Nation of Enemies

by H. A. Raynes

  “Okay.”

  “You all right, Hannah?”

  “Nervous.”

  “That’s going around.”

  “Good luck tonight.”

  “You, too. ’Bye.”

  Gripping the handrail, he peers below at the Liberty Party minions. It’s hard to know how this will go down. But he won’t assassinate the next President, nor will he allow anyone else to. In a matter of hours the platform will be filled with Hensley and his entourage, bright lights illuminating them. And in the shadows, nine of his team members will be watching Will Anderson. Waiting for him to succeed. Or not.

  Chapter 72

  COLE ISN’T SENTIMENTAL as he walks through their sterile, Safe District house for the last time. Their next house, wherever it is, they will make a home. He finds Ian is in his room, reading. Cole sits beside him on the bed. “I’ll see you in a ­couple hours.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “A few last minute errands.”

  Concern fills Ian’s eyes. “What if you get back late?”

  “I won’t. Listen to your mom and do whatever she asks.”

  He wraps an arm around Ian, kisses him on the top of his head. Lily appears in the doorway and as he goes to her, walking away from Ian, a twinge of terror seizes him. The thought he may never see his son again.

  “I’ll see you at ten?” she asks.

  “Yes. If you don’t, go to the airport. I’ll meet you there.”

  “Be careful.” She blinks back tears. “I love you. We love you.”

  “I’ll see you later.” He kisses her, then leans his cheek against hers and whispers in her ear, “I love you, Lil. This is not goodbye.”

  At the door, he adds his own bag to the other four, all straining at the seams. Medical kit in hand, he steps out into the frosty air and walks to the car. The rub of his ballistics skin makes him hyperaware he needs protection tonight. And though he’s far from religious, he says a prayer under his breath.

  AS THE NUMBERS trickle in across the country, Richard Hensley savors each state victory. The concrete evidence that the ­people want him in office gives him an overwhelming high. Beside him, Taylor stares out a window. At his feet, Sienna amuses herself with a doll. He feels quite alone in the moment.

  “Sir.” Carter appears at his side and hands him a tablet. “A call from the Oval Office.”

  The room is too loud. Richard escapes into a quiet nook in the hallway and holds the device up to his face. He hasn’t spoken to the President since their conversation about Carter. On screen, the presidential seal disappears, replaced by Clark’s face.

  “Good evening, Mr. President.”

  “It is indeed. And it’s fortunate that the stunt with your daughter resonated with families. It was quite the gamble.”

  He can’t help himself. A satisfied grin lights up his face. “Yes, well. It’s hard to believe this night has finally come.”

  “It’s a proud moment for the party.” President Clark’s face falls, the creases in his skin deepening. “But the challenges don’t end here, I’m afraid.”

  “I’m not naive, Mr. President.” Richard’s grin falls, his body tenses. “I’m well aware of the state of the union. And my place within it. I understand the danger.”

  “It’s crucial that you stay the course. Despite any unforeseen issues or threats to our soil.”

  “Do you have any doubt that I will?”

  The slightest pause provides the answer. “We’ve placed all our chips on you, Richard. There’s no room for doubt.”

  “So you’re just calling to prematurely congratulate me?”

  “I received a call from Director Hardy. They don’t have concrete proof, but there’s chatter coming through that indicates a potential attack tonight.”

  The FBI is hardly reliable. For all he knows, they could have worked with the President to assassinate James Gardiner. “Chatter and threats are a constant.”

  “This one seems different. Wear your skins.”

  He pats his chest, feels the snug fit of the bulletproof material. “Always.”

  “Your men have been made aware of the threat. Be cautious. But enjoy this night, Richard. There’s nothing like it.”

  “I will, sir. On all counts.”

  The screen goes black. Mere chatter won’t ruin his night. It’s his night. He can already see it in his mind. In just two hours he’ll be on stage, addressing thousands in person and millions throughout the country and the world. Taylor will be at his side. But a memory flashes, of him on the State House steps next to James Gardiner. The manic dancers. Sarin. He shakes his head, shakes off the unease. Carter pokes his head in.

  “New York, Pennsylvania, and Georgia announced. We swept them all!”

  “Fantastic.” He checks his watch. “We should get ready. I need you to double-­check that everyone’s wearing skins. Including Taylor and Sienna.”

  “Yes, sir.” Carter rushes off.

  Returning to the living room, Richard settles back into his chair. Taylor doesn’t acknowledge him. Sienna plays on her tablet while she sings softly. Her voice eases the tension, distracts him from the overpowering information coming at him from all sides. He closes his eyes and for at least a minute forgets all of it, drifting with Sienna to a sweeter place.

  Chapter 73

  FIVE GUARDS BARRICADE the BASIA Command Center door, while Reverend Mitchell observes with Huan Chao from the back of the room. Jonathan works at the control console, with multiple screens displaying maps, grids, and corresponding codes. Every keystroke he makes is filled with a heavy dose of guilt over helping this lunatic with his plan.

  “Systems ready?” Huan Chao asks.

  “Phone systems are a go,” one tech announces.

  “All soldiers are on the ground and in place,” the second one says.

  “Power grids ready,” Jonathan says.

  “Check again,” the Reverend orders. “There’s no room for error.”

  One by one he runs through all fifty states. The power grids are compromised by his codes, ready to be taken over at the Reverend’s command. Simultaneously tonight, when the voting booths have closed, a power outage of historical proportions will occur. Under cover of darkness, every elected official will be assassinated. Rendered blind, motivated by fear, citizens will scatter like mice, find their way home, and wait. When power is finally restored, they will learn there’s been a movement, swift and absolute.

  Unless Jonathan doesn’t press these buttons. But if he refuses, Steven will be killed. Tucked into his waistband, the maps Hannah left him press against his skin. He can only hope he has a chance to use them.

  A BALLISTICS SUIT stretches from Sebastian’s neck to his knees. The tightly woven shield will be tested tonight. On top of that is his black guard uniform. He wears the BASIA contact lenses and carries the fingerprinted gloves in a pants pocket. For the last time, he enters the Walter E. Washington Convention Center under the identity of a high-­ranking security official.

  It’s early evening as he and the security officers perform an official walk-­through. The cavernous room has been transformed from a bland empty space to a festive red, white, and blue party venue. Over the main stage, enormous screens will display Richard Hensley during his acceptance speech. Food and drink stations line the walls. And in another corner there’s a stage on which a band is doing a sound check. The chaos is perfect cover.

  Several Liberty Party volunteers gather in a corner to watch live election results as they stream in. For the first time in his life Sebastian didn’t vote. He didn’t sleep all night, his imagination running with every possible outcome of tonight. Will Mitchell himself take over in the White House? Or maybe one of his board members? Mitchell can’t possibly think he can commandeer the country and force his religion on the entire U.S. population. This country would never stand
for a dictatorship. Unless it didn’t have a choice.

  Within the crowd, someone brushes against him. It’s a volunteer, a young woman, attractive, wearing a dress and heels. She’s looking intently at him, unblinking. Cold. Ever so slightly she nods at him, then continues her task of hanging streamers. Yes, he recognizes her. She’s changed her hair color from black to blond. He knows that under her dress is a ballistics skin, and God knows what else. It’s the first time he’s recognized someone here from BASIA.

  They must all be here now. Acting casual but moving at a good pace, he goes on a mission to find the others. They’ll all be disguised in some way. With his hair cut and clean-­shaven face, he’s probably hard to spot as well. But the woman knew him.

  If he can get rid of his BASIA team, he can at least put a dent in Mitchell’s plan, derail Hensley’s assassination. Sebastian finds the woman again. This time he catches her eye, nods toward an access door nearby. He nonchalantly walks to the door, which leads to a stairway, and waits on the other side. In a matter of seconds she pushes the door open. Before she can say a word, he grabs her by the shoulder and spins her into his arms, holding one hand over her mouth. She struggles, kicks at him. He drags her to a space under the stairs, dark and filled with boxes. In one swift move he twists her neck. Her body goes slack, her eyes stay open in a blank stare. He buries her under the empty boxes, soon to be refilled with paraphernalia from the party.

  One down.

  Chapter 74

  COLE STEERS THE Land Rover down the driveway, just a sliver of night sky visible through the canopy of trees. He and Karen haven’t said much. Both know what’s at stake, their plan is tight. Still, nerves gnaw relentlessly at his stomach. One last time he mentally goes over the details from his conversation with Sebastian. But before he can finish, the security gate appears, and behind that, Mitchell’s sprawling estate.

  “Here we go,” he says.

  At the intercom a female voice says, “Hello?”

  “It’s Doctors Moore and Coleman. Here to check on the patient.”

  The massive iron gates groan to life, opening before them. Beside him, Karen coughs. He notices she looks white as a sheet.

  “We’re doctors, Karen. Doing the job we do every day.”

  “Right.” She nods. “Just with guns.”

  They trade anxious glances as he parks. Medical kits in hand, they get out and head for the front door. It opens before he can press the bell.

  “Come in.” A young woman gestures them into the foyer, closing the door quietly. She must be about eighteen, striking, with a rope of strawberry blond hair running down her back, just as Sebastian had described. She motions for them to follow her.

  They make it down one corridor unnoticed. But around the bend a hulking man dressed in black appears from an adjoining hall. He nods to Hannah but slows, clearly checking them out.

  The guard blocks their path. “Who are they, Hannah?”

  “Doctors. The Reverend asked for them to check on the patient.”

  “At this time of night?” he says.

  “I didn’t make the appointment.” Hannah cocks her head. “Do you want to call Reverend Mitchell to verify their visit?”

  Cole can’t breathe, doesn’t move.

  The guard eyes them. His hand rests on his gun. “Go ahead.”

  At the end of the hall, they descend a stairway that leads to an underground bunker. There appears to be several rooms.

  “It’s quiet down here,” Cole says.

  “Most of the guards are on assignment tonight.” Hannah continues walking. “But a handful are patrolling the house. There’s one in the patient’s room, too.”

  “We were warned,” Karen says. “We’re ready.”

  Hannah stops suddenly. “This is it.”

  She places her hand against a wall sensor and the door opens. The scene is surreal to Cole. Steven lies handcuffed to a bed. In a corner of the room, a guard rises from his chair and reaches for his gun. Steven’s head jerks up, his eyes wide, mouth agape.

  Doing his best to act unfazed, Cole announces, “Doctors Moore and Coleman, here to check on the patient.”

  The guard withdraws his hand from his weapon and sits again, now bored with their arrival. Understanding the situation, Steven rests his head on the pillow, stares at the ceiling. Cole avoids eye contact with him and, as Hannah watches them, he and Karen set their medical kits on a bureau and take out enough medical paraphernalia to show they’re serious. They are across the room from the guard, their backs to him. Karen reaches inside her kit. In one swift motion she pulls out a dart gun, pivots, aims and fires. The needle sinks into the side of the guard’s neck. One hand on his neck, the other on his holster, he slumps back into the chair and is out in seconds. Karen walks around the bed and retrieves his gun.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” Steven says. “Have either of you considered a career in the FBI?”

  “Too corrupt these days.” Cole goes to Steven and puts a hand on his shoulder. “You all right?”

  “The food was actually quite good.”

  Karen smiles as she tucks the guard’s gun into the back of her waistband

  “And you, with weapons!” Steven says to her.

  “Physician is my day job.” She pulls down his blanket and checks the wound in his thigh. “Looks like it’s healing nicely.”

  “We need to move fast.” Hannah points to a glass bubble in the corner of the room, housing a video camera. From a key chain, she selects a small key and opens Steven’s handcuffs. He thanks her and rubs the raw skin around his wrist. Glancing at the sleeping guard, Cole is just about to ask, but Hannah anticipates his request. She pushes him into a heap on the floor and handcuffs his arm to the bed.

  “We can use these.” She pulls the guard’s walkie-­talkie from his belt.

  “Who are you?” Steven asks.

  “Hannah.”

  “Jonathan’s friend,” Steven says. “You’ve been to my house.”

  She glances at her watch. “We need to go!”

  “Why are you doing this?” Steven asks her. “Aren’t you very close to the Reverend?”

  “We don’t have time for my history.” She doesn’t make eye contact.

  Cole pulls the tape off Steven’s arm and extracts the IV. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Taking a retractable metal brace from her kit, Karen reinforces Steven’s leg. He drapes his arms around Cole’s and Karen’s shoulders and stands, his weight on his good leg.

  “Follow me.” Hannah heads to the door.

  “Are you leaving with us?” Cole asks.

  She hesitates, then nods.

  “Can you shoot?”

  “I’ve been preparing for Armageddon for a decade. Yes. I can shoot.”

  Karen tosses the guard’s gun to Hannah, who leads the way. Supporting Steven makes for a slow departure. After great effort to climb the staircase, they reach the main floor of the house. They move quietly down the corridor, ten feet, then twenty. The main door is just around the bend. Sweat beads on Cole’s brow. He wonders what time it is, wonders if Lily has left for the airport yet.

  Suddenly, up ahead, they hear voices. The corridor is stark, there’s nowhere to hide. From around the corner two guards appear. They pull out their weapons.

  “Hey!” one of them shouts. “What is this, Hannah? What are you doing?”

  She aims at them, and they at her. Karen runs up to join her as Cole pulls Steven out of the line of fire.

  The shots are deafening. One of the guards is hit. The other guard stumbles as a needle from Karen’s gun takes effect. At the same time, Hannah groans and falls to her knees, blood streaming from her left arm.

  “Shit!” Steven says.

  “I’ve got her!” Karen tucks the dart gun into her waistband and helps Hannah to her feet. “Go!” />
  “The others are coming.” Hannah’s voice is quiet. “They won’t let us leave.”

  “We’re not asking,” Cole says. “Move!”

  Blood from Hannah’s arm spatters the floor, revealing their path down the hall as they flee out the door and into the Land Rover. Cole and Karen hoist their wounded accomplices into the backseat, then scramble into the front. Cole’s hands shake as he grips the steering wheel. The front door of the residence swings open and four guards storm out, guns drawn.

  “Go!” Karen screams.

  Bullets ricochet off the glass and metal. Cole jams his foot on the pedal. The wheels spin the white gravel into a wall of dust as they rip around the circular drive. The bullets ping ping ping nonstop. The guards run after them. Holding his breath, Cole has a split second to debate ramming the closed security gate. But just as he presses the pedal to the floor, the gate opens. Glancing in the rearview, he sees Hannah holding a remote control. He exhales.

  “Never underestimate a pretty face,” Steven says.

  A slew of bullets spray the back window, the sheer force of them spreading a web of cracks. Hannah presses the remote again, closing the gates behind them.

  “Your car has bulletproof glass?” Karen asks, her breathing labored.

  “We got all the bells and whistles. Lily’s a little paranoid.”

  “Not paranoid,” Steven says. “Aware.”

  “PHONE CALL, SIR.” One of the BASIA soldiers in the control room holds out a phone to Charles.

  “Not now.” Next to him, Jonathan focuses on the monitors. On the wall-­sized screen, fifty zones are lit up throughout the United States, latitudes and longitudes noted along with codes that mean nothing to Charles. Nothing, yet everything.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but I think you’ll want to hear this,” the soldier presses.

  Swiveling in his chair, Charles reluctantly takes the phone. “What is it?”

  A security guard from his residence tells him that they’ve been compromised. That ­people disguised as doctors infiltrated the compound and took down three of their men. They escaped with Steven Hudson. And Hannah left with them.