Nation of Enemies

by H. A. Raynes

  “Is something wrong?” she asks.

  “No, just thirsty.”

  “Sebastian.” Cole is at his side, searching his face. “What are you doing here?”

  Calm. Cool. Breathe. He won’t let his cover be blown. It’s been four months since he’d visited Cole and Lily and told them he had an assignment and wouldn’t be able to see them until it was completed.

  “Sorry, you’ve got the wrong guy,” Sebastian says, working to keep his face emotionless. He takes Taylor’s hand and pulls her in the opposite direction.

  “Lily would love to see you.”

  Lily. The name lands in his stomach and takes root. He turns back around. “Look, my name is Will. Will Anderson.” He stares intently into Cole’s eyes. Please understand. You know who I am. You know what I do.

  “Oh, sorry.” There’s desperation in Cole’s voice and his eyes are ringed with a badge of exhaustion. He raises a hand in apology. “They say everyone has a doppelganger out there. Sorry to have bothered you.”

  “No problem.”

  “But maybe you—­or your friend—­can help me with a church member I’m looking for,” Cole says, indicating Taylor.

  “Who’s that?” Sebastian asks.

  “Jonathan Hudson. Young kid. Mop of hair. A ­couple facial piercings.”

  “Hudson,” Taylor repeats. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

  Sebastian shakes his head. “Sorry we can’t help.”

  “Well,” Cole says. “Again, sorry to bother you.” He pivots and disappears into the crowd.

  “He seemed pretty convinced he knew you,” Taylor says.

  “It’s probably the beard. Half my face is hidden, after all. Now how about that coffee?”

  Together they wend their way out the front doors of Patriot’s Church. Their chatter streams along, with her doing most of the talking. What the hell was Cole doing at Patriot’s Church? And who’s the kid? Sebastian needs to keep Cole as far away from BASIA as possible.

  At the café in District 19 they sit outside wearing parkas, enjoying the sunny, crisp air. As though it’s a normal day, in a normal world. Sipping lattes and holding hands are luxuries now. Still, Sebastian sips his drink, trades smiles with Taylor, and mentally squashes the spikes of memory and emotion that are attempting to break through.

  IT’S LATE IN the afternoon now, as Cole focuses on Sebastian’s car, several feet ahead. It was disorienting, shocking even, to see him at Patriot’s Church. It was so natural to approach him, it hadn’t even occurred to him why he might be there. Last summer when Sebastian had told them that he was going away on assignment, Cole had assumed it meant he was relocating. But there he was, holding the hand of that blond woman. She looked familiar but he couldn’t place her. Has Sebastian moved on from Kate so easily? Either way, maybe now there’s a different inroad to find Jonathan and get him out of BASIA. Cole can’t let this go—­the only reason Jonathan’s in danger is because of Project Swap.

  After dropping off the woman, Sebastian parks on a side street off Commonwealth Avenue. Cole pulls into an adjacent alley. He follows Sebastian on foot, leaving a block between them. Tracks in the slush lead to the back door of the old BU Bookstore. The door is ajar. He slides through and it takes a few seconds for his eyes adjust to the darkness. Except for heavy footsteps leading upstairs, the building is completely silent. Four floors up there’s no sign of Sebastian. An emergency fire exit leads to the roof.

  Cole opens the door. The air is weighted by a heavy mist.

  “What are you doing here?” Sebastian’s voice comes from directly behind him.

  Cole spins around and they’re face-­to-­face. “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “I’m an FBI agent. Doing my job. And you almost blew my cover today.” Sebastian’s voice is tinged with anger and his eyes are intense. A side of him Cole’s never seen.

  “I’m sorry. Really. I was thrown off, seeing you there.”

  “What the hell are you doing? Why are you following me?”

  “It didn’t start out that way,” he says. “But now that I know you’re inside Patriot’s Church, I was hoping you could help me.”

  “I’m in neck deep, Cole.” Sebastian wanders away for a moment, then returns. “You have about three minutes and then you need to get out of here. I have a meeting.”

  “Steven Hudson—­Jonathan’s father—­has been threatened,” he explains. “Reverend Mitchell is extorting money for Jonathan’s return.”

  “Far as I’ve seen, everyone’s there of his or her own will.”

  “He didn’t join the church or BASIA. He took a job with the Reverend.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Not sure exactly. But he’s a hacker. Talented but reckless, apparently. Kid’s already been arrested. I’m guessing Mitchell is utilizing his talents.”

  “Sounds feasible.”

  Can he tell him about Project Swap? It’s impossible to explain without implicating himself. But Sebastian was almost a member of his family. There has to be a degree of trust. “The last time we saw Jonathan, he had a plan to steal clean MedIDs that Mitchell’s been collecting from the soldiers.”

  “What?” Sebastian steps closer. “Why?”

  “Let’s leave it at that.”

  “It’s helpful to have the bigger picture.”

  “I can’t. Not yet.”

  “Jesus, Cole. Okay. I’ll look into it, see what I can find out. But I’m in a bit of a shit storm myself.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  “You need to go now.”

  “Don’t you clandestine types meet under the cover of night usually?”

  Sebastian grins. “Usually. But I just got a message and my handler wants to meet at dusk. So here I am.”

  A creak makes them turn and the door to the roof slams shut. A loud click sounds—­the lock? Sebastian draws his gun and he runs toward the door. Cole follows. Attached with putty of some kind, a microdrive clings to do the door. Sebastian takes it and plugs it into his phone.

  “What is it?” Cole says.

  “Codes. Decrypted codes.” Sebastian studies the small screen in his palm, strokes his beard with his free hand. He begins to mumble under his breath. “Goddammit. If this is synchronized, I don’t know if we can organize this kind of manpower.”

  “I’m sure it’s classified,” Cole says. “But is there anything I can do?”

  Sebastian bends at the waist as though he’s been hit in the stomach. Still he mumbles quietly, like he’s processing information. “There are fifty coordinates.”

  “For each state?” Cole asks.

  “But when? Election Day? Thanksgiving? Christmas?” Sebastian straightens and pulls on the handle, but the door doesn’t budge. He slams his palm against the metal door. “Renner! Renner, goddammit.”

  The moment feels private, like Cole doesn’t belong. He has no idea what he’s just stepped in. A tone sounds on Sebastian’s phone. From a few feet away Cole can see Agent Renner’s face. He knows him from their hospital visits to bombing victims. It’s a prerecorded video. “It’s over, Sebastian. I have new orders and they include eliminating you. We had a good run, though. You got so close. Too close. And you should know the truth when you die. I confirmed Dash is Carter Benson, deputy campaign manager to Richard Hensley. At least you have some resolution. Blame President Clark, Hensley, and the government for taking Kate. Looks like they were also the ones who tried to run down Taylor in the alley that night. She’s bad press. Seb, I’ll miss our two A.M. coffees. Good luck. You have five seconds left.”

  Without hesitation Sebastian turns in the direction of the alleyway and with full force hurls the phone, drive still in it, so that it disappears over the edge. A tremendous explosion shakes the building, the sheer power knocking Cole and Sebastian over. Cole checks his torso, his hands run down his legs and
arms. His whole body is shaking. He looks over to Sebastian. There’s no blood, no contorted limbs, just a thick layer of dust covering him.

  “Good friend?” Cole says.

  The slightest gasp-­laugh sound escapes Sebastian. “In this business, one minute you’re friends, the next, well.”

  “You’re dead.”

  “He’ll have to keep trying. But he wouldn’t have warned me about the blast if he really wanted me dead.”

  “Why bother at all, then?”

  “He has orders. Appearances are everything.”

  Sebastian is the first to his feet. He offers a hand to Cole. “Get home to Lily. There’s a fire escape on the east side.”

  Descending the rusted staircase, Cole takes each step slowly as he fights to regain the practiced calm that has gotten him through years in emergency medicine. At the bottom the asphalt beneath his feet is hard, immovable. Pleasing. Sebastian lands next to him. His hair and beard are wet and gray with dust. Cole knows he must look the same.

  “Stick to being a doctor,” Sebastian says. “It’s safer.”

  “Not anymore.” Cole looks around at the crumbling building facades around them. “Remember when you used to argue the merits of this government?”

  A flash of anger, a flush in Sebastian’s checks. “When we’re ill-­informed, we make bad decisions.”

  Time to go. Cole offers his hand and Sebastian shakes it.

  “I’ll look for the kid, see what I can do,” Sebastian says.

  “Thanks. Let me know if I can help in any way.”

  “There’s a hit out on me, Cole. Stay as far away as possible.”

  That, Cole can’t argue.

  Chapter 53

  WITH THREE WEEKS to go in the election, Richard has given in to being shuttled around like a child. His team schedules him for ninety-­minute visits in one state after another. He pumps hands, spews rhetoric, grins until his face hurts, and drinks so much coffee it hardly has an effect anymore. After he gives his stump speech on the lawn of the mayor’s sprawling estate in West Chester, Ohio, he escapes into the mansion.

  With the mayor still outside shaking hands with constituents, the house is empty. His footfalls echo off the high ceilings as he wanders, slipping into a formal living room filled with stiff, ornate sofas. The din of voices outside reminds him time is of the essence. He pulls out his phone, touches his thumb to unlock the screen. The live feed of Taylor’s home fills the screen. He pulls up Sienna’s room. A fairy in the sunlight dances on a pink tufted rug. He breathes easier, catches himself smiling. Such a lovely little creature. If anything happens to Taylor, Sienna will come to live with him. A little girl’s dream—­to live in the White House!

  But his thoughts quickly darken, turning to the threat over his girls. Despite his blood pressure medicine, the stress is getting to him. Since receiving the text with the bribe, he’s been out of breath, sweating profusely, not sleeping. The money isn’t ready yet. The Cape house remains on the market, though the Nantucket property sold. Still, the paperwork takes weeks. Even if he cleared out all of his savings accounts, he doesn’t have five million dollars to hand over to Charles Mitchell. There must be another alternative.

  The door to the room opens. Richard wheels around, drops the phone and fumbles for it. When he looks up, he sees it’s only Carter. “Five minutes, sir. We need to get to the airport or we’ll be late to Wisconsin.”

  “Yes, yes.” He’s under constant watch, everything he says and does, everywhere he goes. By Reverend Mitchell and by his own ­people. After days of debating how to handle this extortion for the safety of Taylor and Sienna, he’s had to admit to himself that he can’t do it alone. But all his close friends are mired in politics with a web of strings attached. Old family and friends are dead, out of touch, or have emigrated. He has to take a chance on someone.

  The door begins to close.

  “Carter?” He steps back into the room. “I need help with something.”

  “Of course.”

  “It’s quite unorthodox.” Richard takes a seat on one of the couches. “It needs to be handled quietly. With the utmost confidentiality.”

  “We’ve known each other two years, Senator.” Carter sits in an adjacent chair. “I hope you know by now that you can trust me.”

  The weight on his chest eases as he explains the situation with Mitchell.

  “So, you want me to do the swap?” Carter asks. “The money for your daughter?”

  “Not exactly.” Richard leans in, elbows on his knees. “I can’t get that kind of money. Not this fast. So, we need to get Taylor and Sienna out. Transport them somewhere Mitchell can’t find them.”

  “Excuse me for saying so, sir, but it’s only money. Why take chances? Can you just ask for more time so you can pull it together?”

  “If I thought that would be the end of it. But even if I hand over the money, Taylor won’t leave Mitchell. My granddaughter will still be in danger. And when I’m in the White House they’ll come back with more requests, more demands. I need to put an end to this.”

  Carter hesitates briefly, then nods. “Thank you for confiding in me, sir. I’ll help you however I can.”

  The door to the room swings open and Kendra stomps in, breathless. “What’s happening? You two sitting down to a formal tea?”

  “That sounds lovely, actually,” Richard says.

  “Wheels up,” Kendra says. “Wisconsin here we come.”

  Richard follows his team back down the hall and into the Town Car. Sharing his burden with Carter is a relief. Together they’ll come up with a viable plan. And goddamn if he’s going to let Mitchell win.

  Chapter 54

  IN THEIR EYES, Charles sees salvation. From the podium at BASIA HQ he soaks in the enormity of his efforts. In this building and via monitors around the country, God’s Army of thousands stand at ease awaiting instructions at their final training session. Glory be. They will pave the way for the Second Coming.

  “On your way out tonight, each of you will pick up your mission pack,” he says. They hang on his every word. “Each pack has the necessities on which to live for three days. All you’ll need to get in and back out to a safe location.”

  Out is open to interpretation. These fine men and women have been trained thoroughly and believe in their mission, in the word of God. No need for his meaning to be overt.

  “In the coming days you will be measured and fitted for clothing appropriate to your mission,” he continues. “You will complete your training. And finally, you’ll receive your assignment and specific instructions. Flights and hotels will be arranged and paid for. There’s to be no contact with your families once you leave home. You don’t want to put them at risk.”

  Heads nod throughout the crowd and on the monitors. He says, “We have over five hundred targets. Clearly they’re outnumbered.”

  Laughter erupts. The joyous sound lifts him, his eyes fill. These ­people are his beloved family. He moves his hand to his heart, then opens his palm in the air. In unison, his soldiers do the same.

  “Armed with His blessing and strength, you will deliver us from the present evil age, according to the will of our God and Father. Go with God.”

  The screens go black. The soldiers in the room stand and a hum of voices begins, indecipherable words, a fusion of vowels and consonants. Henry follows closely behind him as they exit the stage.

  “I need to see Anderson,” Charles says. Henry veers into the mass of ­people gathering near the door.

  In the Command Center at the control panel, Charles relaxes, rests his head on the soft leather of his chair. His fingers press into his right palm, his nail tracing the cross. What a beautiful, perfect plan God has revealed. Years of work finally coming to fruition. There’s a knock at the door. He sits up straight.

  “Come in.”

  Henry enters with Wi
ll Anderson, who salutes and stands at attention.

  “At ease, Sergeant. Thank you, Henry.”

  Henry closes the door behind him.

  “Please, sit.” He motions to a chair and Anderson sits.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Your sharpshooting skills have been brought to my attention.”

  “My father took me hunting from a young age.”

  “He would be proud, then.” Charles appraises him. A good find indeed. “You’ve proven your commitment to God and our cause with the earlier matter you brought to my attention.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “There’s a special, sensitive matter I’d like you to handle.”

  “I’m ready, sir.”

  “A member of our brethren needs protection. I believe the two of you have become close recently.”

  Anderson cocks his head. “I’m not sure who you mean.”

  “Taylor Hensley.”

  The light dawns. Anderson’s his eyes widen. Clearly, he’s surprised to find their relationship is not secret.

  “I’m afraid she’s in danger. You must know, her very existence threatens her father’s political aspirations. She’s part of her family here and she needs us now. So, continue your . . . friendship with her. In fact, I encourage you to become entrenched in her life. For the safety of her and her daughter.”

  “Of course,” Anderson says. “Is there anything in particular I should be watching out for when I’m with her?”

  The senator’s money should be coming through any time now. “As it happens, Richard Hensley is about to make a considerable donation to the church. He’s trying to buy back his daughter. For a smart man, he should know love can’t be bought. So as we wait for the transaction to go through, we need to ensure that Taylor and her daughter remain here, in their hometown. Not taken by Hensley’s men in the middle of the night.”

  “Is Taylor aware of any of this?”

  “No. We shouldn’t worry her. She should lead her normal, day-­to-­day life, utterly unaware of our protection. Is that clear?”