[Jack Emery 01.0] The Foundation

by Steve P Vincent

  Ernest took a deep breath and leaned forward. “So what you’re telling me, Senator, is that the US Senate is ready to destroy my company?”

  Mahoney smiled. “That’s about the sum of it. Your enterprise has become a little too big, a little too powerful, and now you’ve trampled on the civil rights of Americans.”

  Ernest bit his lip, but couldn’t resist. “Unlike drone attacks, indefinite detention without charge or all-pervasive electronic signals interception and intelligence?”

  “All perfectly legal, Ernest.” Mahoney smiled like a shark. “The conduct of your company, on the other hand, was not. That necessitates a reaction.”

  The allegations against EMCorp in the US were as serious as those in the United Kingdom, if Ernest was being honest. Though, to the best of his knowledge, the company had dealt with and disclosed all misconduct, it was an almighty assumption. It was also a gamble, given the looming inquiry. If more illegal activity emerged, he’d be scuttled. Ernest wondered if the company had just become too big for him to control, even as he did his best to fight Mahoney and his ilk.

  Ernest felt his face flush. “I’ll concede that we’re in a bit of trouble, Senator. But I didn’t think you and your colleagues were quite so stupid.”

  Mahoney frowned. “I don’t follow.”

  “I suspect you don’t. You’re probably daft enough to think that it’s policy and good governance that gets representatives re-elected, Senator.”

  Mahoney leaned back in his chair and Ernest felt his anger grow. He hoped that the other man would tip back just far enough to fall over and maybe snap his neck on the way down. No such luck—Mahoney continued to stare straight at him and started to tap his finger on the armrest.

  “I know the public like their bread and circuses, Ernest. Who manufactures them is largely irrelevant. Though it’s currently your company, you’re not indispensable.”

  “You’re wrong. Who manufactures the content, and with it the message, is very important. While I respect the right of our duly elected representatives to destroy one of the greatest bastions of freedom that the American people have, they should know that I have an almighty bark, Senator, and quite a substantial bite.”

  Mahoney smiled. “I’m retiring from public life at the coming election. Given it’s only a few months away, I’m not sure which is more underwhelming, your sense of self-importance or your threats. Both are at odds with reality.”

  “I don’t agree, Senator. It’s entirely plausible that you’re done with public life, but I’m yet to meet a thirty-year veteran of the hill who doesn’t care about his legacy.”

  Mahoney raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

  “The key to securing your achievements is sitting in front of you, and you’re doing a pretty good job of pissing him off. I’m also doing all I can to fix the issues that EMCorp has had and I can assure you there won’t be a repeat.” Ernest knew this was his chance. He let his words sink in before he continued. “Back off, remove the noose from around my neck, and you’ll have friendly smoke blown up your ass for the next century.”

  Mahoney seemed to consider his offer for a moment, then shook his head. “Not good enough, Ernest. I get more out of destroying you than working with you. I’ll be a hero.”

  Ernest looked to Peter for support.

  Peter sat forward. “Need we remind you, Senator, of the generous donations that came your way following the Boston Chronicle endorsement at the last election?”

  “The support surely was appreciated, son, but I’ve got the public baying for blood.”

  Ernest sighed. It was time to cut to the chase. “What’re you proposing?”

  “An understanding. If you dig your heels in, it will end in sanctions against your company, including its dismantling, and destruction of your own wealth and influence. But all I really want is a scalp to hang on my wall.”

  Ernest said nothing; he knew where this was going.

  “Instead, I propose that you come before the committee and announce you’re stepping down as head of the company. Whoever takes over—I don’t care who it is—promises to fix the problems. You lose the power, but your company is intact and I get my scalp.”

  Ernest was in awe of Mahoney’s gall. He’d tried reason, he’d tried bribery; he had one option left. He looked at Peter and gave him a slight nod. He watched as Peter searched for a single piece of paper from among his notes and day planner. Once he found it, he calmly placed it face down on the desk.

  “I’m afraid I can’t accept your proposal. I didn’t really want to bring this up, Senator. But we’ve uncovered some…anomalies in your past.” He knew exactly what was on the sheet of paper: nothing. Despite months of looking for something, anything, to bury Mahoney, he was clean. Ernest had nothing he could use against the senator except a blank sheet of paper and his reputation for smear.

  Mahoney sat in silence and his face drained of color. Ernest was surprised, and wondered what it was that he and Peter hadn’t managed to uncover.

  He pushed home his advantage. “I’ve got the largest army of dirt diggers on the planet. They’re very good at it. The ball is in your court, Senator.”

  Mahoney shook his head. “You can’t prove anything. Besides, I can’t just halt a committee hearing, son. There are other members you’d have to ride roughshod over.”

  Mahoney was right, but Ernest had planted a seed of doubt. He laughed. “Oh, I don’t want to stop it. I want to make a mockery of it and destroy its conveners.”

  Ernest only wished he was as confident as his bluster suggested.

  Michelle sipped her coffee and grimaced as it assaulted her taste buds. She wondered why she kept faith with the company when she was disappointed every time. She’d walk in, order a grande from the overly cheery staff, and sit down in one of the comfortable chairs. Lulled into a false sense of hope, she'd take a sip, then curse.

  Anton laughed. “I know how much you love Starbucks.”

  She sneered at him. “Yeah, like cancer.”

  Anton made a face, the small benign tumor he’d had cut out a few months ago apparently still a sore spot. “No need to get personal.”

  Michelle snorted and looked up at the entrance again, irritated. She was jet lagged from the eighteen-hour flight from New York to Shanghai, via Chicago, and was in no mood to wait. Once the meeting was done, she was going straight to her hotel room to get some sleep.

  “Where is he?” She knew it was a pointless question, given they were situated in the back corner. If he had arrived they’d have seen it.

  “How should I know? He’s your man.”

  “No, Anton. He’s not mine, or yours, or ours. That’s the point.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Relax, I didn’t mean it literally.”

  She was about to take further issue when the door chime sounded. She looked up and saw an Asian man in full business attire. He stood in the doorway and as he scanned the tables he looked ordinary in every way. Most importantly, he wore a red and black striped tie. Michelle raised her hand and gave him a small wave.

  “He’s here.”

  The Chinese man saw her, gave a small nod and moved to the counter to order. Michelle and Anton waited in silence. Michelle used the time to gather her thoughts and Anton wore a poker face. The meeting was mainly to reassure Anton about the man she’d selected to complete the operation. The next few minutes needed to go well.

  Michelle stood and held out her hand as the man joined them with a cup of tea in hand. “I appreciate you joining us, Chen. This is my colleague, Anton.”

  Chen shook her hand. “Good afternoon, Michelle and Anton. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the enablers of my vengeance.”

  Michelle smiled again, and after the two men shook hands she gestured Chen toward the vacant chair and sat in her own. She glanced at Anton, who now sat with his elbows resting on his knees and his chin cupped in his hand. She knew this look. She’d seen it dozens of times. He was going to pounce.

  “Are y
ou prepared to die?” Anton’s tone was casual, as if he was asking how the tea tasted or what the weather was going to be like.

  Chen showed no expression. “I am trained to do the job, and I will live up to my commitments. That’s all you need to know.”

  “I beg to differ. Great piles of my organization’s money and effort have been poured into this mission, which is key to our broader agenda. I’ll ask whatever I please.”

  Michelle didn’t speak, but watched Chen lift his tea and sip it. A lot of her influence within the Foundation had been staked on the selection of Chen Shubian for the operation. She’d found him on the Darknet, carefully cultivated his fury, then connected him to the Foundation’s server. Since then, she’d worked painstakingly with Chen to plan the operation, including the selection of others to assist him.

  While her position as number two to Anton gave her a lot of power within the Foundation, he didn’t suffer fools or mistakes. Since she’d joined a decade prior, she’d seen how ruthless he could be to friends as well as foes. If, at the end of the meeting, Anton had any doubts about Chen’s commitment, a Foundation for a New America wet squad would make the Taiwanese man disappear. Better that than a messy operation.

  Anton continued. “You were chosen by my associate because you have the skills and commitment to achieve our objectives. I don’t care about your motivation and you shouldn’t care about ours. We’re a happy alliance of convenience that will result in thousands dead, vengeance done and a world changed. But I still insist on excellence.”

  Chen laughed softly, and the sound chilled Michelle. “I have planned wisely. My equipment is excellent, my companions sound and my preparations meticulous.”

  “I’m glad to hear it, but I still have some concerns about your willingness to see this through.”

  “Sitting here together is proof that we’ve already won.” Chen looked around. “If the secret police had any clue that I was a threat, we’d be rotting in prison.”

  Anton smiled. “Glad you’re on board. You have my blessings and the green light. I wish you well.”

  Michelle waited impassively as Anton stood, and had started to stand when he gestured for them to remain seated. “You two finish your drinks. I want to get some shopping in before we unleash your handiwork, Chen.”

  Chen smiled, but said nothing.

  Michelle waited until Anton was out of earshot. “Nicely done, he can be quite difficult. You handled it well.”

  He shrugged. “The last matter I need confirmed is that my identity will remain anonymous. I have a family that needs to be protected.”

  Michelle nodded. “The only way a soul will know is if you fuck it up, and that’s entirely up to you.”

  “That won’t happen.”

  “Well, here’s to you, then.” She raised her coffee in salute and took a long sip, then grimaced again, having forgotten how poor it was.

  Chen smiled slightly as he stood to leave. “Make sure you have a good view, I will make the night as bright as day.”

  4

  “The first day of the WTO Conference is in the books, Garth, and traffic disruption to date has been horrendous. But I’m sure what is most concerning the Chinese Government are the large protests taking place across Shanghai. While the authorities have kept things in order for the most part, the audacity of the protests must frustrate them, given China’s reputation for strong-arm tactics. The few protesters I spoke to this morning linked the protests to separatist campaigns in Tibet and Xinjiang, rather than opposition to the WTO. In particular, the Tibetan and Uyghur protestors said the conference offered a unique opportunity to air their concerns while the eyes of the world are on Shanghai.”

  Erin Emery, News Tonight, September 3

  Chen had eagerly anticipated another ride on the Shanghai Maglev. When he’d arrived three days ago, he’d ridden the wondrous train from the airport to the city. Man’s ability to create something so remarkable—a transit system where the train rode above the track, without needing to touch the rail—amazed him. He didn’t understand the science, but was amazed nonetheless.

  With his business in Shanghai nearly concluded, he arrived at the Longyang Road metro station for the Maglev that would take him to Pudong International Airport. The station was amazing, wrapped in a large curved roof that made Chen feel like he was in a spaceship. He waited on the platform with a mix of tired-looking businessmen and tourists.

  After a few minutes, the train pulled into the station. The doors on the other side of the carriage opened and the passengers disembarked. Once the carriage was empty, the doors on Chen’s side opened and he stepped onto the train, took a seat near the door and put his backpack on the seat beside him. The train wasn’t scheduled to depart for a few minutes, so he clasped his hands and waited.

  An old woman stepped onto the carriage just as the intercom beeped, warning that the doors were about to close. She was hunched over heavily on her cane. Chen moved his bag off the seat beside him and gestured for her to sit. The old woman smiled at him warmly and sat with an audible sigh of relief. The doors of the carriage closed and the wondrous machine began to move.

  As the train gathered speed and he settled in for the seven-minute journey, Chen pulled his cell phone from his pocket and sent a quick message. It would set in motion the synchronized attacks he’d planned for Shanghai—several large bombs, a few targeted killings and a wave of cyberterrorist strikes. Half the incidents targeted the arteries that made Shanghai move, the other half aimed to disrupt the World Trade Organization conference. All were designed to inflict the maximum amount of damage.

  He smiled at the perfection of his timing, knowing he’d be out of the country before the Shanghai authorities knew the full extent of what had hit them. He’d leave a horrible, destructive wake that would have ramifications for the entire region and rock China to its very foundations. His vengeance would be complete.

  His thoughts were interrupted by an announcement that the Maglev was arriving at the airport. He checked his watch, pleased that he had a bit of time to get a snack and a drink before his flight. He moved closer to the doors and looked outside as the train slowed and the platform came up alongside. The train stopped and the doors opened.

  He was about to step off when the old woman waved at him, before coughing several times. “Your bag! Young man! Your bag!”

  Chen felt a degree of panic as he waved at the woman. “The bag isn’t mine. I’ll inform the stationmaster that somebody has left it unattended.”

  The woman smiled and placed the bag back down on the seat. Chen moved out of the way as passengers bustled past him, including the kind old woman. As he waited, he made sure that nobody removed the bag. At the last possible moment he stepped off the carriage, relieved that the bag was still in place and the train was ready to go.

  He raised his cell phone, entered a number and then waited. As the train pulled out of the station and built up speed, he marveled again at the science that made it work. Once it was out of sight he hit the green call button. He waited ten seconds to be sure and then hung up.

  He couldn’t help smiling when he heard the explosion in the distance, a muffled boom that shook the glass windows of the station. Within seconds, a plume of dark, greasy, brown smoke rose into the sky, confirmation that his strike had been successful. Without further delay, he turned around and walked to the platform exit. He opened the back of the cheap phone and took out the SIM card. He threw the phone into one trash bin and snapped the SIM card in half before dropping it into another.

  His next decision was what to eat in the terminal once he’d passed through security. He really felt like pizza.

  “A toast to my soon to be ex-wife!” Jack raised his glass.

  The patrons closest to him joined his salute to Erin as Jack laughed and drained half of the double whisky in one motion. The news break had shown the replay of a report by Erin from Shanghai. It was bad enough that she’d received the gig for the Standard, but she was also apparently
a darling with the TV guys. Thankfully, the news break was over and the network had crossed back to the baseball.

  He was just glad he hadn’t been able to hear her voice over the noise in the bar. While Clay’s staff had delivered the papers to Erin’s lawyers the day before, the news had apparently not reached her, or else she was unconcerned. She looked as fresh, happy and gorgeous as ever. He hated that, but most of all, he hated the fact that he still cared. It was another kick in the balls.

  For his part, Jack had made a formidable effort to forget the whole thing, enlisting the help of Josefa and Shane Solomon. He’d worked with Josefa for a decade, and known Shane for just as long. Jack followed the whisky with a long pull from his beer. He slumped back into his seat and looked around the table. The others stared back at him, concern evident on their faces.

  “I knew you were struggling, Jack, but this is something else.” Josefa reached out and pulled Jack’s beer away from him. “Maybe this wasn’t my best idea.”

  Shane laughed. “I bet Jack thinks it was.”

  Jack flared. “Fuck off, Shane. You left your wife to marry your secretary. I left mine because she was fucking the neighbor.”

  With his beer now out of reach, he considered ordering another from the big-breasted waitress. She was the one highlight of the bar, which was the lowest of low. The tables were scuffed by the love and care of thousands of drinkers and the carpet was stained in some places, sticky in others. He ignored the rest of the conversation at the table and turned his attention to the game. Though he wasn’t much of a baseball fan and had never watched it at home in Australia, it would do.

  He was just about to find that waitress when jeers sounded out across the bar as the game feed was cut. Jack snorted as one fan threw a beer bottle at the screen, but missed. A razor sharp news anchor appeared, doing his best to get the public up to speed on some momentous event. He looked anxious, though Jack couldn’t hear what he was saying. It was the news ticker across the bottom of the screen that told him everything: thousands dead, a city attacked and a country in chaos.