3 Thank God it's Monday

by Robert Michael

  He knew that Clarence was surprised. He was proud of him for concealing it so well.

  “Then why?” Simple question. Complicated answer. Maybe it would be wise to cut Clarence off at this juncture.

  He shrugged.

  “It will be amusing to give Eilif his revenge at the cost of his daughter’s life.”

  Clarence smiled at that. He glanced back at Giselle and his beady, watery eyes returned to the monitor.

  “We will prep her for the trip, sir. Once we discover the trigger Dr. Forsythe used, we will be able to recover most of her functions.”

  “That will be delicious. I am looking forward to it. Send her on to Rasnov with an escort. I plan on being here for the next week watching this global drama unfurl its wings. The phoenix rising from the ashes.” He smiled. It felt good. He put the unlit cigar to his mouth and bit down on the end, chuckling softly.

  “What do you want to do about Chen? He is making counter moves.”

  “We have China under our surveillance. Do not worry. Once they think it won’t touch them, we will set our foot down on their neck. Rice fields will burn, the Great Wall will fall, and their banks will fail in the span of two days. Chen will join the ranks or fall prey to financial destruction. There will come a great purge of the perceived nobility. When the dust settles, we will take the reins again. With or without Chen.”

  “And Granville Arms? Their shipments are not ready. Should we put more pressure on there?”

  “With the recruitment process in question, I say we just give them a reminder. He did say by Christmas. Give him some more time.”

  “I will visit him tomorrow. In the meantime, we have one more issue.”

  He hated words like “issue” or “difficulty” or “challenge.” They all spelled the same word: failure. Clarence had a complete section of vocabulary for these failure words. The only reason he indulged Clarence was because he was otherwise so efficient, so unemotional, and so mechanical.

  “What is it?” He tried not to allow his irritation to creep into his voice. He kept his tone neutral.

  “The recruits are resisting the programming after about twenty four hours.”

  “Submit them to re-programming, then. Or eliminate them. They are useless to us if they think independently.”

  “That is the problem, sir. Over forty percent of the subjects reject the treatments on the second try. It completely fries their motor and cognitive skills. Many of them go into a vegetative state. We are quickly running out of recruits here.”

  “Then scrap the whole damn thing.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. Eliminate them all. Put the Sychol back into the cases and send it to the FDA or pour it down the drain. I simply don’t care anymore. It was a touchy science anyway. Besides, the failure of the program will make Chen happy. He loves being right.”

  “There is that,” Clarence offered. He was disappointed. The Mystery Man could see it in his eyes. He had liked the control. Clarence was acting like a teenager who had been told to put the electronics away for the night.

  Damaged goods. I bet.

  “Concentrate on Granville for now, Clarence. And send me the girl.”

  “Yes Mr. Komnenos.”

  He felt his lips press together and his eyebrows narrow.

  “I hope you have a secure channel, Clarence,” he said. He knew that his veiled threat would cow the man.

  “Of course,” Clarence stammered. Surely, he understood his mistake. Absolutely no one called him by his name.

  “To be certain, from now on, you will resist the temptation to reveal my name, even in supposed private. Do you understand?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “Send the girl. I am finished with you for now.”

  Clarence nodded.

  He changed the channel. He could barely look at the man anymore. Clarence was practically gyrating in front of the camera. He was only mildly successful at disguising his discomfort.

  He switched back to the Washington feed. It was only minutes before the press briefing. Clarence should be tuned in as well. He reached for the bowl of nuts at his side and almost knocked it over.

  The feed he was watching showed several camera views at the same time: the entrance to the West Wing, the press room itself, and a camera on the Washington monument that overlooked the grounds, showing two entrances. Guards at the south entrance were interrogating a man that looked remarkably like Eilif Nicholaisen.

  A sense of dread crawled up his intestines and to his heart. Andronikus Komnenos—ancestor to the great kings of Greece whose lineage included Constantine and known for the last two decades as the Mystery Man—felt a sense of unraveling. He sat back and put his hands in his lap and contemplated. People were so unpredictable. He refused to give in to despair.

  He had not lied when he boasted that President Vine was just one more chink in the armor. However, his assassination was to be the blow that felled the giant. He pressed the zoom button and confirmed that indeed Eilif had arrived in time to “save the day.” He could only hope that Monday would make it quick.

  Chapter 11

  A Monday Kind of Love

  Jake was patient. His job often required it. However, the others in the room seemed anxious. It was perhaps because it was so crowded. He listened as the crescendo of voices ebbed as everyone ran out of things to say. A sense of expectation dominated the room. The photographers behind him muttered and shuffled.

  He could hear conversations in the hall and behind the stage. Then, someone yelled and when Jake involuntarily glanced behind him, he saw Eilif coming his way.

  He barely had time to register this oddity when he noted a Secret Service ERT agent in all black had followed Eilif, his FN P90 visible. In a room like this, the gun was truly frightening. Even with the special 5.77x28 NATO ammunition, a single burst could injure or kill several bystanders. Jake frowned.

  Why was Eilif here? Was this some sort of suicide mission? Did the parameters change? Jake could not think on it. Eilif would reach him and he could not let that happen. He made a split-second decision. Sometimes suicide could be like that.

  Jake turned and leaped over the front chairs, knocking over an elderly lady slumped in the front row. He heard her topple softly to the floor with a surprised squeal. Jake ducked under the podium, fully expecting someone to stop him as he sprinted between two Presidential aids.

  He could hear Eilif behind him. Eilif was shouting, but others were shouting as well.

  His timing was perfect. Almost.

  His father stood, straightening his tie. Director Loxley stood behind the President looking at Jake with disapproval. His mouth moved in what appeared to be slow motion as his eyes registered recognition.

  That was when he noticed Hallie. She was talking with Gabriel in hushed but anxious tones.

  “Hallie! Dad!” Jake shouted.

  Hallie saw him, her mouth falling open.

  Then he was tackled from behind. He hit the carpet, his head banging against the wall. His vision clamped down and he felt himself rolling over in slow motion, someone pinning his hand and knocking the recorder away.

  “He has a weapon, sir!” Someone yelled.

  His ears rang from the hit to his head. He blinked several times to clear his mind.

  He looked up and an agent with graying hair was holding his index finger to his earpiece. Another agent, a man with perfect, dark skin and close-cut hair, patted him down as he sat on Jake’s wrists with his knees. He wanted to get up, but found it near impossible. The agent straddled him and another agent must have been holding his ankles.

  “Let him up! He means no harm!”

  A sense of pride welled up in him. Hallie was there to speak up for him. She never stopped believing in him. It did not bother him that the agents had caught him.

  He managed a smile.

  “Thanks guys. I thought I was going to have to do something drastic. You saved me the headache.”

  “Let him
up.” Hallie was reaching for him.

  “Really John. I thought you played tailback. A tackle like that, the coach should have put you on defense,” Jake teased his former partner.

  He chuckled in response and gave Jake a hand. He had known John since they were at JJRTC together. John had spent the first week puking his guts up from the intense work outs and the Maryland humidity. Jake had given him a “buck up” speech and they had been friends ever since.

  “You should stop trying to do an end around in front of all the press, my man. Get up. I know this will be hard, but we will have to process you, Jake. Please cooperate.” John’s face was grave, but his eyes twinkled with mirth.

  “I understand,” Jake said around the blood in his mouth.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Hallie said, her hands on her hips.

  Jake ignored her and looked over at his father. He was in a deep conversation with Harold Loxley and another man that looked vaguely familiar.

  Jake held his hands out as John put the cuffs on. Jake motioned with his head to indicate the man with the President.

  “You know him?” Jake asked Hallie.

  She nodded, exasperated.

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Try me.”

  “Calvin.”

  “Lars’ son?”

  “The very one.”

  “I should kill him,” Jake said through clenched teeth.

  Hallie smiled.

  “You have something for authority figures, don’t you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He is technically your boss,” she explained with a smug look.

  Jake shook his head and looked past the door into the press room. There was still a ruckus inside the room as three ERT agents manhandled Eilif. They were escorting him back through the side door to the West Colonnade.

  “What was Eilif doing here?” Hallie asked.

  Jake shrugged.

  “I couldn’t tell if he wanted to stop me or to help me. I guess we won’t know.”

  “We have to get you out of here,” John said. “I hate to interrupt this little reunion. Hallie, you can come with us. Director Loxley has set up a briefing room in the Roosevelt Room. The National Security Advisor and Agent Royster. We have to secure the President as well. So be patient.”

  Jake thanked him. John was a good man and he was doing his job.

  Normally, an entry into the back room to threaten the President of the United States would elicit a more aggressive result for the perpetrator. He knew he was fortunate. Jake understood it mostly had to do with his father. He glanced over at him again. So far, he had not even acknowledged his existence.

  This bothered Jake more than he wanted to admit. He wanted some sort of response. Even a scowl of disappointment would be better than being ignored.

  Jake had spent his time in Colorado deep in the mountain trying to remember why he had hated his father so much. Some of the answers came easily. Many of them were petty and tied to mistakes that all people make. Jake was more surprised by his own lack of forgiveness than he was the atrocities that he had attributed to his father. Gabriel Vine was a vain man with political ambitions. His drive and focus on his career had driven a wedge between him and his wife and had alienated his son. Those were certainly not crimes punishable by death.

  Hallie followed them. They walked past the cabinet office where several agents stood about, talking excitedly, looking for something to do.

  John motioned two of them over.

  “Take these two to the Roosevelt room. Don’t let them out, and don’t let anyone but the Director, the NSA, the President, or Agent Royster in to see them. Understand?”

  They took over the detail of escorting them to their temporary jail.

  Jake looked at Hallie with alarm.

  “Wait. How did you get here?” He asked, realizing suddenly that her appearance was odd.

  Hallie dipped her head back toward the room they had exited.

  “I came up from the old pool.”

  Jake remembered some of his colleagues—old school guys—talk about it. It was converted from bunkers built in the fifties and used to have a button to drain the pool.

  “Tunnel from nowhere?” He asked.

  “Yup. Good to get you back in one piece, Monday,” She teased.

  “I love you, too, Hallie,” he said with a smile. He looked down at her. “I have to say, you have never looked so beautiful.”

  “Shut up. Flattery will get you nowhere. By the way, how’s your head feeling right about now?”

  “My noggin’s knocking, that is for sure. Between the chemical they pumped into me and those transmitters messing with my vision, I am just peachy.”

  “I meant that gash on your forehead. Looks nasty. We’ll have to tend to it before we start our briefing.” She looked back at their escort and leaned in close to him, wiping some blood from the bridge of his nose with a tissue. She took the opportunity to whisper to him.

  “They never took my gun from me.”

  “Good to know. Hope we don’t need it.”

  Hallie looked sick for a moment, but smiled.

  “Highly unlikely, Monday.”

  ∞

  “I don’t want his actions here today to be misconstrued,” Gabriel said.

  “I’m not interested in Jake. We have bigger fish. We cannot continue to hide your involvement with the Consortium. We have tried to keep you out of it. The time to keep you untarnished has passed. We have to look at the bigger picture, sir.”

  Calvin was right, of course. Gabriel put his hands on his hips and looked out across the South lawn. The morning was still young and something told him that he was lucky to still be alive. Evidently today was supposed to be the day and he was still standing. It almost made him overconfident. He was more than just fortunate, maybe he was destined. He decided to take some chances.

  “We are out of time. This is true. They are everywhere and nowhere, Calvin. Who do we attack? Some ancient fortress in Moldavia? A ski resort in Scandinavia? A bank in Sweden? An arms manufacturer in Munich?”

  Calvin was nodding.

  “We use their own tactics against them. Small groups. Assassins. Cut off the head of the snake. It is their very own motto.”

  “The problem is, Calvin, they are not a snake. They are a hydra with dozens of heads. We miss just one and the creature will grow them back and come at us again.”

  “Not on our watch. Someone else’s.”

  He shook his head.

  “Just what I want for my legacy: the President who passed the buck.”

  “You give Harry Truman too much credit for that phrase, Mr. President.”

  Gabriel smirked at that. This was why he liked Calvin. He was not afraid to give it to him straight, no bull.

  “Still. I cannot let these people get away with this. And we cannot allow them to continue to corrupt our system.”

  “From what I can see, Mr. President, this might not be just us.”

  He turned to Calvin.

  “Are you saying this is a world-wide threat?”

  “Yes. Our threat assessment software is predicting a global event.”

  “Maybe NATO is our answer, then.”

  Calvin shook his head.

  “You know better than that, sir. They are anti-colonial. They are not equipped for something as delicate and complex as this. You said it before, where do you attack?”

  “Then what do you suggest.”

  Calvin’s began to pace. He walked over to the chair by the mantle.

  “A global coalition of special forces, anti-terrorist teams, specialists, covert operatives. The most highly placed assets with credentials and untouchable by money, corruption, or external pressures. Simply put, we need our best. We need to set aside our pride for a moment and enlist the help of our friends.”

  “I suppose you already have these measures ready to go?”

  “Some of them,” Calvin admitted. He was matter
-of-fact. “Give me twenty-four hours, Mr. President, and I can have two dozen teams ready. Just give me targets.”

  Gabriel sighed. He sat down at his desk, looking at the folder he had taken out.

  “Let me think on it for six hours, Calvin. I will have your answer before dinner.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Calvin?” His eyes never left the manila folder on his desk.

  “Yes, Mr. President?”

  “What should we do about this?”

  “Until we have it under control, we should put it in a safe place. Then, we burn it.”

  Gabriel chewed his lip. He put the folder in the compartment under the plaque from the HMS Resolute.

  “I need to see my son.”

  “He’s just down the hall, sir.”

  Gabriel got up and allowed Calvin to open the door for him. Two agents stood outside his door, alert. Two more were in the hall and stepped into place behind him and two more in front. Calvin followed.

  They reached the door. Two agents stood at attention outside the door. Gabriel nodded to them and the agent on the right reached across and opened the door.

  “Well. Isn’t this a surprise?” The President exclaimed.

  The room was empty.

  He heard Calvin curse behind him. Gabriel could not help smiling.

  Chapter 12

  BFF

  Jake raced down the tunnel, his feet skidding on the concrete. Hallie was just behind him, her breathing coming in great gushes. It was a risk going back to Headquarters but he had been assured that someone would meet them there.

  The stairs ahead were dark, so he slowed and let Hallie catch up. He held the SIG Sauer Hallie had given him in both hands. He motioned for her to slow down.

  “Get your breath back. I don’t want to attract attention.”

  She pointed ahead toward the stairs.

  “It comes out inside some vault,” she said between gulps of air.

  “We need to get back on the treadmill again,” Jake admitted.

  “For certain. I am totally out of shape. But I’m not doing too poorly for being pregnant,” she said.