Arthur found his motivation and pressed Send, preparing the next article, the article that was most important for the current moment, the one that explained the infamous Covid-19 and the reason the world powers needed this heavy crisis to push their agendas. It was all orchestrated, carefully planned, and perfectly executed, all at the expense of the people.
Arthur’s phone was blowing up, his laptop was sending constant notifications about social media interactions, but he ignored it, afraid to look, afraid to be aware of what he was doing.
By day’s end, Arthur had released the entire expose on the conspiracy, focusing on the president-elect, only mentioning Daniel Clarkson and Patrick Don. He didn’t want to release the whole collection he had at once. He didn’t want to cram all the information in the space of one day. In fact, he couldn’t do it. Going down that route would’ve caused only confusion among the people, and there would not be a proper reaction to what he was revealing by anyone that mattered. The way to do all of this was like a game of chess—take out one piece at a time without revealing your strategy until it’s too late. He planned to dissect everything and reveal each and every person that had a finger in taking away people’s freedoms. First, it was going to be Jim Morris, the man crucial to Daniel. Then it was going to be Patrick Don, the queen on the board and a man Arthur loathed the most.
When his Covid-19 article went live, Arthur grabbed his things. He made sure to take the pistol from the drawer, knowing that there will be a reaction by the Company, one that will threaten his very existence. He wasn’t going to allow that, not when he was so close to completing his mission.
Arthur followed his escape route, changed cars twice, until he got to a small garage he had bought weeks before for this purpose exactly—to hide from the eye in the sky and to keep his assault going. It was on a closed-circuit internet, shielded by military-grade equipment from the satellites and listening devices. His mood was not improving, but he felt safe. Only then did he go through the impact of his good work on social media, reading through all the comments and posts and reposts. People had begun to call for Jim’s head in the space of hours. Arthur leaned back, slowly accepting the fact of what he had begun.
As time went by, big news outlets and papers revealed different but equally damning information about Jim Morris; the public was set on destroying him. He was brought in connection with money laundering schemes with Cristobal Cortez and George Morrow; his financial reports showed his deep involvement in the 2008 machinations on the real estate market when he was an executive in Meryll Lynch; he was even brought into connection with election rigging on two separate occasions. There was no way that Jim Morris would ever be elected president of America now that everything was out in the open. Arthur read the reports, a smile coming to his face, a smile that didn’t last long. Anxiety was growing stronger in Arthur with every article he read and every trending social media post he read because he knew that what will follow the fall of Jim Morris will be even larger and carry much more severe consequences than outrage.
Jim Morris was only a cog in the machine; he was one big cog, but a cog nonetheless, a small part of something too large to understand. Soon, the Company will respond to his move, and he had no idea how that was going to look like. Will they kill him? Will they discredit him? Will he just disappear from the face of the Earth? He could not tell.
The clock ticked the seconds away in too quick a succession, pushing the day to the mid-point before its time. The Company worked just as fast—when the clock hands overlapped, the current Presidency had renounced the new Morris administration and refused to leave the White House no matter what.
As the day passed, Arthur snuck out of his hiding hole and went out for a food run. He was set on living in hiding for at least a while, for at least until all the information he had was out there in the world, before the eyes of the people. He sat back in his chair and dozed off for a few hours. In his dreams he could see the same image that was haunting him—the White House falling, Daniel Clarkson incarcerated, and Patrick Don hung by the neck until dead. It was true that Arthur was hiding in London; after the last fiasco by the Company in the UK, he knew he was safe. He also knew that regardless of Covid restrictions and diplomatic relations, if his assassin-to-be wanted to come into the country, he would. Arthur felt like he was living on borrowed time. Sitting in isolation, in silence, his feelings were amplified. His anxiety turned into fear, and fear brought upon him panic. He had no time to wait. He had to act. He had to push.
He opened a draft of his next article, gave it a quick once-over, and published it. Within an hour, his findings were broadcasted on CNN. They were showing the documents, connecting the dots they could connect with the documents they uncovered. No matter how powerful or connected Daniel was, no matter how deep the conspiracy went into all the major Fortune 500 companies and all the media outlets, they were unable to resist themselves and report the actual news on what was happening—there was simply too much drama. Arthur even got an email by the editor of Sixty Minutes to appear live on air, but he was afraid to do it before all the files were out in the open. Once it’s all out, Arthur hoped that he would be insulated. Worst case scenario is that I make them bleed before they kill me, he thought. And I am okay with that. It will be worth it. He felt that throwing a winning blow while falling was worth the fall, even if he misses the victory of the people, even if he misses to see the decades of meticulous planning and execution hit a dead end; his vanity would be satiated, his ambitions achieved, and his legacy established. For Arthur, there was nothing to lose. For Arthur, the fight was now for the greater good.
The very next day, the White House released a statement that the Congress is going to investigate the allegations against the president-elect. The process would take a long time, but Arthur knew that it was more than enough time to make sure everything is out in the open and that every page he had decoded put into context and seared into conventional wisdom of the people. There was nothing the Company could do now to save Jim Morris.
Arthur published another article, one that named Jim Morris as the pretender to the Presidential chair as soon as Trump is pushed out before Trump was even elected. The next document revealed that Jim Morris was part of the perfectly-executed plan to elect Trump into office, connected to both Russia and China, countries that wanted Trump in office. Though the Mueller report suggested something else, the truth was right there, before his eyes and on the screens of millions of people. There was no hiding anymore. This time, the Congress will have to reflect the facts after their investigation concludes.
Three days later, to Arthur’s genuine surprise, Jim Morris went on air, live. “People of America,” Jim Morris said. “With a heavy heart I must inform you, the American people, that I have decided to resign. My decision is due to the great respect I have for this office and the Presidential chair. The American people have elected me because they believed in my ideas, because they stood for what is right and wanted a man who will make their wishes into reality—a man who will stabilize our great country.
“American people have decided that I am not a good choice for them in the end due to machinations of a few corrupt and self-serving individuals, due to their lies and falsified data. The fact, however, remains—I will not be inaugurated into office. And that is a sacrifice I have to make for the betterment of our country, a sacrifice I have to make for the betterment of Your lives.”
Arthur felt like Jim Morris had played the hand he was dealt very well. Soon after, the White House released a statement that even though he had resigned, their investigation into the allegations against him will continue. The statement went on to say that his entire administration will be investigated. Arthur felt satisfied that Jim was on his way out, but then a realization struck him—the American government will be paralyzed. He understood that the country he loved, the country he was born in and the country he represented, already weakened by decades of negligence and abuse of power, will plummet even further. I
f the situation is not resolved by January, which Arthur saw as unlikely, then everything he had done will have a counter-effect of that which he had hoped to achieve.
Have I truly done the right thing, Arthur wondered. Is this the price that has to be paid for a healthy world? He could not really say. He could not really understand the situation he had created. Was he wrong to show the truth to the people? Oh, God, what have I done?!
But there was no going back. There was only the mission, which was not yet completed. Once an avalanche starts, it cannot be stopped. And if the price for the health of the world means America’s downfall, then America was the problem in the first place. Come what may, I have to do it, he thought before he released more information attached to more articles further unmasking the conspiracy Jim Morris was involved in, letting the names of Clarkson and Don sneak their way in. What will come next, he could not say.
His beard was growing and his diet degrading with every day that passed. The news mentioned him in almost every report. Every news outlet and every major paper was publishing and dissecting the documents he had released, the respect he yearned for finally given to him. It was a long and strenuous year for almost everybody, especially for Arthur. He was protected in his little cave, but it was weighing heavy on him. The silence and the isolation were creating a vacuum where only he lived with his thoughts. It was a scary place to be in. This is what it takes, he told himself every day. I need to stay in hiding. I have to endure. I have to persevere. Some days it worked like a charm; other days, not so much. But on that specific day, on January 13th, the investigation by the Congress had come to a conclusion.
It read that Jim Morris will be prosecuted for his many, many sins. The White House, paralyzed as it was, released no statement on the topic, but the Congress went on to say that the new government will be installed in the coming days, announcing that the new President of the United States of America will be Wilson Burns, the Vice President to Jim Morris’ election campaign, a man who shares his ideals and a man who is innocent in the entire saga that had perplexed the American collective mind for over a month.
Arthur plopped into the chair and let out a big sigh. He felt like the new dawn was setting upon the world, and the relief inside his body reflected that very idea. He felt at ease. He felt light. “Yes!” The scream almost deafening him, but he had to let out all the pent up energy into the Universe. He had won. He had survived. Now he can go after Daniel; his plans had faltered into nothing and Arthur had succeeded in making the world a better place.
The reflection that greeted him in the mirror was not himself; Arthur was a clean-shaven, well-built individual. The fat caveman staring back at him is someone who can take to the streets of London for fresh air and for a brisk walk. It was, after all, a new day.
SIXTEEN
M arcus and Jack took their seats next to Didier and Xiu in the living room. The chairs were arranged in a small arc, set right before the TV to watch the broadcast of the inauguration. The news reporter covered all the events that had befell America in the previous year, from Covid, conspiracies around it, and loss of freedom to the fall of a corrupt president-elect.
“We did it,” Jack said, a half-smile on his face.
Marcus was overwhelmed. “Yes we did, didn’t we,” he said. “Jim Morris is out, and Daniel is following right behind.”
“Arthur did an excellent job,” Didier said.
“Indeed,” Jack replied. “He needs to keep it going like this against Daniel.”
“I think he will,” Marcus said.
“And then, boys, there will be no hole or mask or shield behind which that bastard can hide. He will fall. His entire operation will crumble. And the world will be free for at least a short while.”
Chang waved fresh bottles of beer in front of their faces. “Refill, boys,” he said.
“Alright,” said Jack.
Marcus sipped the new beer and stared at the label. He saw his sacrifices, his motions, and his pain being worth a while not only for him but for the entire world. He had to let out a light laugh. “Yeah, it’s going to be good now,” he said.
Jack nodded. “Definitely, brother. We worked so hard and gave so much for this. I swear to God, I didn’t think we would survive.”
“Yet survive we did,” Jack said.
In the smoke-filled room, enriched by the smell of beer, Marcus muted the TV and played Gimme Shelter by the Stones on his iPod. The lovely tunes pricked their airs and made them all smile, bringing back pleasant memories of when times were good. Marcus travelled back in time because of that song, to a bar when he was a lost young man on the streets, waiting for the Mafia capo to meet him. His friend owed them a lot of money, and Marcus had to rob a truck to pay that debt back. He almost died. He almost failed. It made him realize that he had to change his life and his friends. He joined the army and through the army he met his father. His own father, the man who had created him, who shaped him, and who trained him. Sadness made his way into his heart, but he knew how to handle it now. Enough time had passed for him to accept the fact of his father’s demise, and he had destroyed the man who had taken his father away from him.
“You okay, Markie,” Jack suddenly appeared behind him.
“Yeah, man,” Marcus said. “I was just reminiscing. I was remembering all that I went through as a kid and what got me to this moment. I never truly found myself, you know. I was just stumbling from one point to another.”
“In this world, Markie, no one finds themselves. They never find what they’re looking for but what life gives them. We’re all lost and confused all the time. Our consciousness is the greatest mistake of our evolution, the biggest flaw of our existence. We can’t be this self-aware and remain sane and functional. You know what I mean,” Jack paused. “Society is not the concept of the many, the way the most people live. Society is the way most people want to live. Good manners and normal behavior are just what we want not necessarily what is achievable or what we can actually have. It’s just chaos, brother, it’s always been. We just have to spend our time wisely before we all meet the same faith.”
Marcus felt those words. He let them sink deep under his sink and find a permanent place in his mind. “We did good,” Marcus said. “We were soulless bastards angry at the world, but I think we did good. I mean, look, for me, personally, it all started as a selfish gesture to myself, to my lost and found and then lost again father. And it was my fault that he died.”
“What do you mean,” Jack asked.
Marcus looked at him confused. “Oh, I never told you that, did I?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Joseph,” Marcus said. “He was not only my handler. He was also my father.”
Jack’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped.
“Yeah, brother, he was. He told me that the night I ran away. The night he died.”
The song changed and the Jimmy Hendrix experience played out. “Oh, I love this song,” Marcus said.
“God damn it, brother,” Jack said. “Shee-eet,” he said again. “I just can’t believe it.”
Marcus smiled, “It took me a while, too. But you’ll get there.”
“So, Thoros clipped him? That’s why you’ve been running at the Company?”
Marcus nodded.
“That is too heavy, Markie. I did not expect that.”
“Boys,” Chang called. “It’s starting,” he said.
“It’s okay, brother,” Marcus said. “It took me a long time to process it myself. Almost four years of my life went into that. You’ll get there.” He tapped Jack’s shoulder. “Let’s go now. The fruit of our labor is about to be on national news. Because we did it.”
After a few seconds, Jack smiled and embraced Marcus, letting out a scream. He turned off the music and unmuted the TV as Wilson Burns, the new president, began his speech.
“I like his charisma,” Jack said. “I think he was the one that should’ve run for president in the first place.”
“That was probably his plan later on,” Marcus said in reply. “He was thinking that he should be the V.P. now and then run for presidency, sometime later, I guess. That’s the way I would do it.”
“Yeah, it does make sense. Listen to that part about America being on its way out in the eyes of the world. I love that, man. I love his honesty.”
Marcus chuckled. “Are you going to vote?”
“Oh, of course,” Jack replied. “Of course. I’m going out there into the world to cast my vote. It is not only my duty but my right. It is the reason our veterans risk and give their lives. So we can vote. Yeah. All men are created equal.”
Marcus appreciated Jack’s sarcasm. He understood that it wasn’t coming from a part of him that wanted to be funny, but a part of him that was deeply hurting. What Jack had told him about systemic suppression of minorities in America was truly horrific to bear. Marcus didn’t really understand what was going on in Jack’s head, but he could relate to his suffering. Marcus was a kid that came from sheer poverty—mold on the walls, empty fridge, rumbling tummy, and fear of what the next day might bring. He knew what it was like to live life without any privilege. In part, that was the reason he accepted Joseph’s proposal to join the Company so many years ago. He had thought that if he was part of the system, then the system couldn’t hurt him. Now he realized that he was very wrong about that. Part of the system or below the system, the little men always get stepped on, one way or another, sooner or later, and there is nothing anyone can do about it.
All the Company Men: Marcus Grimshaw #2 (The Secret State) Page 15
