3 Thank God it's Monday

by Robert Michael

  It was odd that his exodus from the back of the room to near the front, poised just opposite of the two dozen cameramen, had garnered no alarm from the security in the room, but concerned looks from the veteran press correspondents. Two of the consortium five-vs were at the back of the room monitoring monitors. Cameras were everywhere. The Press Pool cameras were trained on the podium. This assassination would be better documented than Kennedy’s.

  ∞

  “Arrest her.”

  Hallie had never heard those words uttered toward her before. She supposed she deserved it, but not for Kyle. She was only mildly surprised that they had implicated her so soon.

  “Wait. No. I need to talk to Director Loxley,” she said as calmly as possible. She understood that if she maintained her composure, they would be more likely to at least listen.

  Still, one of the Agents grabbed her wrist and put a handcuff on it. She did not resist. She looked from one to the other, hoping that they would make eye contact with her.

  She had to look bedraggled. She had spent the night in the airport. She wore a neon t-shirt and a dark blue scarf. Out of desperation, she had come to the Secret Service Headquarters, just a few blocks east and north of the White House.

  She wanted to cry, but that would be worse than flailing and screaming.

  “I am agent Hallie Monday, and I need to speak to Director Loxley. President Vine’s life is in danger.” She added that last bit for effect. Of course, it was true. She also risked interrogation about the validity of that announcement in lieu of her demands. She was only making an educated guess that Harold was here. Often, he headed up the five-man personal protection team that surrounded President Vine where ever he went.

  “We know who you are, Agent Monday. You have been identified by NTAC as someone who poses a high threat possibility. In addition, we are apprehending you because you are a suspect in the investigation into the murder of Agent in Charge, Kyle Evers.”

  “Maybe you should suspect the dead man at his feet instead. It is Agent Evers who wanted me to relay this message in person. It was his dying wish.”

  Easy lie. No one could deny it. It sounded good. Put Evers in the position of a hero and her as simply a messenger. This would fit these agents’ idea of the place for a female agent. No matter what strides they had taken in the Agency in terms of equality, sexism was still alive in its roots. It thrived just under the surface. Of course, it rarely was articulated publicly.

  “We have already contacted Director Loxley. He has agreed to meet with you before we process you for arraignment. Would you like for us to read you your rights now or after you tell your lies to the director?”

  Hallie bit back her anger. He was provoking her.

  She knew she had little chance of getting close to the President this morning unless she enlisted the assistance of someone they both trusted. Harold Loxley was the President’s friend as well as in charge of his protection details.

  Hallie looked the agent, Randall Messer, in the eye. He was almost a foot taller than her. His light blue eyes and short-cropped dark hair reminded her of a friend she had growing up. Agent Messer was just doing his job. In fact, he was using a technique on her that she would use herself. Hallie resisted smiling.

  “You are welcome to read me my rights any time you deem it necessary, Agent Messer.”

  “Can I ask what you think you were doing coming here after what happened in New York? Leaving the scene of a crime is a felony and against regs.”

  She fixed him with a cold stare.

  “I thought you wanted to recite Miranda?”

  He sighed.

  Just then, a man burst through the door just down the hall. The door slammed back against the marble tile wall of the entry.

  “Let her go. She’s with me. This is a national emergency,” he said, brandishing a badge. The agents stepped back. Behind the man, four Secret Service Emergency Response Team members came through the door carrying submachine guns and scowls. Two of them were bald, which made them look even sterner. But she could not take her eyes off the young man with the badge.

  He wore a dark blue suit, cut in athletic style, a light blue tie that accentuated his eyes, and he carried himself with confidence.

  “Who are you?” Agent Messer asked. He seemed taken off guard, but still wary.

  “Calvin Royster with the National Threat Assessment Committee. If this is Hallie Monday, I need her to come with me right away.”

  “She is being held for questioning for the murder of Kyle Evers, Agent in Charge of the New York City Office,” he protested.

  “Calvin? The Calvin?” Hallie asked. She wanted to laugh. She was still in handcuffs, though, and so she felt that would be a poor life choice.

  He gave her an irritated glance.

  “Yes. Lars is my biological father. We have been fighting the wrong people all along, it seems.”

  “What do you have to do with Jake and Galbraith?”

  “I can explain later. It is important that we get to the White House Brady Press Room right away. We only have thirty minutes.”

  Hallie was relieved to feel one of the agents slip off her handcuffs. She turned and gave a smile of gratitude.

  “This does not mean you are cleared of suspicion. We will have to. .”

  Calvin put his hand on Agent Messer’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. The four ERTs flanking him were certainly intimidating.

  “We will discuss this once we get back, Agent Messers. This is not your concern. We appreciate your commitment to your duty. I am not appraised of the situation in New York, but I am positive Mrs. Monday is not responsible for murdering her superior. You must trust me. This country we serve is under attack as we speak and I cannot allow you to stand in the way of protecting the President and his staff. With your leave, sir, I will take custody and full responsibility of Mrs. Monday.”

  “There is paperwork...”

  “Shove the paperwork! We are leaving now!”

  Calvin grabbed Hallie and took her back up the hall the way he had come. She glanced back, and saw the three agents that had apprehended her. One shook his head with chagrin. Messer stood with his fists and his jaw clenched. Internal struggles were so fun.

  “I thought you said we need to get to the White House,” Hallie noted as he dragged her along.

  “We will never make it. Rush hour traffic, too many people. We have to keep panic down. There is a tunnel that connects. We will have to walk briskly. Are you up for it?”

  She had never heard of a tunnel from the Headquarters to the Whitehouse before.

  “Sure. I can keep up.”

  “I only ask because you seem a little bedraggled.”

  “Thanks. Sorry I didn’t have time to shine my shoes and brush my teeth on the flight.”

  “What happened in New York?” He asked, looking back for a moment. She just shook her head.

  “I think it was Galbraith. Kyle gave me this,” she held up the flash drive. “He said he found out several connections that would give us some idea what is going to happen. Evidently, they wanted the information.”

  “We suspected Kyle had been compromised. He may have had second thoughts and they came back to eliminate him.”

  She shook her head.

  “I cannot believe Kyle would do that.”

  “Yeah. I know. Me either. I wouldn’t think that my father would turn against the CIA and your husband, either. He was sent to protect him and feed him information. Not kill him.”

  “I see what you mean. So, all that stuff that Jake said about Darius and Sinegem? What was that?”

  They ducked inside a small room. The ERT guys were not even breathing hard. Hallie was winded from talking and walking so quickly. They opened what appeared to be a safe in the wall. She had no idea where they were. It was the first floor. She spent practically no time down here when she and Jake were stationed in Washington.

  Inside the safe, aluminum stairs led down into darkness. As they descended, g
as lights flared with an audible popping sound. A concrete tunnel lay ahead, about six feet across and six feet tall. The poor ERT guys had to hunch and walk, their FN-P90s held out at an angle across their bodies. The tunnels appeared to have been built in the fifties. At intervals, small alcoves housed a table, a lamp and some various supplies.

  “It was my father’s program. He was trying to weaken Sinegem from the inside. He was targeting large stakeholders. It was dangerous stuff. He got caught. Plus, we did not know at the time that Jake was being counter-programmed.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Calvin sighed and rolled his eyes.

  “We were working with Agent Evers and your department, the CIA, and the NSA on a program to develop a threat assessment model that took into account not only our assets but our allies as well. We were creating a global database of the most influential terrorist threats and national security threats that we have ever had access to.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “The entire protection apparatus failed.”

  Hallie almost stopped walking. That would be a nightmare.

  “How?”

  “We cannot pinpoint how long, is the worst part. We noticed some anomalies at first—bank accounts, visa discrepancies, travel itinerary inconsistencies, and odd pairings of personnel and accumulations of money. We immediately suspected some sort of localized corruption. Perhaps an agent or two. Then, we were getting these same reports from our sister agencies. Treasury, FBI, NSA, CIA. Now, for some of those guys, those sorts of things are common, every year occurrences. For us, it was unusual but not unheard of. You remember Colombia, right?”

  Hallie shook her head in disgust.

  “Yeah. Big black eye. Typical macho bull. No offense, guys.” She said the ERT closest to her. She smiled. He returned the smile. Did not say a thing.

  “Anyway, we suspect now that there is widespread corruption of our system at all levels and in multiple areas. Everything from water and electric CEO’s at large municipalities to senators and members of the President’s cabinet, to Supreme Court judges, some of the Joint Chiefs, and several key ambassadors.”

  “How can you be sure? That sounds like it is too rampant.”

  They turned a corner. The tunnel was well lit but damp. It was painted a dull gray and the floor was an aggregate concrete popular in the forties and fifties.

  “That’s just the thing, we can’t. It might all be a ploy to throw us off. We’ve considered that. It is the main reason we have failed to apprehend anyone yet. Until now.”

  Hallie looked up at Calvin as he pulled ahead.

  “Senator Swane?”

  “Yes. Nancy died and he came to us.”

  “When?”

  “The night you left. She passed in her sleep. Peacefully. We think it was mercy killing but we can’t be sure. It doesn’t matter. Robert wanted to let us know the whole thing. He said it was too dangerous for only Jake to know.”

  “How did he find you? We didn’t even know who you worked for?”

  He finally smiled.

  “Yeah. It was meant to be that way. I work directly for President Vine. Even Director Loxley did not know my full capacity. The NATC is well known, of course. It was President Vine who pulled our activities under his umbrella.”

  “Sort of black ops,” Hallie said. She meant it as an insult.

  “Actually, it is what we call red ops. We are sort of the extra life line for the Executive Branch. We came to interview the senator through inner channels. He didn’t know we existed until we brought him to our headquarters.”

  “Where is he now?”

  He smirked.

  “Need-to-know basis, Agent Monday. Come on, we have to hurry. This could end badly.”

  “What is going on?”

  “Jake is faking it and we have to save him.”

  “Faking it? Faking what?”

  “The last time we de-programmed him, we gave him treatments that make him immune to the chemicals they use to manipulate him. We also inserted several micro devices that intercept the technology that they use to control him. The only thing that will work now is the verbal-tactile triggers.”

  Hallie shook her head and stopped, her hands on her knees. She was hyperventilating. She was afraid she was affected by the tightness of the tunnel and their pace. Her heart thudded in her chest and she could not catch her breath.

  “You have to be kidding!” she said to the concrete at her feet. She looked up at Calvin. He did not look apologetic at all.

  “He is in danger. The President is in danger. We did not know Jake would pass the tests.”

  “You let him die.”

  He shook his head.

  “No. We took a calculated risk and we lost. Now we need to fix it. Come on.”

  She put her hand to her mouth and a tear leaked out. Calvin turned away and began to trot ahead to catch up with his team.

  “Calvin!”

  He stopped and turned, his eyebrows raised.

  “Give me a gun, will ya?”

  Chapter 10

  The Man Behind the Curtain

  Sometimes he wished he could be in several places at once. What he would give to be in Washington right now to watch his little drama unfold? Or in London as the Prime Minister was exposed before being shot by the nephew he molested as a child? Or in Paris as the French President’s wife finally kills the Prime Minister for sleeping with her husband for almost a year?

  Instead, he sat in a recliner with a wall of massive flat screen televisions. He hated American internet connectivity speeds. He found that his current home, a converted 14th-century fortress in the Transylvania Alps near Rasnov, Romania, had better connection than his homes in Montana, Maine, or even in Texas. Somewhere below, dozens of servers whirred. Technicians worked like slaves (extremely well-paid slaves) to access and to re-route information.

  One thing that he did not hold in common with his compatriots, his true brothers of Viveri, was his love of technology. He believed that technology was finally the tool they needed to wrest power away from those less competent. Advancements in communication, automation, mechanics, and most importantly, medicine, would level the playing field.

  Just hours before, several crises hit the globe. An attack on an American Embassy in Juba. A scandal in London involving not only the pedophile in the Prime Minister’s chair, but also the complete financial collapse of the crown as well. In Amsterdam, a series of red-light district murders were pinned on conservative police chiefs. In Tokyo, several health care facilities were closed, the employees never showed up to work. Hundreds of sick people were rioting in the streets.

  Of course, in the next twenty-four hours complete pandemonium would be in full force. Leaders and popular figures would bleed. The political and social systems in the most powerful countries would collapse. The fakers and incompetents would be replaced. The true rulers of the world would arise, flex their considerable muscle from afar and set all things right again. This all would take place over the next two weeks. It would take that long to answer the millions of cries for order and peace.

  Peace. That was what this all was about. Zeke Galbraith understood the value of peace. He had dedicated his life to maintaining the balance of power in the world by eliminating resistance to balance. His Machiavellian philosophy required that the ends justify the means.

  The Mystery Man had been confident that Galbraith would be an easy convert and a valued addition to the Viveri brotherhood. So far, he had not been disappointed. They had the massive capabilities and global power of the Galbraith Association at their disposal. The technology that he desired was now at his fingertips.

  He raised a controller and changed a channel on the set directly in front of him. He pulled on the crease of his slacks and put his feet on a marble and maple table. The scene changed to a feed from an underground bunker in Colorado. Clarence stood at a terminal nearby, a young woman at his side. The Mystery Man grinned wickedly.

  “So Claren
ce. I see you have my prize with you.” He let the gravel of his voice punctuate his statement.

  Clarence appeared startled for a moment and turned, composed.

  “Yes. Sir, Mr. Monday has arrived in Washington. He passed the cortex test. He is prepped and prepared for the press conference.”

  “Press Secretary Trent has come through for us, then? Good. I had not seen the update.”

  “Capitol Hill is abuzz. It is only the second terrorist attack since President Vine lifted the sanctions in the first year of his term.”

  “He gets what he deserves. The madman actually thought he could go around us. Today he will be repaid. There will be no mistakes this time?”

  “None that I can foresee. Over a dozen of the agents on site today have already been compromised. The Press Secretary assures me that Jake will have the access he needs to get within range. He will be using his signature weapon. An improvised knife.”

  “Excellent work so far Clarence.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “When can I expect the delivery of my victory prize?”

  Clarence looked uncomfortable for a moment. He could tell Clarence wanted to wipe his forehead or pull on the sleeves of his shirt. Clarence was full of these vain idiosyncrasies, but he had faithfully served his family for almost a decade now. Even though Clarence was prone to pride and vanity, he was an able and motivated facilitator.

  “I am afraid the package may have been damaged.” Clarence’s voice did not sound remorseful.

  “That was bound to happen. We must remember that we are playing with the human mind. Not all minds are as pliable as our Mr. Monday’s. His resilience is quite amazing. It is a shame that a specimen as unique as his should be wasted on such a meaningless gesture.”

  “I thought that assassinating Vine was key to your plan.”

  “Don’t be disappointed if I tell you it does not matter. Our corruption runs so deep, I could have his cleaning lady kill Gabriel in his sleep. Catherine has phoned me twice in the last month begging me to let her do it.”