He was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea; the only problem was, he had no idea which one was the devil and which one gave him a swimmer’s chance of survival.
‘Why would I lie about something so trivial?’ Malcolm Joiner said. ‘And if you think I’ve had some kind of past liaison with her, you’re sorely mistaken.’
John ignored the reference to his wife’s sullied reputation. ‘So you deny she’s in the employ of the GMRC, put in place by the Directorate to spy on my every move?’
The director’s eyes narrowed. ‘I can see how your paranoia could get the better of you, what with recent – how should I put it – developments? If you were to help us with information about your abduction, I assure you, I could make some of those stories in the media disappear.’
‘What else?’
‘What else what?’
‘What else can you help me with?’
Joiner smiled. ‘Many things, Mr President. Many things.’
‘Elaborate.’
‘It’s not as easy as that, Mr President. Perhaps if you were to call off your attack on the GMRC we could be of more assistance, but until that time comes my hands are tied.’
I’m having more of an effect on them than I realised, John thought. The reason for their summons became clear. I’m a thorn in their side. They fear me.
A spark of confidence grew inside him and John leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. ‘Humour me.’
Malcolm Joiner didn’t speak for a moment, his cold eyes concealing the calculating mind within, the cogs of deceit and cunning whirring away like a well-oiled machine.
The intelligence director stood up and walked to the window on one side of the room. He pressed a button and the blind rolled up into the ceiling to reveal the twinkling lights of Washington D.C. at night. ‘The rioting,’ he said, staring out into the dark. ‘I can ease the water rationing, put more troops on the ground.’
John’s own mind was also working furiously as he contemplated the offer. What do they fear? he thought. Expulsion from the United States, he told himself. Why do they fear me? The answer popped into his head. Of course! What is the one thing they fear? What would they not hesitate to use if they were in my place? Executive order PDD 51. ‘And if I keep pushing for the GMRC’s expulsion? What then?’
‘Then things continue as they are,’ Joiner said, and turned away from the cityscape to look at John, his face a mask of arrogance.
John shook his head. ‘You really couldn’t care less, could you? Half this country could starve to death and the other half die of thirst and you wouldn’t even bat an eyelid.’
‘Some people’s lives are worth more than others. It’s the way of the world.’
‘You think this is some kind of game?’ John said, growing angry. He pointed out of the window. ‘People are dying out there and you stand there like you’re some kind of god. You sicken me!’
‘And you blew up three of my ships!!’
John’s eyes widened in surprise at the intelligence director’s outburst and he could see Agent Myers was equally as shocked. He’s so used to getting what he wants, John thought, he’s forgotten what it’s like when someone resists. ‘Your ships? I thought they belonged to the GMRC? You forget yourself, Mr. Joiner. You’re part of a much larger machine, and like any cog, you’re dispensable, which is why you’ll soon find yourself no longer operating as U.S. Intelligence Director. I’m sure your position on the GMRC Directorate takes up most of your time these days, so one less job title should ease your burden, don’t you think?’
‘I know you have few friends on the Hill, Mr President,’ the director said, regaining his composure. ‘You’d be lucky to get a requisition for a stapler through Congress. Your threat is as empty as your electoral pledge. You will never rid this country of the GMRC. This country needs the Response Council like a child needs its mother. Stop this charade and accept our help. It is the only way you can win.’
‘You actually think you’re better than everyone else, don’t you?’ John said in realisation. ‘And not just that, you think you’re smarter as well. Well, I have news for you, Mr GMRC Directorate, this president isn’t for turning.’
‘Then you condemn those you profess to care about ... and yourself, along with them.’
‘How do you figure?’
Malcolm Joiner looked back out of the window, the cityscape reflecting in the lenses of his glasses. ‘Considering recent events, things just keep getting worse and worse for you, don’t they? The rioting. Your abduction. Your plummeting popularity, and now ...’
The intelligence director stopped talking, but John caught the poorly concealed smirk on his face; it was as if he couldn’t help but gloat at another’s suffering.
‘And now, what?’ John said, livid. ‘Go on, say it. Say what you were going to say!’
‘I think you should calm down, Mr President,’ Agent Myers said, moving forward.
John stood up. ‘I’ll calm down when I damn well please!’ He took a step towards his adversary. ‘Say it, or are you the coward I always took you for?’
Joiner’s smug expression drained from his face. ‘Say what,’ he said, from between clenched teeth, ‘that your wife is a whore?’
John surged forward with a roar and Agent Myers leapt to his director’s defence.
Held fast by the CIA agent, John struggled to get at the object of his fury.
‘The truth can be painful, can it not?’ the intelligence director said, savouring the moment.
John gave a snarl of frustration and ceased his attack.
Myers let him go as the door to the room burst open and John’s head of security appeared in the doorway, his weapon drawn. ‘Mr President, is everything okay? I heard shouting.’
‘It’s fine!’ John said. ‘Leave us.’
The man hesitated and Agent Myers walked round to usher him out.
John turned back to Joiner. ‘What have you done with our water supplies?’ he said, unable to contain himself. ‘Where are they, Director? Tell me now and I may let you leave this building in one piece.’
Joiner’s lip curled into a sneer of contempt. ‘You have no power over me, Mr President. You think your position gives you power, you have no power. You think you know exactly what’s happening, you know nothing. You’re like a lamb amongst wolves. And we all know what happens to a lamb when it’s bitten by a wolf, don’t we?’
John took a step closer to him. ‘And what’s that?’
‘They die, Mr President.’
The two men stood locked in silence before John strode forward, grasped the front of Joiner’s suit and slammed him against the window.
Joiner’s shocked expression turned to fury. ‘Get your hands off me!’
John’s grip tightened. ‘Does Ashley work for the GMRC!!?’
Agent Myers rushed round to break them apart, but the two men remained locked in each other’s grip.
Malcolm Joiner forced John back an inch. ‘What did the hacker tell you?!’
Myers wrestled John away and pushed him back.
The intelligence director followed. ‘Tell me what you know! Tell me about the professor!!’
‘I’ll tell you nothing,’ John said. ‘Do you hear me?! NOTHING!!’
The two men stood facing one another, their eyes burning with rage, only Agent Myers keeping them apart.
‘Do you know where you are, Mr President?’ the director said. ‘GMRC Intelligence; it’s our job to extract information,’ – his voiced turned sinister – ‘by any means necessary.’
‘Just try it,’ John said, still seething. ‘I’ll have you hanged for treason.’
As the room descended into silence the room’s speaker system crackled and a voice said, ‘I will not permit you to harm the president, Malcolm Joiner.’
John glanced at the screen where the image of a dark-haired man had appeared.
The director froze and turned round, his eyes narrowing. ‘YOU!’
The man smiled
. ‘We meet again, Intelligence Director. However, you seem stressed; you should try and relax more. I always find a nice shower cools me off, how about you?’
‘What?’
A memory from the concert hall made John look up at the room’s sprinkler system.
A fire alarm sounded and a cascade of water erupted from the ceiling.
Agent Myers was the first to the door. ‘It’s locked!’ he said over the noise. ‘Stand back!’
He produced his sidearm and fired three shots around the handle, and then kicked the door once, and then again, but it didn’t budge.
A second siren sounded, and shouts and banging from outside could be heard.
A thick steel door slid down over the first and a second later it thumped onto the floor, sealing them inside.
The sprinkler system stopped, but water continued to drip down from the ceiling, plip plopping into the shallow pool that now covered the floor.
‘Get us out of here,’ Joiner said to his agent.
‘This shouldn’t have activated,’ Myers said. ‘We’ll need cutting tools.’
‘I overrode the fail-safes,’ Bic said, as his image flickered on the sodden wallscreen. ‘I’m sorry, John Henry, I had hoped to avoid this.’
‘Avoid what?’ John said.
‘I have to ensure your mind remains your own. And to that end, Malcolm Joiner must die.’
John glared at the director. ‘That’s fine by me.’
‘Get us out of here!’ Joiner grasped Myers arm. ‘NOW!’
Myers threw away the device in his ear, which was soaked through, and produced a handheld radio. ‘Send an assault team to my location. The director’s life is under threat. Secure the building and open the fire doors!’
John moved away from the director and his agent.
‘Take cover, John Henry,’ Bic said, through the speakers.
Malcolm Joiner pointed out of the window. ‘What’s that?!’
John positioned himself behind the conference table and focused on the lights of an aircraft, as they disappeared behind the Washington Monument only to reappear moments later. The craft banked towards the GMRC building.
‘I told you to ground all air traffic!’ Joiner said, terrified.
‘We did!’ Myers moved to the window. ‘It’s not one of ours.’
Bic’s laughter came through the speakers. ‘You cannot stop me. I am, and forever will be, the greatest hacker of all time!’
Tracer rounds lit up the night as the GMRC’s automated defences activated.
The craft ducked and weaved, then sprayed the building with bullets.
The intelligence director dived for cover as the projectiles peppered the windows.
‘The windows are bulletproof,’ Myers said, standing firm. He put the radio to his ear. ‘Get those doors open, NOW!’
The aircraft circled back around for a second pass and John glanced at the windows, which had fractured on the outside, the spider web of cracks spread wide.
The drone’s afterburners glowed bright, propelling it like a rocket at the skyscraper, and John’s eyes widened in horror.
Joiner and Myers saw it too and scrambled for safety.
Moments later the room exploded in a roar of glass and flame.
John threw himself to the floor, as the aircraft’s crumpled shell shot past overhead and burst out of the windows at the other end of the corner office. A trail of debris engulfed him and he was flung across the floor towards a gaping rent in the building. The smoking ruins of the drone impacted the ground fifty floors below and a second later the President of the United States followed it over the edge.
♦
Among the decimated remains of the conference room, Agent Myers threw aside a piece of the ceiling and helped his boss to his feet.
Malcolm Joiner wiped dirt and water from his face and looked around at the carnage.
He glanced at Myers. ‘The president?’
The CIA operative shook his head; the cyberterrorist’s attack had ended, and John Henry was nowhere to be seen.
Chapter One Hundred Twenty
A pall of smoke drifted into the night sky from the side of the GMRC’s D.C. headquarters, while fifty floors up, John Henry clung onto the edge of the building as cold winds tried to prise away his grasp.
John looked down at the ground, hundreds of feet below, and felt his hands slipping on the building’s exposed superstructure.
Knowing his life was about to end, a surge of images attacked his senses – images of his life – images of his wife. ‘Ashley,’ he whispered, ‘I’m sorry …’ – one of his hands lost its grip – ‘I couldn’t protect you.’
John’s eyes closed and he slipped from the edge ...
... but instead of falling, he was lifted upwards.
Hauled to safety, John found himself looking up into the eyes of his saviour.
Agent Myers stood aside to reveal the GMRC’s intelligence director.
‘You owe me your life, Mr President,’ Joiner said, as Secret Service and Intelligence agents swarmed into the room. ‘Don’t forget it.’
John staggered to his feet and looked back down at the crumpled remains of the drone, far below.
He was lucky to be alive.
And the hacker was out of control.
Small flames flickered amidst the wreckage of the conference room and someone doused the fire with an extinguisher. The smell of burnt metal and acrid smoke clouded John’s senses as he was guided to safety. He was alive ... just … but he knew that was the most important thing of all, as just was all that mattered.
‘Where are you taking me?’ John said, still dazed.
‘The hospital, sir,’ said his head of security.
‘No, take me to the White House, I’m fine.’
‘Mr President, I don’t think—’
‘The White House,’ he said, shaking free of those that supported him. He glanced back at Malcolm Joiner, who remained in the conference room. ‘I have work to do.’
♦
Back at the scene of devastation, the shattered wallscreen still displayed Bic’s splintered image, which flickered and fuzzed.
Joiner picked his way through the debris of the attack and glared at the bane of his life. ‘Why are you doing this?! What can you possibly hope to gain?’
The computer hacker’s voice crackled through what remained of the room’s speakers. ‘You’re still alive, Malcolm Joiner, how unfortunate. As to why, surely you must know by now why I do what I do?’ He smiled an ambivalent smile. ‘Because I can.’
His image vanished as the screen died and the building’s systems came back online.
The hacker was gone and, as usual, Joiner was left to pick up the pieces – and he was still no closer to finding out about Professor Steiner and what purpose he and the cyberterrorist had in mind for the president.
It was a vexing position to be in, not knowing when the next attack would come and, seemingly, not being able to do anything about it. It was strange, as the more resources he put into locating the hacker, the more elusive he became. He was always one step ahead, which drove Joiner to distraction. He often lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering where the hacker was, what he was planning next and how he kept evading capture. It was fast becoming an obsession, and one he could do without.
And yet, despite his meticulous methods, Da Muss Ich had finally made a mistake. Killing the president had not been his intention, but without Joiner’s interference it would have come to pass. Is the hacker getting desperate? he wondered. Is my pressure finally taking its toll? That Da Muss Ich knew about the approaching asteroids and the Subterranean Programme, but had failed to go public, was also confusing. What is he waiting for? Is it just concrete proof, or something else? Something didn’t add up and Joiner wanted to know what that was, and fast.
He thought back to his meeting with the president and cursed his lack of control. He wondered if his aberration was caused by the device Dagmar had put in his head,
or was simply because he couldn’t stand John Henry. Just the thought of the man’s self-righteous holier-than-thou attitude made his skin crawl. How can someone be that naive? Joiner thought. And his arrogance is sickening. He thinks he knows what’s best for this country, but he has no idea what is to come. If he only knew the problems he was causing for the GMRC, and how he risked the very future of the country he purports to love, he would cease his folly. But, as it was, he continued to defy the GMRC every step of the way. He fought them tooth and nail. Joiner sometimes wondered if the man should just be told the truth and have done with it. But it would do no good. The truth would be too much for him to take. The United States, as they knew it, would soon be no more and a new era would begin, the era of the United Underground Bases of America, or as some liked to call it, the UUBA. Of course, the country would keep its name despite the relocation beneath the surface of the Earth, and the transitional government left behind would keep some semblance of order, to allow completion of the final evacuation underground before the fast-approaching asteroid impacted, in what was now less than a month’s time. Which was why he needed the president alive and compliant, to ease them through the final transition. Or, if not compliant, functional would do, as long as that function did not disrupt the GMRC’s plans beyond the acceptable.
After being escorted back to his office suite following his ordeal, Joiner cleaned himself up and then sacked the GMRC officials and agents responsible for his safety. He also made a point of ensuring their special privileges were revoked, as a warning to those who felt they could slacken their standards as their time on the surface neared its end. And, of course, by revoking special privileges, Joiner had ensured they and their families would no longer enjoy the safety of the underground base to which they had been assigned. By the time they realised there was no longer a place for them below, it would be too late to do anything about it. Joiner recalled his pleasure at sealing their pitiful fates. It was such enjoyment that kept him from losing faith during these testing times. Agent Myers had argued the case that such a penalty would sow the seeds of rebellion among his staff, but Joiner knew otherwise. Fear was what motivated the weak; it always had and it always would.
Ancient Origins: Books 4 - 6 (Ancient Origins Boxset Book 2) Page 64
