The men back down, whispering ‘Yes sirs,’ and nodding.
“Now go and get everyone else out! The Vice President, Chief of Staff, my wife. Everyone. But I’m staying until the crisis is averted. And these men—” He looks to me and then Endo. “—will be aiding in our response to this attack. You are not to hinder them in any way, and if they give you an order, I expect you to follow it.”
The gaggle of agents stands still, bewildered by a President they’ve all known to be a man of weak character.
“Go!” Beck shouts.
The men backtrack out of the office, closing the door behind them. For a moment, there is silence, then one of them snaps out of it and starts shouting orders. Then the rumble of rushing feet moves off in a variety of directions.
“I’m impressed,” Endo says, motioning to Beck. “What have you been putting in his head?”
“I kept it simple,” I say. “‘Be brave and do the right thing.’”
And while that sounds simple, Beck didn’t act on those character traits until I really wanted him to. So he’s not just going to go all George Washington on us without a little more mental prodding. That Endo and I can talk about the man, right in front of him, is proof enough. At some point, I’m going to have to free him from this neural implant and hope the reprogramming sticks. Then, maybe in a few weeks, I’ll consider the moral implications of what I’ve done to the man. Professor X would not approve. Of course, the man did drop a MOAB on my position in Boston. He’s lucky I don’t mentally suggest he get tattoos of ‘Dick’ and ‘Face’ across his knuckles.
The sound of a distant explosion rattles the windows. I look for the orange glow, but see nothing. “Won’t be long now.”
Endo nods. “We should go.”
I dig a piece of paper from my pocket and hand it to Agent Dunne. “Time to go shopping.” He takes the list without a word and heads for the door, under Endo’s control. If only everyone listened to me like that, my job would be so much easier. Dunne leaves and closes the door behind him.
“Well, Mr. President.” I slap his shoulder like we’re chums. “How would you like to go for a stroll in the Rose Garden? Maybe get attacked by a madman that wants us both dead?”
Beck looks momentarily confused, but I push my will on him. He slaps the table with both hands, rattling silverware, and stands up. “We’ll do what needs to be done. No matter the sacrifice.”
I’d feel better about it if the words were his own. But they’re not. While I haven’t exactly put the words in his mouth, I know they’re what I need to hear, because we’ve just created a big-ass neon target with an arrow that says, ‘Kill these guys,’ and I want to run the frig away. But I can’t. And won’t.
The end might be nigh, but I basically invited it, so it’s time to see if my plan, which feels more ridiculous now that I’m not in a hospital bed hopped up on morphine, will get the job done. I feel like I should say something inspiring too, but I’m just not feeling it. I stand and head for the side door that leads to the small office and then the Oval Office, which has an exit to the outside. I pause, hand on the knob. “In case I die tonight,” I say to Endo. “Go fuck yourself.”
Endo grins. He’s grown accustomed to my potty mouth and my sense of humor.
“In case I die,” he says. “Thank you for trusting me.”
“I don’t,” I tell him. I exit the room, believing I’m walking toward my demise and wanting nothing more than to be watching a B-movie with Collins. Hell, this will probably be made into a B-movie someday.
“I wonder who will play Collins,” Beck says, plucking the thought from my mind. He steps up beside me, waiting to be led to his office.
And that’s how you make them speak.
As I enter the small office, I smile as Beck says, “Hey Endo, go fuck yourself.” Ahh, the guilty pleasures of a dead man.
37
The two women, dressed head-to-toe in black, moved through the newly fallen night like living shadows. Approaching the end of their half mile sprint, the pair breathed heavily as they paused beside a chain-link fence topped with razor wire.
“Is it electrified?” Collin asked.
Alessi shook her head. “There are liability issues with an electrified fence.”
“But not razor wire?”
“Not everyone can read warning signs.” Alessi motioned to the razor wire. “But anyone, illiterate or not, can see that’s a bad idea.” She took a pair of wire cutters from her black jacket and went to work on the chain-link fence, slowly clipping a hole large enough to crawl through.
Collins waited impatiently. The warehouse was located in Harwood, Maryland, just eight miles from the coast and twenty-two from downtown D.C. The area wasn’t densely populated—mostly spread-out neighborhoods, fancy golf courses and trees. No one passing by would give the warehouse’s drab gray exterior a second look or guess that some of the world’s most high tech discoveries were made, and kept, within. That’s the way Zoomb, and the government they sold their tech to, preferred it. Congressmen, senators and a bevy of generals from the Pentagon often made the short drive, or flight, from D.C. to watch demonstrations. Even President Beck had visited the facility.
The chain-link fence rattled and fell open.
Collins shushed Alessi, but the Zoomb employee turned corporate thief was unfazed. “Security doesn’t mind the rear of the building much. We saw them sweep five minutes ago. We should have five more. More if they get distracted by the news.”
Collins listened to the air-raid klaxons sounding in the distance. Every TV channel, news network or not, would be airing images of the Kaiju. It had become standard operating procedure. When a Kaiju appeared, every channel on Earth carried the story. And nearly every person with a television stopped what they were doing and tuned in. Including security guards. Which was part of the reason why they had waited until the last minute to make this errand. If they had made off with the tech at the beginning of the week, they’d have played their hand too soon.
“Isn’t there more security than guards?” Collins asked.
“Some of the best security on the planet,” Alessi said. “And the tech to beat it is inside.”
“That doesn’t sound helpful.”
“Endo taught me to prepare for all contingencies,” Alessi said, revealing her allegiance to the man and not to the company that employed them both. She pulled a small, phone-sized device from her pocket. “Some people steal pens from work.”
Collins grinned. “You steal high tech, top secret technology.”
“No one here uses pens.” Alessi slipped through the hole with ease. Collins followed, but her fuller figure required a little squirming to fit through without making too much noise.
Free of the fence, the pair ran across the empty pavement. Half way to the building, Alessi stopped like there was an invisible wall. She pointed to the plain looking back door of the building. It was simple and black, like it would be easy to kick open. “Any closer, and the cameras will pick us up,” Alessi said.
Collins looked the building over, left to right. “I don’t see any cameras.”
“That’s the point.” Alessi dug into her coat again. “There are three cameras monitoring the area in front of the door. There’s a biometric lock and a numeric keypad hidden in the wall to the right of the door, behind a secret panel. The lock itself is a ten pound deadbolt that’s retracted electronically.”
“Anything else?” I ask.
“If someone tries to break in, they get gassed.”
“Gassed?”
“Nitrous oxide. Being arrested and thrown in jail would feel like the best day of your life, until it wore off and you discovered you’d been licking the floor clean because it tasted like maple syrup.” Alessi held up a black sphere with a red light. “But don’t worry, that’s not going to happen to us.” She rolled the orb toward the door.
Collins squinted, thinking the sphere was some kind of explosive. But nothing so dramatic took place. A small red
light on the ball’s exterior turned green. Alessi stood. “Let’s go.”
Collins followed her to the door. “That’s it?”
“Limited range electromagnetic pulse. Took out all of the door security. Don’t worry, we were too far away for it to affect your phone.”
Collins stopped in front of the door, which looked very solid up close. “Except for the ten pound dead bolt.”
“That’s where you come in, muscles.” Alessi took one more device from her jacket: a seven-inch-wide circular disk with a solid metal handle. She held the disk up to the door and it leapt out of her hands, slapping against the metal, just above where there should have been a knob. “Heave ho.”
Collins understood what she was being asked to do and took hold of the handle now secured to the door. She grunted as she pulled. She didn’t think she could ever pull the magnetic disc away from the door, but she could drag it, slowly and painfully, inch by inch, until she felt the lock thump free of the side wall. She gave the door a gentle shove and it cracked open. She stepped aside and motioned to the unlocked door. “After you.”
Unlike the outside of the building, the inside was like a work of modern sculpture. The walls were painted in funky colors, often sporting hip looking retro art. The lighting was soft, but bright enough that their black outfits would make them stand out like bird shit on the driver’s side of a windshield—hard to miss and impossible to ignore.
“This way,” Alessi whispered, leading Collins down a long straight hallway.
Collins glanced through the circular door windows as they passed. There was a mix of offices, game rooms, kitchens and labs. Zoomb wasn’t segregating fun from work, which made sense. Scientists, software coders and electronic engineers who were paid to dream up ways of subjugating people probably had a lot of stress to release. At least they’re not all sociopaths, Collins thought.
“Here,” Alessi said, stopping by a keycard reader. She swiped her card, and the unit flashed a green light. The door unlocked with a loud click that felt more like a gunshot in the dark hallway.
Collins followed Alessi into a large storage room and eased the door shut behind her. Unlike the rest of the building thus far, the storage room was bland. White walls. Rows upon rows of shelves. But Collins hardly noticed the lack of décor. It was the shelves’ contents that held her transfixed. “Holy hell.”
The shelves were lined with hundreds of human-sized neural implants. Alessi moved past them and opened up a large, hard case the size of a kid’s toy chest. Inside was a Kaiju-sized neural implant, complete with its rocket body, packed in form-fitting foam. Collins opened the next case, revealing a second device. She moved down the line, opening cases. There were twenty in all. She stopped after seven. “Why do they need so many?”
Alessi looked stunned. “I...I have no idea. I thought—we thought—they had only a few working prototypes.”
“This looks more like mass production,” Collins said. “More than what you’d need for a few redundancies.”
“There isn’t time to figure out why they need so many,” Alessi said, picking up one of the large cases. She struggled with it, holding on to the handle with two hands, but she managed to hobble toward the door. “If someone is paying attention, they’ll see that the door was opened.”
Crap, Collins thought, and asked, “Will they know it was you?”
“Yeah,” Alessi said, not hiding her disappointment. “They will.”
She’s throwing away her high paying, cushy job, Collins realized. Risking prosecution, too.
Collins picked up a second over-sized implant and headed for the door. It had to weigh forty pounds. They wouldn’t be going anywhere quickly. She put the case back down carefully, took out her phone and speed-dialed Woodstock.
He answered with a casual, “Ayuh?”
“Going to need a speedy exit,” Collins said.
“On my way.”
The line went dead. Collins pocketed the phone, picked up the case and hurried to the door. They moved down the long hall as quickly and quietly as they could. Ten feet from the exit, a voice stopped them in their tracks. “Don’t fucking move!”
The duo stopped in place.
“Put down the cases!”
Collins glanced over her shoulder. One security guard was fifteen feet back. Two more approached, but were still at the far end of the hall. All held non-lethal tasers, though they had guns on their belts.
“Don’t fucking look at me!” the guard shouted. She could hear the nervousness in his voice. They’d probably never had a break-in before. She stole one last glance before facing forward again, confirming that the guards all wore bulletproof vests. If the guard was a little less panicked he might have seen that she wore a similar vest, and that his taser, aimed at her chest, would have no effect on it.
“Listen,” Collins said, turning around casually, “I don’t think you—”
The guard pulled his trigger. Two metal prongs trailing thin cables shot out and attached to Collins’s chest, the tick, tick, tick, of electricity having nowhere to go. Collins drew her pistol and fired once, hitting the guard’s chest on his right side, well away from his heart. The vest stopped the bullet, but the high caliber round knocked him off his feet.
“Go!” Collins shouted, picking up her case with one hand and aiming with the other.
Further down the hall, the other guards dropped their tasers and drew their side arms, but neither got a chance to fire. Collins squeezed off three rounds, aiming for the ceiling above their heads. The cacophonous sound sent both men diving for cover. Collins was out the door before the men looked back up.
Outside, the chop of approaching helicopter rotors mixed with the squeal of tires from the building’s front. Security and Woodstock would arrive at the same time. As bullets pinged off the metal door’s interior, Collins put down her case, took hold of the magnetic disk and dragged the deadbolt back in place.
The rotor chop grew suddenly louder as Betty emerged over the fence, angling down for a hasting landing. Alessi, holding her case at her side, with both hands, was already halfway there. When Betty touched down, Woodstock flung open his door, leapt out and opened the rear door for Alessi, who slid her case inside and climbed in after it.
Not waiting for Collins, Woodstock got back inside the chopper and the rotors began spinning faster, the skids lifting off the ground.
Collins was thirty feet from the waiting chopper when a black SUV tore around the side of the building and barreled toward her. She took aim and fired her last two rounds. The first shot sparked off the pavement, but the second found its mark, punching through the vehicle’s front left tire. The SUV’s driver crushed the brakes and all four doors flung open.
Collins reached the chopper quickly thanks to Woodstock, who glided Betty in close, just a foot off the ground. Ducking under the rotor wash, Collins passed her case to Alessi.
A gunshot ripped through the air.
Collins shouted in pain and fell forward. Alessi caught her and hauled her inside, shouting for Woodstock to go. Betty lifted quickly into the sky, bullets ricocheting harmlessly off her metal body.
As the bullets faded and the chopper rose, Alessi quickly checked Collins over.
“I’m okay,” Collins coughed.
Alessi stopped her search, finding the bullet embedded in the left side of Collins’s rear body armor. “Thank God,” Alessi said. Collins grinned at the woman’s concern. She hadn’t realize they’d become that friendly, but they’d spent a lot of down-time together while Hudson and Endo had lain in hospital beds.
Collins sat up with a groan, thinking the bullet must have bruised a few ribs. She tore off her black mask and put on a headset. “Get us someplace safe,” she said to Woodstock. “We need to load these up before Jon and Endo become Kaiju snack-food.”
38
Standing under the roof of the West Colonnade, we watch a bevy of cars and limos pull up and quickly whisk away some of Washington’s most important people. T
he driveway around the South Lawn is typically reserved for foot traffic, but they’re using all exits to evacuate. Not that the people in cars are going to make it very far. By now, the rest of the city is rushing to their cars, too. Within the hour, I suspect people will have given up on driving and will run on foot. The lucky ones are boarding one of five green-and-white Sikorsky SH-3 Sea King helicopters idling on the South Lawn. The choppers are normally reserved for the President, with the lead bird known as Marine One, when he boards it. But right now they’re taking away key staff, including the Vice President. Had we not intervened, President Beck would have been the first one out, leaving on a chopper just for him and his mob of Secret Service agents.
I’ve heard a few people enter and leave the Oval Office behind us, shouting for the President. Agents, aids, maybe even generals, none of them thinking to open the closed shades and look outside. Right now, the President is AWOL and not making decisions. The people who need his approval to act are probably freaking out, but that’s okay. He’s exactly where he needs to be.
I hope.
If I get the man killed, I’m fairly well screwed. Worse than that, so are all the people helping me tonight. As the last of the vehicles pulls away from the South Lawn drive and the helicopters thunder into the air, Agent Dunne returns from the Oval Office. The man looks like he’s going on vacation, carrying six black, hard cases of varying sizes.
I help him with the cases and open one of the three larger ones. “Is this everything?”
Dunne nods.
Inside the large case is a tactical uniform, complete with body armor. One like it came in handy against Gordon before, but we couldn’t wear the gear beneath our disguises. Knowing the Secret Service would have their own on hand, we decided it would be best to borrow theirs. And there’s the added bonus of looking like one of the gang. Hiding behind a row of thick bushes, Endo and I don the gear. As I cinch the last buckle, I feel much more prepared, though still fairly defenseless. To my surprise, Dunne changes into his own armor. He might be an automaton right now, but he’s still doing his job.
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