by SY Thompson
Ronan kept an eye on her while Sidney slipped her gown over her head. Sidney felt her watching and hoped she liked what she saw. She’d chosen to wear a shimmering turquoise blue gown with spaghetti straps that fell to just above her knees. She completed the ensemble with spiked, four-inch heels, hose, and expensive pearl earrings. Light makeup and a touch of perfume, and she was ready to go. She turned to look at Ronan and caught the heady look of desire on her face.
“Later,” she promised with a wink and then pulled on a heavy fur coat just as someone knocked on the door.
In the limousine, Sidney sat on one side of Abrams and Ronan the other. She thought it was a good idea that he was between them or she would probably be straddling Ronan’s lap about now performing some very unseemly acts in public.
Ronan was a beautiful woman regardless of what she wore, but today she was breathtaking. She’d pulled her hair up into a French twist that showed the long, elegant line of her neck and the diamond earrings only served to enhance the vision. Although Ronan wore a black pantsuit, it was formally cut with wide satin lapels and the shirt underneath was stark white with ruffles fringed in scarlet. A simple, yet exquisitely cut black overcoat belted at her narrow waist. Honestly, if the woman insisted on looking this good how could Sidney possibly be expected to focus on their task at hand?
“I’ve got a bottle of Dom Perinon for after the ceremony,” Abrams promised with a smile and patted Sidney on the hand.
“What about for now?” she asked dryly. “I could sure use something to cool off.”
He apparently mistook the comment as a reference to what was about to happen and sought to reassure her. “Don’t worry, everything will work out.”
Sidney only snorted in response and stared out at the passing landscape.
RONAN WAS LOST in thought about the upcoming day. She kept going over every possible outcome and few of them were optimistic. Over the last few days, she’d made preparations without Sidney learning the finer details. Surveying the street in front of the Capitol building where the ceremony was to take place, she’d determined that there was nowhere optimal to set off the jammer. Contemporary technology wasn’t like futuristic equipment. A simple EM pulse wouldn’t work for interrupting the signal projected by the cloaking devices. That’s why she still wasn’t sure of the transmitter.
As an underwriter of Professor Horton’s work, she knew much of his technological advances operated through the use of nanobots, microscopic machines with the code embedded. They carried out multiple tasks all at once and weren’t susceptible to standard methods of interruption. Based on what she knew, Ronan engineered the jammer to work at the quantum level. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t work from a distance of more than thirty feet and she’d have to be less than five feet away to remotely activate the transmitter. Secret Service agents would incapacitate or shoot anyone who tried to move in so closely and they’d no doubt be covering the area. Ronan had no choice but to make an extremely risky move.
The previous night, Ronan slipped out to set her plan in motion and then returned to their room while Sidney slept. Ronan wouldn’t tell her until all of this was over that she’d left their room to plant a transmitter under the mesh cover of the microphone that would be used for the ceremony.
Electrical crews had started work in the early morning hours to set up speakers, microphones, and cameras in key places for the scheduled one o’clock inauguration. Ronan had anticipated their activities and arrived just as they finished their duties. A security team would go over the area very thoroughly before the politicians arrived, searching for weapons or anything that didn’t belong. The mechanism she’d planted in the mesh was made of a synthetic poly-resin blend, and would be undetectable to the scanning devices of the present day.
A blast shield rested a safe distance in front of the presidential nominee and party to protect them in the case of a gunman in the crowd or sniper from a nearby street. Unfortunately, there were few security precautions in place for someone who might attack from within the political party itself. To that end, Ronan had secreted a remote in her pocket. It too was made of an undetectable material, but she would have to remove it from her trousers in order to use it. She would have to move quickly and hope the press of bodies on the platform would prevent anyone from spotting her.
Soon, they pulled up in front of the Capitol amidst a throng of reporters, thrill seekers, and sightseers. Ronan, always uncomfortable in a crowd, clung gratefully to the arm that Abrams graciously offered her and Sidney. Bulbs flashed and microphones appeared in their faces as rapid-fire questions hurtled toward them, not just about the inauguration, but because Sidney was recognized. Many had assumed she died in the plane crash and were understandably curious.
“I’ll be glad to comment on Ms. Weaver’s timely rescue after we conclude the inaugural address,” Abrams remarked with a friendly smile, dutifully ignoring all other questions as the trio mounted the steps of the historical building.
People milled around while they waited for the president-elect and contingent to arrive. Ronan felt like she was going to chew her fingernails down to the nub. The remote felt like it weighed a ton as it pressed against her leg, but she knew it was too small for the casual observer to see. She only prayed that the signal choice she’d programmed in was one necessary to reveal in seconds all of the Black Guard impersonators who might be on stage.
Ronan almost chuckled at the archaic microphones in their ears that were state of the art equipment in this century. For a moment, she could almost believe she was viewing an old holo-vid. She frowned as she realized that holo-vids were something she might never see again. Even with all of its problems, there were certain things she would miss from her own century. A husky laugh drew her attention and her eyes glittered as she realized there were definitely other things that more than compensated for that loss.
Everything finally in place, Sidney stepped up near the rest of the inaugural committee while David Abrams stepped up to the podium. Tradition dictated that the vice president be sworn in first and Ronan wondered if her nerves would be able to handle the delay. Warily, she worked her way into the middle of the crowd down front and hoped the people would conceal her presence.
The chief justice of the United States walked slowly up the steps and the crowd came to an expectant hush. Flashes went off, cameras rolled while below the steps hundreds of Americans and well-wishers watched the proceedings with a sense of pride. A few dissenters were also present and held signs of protest that their own candidate had lost, but even they were silent as they witnessed the historical moment.
So that’s Barnhart.
From what she had overheard, he was the true ringleader and Angstrom reported to him. In this slightly chubby, seventyish body, no one would have pegged him as a time traveling fascist threat.
Chief Justice Barnhart held out a Bible and requested that Abrams place his left hand on it and raise his right. Abrams readily repeated the oath of office in a dignified voice while Ronan watched. She felt as though she was in a fog and knew it was terror at what would follow next that caused the sensation. At the conclusion of the oath, applause thundered and died away reluctantly as the new vice president began his acceptance speech.
“My fellow countrymen, on this occasion the oath I have taken before you and before God is not mine alone, but ours together. We are one nation and one people. Our fate as a nation and our future as a people do not rest upon one citizen, but upon all citizens.”
The well-spoken man continued for several long minutes, until Ronan detected the speech was about to end. Her hands shook, her body tensed and her eyes fixed on Sidney, standing proudly next to the vice president. She needed the strength she took from watching her beloved.
“For myself, I ask only in the words of an ancient leader: give me now wisdom and knowledge that I may go out and come in before this people. For who can judge this, thy people, that is so great?”
The resounding cheers at the end seemed to wa
ke Ronan up a little, especially when President-elect Vince Angstrom took his place at the podium. He appeared dignified and proud to take the oath, but she knew the imposter had his own agenda.
Angstrom eagerly placed his hand on the Bible and for a moment, Ronan expected him to recoil in pain at what she considered the epitome of blasphemy. Then he began his own oath, which he quickly concluded. In fact, he seemed eager to get on with the proceedings rather than address his constituents. Justice Barnhart remained at his side when the impersonator began his own acceptance speech.
Ronan had seen the man cast a glance between her and Sidney. His expression seemed curious, but unconcerned and Ronan wondered if this doppelganger even knew what the actress, Sidney Weaver, looked like. Chances were that if he did, he wouldn’t be so relaxed as he began his gracious acceptance as the leader of the American people. It was more likely that he had ordered her assassination sight unseen.
“I ask you today to share with me the majesty of this moment. In the orderly transfer of power, we celebrate the unity that keeps us free.”
The time travelling detective found it ironic that he would talk about a “transfer of power” and “freedom” in the same sentence. The words rekindled the sense of outrage she had first experienced when she learned of the Konservative government’s infiltration scheme. Ordinarily she would have been more than happy to accept visitors from her own century, but these weren’t benevolent travelers. They were parasites that planned to take over the government by means of subterfuge and would eventually subjugate the people and destroy the environment. She’d seen it firsthand, the grey mist that hung over her beloved Berlin, enshrouding it like a burial covering until she could barely see the sun through the fog of pollution.
Her ire helped clear the last tendrils of mist from her mind and with a heightened sense of reality, she watched Sidney take hold of Abrams’s arm. The speech ended and the duo stepped forward to stand next to the new president. Abrams stepped up to the microphone to address the American public.
“I would like to take this opportunity to announce another historical moment. As many of you know, Sidney Weaver and her pilot disappeared over the Florida Everglades several weeks ago.
Everyone thought both of them died in the crash. As you can see, that is clearly not the case and I invite you to join with me now in welcoming her back into our embrace.”
The eloquently spoken words, although touching, should have been a rather commonplace welcome to a public figure that had survived a plane crash, but Angstrom didn’t react that way. His eyes widened in sudden surprise and he jerked slightly. Ronan wondered if he’d started to bolt from the stage. He stopped at the last moment, tried to appear relaxed and gracious. He probably realized Sidney couldn’t exactly accuse the newly elected president of the United States of attempting to kill her, especially without any proof.
Sidney’s eyes traversed the crowd and their gazes met and locked. For just a second, she looked quite pleased with how things were going. Then again, she thought Ronan was going to set off the transmitter from the safety of the throng and the entire world would witness the transformation of the imposters. That was the plan, anyway. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the reality. She must have seen something of the truth in Ronan’s eyes. Her smile faded and a slight frown took up residence on her expression.
David nudged her gently and Ronan watched Sidney take a deep breath. Then she spoke into the microphone. “Thank you, for all of your well-wishes. As you can see, thanks to her skills, my pilot and I are very much alive. I’d like to say that it’s amazing what can happen to you when you least expect it. We lived through an amazing adventure, and I’m happy to be home.”
Ronan took a few steps forward and three Secret Service agents took notice of her presence. They started toward her and Ronan felt nervous sweat break out over her skin. If they detained her before she could get close enough to trigger the transmitter, it would be over. Sidney must have caught on too, improvising quite impressively.
“This,” she said, extending a hand toward Ronan, “is my pilot. I wouldn’t be here without her.”
The agents stopped and looked around, clearly not completely reassured that Ronan was harmless but willing to go along with things for now.
The onlookers started clapping and Ronan smiled a little nervously at the introduction. Cameras flashed and swiveled in her direction. Ronan didn’t mind the public watching as she revealed the men from the future, but she hadn’t planned to take center stage. At least now, she had an excuse to approach the party leaders. Ronan took her hand out of her pocket, absently noticing how her damp palm slipped against the jammer’s housing. It was small enough to conceal, but she was more concerned about dropping it.
Steeling her nerves, Ronan stepped toward the small group. She stopped when she was close enough to see the gold flakes in Sidney’s eyes. Sidney was speaking into the microphone and looking fondly at her, but Ronan couldn’t hear anything for the blood surging in her ears. It took a second to register that Sidney had finished and was clapping along with the others. Ronan gave her a sad smile and held up a hand as though to wave. Instead, she pressed the trigger on the transmitter.
A screech almost high enough to shatter glass ripped from the microphone and people stopped clapping to slap their hands over their ears. Ronan saw Sidney wince, she watched as both the president and chief justice reacted and was aware of the exact moment that the Secret Service people started forward.
Both men clutched their heads as their features started to blur. Abrams reacted quickly, clutching Sidney to him. He shielded her with his body as personal guards surrounded them. He’d known that Sidney might become a target for anyone else involved with the insurgency plot and had prepared to protect her.
In the chaos of screams and general bedlam that ensued, Ronan looked around to see that three other men and a woman were among those affected by the jammer. The agents had stopped moving toward her and started toward the stage. She let out a relieved breath that they apparently hadn’t seen the device she carried and didn’t connect her to the drama unfolding on the Capitol steps.
Ronan stood still, waiting to see what would happen next and who would try to slip unnoticed from the scene. When they did, she’d have to take steps to ensure they didn’t get away. She’d prepared for this contingency, but she had also deliberately kept the second part of her plan from Sidney. If she was right, things were going to head south quickly and she didn’t want Sidney to try to stop her. As long as she was safe and Ronan prevented the premature rise of the Konservative fascists, that was all that mattered.
Chapter Twenty-Two
PRESIDENT ANGSTROM AND Chief Justice Barnhart dropped onto their hands and knees and bent forward until their foreheads almost touched the ground. From where she stood, Ronan watched as features rippled and shimmered, though she wasn’t sure others noticed the difference yet. Then, slowly, the bodies thickened and Barnhart’s form shortened. When they looked up, two complete strangers knelt on the steps.
Abrams kept a protective arm around Sidney. Holding her closely against him, he turned to address the stunned crowd and spoke into the microphone. Ronan had to give him kudos as he stuck to the script.
“As you can see,” he began in a shaky voice that strengthened as he spoke. “These...gentlemen...were not who they claimed to be. The government has known for some time that, through advanced technology, persons unknown were infiltrating the government in an effort to seize control and take power for themselves. We owe an extreme debt of gratitude to patriots like Sidney Weaver in determining who these imposters are and to the other governments of the world for allowing us to make a decisive blow against them here today.”
Of course, other governments of the world hadn’t known anything of the sort but as a politician, Ronan knew Abrams was motivated to help smooth over any feelings of hostility and to present other countries in a positive light. While he spoke, Secret Service agents swarmed the podium and took the two
strangers into custody, hustling them away in the wink of an eye.
Questions began to fly fast and furious while Abrams sought to assure the public that the government had known about everything from the start and that Sidney had been a voluntary tool to help bring about the demise of the interlopers. The purpose was to keep attention focused on the political party instead of Ronan. Just as she knew they would, the other secretive Guard members took the opportunity presented by the media circus, and began edging away from the platform toward an escape.
Ronan quickly calculated the trajectory of the device she had planted under the lip of an adjacent manhole cover. She knew she would have to make her move now. In her other pocket, rested the remote to activate the projectile. Once she pressed the switch, the missile would launch to approximately fifteen feet in the air and compromise any infiltrators within a forty-foot radius. When she pulled the trigger out, she was only vaguely aware of the warning shouts issued from Secret Service and CIA agents. Peripherally, she saw weapons brought to bear upon her. Coming on the heels of the previous revelation, the agents weren’t in the mood to allow any latitude. Ronan flipped back the cover on the small, plastic box that could be mistaken as the detonator for an explosive. A bullet took her in the shoulder before she could press the button, another hit her mid-thigh.
She heard Sidney and Abrams both shout that she was “one of them” and to stop shooting, but nerves were tightly strung. A few were unable to comply with their orders immediately. Two more rounds caught Ronan in the leg. She dropped to her knees and one hand. Every breath was agony as she forced her thumb to move over the red button and press it. In satisfaction, Ronan watched the small capsule shoot up from the metal disc and burst open with a spark just above the entourage. The high-pitched wail emitted made the last one seem weak in comparison. She lost consciousness and fell heavily to the ground before she could see the results of her actions.
