on the podium, gripped it, ignored his nuckles turning white, and continued.

  "Yes. There are problems dealing with, and responding to, the attack. I have talked to the Mayor, the Commissioner of Police and the Chief of Police and they told me there are major problems responding in force into this area. The terrorists are as well armed as the police and there would be a great deal of bloodshed. Innocent civilians would be the hardest hit because the terrorists are using residents as human shields."

  Gwinnett didn't try to control himself. His face, his body language and those hands, now freed, all expressed his anger and frustration.

  He shook his head. "No, we cannot send in troops. The Joint Ch
iefs advised me the armed forces of the United States will no longer enforce civil laws if those laws conflict with the Constitution. They also advised me they will not pass along orders for civilian control and will resist any attempts to bypass their authority. My Security Advisor has confirmed the majority of officers and troops agree with the Joint Chiefs. They will die to defend this country but they expect civil authorities to deal with civil issues."

  Gwinnett stopped to take a deep breath and held up both hands to stop questions. To his surprise, the room remained silent and focused on him. Gwinnett decided they were giving him more of the proverbial rope to hang himself. He gripped the podium again.

  "Ladies and Gentlemen, I have been President for less than two weeks now and I hope you understand I'm doing my best to sort this out for you. Particularly for the fine residents of New York City, I want to say we'll get this sorted out as soon as possible. I'll take a few questions but I have meetings already scheduled to get solutions started."

  "Mr. President, did the Joint Chiefs refuse your order to attack the gangs?"

  "Yes, they were very clear. They refused to give the orders because they believe, one, they are illegal, and two, they would not be carried out by the troops in the field."

  "Mr. President, are there any plans to bring in private security contractors such as your company QuellCorp?"

  "The mayor told me there are discussions about this but let me emphasize this is a decision by the Mayor and the elected representatives in the city. I told him we'd find money to help restore civil order if that was a route he decided to take. But let me also state I have no knowledge of the substance of discussions between QuellCorp and the city. I have been clear to the company, and to you I'm out of the company's decision-making loop while I'm in political office," said Gwinnett.

  "Mr. President. Your daughter is the one in charge. Are you saying you don't talk to her?"

  "Of course I talk to her. But we have a mutual agreement we don't talk business - her business - until after my term here is done," said Gwinnett.