[Jack Emery 01.0] The Foundation

by Steve P Vincent

  The guard took his feet off the desk, rummaged around in a drawer on the reception desk and held out a meaty hand clenching two identity tags. “You’ll need to put these on your jackets, gentlemen.”

  Ernest looked at the tags, then down at his suit jacket, appalled at the idea of a pinhole in his five-thousand-dollar suit. He raised an eyebrow at the guard, who didn’t seem to recognize that he was talking to Forbes’ fifteenth richest man.

  “No tag, no entry, sir.” The guard shrugged. “I don’t make the rules.”

  “Fucking hell. Peter, give me your jacket.”

  Peter frowned.

  Ernest slid off his jacket. “I saw that look, stop whining, I’ll buy you a new one.”

  In most circles Peter would be considered well dressed, but their suits couldn’t be compared and Ernest was in no mood to haggle. After a short pause, Peter undid the button on his jacket and gave it to Ernest. Ernest slid the jacket over his shoulders and clipped on the security pass. The jacket fit well enough and he handed his own to Peter.

  “Wait here.”

  The guard waved Ernest through and after a short walk down the hall, he found Sandra’s room. He peered in through the small circular window on the door before he entered. She was seated near the room’s largest window, which gave a good view into the garden. He opened the door as quietly as he could to avoid disturbing her, but as usual it didn’t work.

  “Good morning, Ernest.” Her voice was cool. “Nice of you to fit me into your schedule. I haven’t seen this little of you since our honeymoon.”

  He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek, but backed off when she pulled away. “Sorry, it’s been a frantic week.”

  She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Though when you didn’t visit right away the staff were a bit worried I might get sad and end myself. I couldn’t stop laughing.”

  The couple of days in hospital had clearly ticked her off. She still looked beautiful though, even in her pajamas. Peter had done some digging about her incident. Sandra had harassed a couple at a charity function, but the couple had laughed it off as stress. Though no harm was done, it was a concern. Ernest felt guilty that it had taken so long to get here, but he had other responsibilities. She knew that.

  He gestured for her to move over on the sofa and sat next to her. He placed a hand on her leg and she placed her hand on top of his. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Ernest exhaled deeply and tried to relax. It felt like the first moment he’d been off the clock in weeks. He closed his eyes, and she cuddled in to him. It was as close to perfect as he could remember.

  He thought about their marriage. He’d courted her, briefly, but in reality Ernest was sure that Sandra had targeted him. He didn’t mind, he loved her and she was an impressive woman in her own right. When Sandra had arrived on the scene, she’d been an enigma. An intelligent Chinese beauty who was completely opposite to his previous wives. This fact hadn’t stopped the two of them being regulars in the trash magazine society pages, and Sandra had found herself compelled to quit her legal career because of the publicity. He’d considered trying to have a child with her, to add to the adult daughter he already had, but at his age he’d decided against it.

  “I’m glad you’re here.” She lay down in his lap. He struggled to think of a more serene moment they’d spent together in the past few months.

  “Sandra? What can I do to help?”

  “Short of staying here with me?” She laughed sadly. “I want all of it to go away. The hacking, the inquiries, the attacks in Shanghai. I can’t handle it all.”

  He smiled down at her, though she couldn’t see his face. “I’m working on the first two. The hacking has stopped and I’m doing my best with the inquiries. It’s bleak.”

  “Okay.”

  “As for the terrorist attacks, I can’t do much about them, Sandra. I lost some people over there, and a few more are injured.”

  He felt her tense up. “I’m worried, Ernest. Please be fair in reporting it. We don’t need your usual henchmen stoking the flames of war.”

  Ernest frowned. She knew his business and what made it profitable as much as he did. “What happens next is up to the Chinese, Sandra.”

  Michelle sighed as the car sped along the quiet road. She was seated in the passenger seat next to her driver, Mr Liu, on the way to a small private airport in the middle of nowhere. They’d left Shanghai in the afternoon. Now, hours into the drive, Michelle just wanted to get on the plane and close her eyes. That was still a few hours away though.

  She was mad at Anton for his betrayal of Chen, but madder yet at his ability to get out of the country from a normal airport—he’d managed to get a commercial flight, but it was Foundation procedure not to have two leaders on the one plane. By the time her flight had come around, it had been canceled. Now she had to fly out of a dustbowl airport. The only consolation was that Chen’s family should have been extracted by now, though it would anger Anton and probably cause her problems down the track.

  Mr Liu, who’d been silent for the whole drive, suddenly cursed under his breath in Mandarin. She knew enough of the language to recognize he’d said something about sons of whores. The car headlights picked out a drab sedan parked across the road and blocking it. She feared that this surprise was not a good one. As their car drew closer, she could see two men in Chinese military uniforms leaning against the sedan. While they seemed casual, talking and smoking, she felt threatened.

  “Want me to turn around?” Liu spoke calmly in English.

  Michelle swallowed hard. “I don’t think that’d be the stealthy way to handle this.”

  He shrugged and kept driving. Spotting the car, one of the soldiers stood up straight and sauntered into the middle of the road. He held up his hand with the palm facing outward and blew a small whistle. Liu stopped the car a few yards away from the impromptu checkpoint. He killed the engine but left the headlights on. Liu was experienced in dealing with Chinese authorities, including in less than official ways, so she could do little except hope that he was worth what the Foundation was paying him.

  The man who’d stopped their car seemed fresh-faced. He was probably newly minted from the recruit factory. She felt her heart beat faster as the young soldier approached the car on the driver’s side. Behind him, the older soldier unbuckled the holster on the belt under his paunch. She regretted not having a weapon of her own, but it was too much of a risk to carry a firearm in the circumstances. Her cover wouldn’t hold up under too much scrutiny.

  The younger soldier tapped on the window and Liu wound it down. Michelle sat, powerless as they exchanged pleasantries in Mandarin. She knew it would take a few moments of skirting the issue before the two Chinese men reached the point. She followed along with parts of the conversation. The soldier eventually said something about the regional airport being closed, and having to search the car. Liu scoffed and threatened to involve the Party if the soldier didn’t move immediately.

  Without warning, the man pushed his head inside the car and started shouting. Michelle had been the beneficiary of enough combat and survival training to know the signs of danger. She unbuckled her belt as carefully as she could as the soldier started pointing at her, to which Liu shouted back and slapped his hand away. Michelle lost the thread of the exchange as the two men shouted too quickly for her to follow.

  With no gun and no other weapon, flight was looking like her only option. She reached for the door handle as the soldier shouted at Liu to freeze. As the first gunshot cannoned in her ear, she pulled on the handle and leaped from the car. She ran as fast as she could toward the darkness. She had no idea where she was, or where she was going, but she had to get away from the car and the soldiers.

  Liu was probably dead and she had no way to protect herself. She had to keep moving. She ran into the scrub on the side of the road, but there was nowhere obvious to hide. Distance and darkness were her only friends, but after another few steps she stumbled and fell, hitting her head on the ground. Before sh
e could rise, a fierce blow to her midsection drove the air out of her.

  “Don’t move.” A voice said in broken English. It was different to the young soldier’s. It had to be the older one. “This does not need to be painful.”

  Michelle closed her eyes as a pistol barrel was pressed against the back of her head. This was it. After all that she had achieved, it was going to end on the roadside in the dark in the middle of the Chinese countryside. Nobody would know about her death, or mourn her. She didn’t know what to do, but she wouldn’t beg. There was no point. This was an orchestrated hit—Liu was already dead, and she was about to be.

  She did not look at him. “Get it over with, you fuck!”

  He laughed, then the world exploded with a bang as loud as two asteroids colliding.

  She lifted her hands to her ringing ears and felt something wet on her left cheek. Blood. And something that felt like marshmallow—a small piece of the soldier’s brain.

  She opened her eyes and turned around, confused. Liu was standing over her and the body of the old Chinese soldier, a flashlight in one hand and a pistol in the other. He crouched down and wrapped one arm awkwardly around her.

  “How?” Her voice wavered only slightly. “How did you survive?”

  Liu shrugged, barely visible in the torchlight. He lifted his shirt and she saw Kevlar.

  “Well, thanks. Are you okay?”

  “A few ribs will be broken, but nothing too bad.”

  Michelle shivered and huddled into him. “Why would they attack us?”

  “Money. The young one said he’d let us live if we gave him more than he had been given to kill us. I gave him a bullet.”

  Michelle’s eyes widened. “It was a hit? Ordered by who?”

  Liu said nothing. His silence was damning. He knew as well as she did that there was only one other person in China who knew who she was and the significance of the Foundation. Only one who’d known where she would be. Liu had foiled that plan, because of his paranoia and a Kevlar vest. She stumbled to her feet and they walked back to the car in silence.

  She didn’t say anything as he started the car and resumed their drive to the airport. Only then did Michelle dare to breathe evenly, despite both of them being covered in blood and the car smelling like gun smoke. She’d survived. It made her more determined to get back to the States. Anton had betrayed Chen and now he’d betrayed her. He was tying up all loose ends.

  There was only one thing that could be done.

  She had to kill Anton.

  6

  Taiwan has rejected allegations by China that it is responsible for the terrorist attacks on Shanghai, despite evidence produced by China that suggests Taiwan is linked to the attacks. The crisis appears no closer to cooling down, with reports of dangerous maneuvers of military aircraft by both nations. As China continues its forceful rhetoric, Taiwan has called for international condemnation to pressure China to stop any further aggressive military posturing. As tensions in the region grow, the US Secretary of State has called for calm, a plea mirrored by Japan, South Korea and other regional powers.

  Kelly Vacaro, Al Jazeera, September 5

  As the Narita Express pulled into Tokyo Central Station, Jack’s head hurt so badly from the hangover that he could barely remember the code to the luggage lock. He entered the combination and was relieved when it opened with a small click. He wrestled with his case—a small Samsonite that contained his hastily packed clothes and personal items—and got ready to disembark.

  Since Celeste’s phone call informing him of Erin’s death, he’d given up on his attempts to get a flight to China. He’d made some calls, and the Chinese weren’t going to release her body until the investigations concerning the attack were completed. He’d also spent some time getting to the bottom of a few bottles of liquor, which he was now paying the price for.

  He’d faced a choice: return to the States right away, or home to Australia, but he liked the idea of a few days’ rest in Tokyo. The train came to a stop and the doors opened, and he stepped off the train, inhaling deeply. Given the hour, he was surprised at the large number of people milling about, getting on and off. If this was Tokyo before dawn, he didn’t look forward to the peak-hour rush.

  He stood on the platform. He knew the name of his hotel and where it was on a map, but that was no help. The walls were covered in arrows and Japanese characters. Helpfully, these were accompanied by English translations underneath, though they may as well have been written in Latin—none of the locations sounded right. With no help in sight, Jack picked a direction and walked. Eventually he found a booth with a big blue I and went inside. Behind the desk sat a friendly looking Japan Rail staff member.

  Jack tried his patchy Japanese on for size. “Konichi wa.”

  The Japan Rail employee smiled. “Konichi wa, sir, good morning.”

  “Ah. You speak English?” Jack wrestled his case alongside him and placed his satchel on the counter.

  “A little, sir. Can I help?”

  Jack smoothed the crumpled map out onto the counter. “I’m looking for the Mercure Hotel in Ginza, but I can’t find the right exit.”

  “First time in Japan, sir?” The man looked down at Jack’s map.

  “Sure is.”

  After a few seconds he looked up and pointed in the direction Jack had just come. “That way. Head outside and find Chuo-dori. Then it’s straight ahead.”

  Jack was dubious, but felt too embarrassed to ask for more assistance. He expressed his thanks, gathered his things and left the little booth. Once he’d emerged from the station, he looked up and saw the street sign he needed. Smiling with relief, he started walking. He’d traveled less than a block when his cell phone rang. Jack stopped and fumbled around his pockets to find it. He looked down at the display and saw it was Josefa Tokaloka calling. He hurried to answer before Jo hung up.

  “Hi, Jo.”

  “Hi, Jack.” Jo paused. “I’m sorry again about Erin.”

  Jack sighed. “Thanks.”

  “No luck getting to Shanghai?”

  “No. And there’s no point now anyway, if they’re not releasing her body until the investigations are complete. I’ve decided to rest a few days in Tokyo then head home.”

  “I’m here for you, Jack. Whatever you need.”

  Jack knew that Jo was genuine. He was one of the few people who’d stuck by him, more or less, in the last few months, when most had obviously considered it too hard. Erin’s death just made it all the worse. For some reason, he found himself thinking of Afghanistan. Things had been simpler then. Embedded with a unit in the Green Zone for two years, he’d met some great people and seen plenty. Hell, the worst thing he’d seen had won him a Pulitzer, though he’d agonized for weeks about filing that story.

  “I want to get back to work, Jo.” Jack was surprised that he’d blurted it out before he’d had a chance to think about it. “Is there anything I can do? It’s either that or drink.”

  “No, Jack.” Jo’s voice was firm. “You only found out about Erin yesterday, work is the last thing you need. You need time to heal.”

  “That’s not what I want. I’ve had too much time to myself in the last few months. It’s part of the reason things are so shitty at the moment. I want to work. Give me anything.”

  Jo paused again and then sighed. “Well, you being in Japan is opportune.”

  “Name it.”

  “It’s against my better judgment, but if you’re determined to get back to work, the Navy is deploying the USS George Washington battle group out of Yokosuka late tomorrow. They want a few embeds and you’re my most experienced option. It’s yours if you want it, but I’d prefer you didn’t.”

  Jack smiled. It sounded perfect. Onboard the carrier, he’d travel where he was told, sleep where he was told, eat when and what he was told, and focus on work. Better, given the ship was sailing into a potential conflict zone, there was half a chance it could be a dry environment. He’d have a much easier time staying off t
he booze.

  “They’re sending a carrier to China? That’s a real bright idea.”

  Josefa laughed. “Just flying the flag, I guess. Warn China off being stupid.”

  “That sounds pretty stupid to me, but I’m on it.”

  “Okay. I should let you know, though, Celeste is in Japan and she’ll be joining you.”

  Jack paused for a second, unsure what to say. His recent history with Celeste hadn’t exactly been great. “I’d rather do it alone. I’m surprised she’s even up to it.”

  “You can talk.” Jo paused. “She’s okay. The doctors have cleared her and she’s refusing to come back to the States. She wants to keep busy. There are worse places she could be than next to you. Honestly, I think she feels a bit guilty about Erin, so tread carefully.”

  “You’re not going to let me work if I don’t agree?”

  “Nope.”

  Jack sighed. “I’ll call you from the train.”

  He ended the call. While he was glad he didn’t have to navigate his way to the hotel, he now had to find his way back in to the station, find the ticket counter and get to Yokosuka. Still, the job gave him something to keep him occupied, which was the main thing.

  And if it got him a little bit closer to Shanghai, so much the better.

  As usual, Ernest had arrived for the meeting of the EMCorp board earlier than necessary; he liked to have time to get into his groove, sip his coffee and wait. As others entered the room, he’d size them up from a position of strength, considering any advantages or disadvantages. He would plot.

  Not today.

  Today the room closed in around him, suffocating. He felt exhausted and vulnerable, tired and beaten. This was usually his arena, where he fought his greatest foes. More often than not he’d subjugate them and emerge victorious. Today though, he felt like a Roman slave, given a sword and told to go fight a lion.