She stopped, a few steps short of it, and all the guards stopped with her, a grunt of alarm registering as they paused. Sienna turned her head back to look at the doctor, met her gaze again. “Hey,” she said.
“Hey,” the doctor replied coolly.
“Has anyone ever told you,” Sienna said dryly, “that you look like Sigourney Weaver?”
The doctor just stared at her. And smiled. “I have heard that once or twice before.”
“How about that,” Nealon said, her eyes electric as she stared at the doctor for a second longer.
And then off she went, the guards pushing her along.
“You know, now that she mentions it,” Bletchely said, staring at the doctor, “you do look a bit like Sigourney Weaver. I didn’t place it before, but …” He shook his head. “Yeah, you do.”
Doctor Helen Slaughter avoided rolling her eyes until Bletchely was safely turned around, heading back for the door, following Nealon out. “Welcome to our staff, doctor,” Bletchely said, as she followed him into the medical unit. “I’m sure you’ll find this a very interesting place to work.”
“I’m sure I will,” the doctor replied. “I’m sure my time here will be … very interesting indeed.”
EPILOGUE
The White House
Washington, DC
Now
Secretary of Defense Bruno Passerini would have preferred to be witnessing this particular turn of events from practically anywhere other than where he was, which was the White House Situation Room. Seeing it unfold from back in the Pentagon, with his brother and sister officers around him? Preferable. Seeing it shake out from CIC on the USS Enterprise—the old one he’d commanded, now retired, with a Carrier Air Group around him, setting up to make strikes? Just another beautiful day in the Navy. Hell, even if he’d been witnessing it with his old F-16 under him, bombs away, dropping on these bastards … that’d have been fine, just fine, mighty fine even, compared to this.
But watching it … helplessly … with his current audience, in the basement of the White House?
This was about as close as Bruno “Hammer” Passerini could imagine to being in hell.
“I don’t understand what we’re seeing here,” President Richard Gondry said. His eyes were naturally squinted; his lips pursed underneath the ridiculous goatee that he wore. It was an affectation he’d picked up during his long career in academia, and it seemed to Passerini that he’d worn it until it had become fashionable, and had now worn it long past fashionability, mostly because he wasn’t the kind who seemed apt to change.
“What we’re witnessing here, sir,” Passerini said, trying to moderate his tone in speaking to the President of the United States, “is anschluss.”
Gondry didn’t get that. Big surprise. For a college professor, he was a Grade A moron about anything unrelated to his field of study. He was a pretty good talker, though, which was probably why he’d gone into politics. He could read a speech like a champ, and he oozed sincerity.
“Anschluss,” Passerini said, trying to still the screaming voice in his own head that seemed to inevitably rise whenever he dealt with a historically illiterate moron on the order of Gondry—which seemed frequent in this White House, “is what the Germans called the annexation of Austria back in 1938. What we’re seeing here … it’s a very similar thing.”
Gondry shook his head. “I’m afraid I just don’t see it, Admiral. This isn’t Germany, after all. It’s not the Nazis. It’s Russia.”
That little scream in the back of Passerini’s head sounded again. “Sir … when the Iron Curtain was in place and Communists ruled Russia, considerably more people died there than in Nazi Germany. Something on the order of twenty million at the low end.”
Gondry scoffed. “I find that hard to believe.”
Passerini ignored the grinding headache that sounded in the depths of his skull. This was going to be a long night. “Believe it or not, sir, it did happen, and what we’re witnessing here, sir,” you could never throw enough ‘sirs’ into this sort of conversation, to signal respect where there was none, “is some sort of consolidation of power on the order of—”
“Explain it to me,” Gondry said, waving away his explanation while asking for another.
Passerini bit his lip for a second. “Yes, sir. What we’re seeing is forces crossing the border freely from Revelen, in Eastern Europe, into Russia—and being welcomed. As you know, the Russians recently suffered a reversal and reinvited former President Dmitry—”
“Fedorov,” Gondry said, lips turning up in a smile. “Yes, I’ve met him on many occasions. Eminently reasonable fellow. I was sorry that he fell out of favor.”
Passerini raised an eyebrow, exchanging a look with SecState. “Sir, he did not ‘fall out of favor.’ He was flat-out deposed three years ago by a revolution keen on returning the country to a less corrupt system of—”
“Yes, yes, whatever,” Gondry said, waving him off again. “Whatever the case, I’m glad he’s back. Russia will be easier to negotiate with now that Fedorov’s at the helm again.” Gondry smiled. “I don’t see much point in all this troop movement. They’re just shuffling men around on the map.”
“Sir,” Passerini said, “there’s a free exchange of troops moving back and forth between Revelen and Russia. They’re becoming one country again, or at least that’s what it’s looking like from here. That should set off a few alarm bells across Eastern Europe, given that states like Latvia, Lithuania, and Ukraine have expressed serious concern about a revival of the old USSR, and here we have at least two of the old components coming back together again in at least a military alliance. This is great cause for concern—”
“How is this any different than our NATO exercises?” Gondry shrugged it off. “So what if Fedorov and his friends in Revelen want to coordinate their militaries together. This looks like an internal matter to me, and of no concern to us.”
“Uhm, sir,” Secretary of State Lisa Ngo said, looking only slightly less shell-shocked than Passerini was feeling, “the idea that a former superpower—and current geopolitical foe—like the Russian Federation—is reassembling the former USSR under murky circumstances—well, it’s cause for concern. What we’re seeing here is—”
“What are we seeing?” Gondry asked, voice snapping with impatience under his smooth, academic style, like a professor who’d lost patience with the chatter in his classroom. “So they’re crossing borders and exchanging tanks or whatever—so what? Where’s the threat? What’s the danger here? The Russians are the same as they were yesterday, plus a little bit more from this—this miniature country—I’ve never even heard of Revelen—”
It took all Passerini had in him not to punch the table. Revelen was a name that was coming pretty damned often in the intel briefings he got, which meant the president, unless he was completely asleep at the wheel, had heard their name before.
No, scratch that. This was Gondry. It was entirely possible he hadn’t heard the name Revelen. At all.
Dear God, Gerry Harmon screwed us all when he chose Richard Gondry as his running mate, Passerini thought. So genial. Such a pleasant man. Butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Thirty years in the House and Senate. Smiled nicely, waved well, read a speech and inspired people like Alexander the Great. In spite of being a college professor, Gondry spoke the language of the people, not the language of the elites like Harmon.
But behind the scenes … what a Grade A REMF. What did the Army call them? FOBbers? Not someone you wanted to watch your six in a tight spot. Passerini would have sooner flown with a Russkie wingman than have Gondry at his six with an AMRAAM.
“Sir, Revelen is a country that seems to be on the rise as a threat,” SecState Ngo stepped in, again, far more patient than Passerini. “They’ve got a dedicated corps of hackers—they’re a persistent cyber threat, and the DoJ has flagged a great deal of this surge in metahuman activity to some sort of drug smuggling ring operating out of there that’s giving people powers—”
“Pure speculation,” Gondry said. “If that was actually happening, I’m sure we would have heard of it on the news by now.”
Passerini barely kept his eyes from bugging out all over the table. You’re the Commander-in-Chief! he wanted to scream. You get briefings that people in the press would strangle each other to get their greedy little hands on, and you ignore the hell out of most of them! Including the ones that would have given you the very important context for what we’re witnessing here!
“I just don’t see this as a problem,” Gondry said, shaking his head. He started to get up when a door opened to his left, a shaft of light from the hallway shining into the dim room.
Passerini blinked as a thin female was momentarily silhouetted in the doorway. Then the Secret Service closed the door again and FBI Director Heather Chalke’s pinched face appeared under the table lights, a thin, malice-filled smile of triumph present on her Juvadermed lips. Even smiling, she looked like she had just taken a shot of something sour. “We got her, sir.”
Gondry blinked. “Got who?”
Chalke’s face was pure, gloating pleasure. “Sienna Nealon, sir. She’s in custody, being processed into the Cube at this very moment.” She straightened, skinny fingertips like tentpoles against the tabletop. “We got her,” she repeated, still glowing.
Gondry snapped his fingers and pointed at Chalke. “You see this? This is something. Not—whatever you’re watching here,” and the president waved his hand at the wall monitors showing the troops moving between Revelen and Russia, highlighted in the glowing green of night-vision satellite imagery. Gondry rose and walked over to Chalke, extending his hand. She shook it, still smiling profusely. “This is news that we can release, that people can understand. Public Enemy Number One is off the streets.” Gondry smiled broadly. “Wonderful. This is wonderful. Everyone will be talking about this. Excellent work, Chalke.”
“Thank you, sir,” Chalke said, still flushed with pleasure. Passerini kept from rolling his eyes; he doubted she’d had much to do with it, but Chalke would find a way to put this particular feather in her cap. “I came to tell you as soon as I was sure our operation had resulted in success …”
Passerini frowned, catching a look from SecState, who had not kept from rolling her eyes. The Attorney General was not here, and as head of the Department of Justice, it probably should have been his bailiwick to report the news, but … from what Passerini knew of Chalke, there was no way in hell she’d let that nugget get reported by anyone but her.
“Good, good,” Gondry said, draping an arm over Chalke’s thin shoulders as the president walked her to the door. “We’ll hold a press conference immediately, before any of the local groups get a chance to steal a march on us. I want to make sure everybody hears about this from the White House first.” He was grinning. “A year and a half in office and this—this is going to be my defining achievement, the thing we use to turn around this lame duck presidency and set us up to win the next election.” Gondry was licking his lips. “This will show them—all of them. We’ll be heroes for bringing her in, and I’ll be able to write my own legislative ticket after this, get out from underneath Harmon’s shadow—”
“Sir,” Passerini said as the Secret Service opened the situation room door, flooding the room with light. “The situation in Revelen, sir. It’s—”
“I don’t give a damn,” Gondry said, anger flaring. “Call me if something of interest actually happens. This behind-the-scenes bullshit is all your beat, and you all can sit in here all damned night if you’d like, getting excited over the nothing of interest to the world at large that’s happening over there. Mark my words, this is another pointless irrelevancy that you foreign policy wonks get all excited about for no reason. This is going to amount to less than a fart in the wind when it’s all said and done. Now—if you’ll excuse me.” And Gondry swelled in silhouette at the door, “I’m off to help write the first draft of my legacy. You handle the irrelevancies while I go make history.”
And then he was gone, Secret Service closing the door behind him, leaving Passerini and a few other cabinet members in the dark, the displays their primary light.
“Holy hell,” SecState said in whispered awe. She knew the score.
“Yeah,” Passerini agreed, looking up at the monitors. They were a pale grey, overhead drones and satellites showing the mass movement of forces across the Russia/Revelen border. “He was right about one thing, though.” SecState stared at him, and he answered. “We really don’t know what this means yet. Just that it looks bad.”
SecState nodded. “Whatever’s happening over there … I get this feeling we’re about to get caught flatfooted. The Revelen and Russian ambassadors said they’d talk to me tomorrow. Not a great sign.”
“If it was up to me, I’d move us up to DEFCON Three,” Passerini said, leaning back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “This is damned suspicious, and Revelen has manufactured way too much trouble for us over the last few years to sit back and take their sudden alliance with the world’s largest nuclear arsenal in stride.”
“I agree,” SecState said, “but without the president’s approval … what do we do?”
“Observe and report,” Passerini said, heartburn creeping up to his chest as the rumbling turned to a definite, scorching sensation rising in his stomach. After all, Ngo was right … what else could they do?
Sienna Nealon Returns in
REMEMBER
The Girl in the Box, Book 31
(Out of the Box 21)
AVAILABLE NOW!
GET IT HERE!
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Zinnnnnng! I don't know that I have anything else to say about this one. I hope much of the events came as a surprise, especially that last thing with the ENDING UP IN JAIL. I've started to do some YouTube videos as commentary about what goes into the story formation for these books, and you can find the links to them below from my website.
Thanks for reading! If you want to know immediately when future books become available, take sixty seconds and sign up for my NEW RELEASE EMAIL ALERTS by CLICKING HERE. I don’t sell your information and I only send out emails when I have a new book out. The reason you should sign up for this is because I don’t always set release dates, and even if you’re following me on Facebook (robertJcrane (Author)), join my Facebook reader group (Team RJC) or Twitter (@robertJcrane), it’s easy to miss my book announcements because … well, because social media is an imprecise thing.
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Cheers,
Robert J. Crane
Other Works by Robert J. Crane
The Girl in the Box
(and Out of the Box)
Contemporary Urban Fantasy
Alone
Untouched
Soulless
Family
Omega
Broken
Enemies
Legacy
Destiny
Power
Limitless
In the Wind
Ruthless
Grounded
Tormented
Vengeful
Sea Change
Painkiller
Masks
Prisoners
Unyielding
Hollow
Toxicity
Small Things
Hunters
Badder
Nemesis
Apex
Time
Driven
Remember
Hero
Flashback
Cold
Blood Ties
Music
Dragon* (Coming October 2, 2019!)
Control* (Coming December 2019!)
World of Sanctuary
Epic Fantasy
(in best reading order)
Defender (Volume 1)
Avenger (Volume 2)
Champion (Volume 3)
; Crusader (Volume 4)
Sanctuary Tales (Volume 4.25)
Thy Father’s Shadow (Volume 4.5)
Master (Volume 5)
Fated in Darkness (Volume 5.5)
Warlord (Volume 6)
Heretic (Volume 7)
Legend (Volume 8)
Ghosts of Sanctuary (Volume 9)
Call of the Hero (Volume 10)* (Coming September 2, 2019!)
The Scourge of Despair (Volume 11)* Coming in 2020!
Ashes of Luukessia
A Sanctuary Trilogy
(with Michael Winstone)
A Haven in Ash (Ashes of Luukessia #1)
A Respite From Storms (Ashes of Luukessia #2)
A Home in the Hills (Ashes of Luukessia #3)
Liars and Vampires
YA Urban Fantasy
(with Lauren Harper)
No One Will Believe You
Someone Should Save Her
You Can’t Go Home Again
Lies in the Dark
Her Lying Days Are Done
Heir of the Dog
Hit You Where You Live* (Coming Late 2019!)
Her Endless Night* (Coming in 2020!)
Burned Me* (Coming in 2020!)
Something In That Vein* (Coming in 2020!)
Southern Watch
Dark Contemporary Fantasy/Horror
Called
Depths
Corrupted
Unearthed
Legion
Starling
Forsaken
Hallowed* (Coming in 2020!)
Enflamed* (Coming in 2021!)
The Mira Brand Adventures
YA Modern Fantasy
(Series Complete)
The World Beneath
The Tide of Ages
The City of Lies
The King of the Skies
The Best of Us
We Aimless Few
Driven Page 22