by Mark Alpert
But it was hopeless. If his brain was already dead, there was no point in reviving his heart. She stopped pumping, closed her hands into fists, and beat them against his chest instead. Her tears and sweat dripped onto his slack face. Grief twisted her stomach, agonizing beyond belief. She’d come all this way for nothing.
Then she heard his voice inside her head again.
Jenna. I’m still here. Look to your left.
She looked at Vance Keller, who’d opened his eyes. Staring straight up, he blinked several times, as if he were shaking off a dizzy spell. Then he slowly lifted his head and propped himself up on his elbows.
I’m all right. It just feels a little strange. This body isn’t nearly as strong as Powell’s.
Jenna crawled toward him. She looked straight into his elongated face, his dark brown eyes. Then she wrapped her arm around his thin shoulders and helped him sit up. She’d given up her habitual skepticism, her scientific reflex of doubt and disbelief. Now she was willing to believe anything if the reward was getting her brother back. “Raza? You did it again? You made the jump?”
He nodded. He took a deep breath, then swallowed a couple of times and cleared his throat. Raza was testing his new voice box. “It was easier this time, actually. I was right next to him, only a foot away. The first time I did it, there was a wall between Powell and me.”
His voice was hoarse, but otherwise he seemed fine. After a few seconds, Jenna helped him to his feet, holding his elbow until she was certain he wouldn’t fall. He was still shaky, but getting stronger. He stretched his arms out wide and adjusted the jacket of his suit. He opened and closed his hands and stared at the manicured fingers.
Then she heard a distant clattering, the sound of dozens of boots stomping on the concrete stairs. The FSU officers had reached the ninth floor. They were at the other end of the corridor, only a hundred feet away.
Raza turned to her. He had an urgent look on his skinny new face. “The gun, baji.” He pointed at the assault rifle, which had dropped to the floor. “Pick it up and give it to me.”
She felt a surge of alarm. “Raza, you can’t. Don’t kill anyone else!”
“Just trust me. Please?”
Jenna picked up the rifle and handed it to him. He aimed the gun at Powell’s corpse, pointing it straight at the head. “Get behind me, Jenna. I have to do this right now.”
He fired. The shot echoed painfully against the walls of the panic room, and Jenna covered her ears. Raza threw the rifle to the floor, then raised his hands over his head. Keeping Jenna behind him, he turned to face the doorway.
“Help! Help! This is the president! I’m over here!”
* * *
Jenna heard the soldier before she saw him. He rushed into the office but stayed out of sight, halting a few feet to the side of the panic room’s doorway.
“Mr. President? I’m Major Weston of the Federal Service. Is anyone with you in that room?”
Raza backed up until he stood just a few inches in front of her. His new body was her shield. The soldiers couldn’t take a shot at her without putting him at risk. “Yes, someone is with me, but she’s a friend. There’s an assault rifle lying on the floor, but neither of us is armed. There’s also a corpse here. He’s the man I killed with the gunshot you just heard.”
“Okay, tell your friend to lie down on the floor and put her hands behind her head.”
“I’ll do no such thing. Who do you think you’re talking to?” Raza shook his head. His voice was firm. “I’m your commander in chief, and that means I give the orders. Lower your weapon and tell all your men to do the same. Then step over here, so I can see you.”
“Sir, I don’t think that’s a good—”
“Weston, do you want to be court-martialed?”
There was a pause. Raza filled up the time by speaking to Jenna silently.
I’ve had enough of their bullying. I won’t let them push you around.
Then the major stepped into view, his assault rifle pointed at the floor. Half a dozen soldiers in body armor spread out behind him, also with their guns down but ready to raise them at a moment’s notice. Weston squinted, his eyes narrowing just below the rim of his helmet. He didn’t look too bright. “Uh, sir, who’s the woman behind you? Does she have a security clearance?”
Raza shook his head again. “That doesn’t matter. This woman saved my life.” He turned around, placed his hand on Jenna’s back, and nudged her forward. “Her name is Dr. Jenna Khan. She was a researcher for the Palindrome Project. Your men tried and failed to arrest her two nights ago. But they did arrest her father, and they killed her brother.”
Jenna was dumbfounded. Raza was taking command so smoothly, so effortlessly. He seemed to know exactly how to handle the situation.
Believe me, baji, it wasn’t effortless. I started working on this plan as soon as I realized what I could do. And I had to make a lot of adjustments along the way.
Major Weston pointed at the bodies on the floor. “Is that Lieutenant Frazier? And Captain Powell?”
Raza nodded. He led Jenna out of the panic room, stepping around the corpses. “Palindrome has turned out to be a complete fiasco. Powell killed Frazier and Colonel Grant and dozens of fine officers. And he would’ve killed me too if Ms. Khan hadn’t shown up here and distracted him.” He pointed at Weston. “Major, I want you to immediately shut down the project. Cancel Phase Three and begin a cleanup effort. And retrieve the doses of vaccine from the Research Center so we can stop the spread of the airborne CRISPR virus.”
Weston hesitated, clearly trying to make sense of all the orders Raza was giving him. But after a few seconds, he saluted the president. He was a loyal soldier. “Yes, sir. We’ll shut down Palindrome at once.”
Raza stepped closer to the major. “That also means closing the detention facilities on Rikers. I want you to send your men to all the jails in the complex and free the detainees. As soon as the storm dies down, let the prisoners cross the bridge and leave the island. Their detention was illegal in the first place, so they should be allowed to go back to their homes and families.”
Weston bit his lower lip. He seemed to have more trouble with this particular order, but in the end he nodded. “I have a question, sir. My top priority is ensuring your safety. How can I do that if thousands of detainees start running loose across the complex?”
Raza shrugged. “It’s simple. Contact the Secret Service and arrange my transportation back to Washington. Dr. Khan and I will leave Rikers within the next thirty minutes, and then you won’t have to worry about my safety here. If we can’t fly through the storm, we’ll ride in a convoy of Strykers all the way to D.C.”
Jenna stared at her brother. Minute by minute, he seemed to become more at ease in his new skin. He’d already cowed Major Weston into automatic obedience, forcing him to carry out orders that reversed the policies of the former administration. And Jenna guessed that over the next few hours Raza would get even better at it. Once he arrived in Washington he would have plenty of opportunities to intimidate subordinates and bend them to his will.
It was stunning to watch his transformation, and a little frightening too, but it also confirmed a suspicion Jenna had harbored for a long time. During her ten years of taking care of Raza—feeding and bathing and comforting and amusing him—she’d always suspected there was a little genius hidden inside his paralyzed body. Now she saw this genius in action. He was doing everything right, giving orders, making plans, establishing his authority as president. And he was taking the first steps to repair the damage caused by the last person who’d held the office.
But he’d forgotten something. Jenna didn’t want to say it out loud, so she touched Raza’s arm and sent him a silent message. We have to pick up Abbu before we leave New York. I left him in Queens with Hector Torres, the head of the Latin Kings. The FSU is fighting the gang on the other side of the bridge.
Raza nodded ever so slightly. A moment later, he pointed a slender finger at Weston. “On
e more thing, Major. Send new orders to your officers in Queens. Tell them to stop fighting the gangs there and withdraw from the area. I’m going to send a private message to the gang leaders instead. I think that’ll ease the tensions.” He put his arm around Jenna’s waist and stepped forward. “Let’s get going, everyone. There’s no time to lose.”
All the soldiers saluted him. Then they fell into line, taking position ahead and behind Raza, and the presidential procession marched out of the office.
EPILOGUE
Five weeks later, Dr. Jenna Khan went to the White House for a meeting with the president. It was a cool, clear October afternoon. The trees behind the West Wing were starting to change color, their leaves tinged yellow and orange.
The Secret Service agents at the West Wing’s entrance recognized Jenna and waved her through. She’d visited the White House a dozen times over the past month, coming every Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday. She had a good excuse for seeing the president on a regular basis—he’d appointed Jenna to lead the Office of Science and Technology, which had taken over the laboratories formerly involved in the Palindrome Project. After the shutdown of Palindrome and the evacuation of Rikers Island, the scientists in the government labs needed a new home and a new goal to pursue. It was Jenna’s job to draw up a plan for future research.
Today’s meeting, though, was going to be different. Jenna felt a cold dread in her stomach as she walked down the West Wing corridor. Just half an hour ago she’d discovered something disturbing. She needed to talk with Raza immediately.
Another pair of agents let her into the Oval Office, and when she stepped inside she saw her brother behind the massive presidential desk, signing some documents. She no longer did a double take every time she saw Raza in his new body. She’d grown so accustomed to the sight that now it seemed more real than her memory of his old body, the twisted, paralyzed figure in the wheelchair. And Raza seemed to be getting more comfortable with it too. In fact, he worked out every day in the White House gym to keep his new body in shape, and he’d developed an unlikely fondness for tailored suits and expensive haircuts.
He didn’t look up from his papers when she came into the room. Every week, it seemed, he grew more and more obsessed with his job, more consumed by its responsibilities. But someone else in the Oval Office noticed her.
“Jenna! My sweetness!”
Abbu sprang up from the beige couch in the middle of the office and dashed across the room to embrace her. His enthusiasm was a little excessive—she’d had dinner with him only the night before—but Jenna smiled and hugged him. Abbu had become emotionally fragile since the traumatic events a month ago, and he got very nervous if he didn’t see his children every day. Raza had found him a job as a White House steward, giving him a legitimate reason for spending so much time in the Oval Office, but Jenna worried that sooner or later someone would get suspicious.
She looked him over. “You know, Abbu, you’re getting heavier. How often have you been visiting that fancy kitchen downstairs?”
He shook his head. “No, hardly ever! The food here is so bland, it has no taste at all. That’s the one I thing I miss about Brooklyn. Come, darling, I want to show you something.” He took Jenna’s arm and pulled her over to the couch, where a large leather-bound book lay on one of the cushions. He picked it up and opened it for her. “I started making this. What do you think?”
It was a scrapbook. Abbu had pasted dozens of recent newspaper articles on the cardboard pages. Jenna read the headlines as he turned the pages for her: PRESIDENT KELLER DISBANDS FEDERAL SERVICE UNIT. AMNESTY DECLARED FOR ALL UNDOCUMENTED IMMIGRANTS. MASSIVE REBUILDING PLANNED FOR FEDERAL DISTRICTS IN NEW YORK. PRESIDENT KELLER PROPOSES FAR-REACHING CLIMATE-CHANGE LAW.
“Do you like it?” Abbu looked as proud as a third-grader showing off his school project. “I’m collecting all the best stories. When it’s finished, you’ll have a record of all the wonderful things you and Raza have done.”
A voice in her head interrupted them. From its tone, Jenna could tell that Raza had sent this silent message to her and her father at the same time.
Remember what I told you, Abbu. Always call me Vance, even when no one else is here.
Their father turned toward the desk. “Sorry, Vance. I keep forgetting.”
Raza didn’t raise his head. He kept his eyes on the documents he was signing. And I’ll keep reminding you. I want you to get in the habit of doing it, so you won’t make a mistake when other people are around. He paused to jot down a note on one of the papers. Jenna, I’ll be with you in a minute. I have to review all these executive orders by five o’clock.
Jenna stared at him. In all likelihood, he’d already read her mind. He knew why she was here and what was upsetting her, but he didn’t want to talk about it. So he was putting it off, trying to avoid the conversation for as long as possible.
Abbu turned back to her and pointed at another page in his scrapbook. “This is my favorite part, the articles from the first few days. Look at this picture of Ra—” He stopped himself. “I mean, this picture of Vance. He looks so handsome, doesn’t he?”
The picture appeared below the headline PRESIDENT ASSASSINATED, KELLER SUCCEEDS HIM DESPITE COUP ATTEMPT. The date of the story was September 14th.
NEW YORK—Vance C. Keller became the 46th president of the United States last night after suppressing a violent uprising by Federal Service Unit officials attempting to take control of the White House.
In a late-night battle at the Federal Service’s headquarters on Rikers Island, Keller and his Secret Service bodyguards fought off a rogue group of FSU officers who had assassinated the president earlier in the evening. The leader of the group, Colonel Eli Grant, had apparently intended to seize the presidency, but he and his followers were killed in the shoot-out with the Secret Service.
Keller, a longtime White House advisor, was confirmed as vice president by Congress yesterday afternoon and then sworn in as president immediately after the assassination. He took part in the battle against the coup plotters and reportedly shot one of the FSU officers trying to kill him.
Jenna frowned. Inventing a cover story had been Raza’s idea. He’d rightly pointed out that no one would believe the truth. And this particular story line provided a fairly believable explanation for the violence and deaths that had occurred on Rikers Island that night. The weakest part was the claim that Vance Keller had somehow become a gunslinger, but to Jenna’s surprise, no one questioned it. The American people had a soft spot for heroes, especially those who were handy with an assault rifle.
So Jenna understood why the cover story was necessary. What really bothered her were all the things left out of the story. Most important, there was no mention of Palindrome, which remained a classified secret even after the project’s cancellation. Raza had argued that revealing the genetic-engineering breakthroughs at this time would only terrify the public. He was particularly adamant about concealing the existence of the airborne virus that carried the Serenity sequence. If the news went public, he said, the whole country would panic. Hundreds would die as they tried to escape the areas where the virus was spreading, mostly in New York and Pennsylvania. The panicking crowds might even massacre the people who were already infected.
Instead, Raza decided to quietly squelch the epidemic. He sent public-health teams to New York and Pennsylvania under the guise of trying to prevent a flu outbreak. Within a few weeks, the teams vaccinated hundreds of thousands of people against the Serenity virus. This made it much more difficult for the infected people to spread the microbe, because so many of their neighbors were immune. Raza also made sure that Jenna and Hamid were vaccinated.
Jenna had gone along with the plan, but she hated the deception and secrecy. And because she was now managing the scientists who’d worked on Palindrome, it was her job to keep them quiet. They all wanted to continue the genetics research and publish their results, but Jenna couldn’t let them. They weren’t even allowed to talk about it at scien
tific conferences. Long-term, she knew she couldn’t keep muzzling them. Maybe someone like Colonel Grant could shut them up, using threats and arrests to intimidate the researchers, but not Jenna. It just wasn’t in her.
Don’t worry, baji. It’s only temporary. We won’t have to keep them quiet forever.
She looked up from the scrapbook. Raza had finished signing his documents and stepped away from his desk. He smiled at her as he approached the couch.
You’ll see. In a year or two, everything will be different. We’re going to change the world for the better, and then there won’t be any need for secrecy.
Abbu looked up too. Although the message had been meant for Jenna alone, her father had sensed it. Abbu had such an intense connection with Raza that he could hear his son’s thoughts no matter who they were meant for. “What was that, Vance?”
Raza went over to him and patted his back. “Abbu, could you go downstairs for a few minutes? I need to have a private conversation with Jenna.”
“Sure, no problem.” He closed the scrapbook and put it back on the sofa cushion. “I’ll go see if the other stewards need some help.”
Abbu tried to smile but failed. There was a lot of tension in the room, and he could sense that too. With a nervous look on his face, he left the Oval Office.
Raza waited until their father was far enough away. Then he sat down on the couch and looked straight at Jenna. We should do this silently. I know what you want to talk about.
Jenna remained standing. Then you know why I’m upset. Why haven’t you ordered the production of more vaccine?
Please, sit down. I’d like to discuss this calmly.
I just saw the report from the director of the vaccination teams. He says they can’t stop the spread of the Serenity virus unless they get another two million doses. But when I checked with the manager of the vaccine production facility, he said they were shutting down their equipment. What the hell’s going on?