After the bartender delivered his order, he gave her a hundred dollar tip. One hundred dollars was not nearly what it was six months ago, but it was still better than what most patrons left. He balanced the plate of hummus and pita bread on his stomach as he kicked off his boots.
As he enjoyed his breakfast, he surveyed his surroundings. The rustic establishment was completely empty except for him. He grabbed the remote and flipped through the stations until he found a 24-hour news channel. He turned up the volume and listened to the marionettes’ clueless commentary about Houston.
“Sources in the Pentagon believe the attack was committed by radical, leftist revolutionaries. Because the last several months have resulted in a mass exodus from urban areas, an accurate death toll is difficult to establish. Nevertheless, experts believe it may be as high as 150,000, with nearly as many injured as well.”
“That’s horrific, Rachel; have the authorities been able to determine the location of the blast?”
“Authorities believe the device was detonated from the top floor of an eight-story parking garage. The location was likely selected for the maximum distribution of destruction. If the blast had occurred from ground level, more energy would have been absorbed at ground zero, but areas farther out in the blast zone would have fared much better. Let’s go to our expert, Dr. Kahr, nuclear engineering professor from the University of California at Berkley.”
“Thank you Rachel, and you are exactly right; the only way the blast would've been more deadly is if it would have been detonated over the city, for instance if it was launched with a missile. As it was detonated, I would speculate that majority of the damages and injuries would have occurred within a three mile radius.”
“Tell us about the blast, Dr. Kahr; what happened immediately after the explosion?”
“In the moments immediately after, the expansion of gases would’ve caused a blast wave to form. The face of the blast wave would have behaved like a wall of highly compressed air. This wall could’ve traveled as fast as 800 mph.”
“What would this wall of air do to a building?”
“To put it in simple terms, Rachel, when the wall collides with a structure, it would be like if you stomped on an empty cardboard box, except that, instead of it being your foot, it would be a blast wave that would rapidly exert pressure on and around the entire structure.
Depending on the building, it may not be crushed. If it is a reinforced box, like an office building, the force might not be strong enough to crush it. If the windows and doors are either open, or quickly break out, then the pressures on the outside wall may have less effect, because of high pressures rushing into the building, filling it with a balancing force.
One difference between a conventional explosion and a nuclear explosion is the amount of energy that is released in the form of heat. A conventional explosion may reach temperatures of only a few thousand degrees, whereas a nuclear explosion may reach tens of millions of degrees. This is important to note because of secondary fires that will occur from the extreme heat. Also, a majority of the injuries will be in the form of burns. As I tell my students, the symbol of a nuclear event should not be a mushroom cloud, but a devastating firestorm.”
“That is both fascinating and disheartening doctor. So, tell us about the nuclear fallout, where will the wind take it from Houston?”
“Relatively speaking Rachel, we are fortunate. Definitely coastal Louisiana, possibly coastal Mississippi and Alabama and some portion of the Florida panhandle. Once it crosses Florida, depending on the winds, it may go up the eastern coast, but hopefully the prevailing winds will disperse it across the Atlantic. I say we are fortunate because if this had happened somewhere in the Midwest like Cheyenne, Topeka, or even Des Moines, the fallout would’ve been devastating to some very densely-populated areas.”
William changed the channel to see what was being said on the other stations; next time, he thought, next time we won’t be so fortunate, Dr. Kahr. He finished his bloody tonic and ordered another, along with a cup of coffee. He scanned the channels for a while, listening to numerous pundits, experts and anonymous government sources weigh in on the attack. He swelled with pride; once again he was the talk of the town, though no one knew it but him. As the morning turned into day, he transitioned from bloody tonics to Guinness drafts.
She filtered into Tonic along with some of the late-lunch crowd. She saw him in the corner, so she ordered a drink and then walked over to his tiny, rustic province.
“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Galleani. How are you?” She smiled as she sat down on the couch opposite of him.
“I have to say, I’m feeling pretty good.”
“How long’ve you been here?”
“I don’t know; several hours, maybe.”
“Would you mind some company for a while? I can’t stay long.”
“Not at all. Say, are you hungry? I was just about to order something.”
“You must be a mind reader; I’m famished.”
William smiled at her and motioned for the waitress. They ordered Thai chicken satay and char Sui chicken pizza, and he instructed her to keep the drinks coming.
As the waitress left, the woman leaned across the coffee table and whispered, “I see you took my advice after all.”
“What advice?”
“Don’t be coy with me, William Galleani; you know exactly what I mean.”
“I suppose I did. Isn’t it such a beautiful disaster?”
“Only if it moves the pieces on the board closer to where we want them. Otherwise, I think it’s dreadful.”
“Maybe so, but it’s just a bunch of hick cowboys anyway. It’s not like they’re going to be on our side. So in that respect, sooner or later we’d’ve had to deal with them.”
“That’s a good point.”
The waitress returned with their food and drinks and the conversation drifted into a lull while they ate. The food was extraordinary, and they relished it.
“So,” she said, “what’s next?”
“Well, I guess I have to wait until I hear from my new friend again before I plan my next move.”
“Mr. Arayo?”
“Yeah, I don’t have any way to contact him, and I imagine that’s how he’s going to play the game. Until then, I guess it’s more of the same; I visit a few cities and try to wreak as much havoc as possible. Keep the fires burning, so to speak.”
“When he does contact you, what then?”
“Something in Los Angeles, probably. I absolutely hate the west coast. I don’t know if it will be nuclear though; they’ll be on the lookout for that. Maybe biological, I haven’t decided on the specifics yet.”
She laughed scornfully, “So you’re next target will be because you have a particular antipathy for a geographical region? Isn’t that elementary? This is supposed to be business, not petty personal distastes.”
He scowled at her and retorted, “Hey, I’m the one sticking my neck out. I’ll decide what’s petty and what isn’t.”
“William, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Right; excuse me for a minute.”
She watched him as he stumbled towards the restroom and disappeared around the corner. She waited for several seconds before retrieving the tiny vial from her purse. She emptied its contents into his drink and quietly slipped out of the bar. When he finally reemerged, she was gone. Good, he thought to himself, glad you got the point. He sat back down on the couch and reached for his glass of Guinness.
***
“William, wake up. Wake up. We’re closing; you’ve got to go home, dear.”
He finally opened his eyes and stared up at the blur that he assumed was the bartender. His head was pounding and the room was spinning.
“What?”
“It’s closing time; you’ve got to go, sweetie. Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, I think; would you mind helping me up?”
He stumbled and nearly fell as she helped him to his feet
. The spinning only got worse as he stood and looked around. His head was pounding so hard he could scarcely think.
“Are you sure you’re alright? Do you need me to call you a cab?”
No, I’ll be alright; I just need to get home and sleep it off. It’s only a few blocks.
“You must be having an off night, babe. You haven’t had anything to drink in hours. I didn’t even realize you were still here until I started cleaning up the place.”
William groaned and rubbed his head as he slowly made his way to the door. He did not want to talk anymore; it only hurt his head to speak. He just wanted to go home. The bartender helped him to the door and watched him stumble off into the night.
He had barely staggered a block east down G Street before the city began to spin too violently for him to stand. William dropped to his knees and tried to wrest himself from the sickening feeling. He crawled to the steps of The United Church and grasped the railing to steady himself. He could feel himself getting sick as his mouth began to salivate. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths to help ward it off.
He heard a faint whistle, like a bird, somewhere in the distant darkness. He tried to ignore the sound and focus on his breathing, but it only grew louder. He suddenly felt a strong sense of a presence near him. The deep, bass tone of the man’s voice startled him.
“Well hello, little hummingbird. Feeling sick?”
As William cautiously cracked his eyelids to peer up at the man, darkness suddenly enshrouded him. He was jerked off the steps and carried over someone’s back to a vehicle not far away. The air was expelled from his lungs as he landed hard in the floor of the van. He curled into a ball and struggled to breathe, but his lungs refused him. He could hear several men laughing as the engine roared and the tires squealed on the pavement beneath him.
The sickness overwhelmed him and he retched in the hood that was still over his head. He was too terrified to remove it, much less utter a word. Instead, he rolled around in the back of the van. The smell only made him feel sicker, but there was nothing left in his stomach to purge.
The vehicle turned so often, he had no idea which direction they were taking him. He felt a sharp prick in his arm and tried to recoil, but a firm hand held him in place. The muffled voices in the vehicle grew distant and his eyes became heavier by the moment. William finally relented to the drug’s effects.
***
William awoke in a tiny, concrete cell void of anything. The floors sloped gently to a small grate in the center of the cube. The room was too small for him to stretch out completely, so he curled into a ball. It was cold, so cold. As he rubbed his arms with his hands to warm himself, he realized he was not wearing his shirt. He ran his hands down his body and found that he was wearing nothing but his briefs. His head still throbbed, though not as painfully as before. William had no idea how long he had been there before he had awoken.
He had never been in a room so dark and quiet. The vacuous cell seemed as if it was beyond space and time. William tried to count off the seconds as they passed, but before he could even reach thirty he felt as if he was going mad. He resigned to lying motionless on the floor.
He did not know if he had been in the cell for hours or days when the light finally came on. The illumination from the fluorescent tubes was unnatural and uncomfortable. The light was too bright for his eyes, so he squinted until they could adjust, but they never did. Immediately after the lights assaulted his eyes, a low hum to assail his ears.
He heard the revolting sound of steel scraping against steel as a narrow plate at the floor level of the cell’s door slid open. A long, thin knife clattered loudly on the concrete as it was tossed through the opening. William recoiled as he heard the same deep voice as before.
“Do me a favor, hummingbird; off yourself so I don’t have to.”
In a moment of boldness that surprised even William, he stood up defiantly and shouted, “If I’m to be killed, let him who wants me dead do it himself!”
“It’s not a man who wants you dead, babe; it’s a woman.”
His heart sunk and his stomach turned again. The woman’s voice was all too familiar. He cried out as he pounded on the door, but they were already gone.
Ch apter 29
Senator Ames
Indianapolis, Indiana
Indianapolis was as close as the senator had been to Washington in months. He did not want to admit it, but to be honest, he was afraid of the east coast. In fact, he had every right to be; the urban areas throughout New England had become something out of a nightmare.
Murder rates in the cities had skyrocketed, riots and looting were rampant, people were starving and no one was safe. What made it even more dangerous for Ames was that people like him were being demonized for everything. The same experts who had borrowed and regulated the world into crisis were now blaming the peoples’ woes on a lack of regulation and a fundamental ignorance of the way markets really worked. It was treasonous in his eyes. They had polarized the people. Those who held contrarian beliefs were not considered political opponents, they were now public enemies. The senator knew that one beat their opponents, but eliminated their enemies.
Ever since St. Ansgar, he had a new resolve; there would be an election, and they would win, or they would die trying. It did not matter if a man was rich or poor, black or white, from San Francisco or San Antonio, the truth was the truth. If a moral man was given the truth and was taught how to reason, he would choose correctly. He had to choose correctly. The senator’s ideals were founded on that principle. Eventually, the people and they would realize their mistakes and correct them. He would take his message all the way to Washington. But if he did not make it there, then that was all part of a much greater plan and he could accept that.
Let’s see if we’re bulletproof.
The site he had selected was a security nightmare; a shooter would have 360o of office towers and skyscrapers to choose from. The senator’s back was all that would be protected at any given time. Nonetheless, he had given his security detail nearly two weeks to prepare for the event. If they were not ready now, they would never be.
Ames wandered the halls of the museum that was beneath the Soldiers’ and Sailor’s Monument in the center of Indianapolis. His Secret Service security detail shadowed him from across the empty room. The halls were lined with the exposed buttresses that supported the towering monument above. He was lost in his thoughts and not admiring anything in particular as he meandered here and there.
“Senator, I’ve just received word that they’re ready for you up top. Are you sure you don’t want to wear a vest?”
“I’m sure.”
“Right this way then.” The stoic agent turned and spoke into the microphone attached to the cuff of his jacket, “Negative, he’s still refusing the vest.”
***
“This is Katie O’Rourke with WIBC news radio Indianapolis, the independent voice. I’m standing outside of our downtown studio where Jackson Ames, the Republican Senator from Ohio, is about to speak to a sprawling crowd in Monument Circle. The crowd can hardly contain themselves. This’ll be the first time in seven months the senator has spoken in Indiana.”
“Thanks Katie, from what I understand this is the largest venue he has spoken at in months, and the farthest east he has been since very early in his campaign. How is security there? I’m sure he is a little nervous with the riots just over a mile away in Fletcher Square. Today is the first day that police have regained the upper hand since they erupted nearly two weeks ago.”
“Security is extremely tight and highly visible here, Scott. The entire downtown district has been closed off; every floor of every building in the vicinity has been searched and everyone in attendance was required to pass through metal detectors and body scanners. The city has taken every possible precaution to ensure the safety of the senator. They lobbied very hard for this event and they don’t want any incidents.”
“Speaking of incidents, I’ve heard there
was a bit of a shakeup in the senator’s team, is that correct?”
“That’s correct Scott; this is exclusive to WIBC. We’re getting reports from an anonymous source within the Ames’ camp that earlier this week the senator’s senior advisor and long-time friend, Wade Anderson, resigned from his campaign. Mr. Anderson resigned after the senator refused to wear body armor for today’s speech. We’re still not sure how this will affect the senator’s campaign. Mr. Anderson was known to be very influential with the senator and was a political force in his own right.”
“That sounds like a very reckless move by Senator Ames, especially considering how dangerous the city has become.”
“It does appear that way, Scott. We’re not sure what political calculations were weighed by the senator to come to this decision, but we hope today will be a safe and uneventful affair. Back to you, Scott.”
“Thank you, the always wonderful, Katie O’Rourke.”
***
The senator walked onstage to the roar of the crowd. They cheered and waved as he walked a lap around the monument’s platform, greeting all. Ames waited for the wave of applause to subside before beginning his speech.
“Indianapolis, it’s truly a pleasure.”
He proceeded to circle the platform as they cheered once again.
“I’m sure you are tired of the same old speeches you’ve been hearing from me on the radio.”
A resounding, “No!” came from the crowd.
“Oh, really? Well, in that case, I hope you’ll oblige me this opportunity to deliver a slightly different speech. I’m afraid of the speed and direction in which we as a nation are moving, and I’d like to address this here with you today.”
The crowd offered a more subdued applause as he continued to pace the stage. He wanted to address as many people as possible on a personal level with eye contact. He had a very important point to make. As the applause subsided once again, he began his address.
The Western Front - Parts 1-3 (Western Front Series) Page 22