The Loyal Nine

by Bobby Akart

  “What happened?” hissed Julia, trying to look beyond Sarge.

  “Trust me, you don’t want to see. Keep going,” he said.

  They reached the fire exit door and opened it, staring into the darkness. Screams and the sound of trampling feet filled the stairwell.

  “Damn. No lights,” said Sarge.

  “Not a problem,” said Julia, illuminating the stairwell with her smartphone.

  “Clever lady.”

  “Another reason to keep me around?”

  “I can think of others, but this will do for now,” he said, kissing her neck. “Hey, do you have a signal?”

  She pulled the phone closer to their faces. Full reception.

  “The good news is that this wasn’t the result of an EMP,” he said.

  “What’s the bad news?”

  “We still have thirteen floors to go, followed by the lobby. If it’s like this on the guest floors, imagine what it will be like out there,” said Sarge.

  Chapter 36

  February 13, 2016

  Caesars Palace Casino

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  Johnny Bagwell, aka “J-Bags,” checked the time—7:59 p.m. Almost showtime. He took one more glance around the casino to get his bearings. The plan was to allow the initial shock to settle, and then create a panic. Every union member had a different role throughout the casino floor. If the desired goal wasn’t reached, he had the authority to escalate the situation. J-Bags hoped this option wasn’t necessary. The place is filled with innocent people.

  J-Bags had compared notes earlier with the new guy, DePetri. Several of the rank-and-file members of the union provided input on what happened during power outages in the casinos.

  All of the major Las Vegas Strip hotels had massive diesel backup generators. A year ago, the Mirage, Stratosphere Casino and Circus Circus lost power when squirrels hit a Nevada Energy transformer, knocking out the substation. The power outage only lasted about an hour, but it exposed the procedures to be followed in the event of a power outage: Nevada Gaming Regulations require all gaming tables to stop operating, although the hand in play may be completed. Casino pit personnel immediately move into place to preserve the status quo and monitor the chips on the tables. Hotel security takes up positions near the exits in order to intercept anyone attempting to steal from the casino.

  For the first several minutes following the Circus Circus outage in 2015, gamblers held their positions and remained calm. Circus Circus did not have a backup generator system like the other major hotels. For planning purposes, the Circus Circus scenario was most illustrative of what to expect, because J-Bags and his associates were told the backup generator systems would fail. He had no idea how the union would pull that off, and he didn’t want to know. A strict “do as you’re told and don’t ask questions” policy had kept his career in the union on a steady, lucrative track. He had no intention of screwing that up tonight of all nights.

  A sudden darkness overcame the casino floor, resulting in a collective gasp from everyone in the building. Despite knowing the exact moment the power outage would occur, J-Bags felt the same way. Frightened. The battery-powered emergency lights lining the vast casino cast a feeble, shadowing illumination throughout the room. Once his eyes adjusted to the new lighting scheme, he observed the patrons and the employees. What will be their reaction? Will some type of primal instinct take over, causing the gamblers to make a desperate grab for the chips on the tables and run for the exits? Will opportunists take advantage of the weak by stealing their purses or wallets?

  A few screams penetrated the general chatter, but overall, the crowd remained surprisingly calm. The bulk of the noise came from casino managers and pit bosses passing sharp instructions to the table operators. Their crisp, staccato orders probably contributed to the illusion of control, delaying the inevitable panic. Unexpectedly, the lights brightened, producing a round of nervous applause. Several seconds into the jubilee, the lights went out again—this time to the sounds of annoyed gamblers.

  J-Bags leaned against a nearby slot machine and listened to the growing signs of chaos. It started with the slot machine players, their concerns revolving around the credits stored in the machine they were playing. Did the power outage wipe out the machines’ memories? Would they get their money back? The tide of irritation spread, resulting in raised voices and a few tense standoffs between angry, intoxicated gamblers and the casino staff.

  J-Bags glanced at his illuminated Casio watch again. He and the boys had agreed they would wait five minutes after the lights went out. It had been four minutes. Close enough. Maybe it was time to start the fireworks. He made eye contact with one of his associates and nodded.

  A few seconds later, shouts of stop, thief echoed through the darkened blackjack pits as a man ran through the casino, clutching a bag. Casino personnel ran after the man in vain.

  “I want my fucking money!” screamed a man from the slot machines.

  A crashing sound accompanied his protest as security personnel rushed to the scene. J-Bags detected a noticeable shift in the general mood. In the dim light, from his vantage point next to a raised bank of slot machines, J-Bags could tell that the casino staff was nervous. They had expected the backup generators to kick in at this point. Time to escalate this party.

  He moved to a bank of unoccupied slot machines near a plate-glass window overlooking the massive circular entrance to the hotel and lit a pack of Black Cat firecrackers. Incredibly, the exploding fireworks didn’t have the intended effect on the gamblers. Most chose to stay with their money. Are you kidding me? Before J-Bags could put his nuclear option into action, he heard feedback noise from a bullhorn, followed by a familiar voice.

  “All members of the Culinary Union and the Service Employees International Union, please listen up,” shouted the man, silencing the room.

  “Pursuant to our contract, we have declared this facility to be an unsafe work environment. It is our opinion that you are in danger of serious injury or even death as a result of these present conditions. Accordingly, under the Occupational Safety and Health Act, we are declaring a work stoppage and ask that you leave the premises immediately.”

  J-Bags watched as hundreds of employees simultaneously walked through the darkness toward the exits. Management personnel looked back and forth between each other, then upward out of habit—toward the inoperable cameras. Despite the bizarre exodus, casino patrons held steady, waiting for the lights to come on or the casino to refund their money. For fuck’s sake. Time for the nuclear option.

  J-Bags systematically walked through the casino floor, placing eight RIS Mark 4 electric smoke grenades (ESG) in concealed locations. Thumbing the wireless firing system in his coat pocket, he walked to the nearest exit and activated the grenades. This should do it. Smoke billowed from the devices, immediately grabbing the nearest casino guests’ attention. Shouts of “FIRE!” quickly followed, giving J-Bags an excuse to pull a fire alarm on the way out.

  “Nuclear, plus,” he muttered—unaware he had just killed or injured several dozen people with his unnecessary finale.

  Chapter 37

  February 13, 2016

  Fourteenth Floor, Caesars Palace Hotel

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  Sarge and Julia stayed pressed against the wall inside the stairwell. Sarge needed to gather his thoughts before they stepped off on the long journey down. He wasn’t convinced heading toward the lower levels was the best course of action. The casino and Forum Shops concourse had been jammed with people when they checked into the hotel. They needed to weigh their options. Stay on the guest floors, where it was less crowded, or take their chances down below.

  “Something’s off. I don’t know this for a fact, but I have to assume that Caesars Palace would have a substantial backup generator. Power outages can’t be rare in a city that draws this much juice. Why hasn’t it kicked on?” asked Sarge.

  “Right,” said Julia. “But wouldn’t the backup system operate indepe
ndently of the power grid. Do you think the entire grid might be down? Wait, we need a window.”

  “Good idea,” said Sarge, opening the door to assess the hallway situation. “Looks like things have calmed down out here.”

  Sarge and Julia eased into the hallway, slipping past a group of whispering guests. They headed toward the opposite side of the hotel floor, away from the elevator bank and the naked man sprawled halfway into the hallway, searching for a room with an open door. The sounds of a bickering couple drew them further toward a partially open doorway several rooms away.

  “Look inside the room, but keep walking. Never know,” said Sarge.

  He slowed their pace as they drew even with the door, searching inside for a glimpse of the windows. Total darkness, except for automobile lights in the distance. They stopped a few doors down to discuss what they saw.

  “I think we can safely rule out an EMP. I saw a ton of car lights. I’ve read conflicting opinions on the effect of an electromagnetic pulse on vehicles, but that’s too many for even the most liberal EMP assessment,” said Sarge.

  “Solar flare?” asked Julia.

  “I doubt it. I check solar activity forecasts every day. Today was no exception. There has been no significant solar activity and certainly no geomagnetic storm warnings.”

  “Then it had to be a deliberate attack on the grid,” she said.

  Sarge thought for a moment, deciding to reveal a secret he had kept from Julia.

  “I think you might be right. I find it very odd that the backup generator system didn’t take over. Those systems shouldn’t be susceptible to general power outages. This could be a cyberattack,” said Sarge. “A well-executed cyberattack could be more localized than an EMP. Hackers could have shut down the entire Las Vegas grid and the Caesars Palace network at the same time. Do you remember how the lights suddenly brightened and the elevator began to work again?”

  “Sure,” she said.

  “It’s possible the backup system attempted to fire, but was shut down,” said Sarge. “This has all of the earmarks of a cyberattack. The question is how long will it take for the power company and the hotel to bring things back online?”

  “We need to make a decision. Take our chances here, or take this show on the road?” asked Julia.

  “Or try to get back into our room,” suggested Sarge.

  “Even if we go upstairs, there’s no guarantee we can get in our room,” said Julia. “That guy was kicking his door pretty hard.”

  “Shit. I just thought of something. It’s not an option. The twenty-eighth floor requires a keycard. I assume that applies to the stairwell too,” said Sarge.

  “Then I guess we’re going down,” she said, starting for the stairwell exit.

  When Julia opened the door, the sound of a fire alarm filled the hallway.

  “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” asked Sarge. “This changes everything.”

  Sarge took Julia by the hand and pulled her back into the hallway of the fourteenth floor.

  “Let’s wait here for a moment,” said Sarge. “I suspect there will be a mass migration of crazed hotel guests descending those stairs in the next few minutes.”

  “Do you really think there’s a fire?” asked Julia.

  “It wouldn’t surprise me,” said Sarge, nodding down the hallway.

  Soft, flickering light adorned a few of the doorframes, the rooms’ occupants likely using their cigarette lighters to see in the dark.

  “It’s only a matter of time before some fool catches the place on fire.”

  “This is miserable,” said Julia, shaking her head.

  He held her tight and gently stroked her hair. Julia had a tough exterior, but everybody had a breaking point. She needed a moment, and so did he. They’d wait until the stampede died down before descending into the unknown.

  Chapter 38

  February 13, 2016

  Roman Plaza Grounds, Caesars Palace Hotel

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  Sarge and Julia escaped the building unharmed. Despite a few hotel guests pushing their way down the stairwell in sheer panic, the majority of guests calmly arrived in the lobby, which had been cleared by hotel staff by that point. Sarge looked for an open area to let Julia sit and rest. Her feet were raw from walking down the thirteen flights of concrete stairs without shoes. She’d wisely abandoned her Versace high heels on the fourteenth floor, or they might be dealing with a sprained ankle. Her feet didn’t require medical attention, but she needed to stay off them for now. He pulled off his jacket and wrapped her in it. High desert temperatures dipped significantly in the evening, especially in the winter. A comfortable seventy-degree day could rapidly turn into a cold, low-forties evening. They hobbled toward a display nestled between two boxed planters of flowers. No one had found this area, except for a few elderly people huddled on a bench next to the flowers.

  “Here’s a bench, darling,” said Sarge.

  She looked up at him and smiled.

  “Much better,” said Julia.

  Sarge took off his shoes and removed his socks, slipping them on her feet.

  “This is going to be a long, cold night,” said Sarge.

  “Chivalry is alive, even in the form of smelly socks,” she teased.

  He was glad to see she still had her patented sense of humor. Any different, and he’d be worried about the night ahead of them.

  “If we can stand the cold, it would be best to stay in one place. Hopefully, the fire department will check out the hotel and find there’s nothing wrong. If we get the all clear, at least we can go back inside until they let us back in our room.”

  Julia squeezed Sarge’s hand as they heard gunshots in the distance. The sounds of car horns honking permeated the darkness.

  “I’d like to stay right here for now,” she said.

  “Sounds like a plan,” he said, sitting on the bench next to her. “This is exactly how I pictured it, you know.”

  “Our Valentine’s weekend?” she said.

  “Ha! I knew I might see some action in Vegas,” he said, winking at her. “But this wasn’t what I had in mind.”

  “I wish we had stayed in our room for more of that action,” she said, taking his hand. “So, what did you picture?”

  “Societal collapse. From the moment the power went out, until right now, the reaction of people has been astonishing. There was no cooperation, much less any courtesy. There was a visceral reaction ranging from fear to panic. Every man and woman for his or herself. The level of selfishness was astounding.”

  “It’s like we’ve discussed before,” said Julia. “People appear to be agitated, on edge. It seems to be getting worse.”

  Julia kissed Sarge on the cheek, hugging him tightly. He glanced over their shoulders and gestured toward the statue behind them.

  “Besides, he’ll have our back.” Sarge laughed.

  “Who will?” asked Julia.

  “Him,” he said, standing to examine the display.

  “And who might that be,” she said.

  “I think I know, but let me read the placard,” said Sarge, squinting to read the words.

  He started laughing.

  “Come on, tell me,” insisted Julia.

  “Well, my dear, our protector is sitting in the middle of a replica of the Hindu Erawan Shrine,” said Sarge, shaking his head. “It appears that the original Erawan Shrine, located in Thailand, houses a similar gold statue.”

  “Who is it?” asked Julia.

  “Our protector here,” said Sarge, “is Phra Phrom, the four-faced representation of the Hindu God Brahma.”

  “No way, really?” Julia laughed.

  “It’s a small world, my darling,” said Sarge. “This is the original Brahmin.”

  PART FOUR

  Chapter 39

  March 14, 2016

  The Boston Herald Editorial Conference Room

  Boston, Massachusetts

  Julia reviewed her notes, waiting to address the editorial board. H
er eyes darted up when Joe Sciacca, the Herald’s chief editor, activated the room’s large-screen television. Images of Massachusetts Governor Charlie Baker filled the screen.

  “The budget I have submitted is fair and comprehensive. It will require sacrifices on the part of many state agencies. I believe Bay Staters have no appetite for new taxes in this current economic environment. They also agree that a two-billion-dollar shortfall in the state budget is unacceptable. We don’t have a revenue problem in Massachusetts, we have a spending problem.”

  Governor Baker stepped back from the podium while his Chief of Staff Elizabeth Guyton whispered something to him. He returned to the microphone.

  “I’m advised there’s time for a few questions. Bob Salsberg, Associated Press,” said Governor Baker.

  “Governor, thank you. For the fiscal 2015 budget, you implemented a twenty percent increase in the funding for the Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority. Now, you aim to reduce their 2016 fiscal budget by the same amount, on the heels of a string of brutal winters,” said Salsberg.

  “Bob, is there a question on the horizon?” the governor interrupted, eliciting muffled laughter.

  “Governor, is this budget cut retaliation for the criticism you have received from union leaders representing MBTA workers over the new commission convened to examine MBTA operations?” asked Salsberg.

  Julia knew Bob Salsberg well and considered him to be a fair journalist. She also knew Elizabeth Guyton to be a very shrewd political operative. Governor Baker wanted this question, without appearing to welcome it.

  “First of all, the entire Massachusetts government will see some belt-tightening. In the context of the situation we face and the circumstances we’re dealing with, these are reasonable appropriations.