by Akart, Bobby
The directive allowed the president broad powers once martial law had been declared, including the ability to seize and control all transportation and communication, regulate the operation of private enterprise, restrict travel, and suspend habeas corpus.
Hayden assumed the president would also suspend the operations of the Supreme Court during this period of catastrophic emergency, however he elected to define the term. Her mind began to process the ramifications of this on her supplemental brief to be argued on Friday. If the president were to declare martial law and invoke the powers granted to him by Directive 51, the justices would not consider their motion, and all hearings would be postponed.
However, Inauguration Day, January 20, was fast approaching. The law did not require a large public ceremony on the National Mall, which had become customary in the last century. As recently as Gerald Ford’s inauguration, which took place within the White House, the president could formally take the oath of office anywhere that the chief justice of the Supreme Court was present, including an underground bunker.
Hayden was beginning to generate a theory, one awash in conspiracy, when her phone rang. It was her boss, Pat Cipollone.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
New Year’s Day
Delta’s Cabin
The Haven
In the front yard of Delta’s cabin, Ryan and Delta spoke at length about the predicament they faced. With Delta nervously pushing the tire swing back and forth, Ryan relayed his concerns and the options he’d come up with, taking into account Blair’s input. After ten minutes, Ryan received another call from the front gate, as the family from Trenton was becoming impatient. Delta was feeling the pressure to make a decision, so he asked to speak to his children alone. After Ryan departed, Delta went inside to sort things out.
Prior to the incident in Philadelphia, Delta had been a good father. Oftentimes, it was difficult for law enforcement officers to leave the stresses of their job back at the station when they called it a day. The constant pressure and fatigue of their careers caused by long shifts, dangerous assignments, inadequate gear, and, at times, mismanagement by superiors led to family problems as cops coped with the daily transition from the beat to their home.
Delta was one of the few who’d avoided the anxiety, depression, and even PTSD while he was assigned to Philly SWAT. As a result, he’d played an active role in Ethan and Skylar’s upbringing until their close-knit family imploded.
During the tumultuous years following the incident in Fairhill Square, Delta lost control of the parenting aspect of his relationship with the kids. Tantrums, whining, and not listening all came with the territory. In the last year, Ethan had thrown a healthy dose of aggression and back talk into the mix.
Respect for authority was something ingrained in Delta’s psyche. Like the military, a law enforcement officer understood that a hierarchy existed within their department, and giving deference to a commanding officer was paramount for their team to function when their lives were on the line.
A child’s impudence, or back talk, was a form of challenging a parent’s authority. It showed a lack of respect, especially if the child succeeded, or if the parent was over the top in their response.
From the moment Ethan arrived in Atlanta, he’d shown a level of disrespect for Delta that went relatively unchecked. A noncustodial parent, especially in a hostile divorce, had a difficult row to hoe. Delta only had his children’s ear for a few days, while his ex-wife, Karen, could manipulate them for weeks and months on end.
This family dynamic made Delta’s decision even more difficult. It would be one thing if he had a decent working relationship with Karen as they attempted to lead their children to adulthood. However, the opposite had been the case since the day she had been discovered cheating on him.
Everything that went wrong in their lives was piled upon his shoulders, and the blame was laid at his feet. The tone had been set during the last two years, and taking a firm hand with Ethan now would serve to push the teen even further away.
Against that backdrop, Delta decided to employ a tactic he hadn’t used in his tenure as a dad. He was going to lie.
Not a big lie, at least not in his mind. He preferred to look at it as a little white.
“Hey, kids,” Delta began, trying to adopt an upbeat tone. Little white #1. “Mr. Smart and I just had a long conversation about your mom, and we’ve come up with something that will work out perfectly.”
“Okay, Daddy,” said Skylar, who sat up straight on the sofa and gave her father an adoring smile. Ugh. I will get zero father-of-the-year votes.
“As you guys know, your mother is out on the cruise, and most likely they’ve been made aware of the situation on the East Coast.”
“The power outage,” interjected Ethan. “Is it going to be fixed soon?”
“That’s what we’re hearing,” replied Delta. “The crews are working overtime to restore power, and my bet is it’s up and running before her ship arrives in the morning.” Little white #2.
“Will you be able to meet her at the dock?” asked Skylar.
Delta walked away and added one more chunk of wood, which wasn’t necessary, to the fire. He simply couldn’t make eye contact as he lied to his children. “No, and here’s why. The news is saying that cruise ships and airline traffic have been halted because of the uncertainty. All that means is your mom will have an extended vacation at sea. Lucky her, right?”
Lie was too strong a word for that statement. Delta considered that a fib coupled with a half-truth based upon supposition. He honestly believed the cruise line would know better than to drop their passengers off at a port with no electricity. It was more likely they’d leave them stranded somewhere else, like New York City or near Richmond.
“How will we know?” asked Ethan.
Delta had to be careful. Constant little white lies and fibs could become a crutch that ended up being exposed. He decided to tell the truth on this one. “I’m going to stay in contact with the cruise line and determine when and where they plan on dropping off their passengers. Plus, your mom has her cell phone on her, so we can stay in contact that way.”
Ethan seemed to be buying Delta’s approach. “I know, I’ve been trying to call her, but all I get is her voicemail. She’ll call me back at some point, I hope.”
“I’m sure she will, son. In the meantime, we’re going to stay here at the Haven. I’ve got a job to do, and you guys will be a part of the action as well.”
“Really, Daddy?” asked Skylar.
“Yes, ma’am. In about a week, they’re going to get the school up and running, and they’re looking to you kids for help. Because there are children of all ages at the Haven, we have to consolidate grades together, decide which schoolbooks to use from the library we have, and stuff like that. They might even ask some of you to help teach the younger kids. Would you like that?”
Skylar hopped off the sofa and hugged her father. “I would, Daddy. I think this is going to be a fun adventure.”
“At some point, you’ll bring Mom, right?” pressed Ethan.
Delta punted the question. “Let’s take it one day at a time. After the cruise ship arrives and we’re able to make contact with her, then the four of us will come up with the best plan of action.”
Ethan appeared skeptical, but he eventually acquiesced by saying okay. Relieved that he’d bought a little time to avoid telling the kids he had no intention of bringing their mother and her boyfriend to the Haven, he quickly turned to the front door to send Ryan a text.
DELTA: We’re staying here.
RYAN: Good choice. I’m sending these folks on their way.
DELTA: Thanks.
“Say, Dad?” asked Ethan.
Delta turned and faced his son, pleased that his demeanor had improved. “Yes, son.”
Ethan held his phone up to show the display to his father. “My cell phone is dying, and I forgot my charger at your place in Atlanta. Do you have a charger?”
“U
m, what kind of phone is that? Mine’s an Apple.”
“It’s an Android by LG,” Ethan quickly replied. “The Apple lightning cable won’t work.”
Here came the whopper of little whites. “Oh, no problem. I’ll ask around and find you a charger, okay?” If his son’s cell phone was inoperable, he couldn’t contact his mother and determine that his dad had just filled the room with lie upon lie upon lie.
“Okay, thanks, Dad.”
Ugh!
Chapter Thirty
Cortland Residence
Carlen-Midtown Neighborhood
Mobile, Alabama
The Cortlands lived in an historic part of downtown Mobile known as Carlen-Midtown. Named in part for the historic Carlen House, the neighborhood used to be on the westernmost edge of Mobile before expansion in the early 1900s encircled the area as the South recovered from the aftermath of the Civil War. The antebellum homes comprising the neighborhood were once referred to as The Loop because of the system of roads connecting it to the rest of the city. In the 1990s, some of the homes that had fallen into disrepair were purchased by savvy investors, renovated, and sold for a profit. The market value of the neighborhood tripled, and when Cort’s mother passed away, he inherited the family residence.
“Daddy, does it hurt anywhere?” asked his seven-year-old daughter as she assisted him along the brick-paver walkway to their kitchen entry door.
Cort gave Hannah a little squeeze and attempted to hide the grimace on his face. “You know, it’s a different kind of hurt. It’s not like I was beaten or banged up any. Sure, my waist hurts from the seatbelt holding me in place, but the rest is like a dull ache. I feel like I just finished running to New Orleans and back without stopping.”
“Like an elephant sat on you?” she asked innocently.
Cort nodded. “Yeah, kinda like that. I’m pretty sure if I could get Dumbo to sit somewhere else, I’d get better real quick-like.”
His wife, Meredith, rushed up the steps and unlocked the kitchen door. She held the wood-framed screen door open as Hannah led Cort inside. She leaned over and kissed her husband on the cheek as he passed.
“Maybe that’ll make your boo-boo better, too.”
Cort smiled, paused, and kissed her back. “Just being home with you guys is making a world of difference. Lots of kisses will have me up and running by tomorrow.”
“No way, mister athlete,” she said with a stern voice. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Cort furrowed his brow and walked into the kitchen. He mumbled, “We’ll see.”
Once inside, Meredith put the teapot on the stove and found some chamomile tea, Cort’s favorite. The soothing effects of the flavonoids provide several medicinal benefits, including treating diabetes, reducing inflammation, and helping with sleep and relaxation.
“Isn’t it a little early in the day for chamomile?” asked Cort.
“Not from what I understand,” began Meredith in response. “The nurse told me about your dream episode. Do you wanna talk about it?”
Cort briskly shook his head without knowing it. The last thing he wanted to do was relive the nightmare. Ordinarily, he didn’t remember his dreams when he woke up for the day. This time, it was different. The images were seared into his mind.
“No, but we do have lots to talk about. Obviously, my iPad was lost in the wreckage. I need to get some information off the one I use here at the house.”
“No, Cort. You shouldn’t be working. You’re supposed to rest.”
Cort closed his eyes and nodded. This was going to be difficult, but it had to be done. He tried to keep his voice calm—doctor’s orders. “Honey, I know. But there are some calls I need to make, and the contact information is on iCloud.” Cort was referring to the data storage service provided by Apple for users of their iPhones and computing devices.
“Like who? Who do you need to call that can’t wait until tomorrow? It’s a holiday, you know.”
Meredith was justifiably upset with him. She’d almost lost her husband. They barely had a foot in the door and Cort wanted to phone his associates in the government.
“Honey, just a couple of calls, and then we can talk about what happened.” A promise Cort intended to keep.
“And are you gonna explain to me what the Haven is?” she asked.
“What?”
“Last night, as we were leaving, you said something about the Haven. What does that mean?”
Cort wondered what else he might have said while dealing with the stress of almost dying. “Yes, we will talk about that.” He began to leave the kitchen and head for his study when Meredith stopped him.
“Cort, I’ll get it for you. Please just sit down.”
He continued walking through the kitchen and headed across the living room, where Hannah had turned on their gas fireplace.
“Daddy, Mom said you probably won’t be interested in watching the New Year’s ball dropping in New York after what happened. I recorded the AKC dog show that came on this morning. I wanna see if any English bulldogs are gonna win.”
“Speaking of which, where is Handsome Dan?”
Hannah pointed over her head as she got settled on the sofa. “He’s probably asleep on my bed.”
Cort grumbled as he left the room and entered his study. “Man’s best friend, what a joke.”
He shut the door behind him to prevent Hannah from walking in unannounced. He expected Meredith would bring his tea soon, so he hustled to remove the rare, antiquarian books from one of the upper shelves that only his six-foot-five frame could reach.
The void revealed a safe that was guarded with a biometric, fingerprint locking device to open it. The lock released with a slight click. As Cort opened the door, his mind wandered to his brush with death. How would Meredith access the safe? One that she had no knowledge of? Would they have to bring his right index finger from the morgue to retrieve the contents?
He shrugged and thought aloud, “Doesn’t matter now.”
He reached in and emptied the contents onto the cabinets below. Two handgun cases. A zippered deposit bag from First Community Bank full of cash. A GPS device and an old flip-style cell phone with a charger rounded out his stash that he jokingly referred to as the break-glass-in-case-of-emergency stuff.
Cort carried the items to his desk and set them on the leather inlay. Then he collapsed in his chair. He took a moment to examine the contents, which he hadn’t touched in two years. He popped open the cases first and handled the two nine-millimeter handguns. One was a Glock 26 Gen 4 concealed-carry weapon, and the other was a full-sized Glock 17.
He set them aside and then unzipped the bag full of hundreds and twenties, neatly bundled in the bank’s colored currency wraps, totaling ten thousand dollars. Finally, he plugged the cell phone charger in the wall outlet behind him and connected the phone. It would take a few minutes for the battery to charge sufficiently to make a call. This gave him an opportunity to retrieve his iPad and find the private, encrypted phone numbers he needed.
After Cort bent over to attach the phone to the charger, a twinge of pain in his abdomen jolted his body. He hoped the searing feeling was a result of the seat belt restraining him during the crash and nothing else. He shuddered as he shook off the pain, unaware that Meredith stood in front of his desk, staring at the guns and money covering the desk in front of her.
Chapter Thirty-One
Katonah, New York
The sprawling, sixty-three-acre estate located in the tiny community of Katonah, New York, was located ten miles from the Connecticut state line. It was barely forty miles north of Times Square, but the owner was very much in tune with the plight of those running for their lives. He had watched the multiple televisions in his study as the news reports flooded the networks. The attacks were brilliantly orchestrated for maximum effect—instilling fear. He couldn’t have done it better himself, only it wasn’t him this time.
“Father, have you slept?” asked his forty-eight-year-old son, Jonathan, the
heir apparent to the family fortune and, more importantly, the reins to the various foundations and organizations created by his father, György Schwartz. For Schwartz, being one of the thirty richest and most powerful men in the world had been hard-earned through taking risks and engaging in shrewd financial dealings. However, his life had begun in poverty, a condition that shaped his life and world view.
“Some.” The word was barely audible as the eighty-eight-year-old man had become increasingly tired, resulting in the sound of his voice reaching the level of a near whisper. “I am an old man, but I still have memories of the day the Nazis entered Budapest in ’44. We ran for our lives, frightened of the unknown and the rumors of what the Nazis did to our fellow Jews. Those who didn’t leave disappeared to a fate the world should never forget.”
With nothing but the clothes on his back, Schwartz learned to survive in Nazi-occupied Hungary. He had an uncanny knack for manipulation and applying his creativity to fool the Germans. When the Nazis hired teenagers to hand out deportation notices to Jewish families in Budapest, Schwartz destroyed them all because his instincts told him that deportation was equated with death. He was right.
He began to pose as the Christian godson of a Nazi collaborator within the Hungarian government. This enabled him to go to school and avoid the Nazis’ scrutiny. His ingenuity saved his life, but only subjected him to a more frightening period of time as World War II came to a close.
In 1945, Soviet and German forces fought house to house during the Siege of Budapest. Young Schwartz had become comfortable after creating the ruse that he was a Christian, only to be displaced by the horrors of war. It was a period of time that humbled him.
After the war, he emigrated to England and studied economics. Considering himself to be somewhat of a philosopher due to his childhood experiences, he obtained degrees in philosophy but found his position in life among economists and investors.