by Len Melvin
“You can actually kill more people in an open area.”
“What do you mean?” asked Brooks.
“If you want to kill a lot of people and do the most damage you look for a sort of an open area. People don’t get killed by the concussive force of a bomb. It’s by shrapnel and ball bearings or nails or metal fragments attached to the outside of the bomb. But most explosions are not powerful enough to send these projectiles through someone’s body. So in a really crowded area the bodies close to the explosion shield others from the detonation.”
“So—?” asked the younger guy.
“Both of them had guns. So, maybe one of them was going to fire a round, let everyone scatter and then detonate the explosives and kill a lot more than they would have otherwise.”
Everyone in the room fell silent. Mick took a long sip of his drink and placed it back on the table. He exhaled and lowered his head, pointing the sparrow eyes directly at Simon. He lifted his chin as he spoke. “What are you thinking?”
Simon didn’t answer but stood and walked to the bar. He leaned his back against it and propped a foot on the bar rail. “The data base is five times bigger than when I started.”
“And?” asked Mick.
“The threats are coming more often,” Simon said. “And, so are the attempts.” A silence fell across the room, the only noise the faint tapping of the Chief’s fingers on the table.
The Chief looked at Brooks and then back at Simon. “And?”
“Mick,” Simon said, “somebody’s gonna get through soon.”
The Chief stared in silence at Simon for a long moment then stood up, turned the chair back around and then pushed it under the table. He grabbed the drink, turned it up, and finished it. “Not if I can help it.” He rattled the ice, took another half sip and slung the empty glass across the surface of the table. “E-mail me a full report tomorrow.” He turned, gestured to the younger man and walked to the door. He looked back at Simon. “It’s a good job you did today,” he said.
“Thanks,” Simon said.
“The Boss was real impressed. He’s going to Mississippi next week and wants you down there with him.”
“Okay. When?”
“Soon. I’ll let you know.” Mick started to go through the door but stopped. “That’s your home state, isn't it?”
“Used to be.”
“Okay, that ought to make it easy for you then.” Mick turned and left without waiting for a reply. The younger man hesitated and then followed.
Simon turned, leaned on the bar and motioned for another drink. He gave a half laugh to himself. It was never easy.
Chapter Eight
Connor pawed the ground with his foot and checked his watch. The others stood in a loose cluster around him. “We’ll wait a little longer.” He felt uneasy going down into the cavern without all of them there. He scanned the horizon through the shadows, searching for any movement that might indicate an approaching figure. Next to him Cori shifted in impatience and he knew what she was thinking and silently agreed. ‘What the Fuck?’ You’re going to undertake something like this, you better be on fucking time. It was a bad sign.
He turned and motioned to Cori. She rose like a coiled spring from where she had been kneeling, waiting for a sign from him. He handed her the key. “Take everybody down. I’m gonna wait a little longer.”
“This is bullshit, you know.”
“I know.”
“Let’s go,” Cori murmured to the others. They rose, emerging from the shadows and assembled behind her. In the adjoining woods, a soft noise, like an elevator arriving at a floor sounded.
“Wait.” Connor straightened, grabbing Cori by the arm.
Cori stopped in mid-stride. “What?”
Connor squinted into the dark. “Did you hear that?”
“What?” Cori asked, her voice a whisper.
He listened, holding his breath. “I thought I heard a pinging noise.”
“A pinging noise?”
“Yeah.” Connor dropped his hand. He leaned in and whispered to Cori. “Maybe I imagined it, but I thought I heard a couple of soft pinging sounds.”
Cori stared out into the darkness. Nothing moved but the already nervous group around them seemed even more agitated. She gave Connor a discreet push. “I think we should get underground.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Connor turned but stopped when movement caught his eye. “Wait,” he said again. “Look.” A lone figure wearing a mask ambled toward them, a cigarette held in his hand. “You’re late,” Connor snapped.
“Sorry.” Number Eight said through a hacking cough. “I had trouble getting off.”
“Put the cigarette out.” Number Eight hesitated, put the cigarette to his mouth and inhaled, the glowing of the cigarette briefly illuminating his mask. He blew out a wad of smoke, dropped the cigarette to the ground and rubbed it out with his shoe, his eyes never leaving Connor.
“Pick it up,” Connor said
“What?”
“Pick it up and put it in your pocket.”
Number Eight didn’t move. Connor took a step forward.
Dammit. Connor trusted the Professor explicitly but how could he have recommended this guy? “You want your DNA discovered at a major crime scene?”
Number Eight hesitated and then bent over and picked up the cigarette butt. “Satisfied?”
Connor started to say something but stopped. He couldn’t throw him out now. There was too much at stake and it was too late in the process. Next to him, Cori tensed, her fury evident. “Listen,” he began, “this is—”
He stopped as a flash of gold light enveloped them for an instant and then it was dark again.
“What was that?” Cori’s said, her knife now out of its sheath and in her hand. “What the fuck was that?”
Connor stared out into the darkness, his eyes still trying to adjust. “I’m not sure. Let’s get underground.” Without taking his eyes from the woods he motioned to the door. He touched Cori on her shoulder. “Get everyone underground. I’ll go last.”
“Okay.” Cori opened the door, and one by one, the group disappeared into the ground. “Okay,” Connor heard Cori call from the bottom of the stairs.
Connor stepped onto the stairs, closed the door behind them and locked it. He backed down the stairs, his hand on the wall. He reached the bottom, where Cori stood, the Zombie Knife in her hand, and wiped a sleeve across his brow. “What,” she held the half-machete up so that light reflected off the edge of its serrated blade, “is going on? That’s the second time.”
Connor rubbed his hand across his eyes. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. The group all faced him waiting. “Let’s go talk.” Connor led them to the table in the middle of the room. “We have some decisions to make.”
The sound of the ping startled the blue-lined man in the woods and he moved to put the iPhone on low. The phone pinged again and he glanced at the others as he fumbled with the phone. The man in the gold cloak turned at the sound of the ping and glanced back at the wooded area. A gleam of light reflected from the cloak and he stopped and stood still. He saw alarm in the body language of the huddled figures and moved as slow as he could back to the wooded area. The man with the iPhone moved it in a circular motion holding it with both hands as he tried to find the cause of the ping. The iPhone became brighter and he looked up and over his shoulder at a tree situated behind them. He rose, stood on tiptoe and saw a small recording device that was lodged in a crevice between two branches. He picked it up carefully, looked at it and then showed it to the group. The man in the cloak rejoined them. “What happened?” he asked. “What was that pinging noise?”
The man held the camera up to the others. “Somebody’s watching us.”
◆◆◆
Beaux sat on an old, decrepit concrete slab she had come upon in the woods. It was surrounded by foliage but afforded an open view of both the door into the ground and the wooded area. She watched the blue men watch the underground figures thoug
h it was harder to follow them as the blue lines around their bodies seemed to be fading. It wasn’t clear when there might be something happening so she had installed a wireless camera in a tree in the woods to better see what was going on when she couldn’t be there. She had begun checking her iPhone hourly to see if any of the blue men were gathering. She had installed another camera in the tree near where she had seen the man standing the first time she observed them and also one camera in the vicinity they met.
Beaux pulled her legs up on the slab and sat cross-legged as she watched the blue men assemble. Malouf wasn’t there, she was sure. She hadn’t seen that assured, steady familiar walk of his. She also saw the underground people assemble and wondered why they waited above ground. She looked down at her iPhone and the images from the cameras she had set up. Her head went alternately from the screen of the phone, to the men and then back to the screen.
She saw a lone figure approaching the huddled group at a casual pace and figured that the rest of them had been waiting on him. The leader confronted him and then there was the flash of light that she had seen before though not as bright as the first time. She covered her eyes and then looked back at the figures who seemed alarmed by the brief light show. She saw them scurry underground and then after some time the blue men emerged from the woods. They walked out into the open and seemed to be looking in all directions as if they were searching for something. Beaux looked down at the screen of her phone and saw that one of the video feeds on her phone had gone black. She looked up from the screen and saw that one of the men was pointing in her direction. She eased off the concrete slab, kept to the shadows, and hurried back to the restaurant.
◆◆◆
Connor pulled a map from a circular tube and spread it out across the surface of the table. then secured three of the corners with a rock he picked up from the floor and two pistols pulled from his belt. Cori pulled her Zombie Knife from her scabbard and placed it across the other corner. “This,” he pointed with the tip of a pen, “is Fondren Hall.” The hooded conspirators leaned in over the table. He moved his finger to an area directly in front of Fondren Hall and tapped the map. “And this is where the Man will be.”
“How do you know that?” the figure with the number six on his mask asked.
“Trust me. That’s where he will be.” Connor said. “If he’s not there, it’s off and we all go home.” He studied each of them one by one, and each nodded an acknowledgment. “Okay,” Connor said, a finger held upward in emphasis, “one thing. This is the plan that we have for us. There’s a separate plan and hopefully one of them will be successful.”
“What do you mean a separate plan?” Number Eight asked.
“There’s another plan to kill him that involves someone not in this room.” Connor straightened. “The goal is to kill this motherfucker and take our country back. It really doesn’t matter who does it. Now,” he looked from one to another, “we are going to be working in conjunction with the other party. The man who put this together thought that two cells working separately but somewhat together would have a better chance.” Connor hesitated, his voice echoing in the small space. “And maybe he’s right.”
Connor leaned over the table. “This,” he drove the pen down into the map on the table, “is our chance. The entire leadership of the country is going to be on that podium. The President,” he stood to his full height, “the Vice President, the Speaker of the House, and maybe the Majority Leader. I’m not sure on that.” He studied each of the masked faces in turn. “With one fell swoop we can get all of these guys.”
Number Five asked, “The President and the entire leadership are going to be on the podium? At Fondren Hall?”
“Yes.” Connor said.
“You’re sure of that?” Number Two asked.
Connor shrugged. “Anything can happen between now and then but otherwise, yes. They will be there.”
“Who can guarantee that?” Number Eight rasped, then dissolved into a coughing fit.
Connor breathed out in annoyance and waited for the hacking cough to stop. “There are people other than us who view this leadership as treasonous. And they are putting them here so that they can all be eradicated at once.”
“How do we do it?” Cori asked, her enthusiasm barely contained.
“Well,” Connor smiled, “are you still good on the bow?”
Cori took a half-step back in mock surprise. “Of course.”
“How good?”
“I’m the best around.”
“That’s what I remember.” Connor turned back to the group. “Before I begin,” and he fixated on Number Eight, “we all have to be on time from now on. Timing is going to be crucial in this undertaking. There’s a lot at stake— our country and our lives. Planning and timing are going to be essential. Got it?” He waited for a nod from each person in the group before he continued. “Okay, we have to move quickly. Secret Service will be all over that campus and this area soon. The whole area will be on lock-down. I want to do a run-through this Saturday, late in the day. It’s a little dangerous but that’s the only way to simulate a day attempt. And that’ll probably be the last chance.”
“What about the bow?” Cori asked.
“We are going to attach some dynamite to your arrows.” Connor said to Cori. “You ever done that?”
“Not lately,” she smiled.
“Can it be done?”
“I guess so.” Cori nodded as she put a hand to her chin. “I’ll have to think about how to do it.”
“I’ve already researched it and have some ideas.” Connor said. “How many arrows can you get off in ten seconds?”
“Three, maybe four.” she said.
“Two is all we need.”
“The President and the entire leadership there for the taking and we’re talking about bows and arrows?” Number Eight laughed. “What about some spears?”
Cori started toward Number Eight but Connor grabbed her by the arm. He gave Number Eight a menacing glare, then let go of Cori and continued. “I’ve got a prototype I’ve been working on that attaches a stick of dynamite to an arrow that I think might work. I’ll give it to you before we leave and you can be practicing.”
He turned his attention to Number Eight. “Security measures will be elaborate. They will be ready for any and all things.” Connor took the pistols from on top of the map and twirled them in his hand, leaving the barrels pointed at Number Eight. “Except for people coming from the ground with arrows and dynamite and weapons. That,” he gave the group a thin smile, “is our secret weapon.” Connor left his gaze on Number Eight, then stuffed the pistols back into his belt and turned to the rest. “Basically, I’m gonna tell you the plan right now. On Saturday, we’ll practice it. Okay?”
“Okay,” a general murmur sounded.
“A girl is going to take the first shot,” he began. “She’s apparently some kind of marksman. I don’t know who she is or where it’s coming from and, to be candid, it kinda bothers me but that’s the way it is. The President apparently did something pretty bad to her father and so she’s been promised the first shot.” Connor pointed at Cori. “You get the next two chances. When you hear her shot, as quick as you can, you put up two arrows with dynamite on top of them.”
“There are seven tunnels that surface directly onto the campus from different directions. Each one of us will be in a passage.” Connor looked at Cori. “After you shoot your arrows, you’re back in your tunnel headed back to the main cavern. Everything you have on except your mask is to be put in a bag so bring a whole new change of clothes. As each one of us returns, you’re to be responsible for everyone putting their clothes in the bag.”
“Got it,” Cori said.
“The rest of us will wait until the second of the dynamite blasts go off and then we come out of our holes, guns blasting. We concentrate on the area between the podium and the limousines ‘cause I figure that’s where they’ll be headed. Now, we go after the leadership only. We try to keep civi
lians out of this. But,” he hesitated, “if there is collateral damage, well, you know, they shouldn’t have been there.”
“Number Eight,” Connor continued, “you will stay here in the main cavern and coordinate things between the rest of us.”
“Wait a minute. I don’t get to go kill some of them Fascists?”
“No, not when you can’t be on time,” Connor retorted. “There are monitors at the exit of each tunnel and each of us will be able to see our own monitor, but you’ll be in front of them. You’ll have a comprehensive view of what’s going on and you will relay to us everything by burner phone. You will handle things here. You will watch the monitors and keep us all informed as to what’s happening.”
“I don’t want to be stuck down here watching monitors and talking on cell phones.” Number Eight protested. “Let someone else do that. I’ll be on time from now on.”
“You’re too fucking fat and out of shape to be moving through the tunnels anyway.” Cori sneered. “Besides you might not even be able to get out of the tunnel to attack.”
“You fucking bitch.” Number Eight shoved Number Six aside and reached for Cori, his hand barely missing her elbow.
“Shut up. Both of you.” Connor stepped in between them. “Let’s save our energy for the people on that podium.”
After a moment, Cori grunted and took a step back. Number Eight pressed forward, eyes narrowed to slits, then backed away, shaking Number Six’s hand from his elbow as he did.
There was silence until Connor broke the tension in the room. “Okay.” Connor turned back to the rest of the group. “We got a chance to do a lot of good here. We can get rid of a lot of people all at once who have taken our country from us. Besides getting rid of a really bad guy, it’s a chance for a new beginning for our country.” He slid the map from the table and rolled it back into a tight scroll. “Let’s don’t fuck this up.”
Chapter Nine