Politics of Blood (Gray Spear Society Book 8)

by Siegel, Alex

  "Are you expecting an attack tonight?"

  "There's no reason for one, which is why I'm so worried."

  "Sometimes, you don't make much sense, sir," Tawni said.

  Aaron closed his phone.

  He faced Perry again. The computer expert had a small table beside his workstation. Empty soda cans and plastic wrappers littered the surface. Perry liked to snack while he worked. Aaron frowned at the sugary, salty junk food. When the mission was over, he would encourage Perry to snack on fruits and vegetables instead.

  "There is one other topic," Aaron said. "Kamal."

  Perry winced. "I was hoping you'd forget, sir."

  "Not likely. Do you have anything for me?"

  Perry's shoulders sank. "Twelve hours before the French scientists were killed, Kamal sent them an e-mail."

  The statement felt like a slap in the face to Aaron. "Let me see."

  Perry hit a few keys and pointed at one of his screens. Aaron leaned in for a close look. The message was packed with scientific jargon, and he could make little sense of it.

  "I think Kamal wanted the scientists to experiment with a new kind of magnetic field," Perry said. "He used a false name and the e-mail is untraceable. It wasn't a security breech, at least not an obvious one."

  "That doesn't sound too bad. We need Bethany to look at this."

  "I'll send her a note."

  A short time later, Bethany entered the office. Her black crystalline eyes reflected the light. As always, she wore a white shirt and a pleated, red skirt. He imagined her closet was full of copies of exactly the same outfit, and she wore a new one every day. It was the kind of thing she would do.

  "What does this mean?" Aaron pointed to the message on Perry's screen.

  Bethany looked. "Oh. This is very bad, sir. I told him this information couldn't be shared."

  "Explain."

  "Leanna and I are experimenting with a fusion power source. Kamal wanted to give the technology to mankind. It would provide unlimited energy and eliminate the need for fossil fuels."

  "That sounds like a noble objective. Clean electricity for everybody." He raised his eyebrows. "What's the catch?"

  "The design uses the principle of constructed symmetry, which is one of the secrets God taught us. That principle could be used to build a weapon."

  "What sort of weapon?"

  "In theory, you could detonate the sun," she said. "Only Leanna and I are allowed to know about it. The technology is strictly forbidden."

  "Kamal understood this?"

  "I was explicit, sir. He ignored me."

  Aaron was crushed. He didn't know what to do. Kamal had made a terrible error in judgment. He had acted like a regular scientist instead of a member of the Gray Spear Society.

  "I need to think about this." Aaron squeezed his eyes shut. "Damn it! You can go."

  Bethany walked out.

  "You, too," Aaron told Perry. "I need to be alone."

  "Yes, sir." Perry left quickly and closed the door.

  Aaron slouched. The weight of his responsibilities felt like a thousand pounds on each shoulder. He had never killed a member of his own team. There was a good chance Kamal had just earned the honor of being the first.

  Aaron walked over to a stool in front of a gray curtain. A studio quality video camera was aimed at the stool, and a television monitor was beside the camera. It was a secure video conference system which connected to similar equipment in San Francisco. He turned everything on and sat on the stool.

  For a few minutes, he stared at a blank screen. Finally, Marina appeared in the frame. Her strawberry blonde hair was blown back and wavy. Freckles dotted her flushed face. She had been exercising. The green in her eyes was gorgeous on the high-resolution display. The world was a better place whenever Aaron saw her, even if it was just a video image.

  "You look upset," she said in a concerned tone. "What's wrong?"

  "It's Kamal. He shared information with outsiders."

  "What kind of information?"

  He explained the situation.

  She winced. "This is very serious."

  "I know."

  "Kamal is one of the old-timers. It's hard to believe he would make such a bad mistake."

  He nodded sadly. "That's the problem with old-timers. They get sloppy. They lose focus. Jack got into trouble pretty much the same way. It's a lesson both of us need to remember."

  "Oh, Aaron." She sighed. "I wish I could be there to comfort you. You're a great commander. You don't deserve problems like this. Maybe you should call Ethel and get her opinion."

  "Conveniently, she's in Chicago. I'll talk to her tonight."

  "Why?"

  "She's with the President," he said. "She's protecting him."

  Marina stared with wide eyes. "The President of the United States?"

  Aaron nodded. "The craziest part is she has fallen in love with him."

  "What?" She cocked her head. "I think we just had a glitch in the connection."

  "You heard me. Grumpy old Ethel and Roy Haley are an item."

  She was silent for a long moment. A smile spread across her face. "That may be the most delicious bit of gossip I have ever heard. Have they slept together?"

  "I don't know," he said, "and I'm not going to ask."

  "Did you give her the speech about the dangers of love?" She smirked. "How it puts everybody at risk?"

  "I'll let you take that bullet, dear. Or machete in this case."

  "They must be adorable together. Take a picture and post it on the internet. Draw little hearts around her face."

  "You're enjoying this far too much," he said. "I love you. I have to get back to work. A little voice in my head is telling me this will be a busy night."

  She kissed the air. "I love you, too. Don't beat yourself up about Kamal. It's not your fault."

  "Sure." He got up and turned off the camera.

  * * *

  Haley sighed with boredom. He was naturally social, but three solid days of smiling, shaking hands, and earnest engagement had worn him out. The worst part was he had two more days to go. A political convention was a brutal marathon. Part of the job, he told himself. You take the bad with the good.

  He was in the Blackhawks locker room in the United Center again. A crowd of staffers, politicians, and selected reporters swirled around him. The Secret Service was permitting supplicants to approach one at a time. Haley didn't know how they were choosing winners, and he didn't really care.

  A woman with curly, blonde hair wearing a green suit was next in line. He recognized her as a prominent reporter for a national news network. She had perfect skin and the cheekbones of a fashion model. In the business, they called those features "talent."

  She held a microphone in front of Haley's face and said, "Mr. President, experts are calling your budget proposal the most important piece of legislation of the twenty-first century. They say it will redefine the federal government. How do you respond to that?"

  He smiled for the cameras. "I'm just doing what the people of this great nation elected me to do. They want money going to jobs and education, not special interests."

  "Are you calling the Armed Forces a special interest?"

  He didn't flinch. "Our brave soldiers will still be paid. The big cuts are in procurement. We don't need any more billion dollar bombers. Just one B-2 could pay for the education of a hundred thousand children. A guided missile costs the same as retraining a hundred unemployed workers. More jobs leads to more revenue and a balanced budget. To my critics, I say, do the math." He posed for another photo.

  "When do you think the legislation will be ready for your signature?"

  "It should be on my desk when I get back to Washington. We've wrangled over the details for months. The Republicans tried every possible delaying tactic. I believe the will of the people has finally prevailed. Next."

  The Secret Service escorted the reporter away.

  A man stepped forward to take her place. He had short, gray h
air and a perfect tan. He had the body of somebody who drank too much and then tried to work it off in the gym.

  He shook Haley's hand with a strong grip. "I'm Bernard Templeton."

  "Oh." Haley raised his eyebrows. "I've heard of you. Billionaire fund manager and noted philanthropist."

  "That's right." Templeton smiled. "And a major donor to your campaign."

  "An investment that will reap handsome rewards. What can I do for you?"

  Haley was curious about this guy. Wealthy men normally sided with the Republicans.

  "Nothing. I just wanted you to know how much I admire you. You're the first President in my lifetime that isn't a mouthpiece for partisan politics. You're a legitimate leader. It's inspiring. I can almost forgive all the new taxes in your budget."

  "I appreciate the compliment."

  "Hey," Templeton said, "if you ever want to take a nice vacation, I own a spread about fifty miles west of here. Fifteen hundred acres of pristine land. Nothing but natural grass, trees, and water the way God intended."

  "What do you do with all that space?"

  "Hunting and fishing. It's my own little nature preserve. After fighting in the financial trenches all week, I need a place where I can get away from it all. It's a great place. I have a big house which can handle plenty of guests."

  "I'll keep that in mind," Haley said.

  A Secret Service agent pressed a note into Haley's hand, which read, "Meet me in the showers." He recognized Ethel's elegant handwriting.

  He looked around but didn't see her. Boreas had also disappeared.

  "Excuse me," Haley said. "It was very nice meeting you."

  He walked to the next room where the hockey players took their showers. Boreas was standing there. He pointed to the shower stall at the far end.

  Haley went to the stall and peeked through the curtain. Ethel was waiting with a mischievous smile. She was still wearing her Secret Service costume, but she had taken off her sunglasses.

  He stepped inside and closed the curtain. "What's wrong?" he whispered.

  "You looked bored," she said.

  "So?"

  She grabbed his head with a powerful grip and mashed her lips against his. He wasn't sure whether she was kissing him or mugging him. He staggered backwards into a wall, but she held on tightly.

  He didn't try to push her away. Rejecting an ordinary woman's affection was dangerous. Rejecting Ethel was suicide.

  Eventually, she relaxed her grip and stepped back. His lips felt bruised.

  "Still bored?" she said.

  Haley shook his head. "That was the worst kiss of my life. It was frightening and painful, not tender."

  "I'm a little out of practice." She frowned.

  "Let me show you."

  He swept her up in his arms and gave her a proper kiss. It went on for a good long time. Holding a woman felt wonderful after so many months alone. She melted against his chest.

  He released her and said, "Wasn't that better?"

  "Much." She straightened her clothes.

  "I should get back out there, or people will start to talk."

  "I might need another kissing lesson later tonight."

  He nodded. "I'll be happy to be your instructor."

  Whistling to himself, he went back to his waiting fans.

  * * *

  Questions were tormenting Aaron. He still had no idea how an incompetent outfit like Pure America had smuggled dynamite into the arena. He had even less of an idea of what they had intended to do with it. That damn impact trigger was a thorn in his side. It made no sense.

  Aaron was on the floor of the United Center. Thousands of delegates sat on temporary plastic chairs all around him. The regular seating rose up majestically on all sides of the oval stadium. Every seat was in use, all the way up to the top row near the ceiling.

  He was dressed as an FBI agent, which was the perfect choice in camouflage. Federal agents were everywhere. He could hardly spit without hitting one. He was standing in full view of the crowd with a gun in his holster, and nobody had given him a second glance.

  Norbert and Tawni were also on the floor and wearing similar costumes. The three Spears were arranged in a wide triangle so they could watch all directions at once.

  As Aaron had expected, the speeches had been long and tedious. Vice President Darrow was almost at the end of the second speech of the night. He was a tall gentleman with distinguished gray hair. He had the appearance of a traditional elder statesman which lent credibility to the Haley/Darrow ticket. His deep voice had a soothing cadence.

  "We are a nation of do-ers," Darrow thundered. "We measure ourselves by what we make with our hands, our minds, and our hearts. We need a President who values accomplishment like the rest of us..."

  The nagging questions continued to rattle around in Aaron's skull. Lighting technician. Impact trigger. Incompetent. Dynamite. He grabbed a handful of his own hair and yanked it in frustration.

  His eyes widened. Suddenly, he understood. The truth was obvious.

  Aaron looked at the lighting panels above the main stage. Colored floodlights were arranged in ten by ten grids. The glare made him shade his eyes.

  A single light directly above the podium was off. There it is, he thought. The bastards almost fooled me. I'm dealing with a sneaky adversary.

  He grabbed his phone and called Ethel.

  "Ma'am," he said, "I'm about to detonate a bomb."

  "Why?" she said.

  "No time to explain. Norbert and Tawni are here. Manage them, please. I'll be under arrest."

  "But..."

  Aaron hung up. He spotted Haley beside the main stage. As soon as the Vice President finished his speech, the President would join him for a congratulatory hug. Aaron had maybe thirty seconds to save their lives.

  He drew his pistol. Hitting a four-inch target at this range with iron sights was going to take all his skill.

  He fired. The first bullet struck the wrong floodlight. A few sparks and pieces of broken glass rained down. He was using a suppressor, so the gunshot went unheard in the noisy environment, but the people around him saw him fire his weapon. They started yelling at once.

  Haley was climbing up the steps to reach the stage. Fifteen seconds left, Aaron thought.

  He sighted down the barrel for his second shot. This one had to count.

  He pulled the trigger.

  The flash of orange light startled him. A shockwave slapped his chest hard enough to rattle his body. The sharp boom left his ears ringing.

  He made an instant damage assessment. There was a lot of flying debris, but the fire hadn't burned anybody. He judged the casualties would be minimal. There might be a few unlucky deaths in the audience. If the bomb had dropped as intended, the carnage would've been much worse. Most importantly, he had saved the President's life.

  Aaron looked around and saw federal agents converging from all directions. He dropped the gun and raised his hands in surrender. Arrested twice in the same day, he thought. This is becoming a habit.

  * * *

  President Haley was walking across the stage when the world exploded. Concussive force stunned and partially deafened him. It was like being struck by an invisible sledgehammer.

  He looked up. A chunk of metal debris started falling straight towards him. A slim figure flashed through the air and kicked the debris out of the way. Startled, he looked at his savior. Ethel had landed in a three-point stance.

  "Move!" she bellowed. He could barely hear her over the ringing in his ears.

  The command spurred Haley into action. He headed towards the nearest stairway that would get him off the stage. He hadn't gone far before Secret Service agents swarmed over him. Strong men rushed him down to the floor and through an exit tunnel. He barely had a chance to walk on his own feet.

  As he left the arena, he glanced over his shoulder. It was a scene of utter chaos as the entire audience tried to flee at once. They were crawling over each other to reach the exits.

 
People were yelling orders all around, and it didn't seem like anybody was listening. Haley had no idea where he was being taken. He was jostled on all sides as the Secret Service rushed him through the halls. Eventually, he ended up in some office in the United Center.

  Chicago Bulls memorabilia was all around. Four signed basketballs were in a trophy case. Photographs of championship teams hung on the walls. There were shoes, hats, jerseys, and even a pair of red shorts with the number 23 on them.

  Haley tried to calm down and catch his breath. He seemed to be safe. Several agents were in the office with him, and more were just outside. He heard yelling and rapid footsteps in the corridor.

  He noticed Ethel and Boreas weren't in the room. Haley wanted their protection most of all.

  George Seferis burst into the office. "Sir! Are you all right?"

  "Fine. Just a little shaken up. What happened?"

  "I don't know, sir."

  "Was anybody killed?" Haley said.

  Seferis shrugged. "It's a total mess out there. Impossible to get an accurate casualty assessment."

  He was wearing a radio earpiece like the rest of his Secret Service agents. He put his finger on the bud and listened for a moment.

  "What is it?" Haley said.

  "An FBI agent was shooting at the lights when they exploded. We think he set off the bomb."

  "Why?"

  "I don't know, sir," Seferis said. "He's being held for questioning."

  Ethel and her bodyguard entered the office. She had a deeply troubled expression.

  "Do you know anything about this?" Haley demanded.

  She nodded. "I'm afraid I do. Mr. Seferis, take us to your prisoner so we can hear the explanation together."

  "He'll talk to you?" Seferis said.

  "I should think so. I'm his boss."

  Haley stared at Ethel in disbelief.

  Seferis gathered his Secret Service agents into squads. Everybody went back into the hallway with Haley in the center of the group. They travelled in a more dignified manner this time, and he was allowed to walk on his own feet. The agents pushed other people out of the way to make a path.

  The chaos had already started to subside. The crowd was streaming out of the building at a quick walk instead of a run. Haley didn't see any injuries besides minor cuts and bruises, but everybody was scared.