“I knew you would understand, Miss Hunter.” Beauragard tried to be gracious in victory. “I have, as always enjoyed our conversations.”
“As do I, General.” Molly agreed politely while she thought; Damn it. Damn it, Damn it.
*
“I’m sorry?” Molly had her back to the commander when she heard him say something.
“I said don’t get in my way.” He warned. The commander had escorted her down to an old admin office that now featured a bed roll and enough room for habitation. Now that they were alone it was time to set boundaries.
“Funny, I could say the same to you.” She gave a jagged smile. Molly turned back to putting a few things here and there and continued; “I can always tell when I’m doing my job. I start really getting under the skin of people like you.”
“Is that so?” He crossed his arms and dug his heals in.
“Yes, that’s so.” Molly turned around and decided to face him. Her voice was even and cool. “If my questions piss you off, I’m doing my job.”
“So, whose side are you on?” He decided hard eye contact would communicate his position.
“Our side,” She returned the look and kept her voice razor sharp.
“Which side is that?” He refused to blink.
“The side that is still breathing, commander,” Molly took a step closer and turned to point out a window toward the fence. “You see, while you and the US government have decided to have this little game. The real enemy has just surrounded us outside. “
“I do not have time to tell you how many levels of stupid that is.” She concluded.
“Lady, I’m a military man.” The commander refused to give up his ground. Something grated on his insides. Was it agreement? “I follow orders and get things done.”
“You do, do you?” Molly’s mouth worked into an upward arch. For a chill of a second it reminded the commander of the thirteen year old girl at the gate. “So tell me, where is the fine line?”
“The fine line?” He kept his voice low and arched an eyebrow.
“The fine line between protecting freedom or curtailing freedom?” Molly seemed to be eager to hear the answer. “Tell me where that fine line is.”
“Don’t you dare dictate to me about freedom!” He raised his voice suddenly, surprised at his own anger. She barely reacted. Instead, Molly stood her ground and crossed her arms, waiting for an answer. “I’ve fought for freedom!”
“Are you sure?”
Why the hell are you even listening to this crap? He wanted to scream at her, let his feelings out and be done with her. Post a guard at her door and let this reporter rot in hell for the rest of the mission. But Kentucky rain kept washing away his will, Kentucky rain and an order to terminate with extreme prejudice. Did she know about the order? Damn it, God damn it.
“What about you?” He tried a different tact after letting out a long sigh. “You reporter people always get it right, do you?”
“No we don’t.” Molly gave ground. “In fact some of us twist the truth pretty badly.”
“Glad to hear someone on your side admit it.” He felt a sarcastic smile invade his face. He tried to control it but it felt too good.
“I do, we can be the worst.” Molly admitted and made sure that their eyes locked. “Trouble is, on my side there are many people who don’t have a problem with it.”
“That explains a few things.”
“Me?” Molly smiled at his jab and continued; “I believe my job is to have a healthy adversarial relationship with the military and the authorities.”
“Really, why is that?” The commander was feeling the calm after his temper storm. He wasn’t a television person but he had heard of her.
“Because whenever we agree on everything, bad things happen.” Molly summed it up with an intelligent look and a disarming smile.
*
“Gentlemen, I want all available personal from your units to search every inch of this compound.” Beauragard’s voice was stern, in command. “Is that clear?”
“Yes General.”
“Yes sir.”
“Don’t be afraid to let Miss Hunter wander around, either. The lady is quite a bloodhound. If something is out of place, she’ll find it.” The General advised. “Just make sure you keep an eye on her,”
“Begging your pardon, sir,” The corporal from the assault raised a question. “Perhaps it might help if the General could tell us what we’re looking for.”
“Gold, son.......”
*
I couldn’t have done it without you. She thought, as she slipped off the six inch Zanotti’s. That click-clack sound they make when hitting the floor was an adrenaline charging, confidence building rush. A few strides anywhere made Molly feel unstoppable. Her body just fell into the rhythm, the steps became longer. The sound was a warning to anyone in her way. Like any short term empowerment, it had its limitations. Molly fished around in her Louis Vuitton to put her hiking shoes back on. The Merrell Moab ventilator shoes felt like big blankets around her feet.
Yes, men who don’t get women don’t understand the shoe thing. Molly wiggled her toes and tried to decide what was next. It’s all about the shoes. She stood up and let her feet explore the new support from the Merrell Moabs. I could walk all day in a pair of these.
But when it came to kicking an entire army’s ass, nothing beat a pair of six inch Zanotti’s. Molly was up and looking for information. She thought a walk around might clear her mind.
*
The commander couldn’t stop the words from working themselves around inside. Are you sure? She asked me that, she really asked me that. Damn it. The hallway was way too short for his thoughts. He had arrived at the infirmary way before he had finished wringing out his emotions. He sighed and slipped into the room quietly.
Hodges was lying on his side with a blanket draped over his form. He was breathing softly, the slow rise and fall of shoulders signifying a healthy slumber. He looked okay. There was no need to wake him.
Ubaid was lying on her stomach, the bandages seemed darkened in spots but not as bad as he had recalled. The commander felt a tinge of embarrassment, her back was naked, she had been given one of those ridiculous hospital smocks that seemed to cover nothing and fall open at the slightest provocation. The commander silently walked through the room toward a half open door that looked like an office. There was a nurse, he had heard. It might be a good time to drop in.
Sunlight from one of those siege castle windows offered some illumination. Just enough to watch the particles of dust play around in the air. They were like swirling fireflies in the ray of light. The desk was old school, from the fifties at least. A few files were stacked to one side beside an ash tray. He examined it closer, a few butts lay curled up inside the black interior. It occurred to the commander that he hadn’t seen an ashtray in years. They had just simply disappeared with the passing of a few health laws. It was like looking at something from a museum, archaic trappings of time long since passed.
There was a noise from the other room. Clumsy feet had just made contact with a metal table leg.
“Fuck.” Someone whispered, more out of exasperation than injury. It was Birk. He was sure of it.
“Hey,” Birk whispered. “Sorry man, I was just popping over to check on things.”
“No problem.” Hodges replied with a gravel whisper.
“I found one of these.” Birk even made noise while rummaging in a backpack.
“That is the smallest damn whisky bottle I have ever seen in my life. “ Hodges had a laugh in his voice.
“It’s all yours, partner.” Birk kept his voice low, Ubaid was still sleeping.
“I owe you, man.”
“No problem,” There was a pause. “I gotta check on our other patient.”
The commander moved to the door in time to see Hodge roll over and try to go back to sleep with his back to the rest of the room. Birk seemed to pause for a minute and remember what he was supposed to do
next. The commander watched with suspicious eyes,
There was always that mental checklist he would run down with every single order. Ubaid was coming up for promotion. How would the boy from the south handle taking orders from her? He felt himself prepare to storm into the room at the slightest sign of disrespect. Should you do that? No, let her handle it. He noticed Ubaid’s head slowly turn to one side and exhale slowly. Birk knelt beside her and placed a hand on her naked shoulder,
The commander felt his eyes grow intense. Don’t you dare, son.
Birk kissed Ubaid on the neck, the commander felt his rage well up inside him.
“Mmmmmmmm.....” The sensual growl escaped Dacia Ubaid’s mouth.
“Hey, how you doing?” Birk’s dog like staccato voice was gentle now.
“I’m better.” Her voice was softer now. The precision of her words seemed lost in suppleness of the moment. “I’m better now that your here.”
She turned her head and kissed him on the mouth. It was a hard, long kiss. There was no noise and their lips parted. Dacia reached out and caressed his face. The commander suddenly felt ashamed, dirty for spying on them. For a moment, he stepped back from the shadows and coughed. It was so childish and silly. He couldn’t let them know he was watching.
He walked through the door a few seconds later into the room. Damn, it was just like being back in high school.
“Sir.” Birk stood up, straight as a geometric equation, his faced was flushed slightly.
“Commander, sir.” Ubaid looked up and tried to prop herself up on her elbows.
“Please, as you were,” The commander nodded to Birk and then turned to Ubaid. “How are you feeling, Sergeant?”
“I feel better.” The precision in her voice was back. It occurred to him that he knew so little about this person. He felt arcane, old and out of touch.
“Well, keep getting better.” He tried to smile kindly and still felt the moment was almost embarrassing. He tried to take a different tact. “How you feeling, Hodges?”
“Good, sir.” The man had been pretending to be asleep. He slowly began to roll over but the commander waved him off. Clearly, he knew about all of this. It had been going on right under his nose.
“Just get some rest, okay?” The commander advised.
“Yes sir,” Hodge smiled and nodded with the whisky on his mind.
“Birk?”
“Yes sir,” The dog bark voice seemed unsure.
“I need you to hang around here a little more, okay?” He had a hard time making eye contact with him. “I think our nurse seems to be elsewhere.”
“Yes sir,” Birk replied and then added. “It’s a big place, I think she wanders.”
“Okay, just make sure you take care of my people.” He finally found the courage to look at him. Yes, he was okay with this. The Alabama boy and his soon to be Lieutenant, emotions and check lists made strange bedfellows.
*
For a second, it looked like an optical illusion. As her hiking shoes padded down the hallway it became clear. It was a sliver of darkness, a crescent that shouldn’t have been there. It circled the massive entrance almost perfectly from top to bottom. Molly felt her curiosity begin to pique as she took a wary look around for other eyes that might be watching.
The door to the vault, it was ever so slightly open........
Molly found herself breathing slowly as she slipped up the stairs to the second floor and approached the massive oval entrance. It was slightly ajar. There was a moment where she almost paused in her slow and quiet walk. It just felt strange, wrong and out of place. Like a trap, a big piece of cheese beckoning the mouse.
Her hands touched the surface. There was a finite layer of dust on the silver steel skin. Her first push was just a test. It barely moved. Then, when she pushed a little harder with both hands there was motion. It was amazing how something so heavy could swing open with ease. Molly just wanted it open enough to slide in. No sense making this any more obvious to anyone passing by.
The room took her breath away for a second. A full two stories high, as deep as it was wide. She slowly walked down the first set of stairs that she could find. There was an elevator nearby that looked more than capable of hauling heavy loads. Her feet touched the concrete and she began an almost dream like walk along the floor. The gurneys were here and there scattered about like shopping carts in a grocery store parking lot. There were steel jail bars that extended from floor to ceiling on her right side while the left was nothing but double reinforced concrete. There was a feeling of infinity about the room, like it was larger on the inside than the entire complex. Her eyes looked up to ceiling with more than a touch of wonder as the hanging lights paid witness to the lone visitor. Molly could not help but feel like the first person who had been here in a long time. The immensity of the space felt larger by the minute. It felt like being in a tomb of a lost civilization.
It was empty.
“I had heard you were here.” It was a man’s voice. It had more than a touch of an intellectual northeastern accent. His voice could echo through the halls of Princeton and Harvard confidently. He stepped out of a corner with a disarming smile and a slight frame. His blue eyes glittered like Caribbean water behind a pair of wire rimmed glasses. There were a few wisps of blonde hair hanging down from his mostly bald head. They were like bangs, trying to hide the lines of time on his forehead.
“I know you.” Molly’s dreamlike state continued, she pointed at him and tried to remember the face.
“Nelson Anson Bryant.” He extended his hand and Molly took it. His fingers felt frail like a Japanese origami creation. “It’s good to see you again.”
“You’re the secretary of the treasury.” Molly heard herself say.
“I was.” Bryant nodded his head and suddenly his smile took on a mood of sadness.
“Where is all the gold?” Molly leaned a little closer.
“It’s not here, Molly.” Bryant’s voice had a sense of finality to it. “Not anymore.”
“Then where is it?” She focused the question on his glittering, intelligent eyes.
“That would take some explaining.” He walked over to the stairs and seated himself on the third step up. “Do you have some time to hear an old man’s story?”
“For you, I’ve got all day.” Molly rolled one of the trolleys over and reclined into it like it was pool side chair. She crossed her legs, a signal that she was ready to listen.
“Well,” He paused for a second, trying to find a starting point. “Do you remember what the FIAT system is when it comes to international currencies?”
“Sorry,” Molly went for a disarming apology with a smile and big brown eyes. “It’s been a few years since our last talk.”
“Of course,” he smiled, she remembered him as patient, charming and straight forward. For a minute, Molly marveled at an era that had raised gentlemen like these. He continued: “The FIAT system bases the worth of a nation’s currencies on the confidence people have in the money.”
“That’s it?” Molly had to arch an eyebrow at that one.
“The confidence in the money reflects the confidence people have in our country. The power of its industrial base, the ability of the people to pay taxes which fills the treasuries, the stability of the government.” His pace was slow, calm and conversational.
“Not gold?”
“No,” He calmly answered her question. “The FIAT system is not linked to any physical reserves, just confidence.”
“Is that why we had a currency crisis when the world went to hell?” Molly was catching up and keeping pace. She was starting to grasp the concept.
“Absolutely,” He nodded slowly. “But in that first year, do you think anyone really worried about money?”
“No,” Molly’s voice was a whisper now. It came back like a slow wave rolling into the room. The panic, always the panic was the first thing she remembered. Molly had so many days where she didn’t go home, an office and a few coats for blanket
s was her bed. She would catch a few hours sleep and be back in front of the cameras. Looking at maps and charts was like watching wildfires break out all over the country, it was overwhelming. It felt like we were just hanging on, losing our grip slowly and succumbing to the force of a nightmare.
“Five years ago, eighty per cent of our industry was in cities that we had to abandon.” He read her facial expression very well. “Over half of our population had died. The rest were refugees on the move.”
“All confidence was gone, everywhere.” His tone was somber, even through this his eyes sparkled like electric water. “Not just in our country, everywhere.”
“Hence,” He concluded. “So many currencies collapsed, including ours.”
“So we went back to the gold exchange.” Molly surmised.
“Exactly,” He nodded with a half-smile. “It was the only thing we could do to stabilize our currencies.”
“So where is the gold?” Molly had to ask, jumping to the chase.
“This is where it gets a bit complicated.............”
*
The commander watched them at the fence. His curiosity became aroused with a sense of survival. A pack of them on their hands and knees with more watching from afar, then, with that slow shuffle they joined in.
“Hojo.” The commander fingered his sidearm and began to walk toward the fence. “You’re with me.”
“Yes sir.”
They seemed bent over in prayer, pressed up against the wired mesh. As the commander got closer he saw the furious, untiring motion of their hands into the rain soaked earth. They inhaled and exhaled through tattered lungs. It was a collective noise they made, half wheezing, hissing and growling. Their hands clawed at the earth. A few looked up and howled at him in defiance and hunger. Hands slammed into the chain link only to be repelled and then repelled again. A few stepped back after attempting to break through several times. The commander tried to avoid their eyes but found himself finally drawn to a few tattered faces. He felt his attention was pulled to them like a tide follows the route of the sea. Their eyes watched him like an animal standing its ground. The hands looked like claws at their sides. Slowly, they tore their gaze away from him and knelt down in front of the fence.
5 Years After (Book 2.5): Smoke & Mirrors Page 7
