Power Trip

by Dom Testa

  “Are you sure the two of you are enough?” I said. “You don’t need reinforcements?”

  In a flash Parnell stopped, spun, and landed a kick in my chest. I flew backwards into the arms of Carter, who pushed me back toward Parnell. I raised my hands in defense, but she sidestepped and landed two quick blows to my neck and head. I dropped like a sack of grain.

  On my ass and shaking my head, I looked up at Parnell. She stood with hands on hips and a smile on her face. “I don’t need Carter to stop you,” she said. “He’s just here in case we want to shoot you.”

  “Well, that’s not much of a demonstration,” I said. “I wasn’t exactly ready.”

  “No one ever is, Mayer.” She started walking again.

  Carter hauled me to my feet and shoved me after her. I could mouth off all I wanted about not being ready, but I’d now seen firsthand the reflexes of a Krav Maga professional. Color me impressed. I imagined Quanta watching the beat-down and simply shaking her head.

  We ended up in a conference room of sorts, with an oval table and eight chairs. On a counter sat a bowl with fruit and a tray of bread and bagels. Parnell helped herself to a cup of coffee from a silver dispenser and sat down. Carter stayed outside and closed the door. He watched us through the full-length glass wall.

  This was confusing. I’d been sure I was about to be taken away in a boat and dumped over the side. Now I was being treated to breakfast. Well, what the hell? I scooped up some fruit and poured my own cup of coffee.

  “Before our guests arrive,” Parnell said, “why don’t you just tell me what’s going on.”

  I stabbed a strawberry and grape and munched for a moment. “Am I going to have the same conversation twice? If so, why are we bothering now?”

  “Because I’m one of those people who’s curious.”

  “Well, you’ve made that clear,” I said. “More than once.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “You can’t get past that visit on the boat, can you? Does it boost your fragile male ego that much?”

  “God knows I need it,” I said, picking out some melon. “Once you’re married, you know, you always wonder if you still got it. Apparently you feel the same way.”

  “I wouldn’t compare my marriage to yours. Or anyone’s, for that matter.”

  “Uh-oh,” I said. “Trouble at home. Don’t tell me you kicked him in the face a few times. But that would explain why you’re off on some Caribbean island, up to no good.”

  She sipped her coffee. “What no good do you think is going on, Mayer?”

  I shook my head. “See, this is the part of the conversation I don’t feel like running through twice. Why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here. It doesn’t add up, Parnell. A martial arts machine, hanging out with a bunch of solar-power nerds? You don’t fit in. And then dragging me off to breakfast for a private chat? C’mon.”

  Another stomach-twisting growl of thunder seeped through the walls. Parnell didn’t speak for a long time, just sat there, drinking coffee like she was hanging out with a friend. Then she said, “What you did out there on the sea? That execution of Brandt? That was such a set-up, so obviously done to impress me or LeMan or both. It took me a day or so before it sank in. You’ve infiltrated this island for some reason. My guess is you’re an agent of some government, probably the U.S.”

  “What makes you say that?” I asked.

  “Because I was an agent once.”

  I stared at her, drinking this in. Was she lying? Of course she was lying. She was baiting me, trying to lure me into revealing something I shouldn’t. It’s a pretty old trick. Snuggle up to someone and leech the information you want. If I was indeed about to become fish food, what did it hurt for her to screw with my mind? Inside she was probably having a ball.

  But . . .

  I assembled the pieces I had. Tough. Smart. Well-trained. Able to spot another agent, which isn’t that easy to do. Takes one to know one, right?

  “SIS?” I asked. Most people refer to it as MI6, the British foreign intelligence service.

  Another smile from her. I guess she figured it couldn’t hurt to discuss it. “Five, actually.”

  If she was telling the truth, it meant she’d once worked for MI5, the Secret Service, the domestic counter-terrorism in the UK. Similar to our FBI, while MI6 sort of paralleled our CIA. More and more interesting. And now she worked with a bunch of freaks who were hours away from unleashing hell.

  “All right,” I said. “Why a former member? What happened?”

  “That’s not your concern. Let’s get back to you.”

  It was my turn to laugh. “Parnell, the only way I’d believe you’re former Secret Service is if you have no freaking idea what’s going on here on lovely Vita Solis. And I’m pretty sure you don’t.”

  “And you’re going to enlighten me, eh?”

  I shrugged. “You just asked me a minute ago what was going on. Do you want to know or not?”

  “All right,” she said. “I’m listening.”

  I spent about two minutes swiftly laying out the plan, explaining the electromagnetic pulses, the drones, the chaos that was hours away. Her face remained expressionless throughout, even when I described just how horrific things were going to be. When I finished she kept the stony face for a few seconds, then chuckled.

  “Oh, my. You’re quite daft, aren’t you?”

  “None of that sounds even remotely possible to you?”

  “It’s a fantasy. They are going to do a demonstration while we’re here, but it’s nothing like you described. It’s simply to show how feeble the grid’s protection is. No one will be hurt.”

  “Right. A demonstration. No one hurt. And to do that demonstration this alternative energy company needs a team of hired killers. That seems totally normal to you. Hiding out on a private island and surrounding it with mercenaries is completely legit.”

  “Their lives have been threatened for years. Outside forces have already killed their founder. I saw his mangled body. And since then there have been attempts on others. Things are escalating. So I don’t blame them for protecting themselves. If you’re not some government agent, perhaps you’re here to take out the twins, or the board of directors.”

  I sighed. This angle, this particular paranoia, hadn’t occurred to me. She actually believed I could be a hit man sent by the traditional energy companies. “Parnell, listen. That’s not why I’m here—”

  “I know these people,” she said.

  “You don’t know them,” I said, finally raising my voice. “You’re simply on the payroll.” I paused, then added: “And why are you on their payroll, Parnell? What’s your actual job?”

  She looked through the glass at beefy Carter lounging against a wall. “I have been reduced, Mr. Mayer, to being a very-well-paid bodyguard for the last few years.”

  “A bodyguard? For the twins? You can’t be serious.”

  She shook her head. “No, not those monstrous twins. I’d be more apt to kick them in the face, as you put it.” She nodded toward the glass. “In fact, here comes my employer now.”

  I swiveled in my chair, and almost dropped my coffee. I’d only seen one photo, but there was no doubt of the identity.

  Walking into the room was Julianne Ormond.

  Holy shit. It was Mom.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I wouldn’t have been more surprised if Abraham Lincoln had walked in, holding a bandage to his head. This was the odd recluse, the female Howard Hughes, the illegitimate daughter of James Ormond, the sister-wife of Niall. She breezed into the room like she owned the place.

  Wait. She did own the place.

  I shot a quick glance at Parnell, who’d stood up. As soon as my shock wore off, I rose, too.

  “Oh, sit down, Mr. Mayer,” Julianne Ormond said. “If you insist on still being called that.” She pointed to the coffee dispenser and Parnell moved over to fill a cup.

  I dropped back into my chair and studied the Ormond empire’s matriarch. Now com
fortably into her 60s, she looked tanned and fit, no doubt a result of island life. Her hair was shoulder length with more gray than some women her age would tolerate. I got the distinct impression that Julianne never worried about that. Her life over the past three decades had been spent almost totally out of the public eye.

  Now the realization hit home: She’d never been some delicate flower, hiding out from the big, bad world. Niall Ormond’s wife carried herself like any power broker I’d ever encountered, with the air and strut of a Caesar. She just chose to do her brokering in the shadows.

  My mind shook everything up like an Etch-a-Sketch, taking the canvas back to a blank and allowing an entirely new picture to appear.

  “I don’t have a lot of time here,” Julianne said. “I’m assuming you’re FBI?”

  I said, “Why does everybody always default to FBI? As I’ve already told one of your other trained monkeys, they’d never have me.”

  “Fine. Who sent you to Vita Solis?”

  “My travel agent. She said the sunsets were spectacular. I haven’t seen one yet, so I may have fallen for complete bullshit.”

  Julianne sighed. She looked at Parnell, who’d just handed over the coffee. “Did you get anything? Or should we just dispose of this mess and get on with business?”

  Before Parnell could answer, I said, “I’m here, Ms. Ormond, to talk about your business.”

  She eyed me over the top of her cup as she blew on it to cool the hot coffee. “Well, you know my name. That’s something.”

  “I know lots about you,” I said. “I could write a screenplay about your family tree that would make for a great movie. I see Meryl Streep playing you. A younger Meryl, of course. I haven’t figured out the casting for your brother.”

  The mention of her family line caused her to pause in mid-sip. She set down the cup, dabbed at her mouth, and said to Parnell, “Could you leave us alone for a moment, dear?”

  Parnell hesitated, but only long enough to look from her boss to me and back again. Then she walked out and closed the door. I saw her stand in the hall next to Carter.

  “You’re a spunky bastard,” Julianne said.

  “That’s my rap name. Ol’ Spunky Bastard.”

  “I should probably just feed you to the sharks and be done with it.”

  “So why haven’t you?”

  “Because I’d like to know if you’re the only sneaky son of a bitch who’s wormed his way in here.”

  I pursed my lips. “Well, I hate torture, so I’ll just tell you now and save you the trouble and me the pain. There are ten of us here. Another two hundred are inbound as we speak. Should be landing at 1300 hours. What time is it now?”

  “You find yourself amusing, I can tell. But you’re really quite tiring.”

  “My wife tells me the same thing. I can only imagine how annoyed she’d be with me if she was my sister, too.”

  The only reaction I got was her tapping a finger on the table. But I knew I’d pressed the right button. The last thing I wanted was for Julianne Ormond to think I was just some flippant problem child. I wanted her to know she was dealing with people who could dig deep into her life. And if people could know those details, they probably knew what she was up to out here in the Caribbean. I decided to come clean.

  “Listen, Ms. Ormond,” I said, leaning forward on the table. “I not only know the sordid details of your fascinating family life, but I know all about your operation out here. The EMPs, the drones, everything. I even know the targets and the times.”

  “Then why haven’t you put a stop to everything? Knowing is useless if you can’t act. And you can’t. Because you’re alone on this island, and you have no way of communicating with the outside world.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “But I’ve been known to pull off last-minute heroics.”

  She gave a sad smile. “You’re cute. I have to know before I have you killed: What is your name? It’s certainly not Mayer.”

  “Eric. But listen, before you have Carter or Parnell finish me, I have to know something, too. What’s really behind all this? It can’t just be revenge.”

  “Then I’d say you’ve never really known a deep, soul-satisfying love before, Eric.”

  “Why does everyone always believe their love is so much more intense than anyone else’s? Besides which, at the sake of pissing you off, Julianne, he was your brother.”

  She waved this off. “Oh, for God’s sake. He was a half-sibling I never knew until I was an adult. He was a stranger. A stranger who, it turns out, had been treated cruelly by the same man who’d abandoned my mother and me. James Ormond never even bothered to personally reach out to me when my mother died young. Paid her off, then tried to pay me off. Then he disowned his son. No, Niall wasn’t a brother in any traditional sense. He was simply a man who understood exactly what I felt and who knew that we could help each other heal. People are complex creatures, Eric. We not only can’t help who we fall in love with, but we can’t stop it if that’s what’s ordained.”

  “By the universe, no doubt.”

  “You think I’m bothered that you scoff? I don’t care about your insults, your disdain, or your haughty moral superiority. I’ve put up with that since I was a child. My life doesn’t require a societal stamp of approval. The only person in the world who understood me and cared for me, and the only person I ever loved, was ruthlessly killed by a collection of bloodthirsty, power-hungry demons who control the country more than anyone in Congress or the White House.

  “Real power in America is held by the people who control the power supply. They’ve monopolized that control for centuries, whether it was the coal barons, the oil cartels, or the people who supply the electricity in your home. It’s not just that we’re dependent on them; we don’t even realize we’re dependent on them, which is exactly the way they want it. No one tries to overthrow the master if they don’t even know they’re a slave.”

  I leaned back again. “Julianne, revenge against a few power brokers I understand. I mean, I don’t condone it, but I could at least understand your motives. But this? Possibly causing thousands or even millions to die? You’re telling me that’s justified?”

  She got up and helped herself to another cup of coffee. “All great advances in the world, Eric, throughout all of history, have been the result of changes that were cataclysmic. The rise of our own species only came about because of spectacular cosmic intervention 65 million years ago. Wars that kill millions have shaped new destinies since the dawn of civilization. A shift in America’s future is necessary. Everyone knows it but no one does anything about it. And why? Because a handful of people would lose their power. Generating real change could never happen without something on the level of catastrophe. Short-term pain, Eric, for long-term prosperity.”

  Throughout her speech all I could do was stare. It wasn’t just the cold-blooded attitude regarding all those lives; it was the way she so casually verbalized it without recognizing the monstrosity of it. She truly believed she was a warrior for positive change. The collateral damage, no matter its enormity, was irrelevant.

  This bitch was crazy. An eloquent speaker, but batshit crazy.

  I nodded toward the glass wall. “And all of these people with you. An island filled with employees, corporate heavyweights, and even families. How many are aware of what you’ve planned? Not many, I assume. I know Parnell isn’t.”

  “No. There’s no reason for her or the others to know until it happens. All together there are fewer than 40 people who know the complete scope of our mission.”

  “That includes your twins, I’m sure.”

  She looked down at her cup. “Gillian knows all of it. Lucas knows most of it, but not all.”

  I scowled. “What? Why? Is it because he’s a blabbering idiot?”

  A fierce look swept over her face and it was her turn to lean forward. “Don’t make me regret wasting precious time talking with you, Eric. You’re a finger snap away from dying right here, right now. Carter could shoot yo
u, but Parnell could break your neck with three fingers.”

  “You can have me killed, there’s no doubt. But I never die.”

  The puzzled look I expected crossed her face briefly. Then she sat back and gave a grunt of laughter. An idea seemed to occur to her. “Maybe you do understand the kind of love I had for my husband. Maybe you feel something almost as intense for your wife. Tell me, where is your sweet bride right now, Eric?”

  I didn’t answer, so she kept going. “I doubt you’re based in some out-of-the-way small town. Perhaps New York? No, wait; if you work for a government agency that would mean your wife is waiting for you right now in Washington. And since you know our targets, you understand she’ll be one of the first to experience the new order.”

  Her face took on a genuine look of mirth. “That might be reason enough for me to keep you alive, Eric. Just so you can watch the grid go down along the east coast and squirm over what’s happening. How long until the riots reach your neighborhood? Twelve hours at the most? Oh, it will do me so much good to watch that smug look drain from your face. Your pompous attitude about my relationship won’t be worth much anymore, will it?”

  It was all I could do to keep from leaping across the table and tearing her apart. But I knew that would only get me killed, and that couldn’t happen. Not yet. Somehow I had to hang on and figure out a way to either destroy the Ops Room’s ability to carry out the mission, or at the very least dismantle the device that blocked all communication. Fife and his team were mere miles away and I was helpless to contact them.

  “We’re finished here,” she said. “But I think I will let you hang around for a bit. That look on your face is worth the trouble you’ve caused, so I can only imagine the look in a few hours will be priceless.”

  She glanced at Parnell through the glass. “There’s one last thing you should know, Eric. You’re closer to having that neck snapped than you think. I haven’t broken the news to Parnell yet. I might wait another few hours before I do.”