Calm Act Box Set (Books 1-3)

by Ginger Booth

Back in the command center, I brought Qwanisha and Jorge up to speed on the message traffic filter assignment. I never learned why or who had overruled my suggestion of Penny, though she was still with us after the dust settled. For such a big guy with thick fingers, Jorge was surprisingly nimble with a keyboard. He was the one going back over the message streams Renata had already reviewed.

  Jorge asked what was to keep Renata from simply deleting any messages she didn’t want us to see. Good question. So I investigated that. She’d deleted maybe 20, that I restored directly into Tibbs’ escalation queue. She’d also modified another 10, that I created another escalation bucket for. But there was no way to know what the flagged messages said before she changed them.

  In the meantime, the weapons collection sweep of Pittsburgh was proceeding. The battle of Judgment Valley inspired a new flood of citizen arsenal reports for Christopher to process. Plus another flood of messages reporting theft of weapons left on the street for pickup. In contrast, the weapons pickup around Carnegie-Mellon University seemed relatively civil. There were only tens of casualties, and a couple deaths there. Bremen and Lohan were both collected and held for questioning.

  The exurbs were casualty-free. The locals’ cooperation or non was inventoried by aerial photograph. By 9 p.m., Emmett had me announce that the rural folk were free to collect up their weapons and bring them back indoors. No troops went door to door confiscating weapons there. Both sides understood that isolated locals needed their weapons and would shoot anyone who tried to take them. No need to argue about it.

  By 10 p.m., I was finally free to get back to the galling fact that these loons had broken into my hacker-proofed meshnet. And redundantly, at that. The three infiltrators I knew of had been trusted with valid overrides, and could see and edit anything. And that’s exactly what Renata did. Yet that’s not what Goff and Breckenridge did. Instead they’d hacked in from another meshnet, edited our data using those accounts, and likely transferred information over to their own net.

  I characterized what I could, and called in my biggest gun to take it from there. Popeye, the profane and scary biker-looking hacker on the Amenac team back in Connecticut, was our top security and counter-security expert. He led the team that vetted security on the meshnet protocols during software development. Popeye’s team included members from Canadian intelligence. We’d set it up as a sort of contest, between the meshnet development team on Long Island trying to build and bullet-proof, while Popeye’s team tried to break.

  Well, no matter how hard we tried, we knew all along that if it was communications software, it was doomed to be hackable somehow. The viral system for forcing software updates phone-to-phone nearly guaranteed it, in my private opinion. Popeye insisted that was only a problem if the hackers were smarter than him and his team. He had grounds for his arrogance. But his ego really didn’t care for what I was telling him.

  “Who the fuck are these guys, Dee?” he demanded. “We fucking tested this against mother-fucking Israeli intelligence!” Most further expletives deleted. Popeye swore so badly he made the soldiers surrounding me sound like boy scouts in comparison.

  “Popeye, we’ve already found three inside agents, just tonight,” I pointed out. “Any fortress can be breached by someone opening a door from inside. But is that what happened here?”

  “Fuck… That’s not knowable,” Popeye said. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe,” I agreed. “And maybe we could counter-strike? Push a software update into this 666 net and force it to behave?”

  “I doubt that,” Popeye said darkly. “This won’t be quick, Dee. Days, weeks. Never.”

  “Understood,” I said. “I’ll need to brief Lieutenant Colonel Cameron.”

  “Fuck!” Popeye roared in my ear, and hung up on me. Cam was the Resco who commissioned the meshnet, not Emmett. Its principal programmers worked for him.

  At least Cam didn’t swear or scream at me. But he was in central Long Island now, an area still not far along the march back from a destitute and primitive level 1. He didn’t have the means to carry out a secure conversation. He passed me off to his husband Dwayne in the relatively posh level 3 environs of eastern Long Island. We had fun visiting for a few minutes – I hadn’t spoken to Dwayne since his promotion from Coco to Resco. But he couldn’t really do much for me. He promised to chat with the meshnet team daily, and bring Cam up to speed in person when he came home in a couple days.

  “Status, darlin’?” Emmett inquired, when I came to a stop.

  I shrugged. “The meshnet is compromised, and that won’t change any time soon. Followup is launched.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said unhappily.

  Emmett brought me along with him into the Internet cafe room, where we provided the governor-generals with an overdue progress report on the disarmament operation. Drum and Tibbs had to stay behind, as Emmett and I were their respective reliefs for the duration. Colonel McNaughton, commanding the 101st troops, joined us on the video screen.

  The brass were not happy at the loss of civilian life. They were unhappier at the spies and interference by an unknown enemy. But, they seemed delighted by the sheer volume of munitions already removed from the equation.

  “Hell, Emmett,” Governor Cullen of Hudson concluded. “You were right. This operation needed doing.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Any feel for how the civilians are taking it?” Emmett’s CO, Colonel Pete Hoffman, asked.

  Emmett deferred to me to answer. I said, “We’re only monitoring the angry ones, Pete. At this point, message traffic is evaporating. People went to bed.” The thought made me stifle a yawn. It was nearing midnight. “But earlier, more people volunteered information after they heard the explosions. Even informing on their own families. I think people here know that they need this. Something’s gotta give. Won’t make the medicine go down easy, though.”

  They dismissed me before delving even deeper into sensitive discussions. I went back to the command room to spell Tibbs so he could grab a few hours’ sleep, before I got a chance myself around dawn. Long night.

  We exceeded Emmett’s estimate of 36-48 hours before the operation to disarm Pittsburgh was complete. Our monitoring work in the operations center was grueling, but mostly because it was boring and we didn’t get enough sleep.

  Another tornado outbreak suspended operations in the streets for 6 hours. The 101st units took shelter in civilian basements. Emmett and Drum deemed our windowless first floor office safe enough, and we kept working. After the tornado outbreak, a blue norther carrying an unseasonable freeze blew in. We just kept going.

  Emmett handed me announcements to post from time to time.

  IMPORTANT: Weapons pickup is proceeding well, but there have been pockets of violent resistance. To date there have been 1,216 casualties, 127 of them fatal. Your full cooperation is required. We will not back down until this city is disarmed and peaceable. Let’s get this done, people. Reminder: Report location of any munition stashes to @RescoEMacLaren#Stash for retrieval. Report any planned attacks on police or soldiers to @RescoCDrumpeter#Insurgents

  IMPORTANT: Weapons pickup is complete in your area. Lockdown ends effective 6 a.m. tomorrow. Operations continue in other parts of the city, so you cannot leave your neighborhood. Food distribution will resume after the entire city is disarmed. Plan meals accordingly. If any violence resumes in your area, head home and report to @RescoCDrumpeter#Insurgents. Thank you for your cooperation.

  IMPORTANT: Weapons pickup is complete across Pittsburgh. Total 1,473 casualties, 185 of them fatal. We collected enough weapons to equip the ex-U.S. Army twice over. For heaven’s sake, people! Any remaining lockdowns end effective 6 a.m. tomorrow, and travel may resume between sections of Pittsburgh, but not to rural areas. Food distribution to resume the day after tomorrow. Schools remain closed. If any violence recurs in your area, head home and report to @RescoCDrumpeter#Insurgents.

  IMPORTANT: Food distribution will resume tomorrow at schools marked on mesh
net map. Experienced volunteers please report to closest school. No food permitted in churches. No religion permitted in food centers. Food distribution is a secular government activity. Proselytizing and inter-faith conflict in food distribution centers, or any other public venue, will be punished severely. This is the American way, people. Remember it. Report infractions to @RescoCDrumpeter#SeparateChurchAndState.

  IMPORTANT: Food distribution has resumed. All remaining travel restrictions are lifted. Church restrictions are permanent – food is banned from all churches and places of worship, including pot-luck dinners, throughout Allegheny County. A funeral will be held for Resco Major Dane Beaufort tomorrow. The general public is not invited. Flags to be kept at half-mast until New Year’s Day as a reminder.

  IMPORTANT: Effective immediately, Major Caroline Drumpeter is promoted to Lieutenant Colonel, and appointed Army Resource Coordinator (Resco) of Pittsburgh and Allegheny County. Lt. Colonel Drumpeter is also appointed lead Resco of Western PA. By order of Governor-General Seth Taibbi. Guard her with your lives, Pittsburgh. If another Resco dies here, nuclear options will be considered.

  Drum laughed at that last. I wasn’t so sure Emmett was joking. But after days locked in a room with her, I was sure Pittsburgh and Western PA – the locals called it PA, not Penn – were getting a very good lead Resco indeed. By the second day, Emmett told Drum to quit deferring to him and just take over as acting Resco. She passed her audition with flying colors, cool, collected, professional, and surprisingly kind.

  She posted her own announcement later in the day of her official promotion, the appointed shepherd addressing her flock by herself for the first time.

  IMPORTANT: Please stop asking when you’ll get your weapons back. We will revisit next year. In the meantime, enjoy peace in the streets. Sincerely, Resco Lt-Col Caroline Drumpeter.

  We buried Major Dane Beaufort with full military honors. Three of the four Rescos of Western Pennsylvania attended, and most of our investigation expedition. Ohio–West Virginia sent the closest garrison commander, a colonel, to convey their respects.

  I invited Paddy Bollai and his family, and asked him to contact any of Dane’s real friends in Pittsburgh. There were a few.

  And, of course, Emmett and I attended, along with a large contingent from the 101st Airborne Division of Kentucky–Tennessee.

  The casket arrived at the burial place by horse-drawn cart. Emmett and other officers who had served with Dane acted as pall-bearers. Dane’s casket was draped with both the deep blue flag of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, and the stars and stripes of the ex–United States, which Dane had served for most of his adult life.

  An Army chaplain from the 101st performed a non-denominational service. There were no personal words. The mourners chose to keep their thoughts to themselves and keep the ceremony polished and professional. Taibbi’s Air Force sent fighters to perform a fly-over in the missing man formation. Seven soldiers in an honor guard fired a three-volley salute. A bugler played Taps.

  In the absence of any surviving next-of-kin, Caroline Drumpeter received the folded Pennsylvania flag, and Emmett accepted the flag of the ex-U.S.

  Walking back to our car, I squeezed Emmett’s white-gloved hand. I’d never thought before about what would happen if he died. The mechanics of it, I mean. “Is this the kind of funeral you’d want, Emmett?” I asked softly.

  He pulled me under his arm and kissed my head. “Uh-huh. Funerals are for the living, not the dead, darlin’. Military honors are for morale, and respect. If I can serve again after my death, sure. It’s not like they’d give you a choice, now.”

  I laughed softly and hugged him. No, how they buried the Hero of Project Reunion would not be left up to me. Ash Margolis would probably arrange full honors and a burial in Central Park, attended by heads of state. Ash was arranging a major event right now for Halloween in the Apple Core, a memorial for the dead and consecration of the Calm Parks. I hoped we’d be home in time. We’d hate to miss that.

  I was glad for Marilou’s sake, and the kids, that Dane Beaufort was not buried alone.

  The reception back at the hotel was a moment of glory for the Wiehls’ hospitality. Liberally fueled by Kentucky bourbon, the reception supplied all the personal reminiscences that the formal ceremony had lacked. Emmett enjoyed catching up with old comrades from the 101st, and introducing me around. His Ozark accent re-bloomed and proved itself seasoned more than a little with western Kentucky. Old friends regaled me with tales of Dane and Emmett’s lowest moments and most striking defeats and embarrassments. And then turned to him and demanded when he was coming home to Ken-Tenn and the 101st. He just laughed. “Uh-huh.”

  I liked the men and women of the 101st Airborne. It was fun seeing Emmett fit in so well. They’d loved him. He belonged with them, once upon a time. “You miss them?” I asked. “Think you’ll ever go back?”

  “Don’t know,” Emmett replied. “No regrets. New Haven was the best career move I ever made. Then New York.” He squeezed my shoulders with a smile. “But who knows? We might visit Ken–Tenn, someday.”

  When the reception was over, Emmett pulled me to him. “Come to bed with me, darlin’? I don’t want to sleep alone tonight. In fact – could we just go get your stuff? Move back in with me. We’ll work it out.”

  “Yeah, we will,” I agreed. “We’ll fight a little more along the way,” I warned, with a grin.

  “Uh-huh,” he agreed happily.

  21

  Interesting fact: Pittsburgh is the largest city in Appalachia. Greater Pittsburgh is considered part of the Northeast, and extends into the South, the Midwest, and the Great Lakes. More to the point, Pittsburgh is where these regions meet.

  After such a dramatic demonstration to the people of Pittsburgh, and the transfer of power to Drum, it was easy to feel like our work here was wrapping up. But the investigation still had major unanswered questions. And wresting control away from the militant sects and restoring Pittsburgh to secular martial law control was only the most pressing of Emmett’s recommendations, pre-requisite for any further actions.

  We had Bremen and Lohan in custody, the Baptist leaders from around Carnegie-Mellon University responsible for the attack on our train coming in. So far, they claimed they were merely trying to intercept us, before we fell into Judgment’s clutches and the mysterious deaths and dysfunction around Mount Washington. We still hadn’t found Paul Dukakis, the man who delivered Dane’s body to Paddy Bollai. Emmett and the IBIS agents weren’t done yet.

  Neither were PR and IndieNews. We had tentative permission to publish stories on the disarming of Pittsburgh and Dane’s funeral, provided we could coax them past the censors.

  Brandy and I took stock and decided we wanted two more video sequences. One was the footage in the suburb of Green Tree. We still hoped Blake Sondheim and his footage would reappear, but as the days passed with no word from Blake, our hope was fading. For now, Emmett ordered us to steer clear of Green Tree, and stay close to the hotel. He asked the 101st to hunt for Blake. Most of the airborne infantry went home to Fort Campbell after the funeral, but a thousand lingered to solidify Drum’s control.

  The more important sequence for our special report was in Station Square.

  “Ah-g!” I cried, half-gargled, as Brandy mock-dashed my head into the pig-iron furnace beyond the fountain.

  “Stop that!” she scolded me. “Dee, we’re not re-enacting this, just explaining it. No corny crap.”

  “Just trying to lighten things up,” I said meekly. “It’s going to look goofy no matter what we do, Brandy.”

  “No. I think it will look very professional,” Melinda insisted, our second-string camera woman, deeply earnest and sincere. I wondered when I’d grown old enough for a college graduate to look like a kid.

  And every time I looked at her, I felt guilty all over again about our missing Blake Sondheim. Blake was a good guy. It wasn’t entirely my fault he went out after Green Tree. Brandy sent him. Hell, Paul Dukakis sent
him, and whoever posted that video of Dane’s death on the Internet, claiming it happened in Green Tree. But I added the suggestion that Blake look into a possible mass grave site while he was there. And I still thought I should have stopped him from going to Green Tree on a day when Emmett ordered us back in the hotel by 3:00.

  Brandy rolled her eyes. With my best attempt at sincerity, I said, “I’m sure you’re doing a great job, Melinda. I just feel a bit silly.”

  “A man died here,” Melinda informed me. “Murdered, violently and viciously.”

  Yeah, kid, I caught that part.

  “That’s the story we’re conveying, yes, Melinda,” Brandy snapped at her. “From the top again. Without the giggles, Baker.” She pulled me back a couple feet to our starting position. “The murder weapon was this pig-iron furnace,” she told the camera. “In a scuffle, Dane Beaufort’s head was dashed into this steel protuberance.” I managed to keep a straight face this time.

  “But the wound wasn’t immediately fatal,” Brandy continued. “Major Beaufort broke away.” She let go of me. I dashed to the fence. She caught me by the shoulders again. “There was another scuffle here, but he broke free again, fleeing toward the docks on the river.”

  Melinda hopped the fence, and took up position to film at the far edge of the tracks. On her signal, I vaulted the fence and ran to the dying place alone. Then I lay down in the gravel and Brandy took a knee beside me, posed with a fist drawn back as though to pummel my face. “Only a few feet from safety, his attackers beat him here, and left him unconscious, bleeding on the rail bed. The brain injury continued to swell, and killed him within a few hours.”

  I sat up and dusted myself off, and spoke to the camera. “There are still a lot of unknowns here. We still don’t know who killed Major Dane Beaufort. Only that this is how he died.”

  “And cut,” Brandy said. She gave me a hand up to standing. “Take it from the top again? Or review the video and see if it’s good enough?”