by Bobby Akart
“You better pack a lunch and bring a few more friends next time, Rosey,” Steven shouted to their backs as they walked toward the stairs. Katie joined his side as the long line of people looking for their loved ones suddenly disappeared.
“What the hell was that?” asked Katie.
“Rose is a fuckin’ douche!”
“Obviously you two have a history, and you can tell me all about it later,” she said. “But you can’t blow up the hospital, Mr. Badass.”
Steven caught his breath and he started to calm down. The veins returned to his neck where they belonged. “Fine. You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Much better, Steven,” said Katie. “Let me look at this list Julia gave me and see if I can locate any of them. Hold on.” Katie went back to the nurses’ station and began to flip through the list of patients. She suddenly stopped and returned to Steven.
She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the end of the hallway past several wide-eyed patients. Steven seemed to have an effect on the onlookers.
“What’s wrong?” asked Steven.
“You’ll see. Come on!”
They approached a nurse who was standing just inside the patient’s room.
“May I help you?” she asked. Katie showed her the hospital badge as they entered the room.
“Yesterday, I helped Dr. Daugherty attend to this man,” said Katie. “How’s he doing?”
“Somewhat better,” replied the nurse. “His hearing has returned, but his eyesight is limited due to the burns. We’ve kept him under sedation until just a little while ago. He’s able to respond to commands and seems coherent. A few more days, and his sight will gradually return.”
“That’s good news,” said Katie. “May I talk to him?”
“I think so, for just a moment.” The nurse remained in the room.
Steven wandered over to the window and peeked through the blinds. He stared at the collapsed Longfellow Bridge. Everything is collapsing.
“Andrew, are you awake?” asked Katie. Steven turned to see the patient lift his hand.
Katie gently grasped it and spoke again. “My friend was helping take care of you yesterday. The nurse says you’re doing better.”
He squeezed her hand once. Steven looked at the nurse, who was smiling. Katie looked nervously at him and then at the nurse.
“Oh, that’s a good idea. You can squeeze my hand once for yes, twice for no.”
He squeezed it again, once.
“Is this your bitcoin on the table?” she asked. No squeeze. Bitcoin?
“I’ve brought my friend with me today. Would you like to meet him?” One squeeze. Katie hastily motioned for Steven to come over to the side of the bed.
“I want you to meet Professor Andrew Lau from MIT.”
Steven froze. Are you fuckin’ kidding me?
Chapter 12
Saturday, September 10, 2016
6:45 p.m.
100 Beacon
Boston, Massachusetts
Brad gave Gunny Falcone and CWO Shore some final instructions and sent them back to Prescott Peninsula. He needed time away from the activity of 1PP to talk strategy with Steven and Sarge. A lot had happened in the week since the cyber attack. Brad needed to have a few drinks, decompress, and come up with a plan to deal with Governor O’Brien and Pearson.
As he entered 100 Beacon, the first thing he noticed was a lack of security. He climbed the stairwell and carefully opened each door—looking for signs of life. The building appeared to be abandoned. Did everybody leave? Were they dead? At what point would he and his men be ordered to conduct door-to-door searches in a city with nearly a million people?
He activated the biometric keypad and made his way to the top floor. Julia greeted him as he entered the Great Hall.
“Brad, I’m so glad you’re here.” She gave him a much-needed hug and led him toward the kitchen island, where a makeshift bar had been set up.
“What’s your pleasure, sailor?” Katie asked with a laugh.
“Whisky, dirty glass,” replied Brad. Steven and Sarge joined the group and shared some backslaps with Brad. It had not been that long since they were all together, but under the circumstances, it seemed like an eternity. Brad downed his first glass. “Hit me again, bar wench!”
“Hey, soldier, you better be careful.” Steven chuckled. “She may just knock your ass out!”
Katie filled his glass and the group made their way to the couches. Brad looked around for J.J.
“Where’s our Armageddon doctor?” he asked.
“He’s gonna work at Mass General for a few days as they clear the patient backlog from the explosions,” replied Steven. “He really needs to clear his head anyway.”
“He took her death personally, you guys,” said Brad. “I’m told he reluctantly let her go out on patrol to begin with. Then, when he couldn’t save her…” Brad looked into his glass before he drank it down. He stood and walked to the bar and poured himself another. I need this.
“We understand,” said Julia. “We all loved Sabs and considered her one of us.”
Steven raised his glass in a toast. “A toast to the fallen.” They all clinked glasses and finished their drinks. While they were refilled, Brad walked through the room and looked into the darkening Boston skyline. He caught his breath and walked back to the group.
“There’s a storm brewin’,” said Brad as he sat down. “This Governor O’Brien is a real piece of work.”
“Here’s what I know about him,” said Julia. “The paper did a background story on O’Brien years ago when he took the helm of the Carmen’s Union. He’s known to be hard-nosed. He’s almost a throwback to the fifties era of union bullying tactics. His battles with Governor Baker over the MBTA are legendary. There is absolutely no love lost between those two. In fact, they don’t speak to each other.”
“He’s got a Napoleon complex, from what I’ve seen of him,” added Sarge. “In his public appearances, he’s overly aggressive and domineering.”
“What do you think he has planned, Brad?” asked Katie.
“He wants his own personal military force,” replied Brad. “He’s taking this martial law declaration very seriously. He’s almost, uhm, opportunistic.”
“In other words, he has an agenda and he plans to use his new power to settle some scores,” said Sarge.
“You nailed it, Sarge,” said Brad. “Sounds like a certain President I know who went on and on about fundamentally changing America. It’s been changed all right.”
“Maybe I should just take him out,” offered Steven.
Brad laughed, although he was aware Steven was serious. “I’m afraid they would replace him with another like him,” said Brad. “At least this guy is predictable. I also think he can be manipulated. I have a plan for that.”
Brad spent the next hour talking with the group about his plan. He would be putting a lot of trust and responsibility upon one of his men. But they all agreed that it was time for them to ramp up the Mechanics and be prepared for the inevitable violent clashes with some of their fellow Americans.
“What are you hearing from our friends in the military?” asked Julia.
Brad took another sip of his drink and exhaled. “Martial law is considered a public law of necessity,” he replied. “Ideally, the President will never have to declare martial law in response to a national crisis. The best scenario envisions the nation responding to such a crisis with civilian agencies in the forefront and the Department of Defense in its traditional support role. You’d really like to see the communities pull together to help each other.”
“Katie and I saw that on our road trip back from D.C.,” said Steven. “In rural Pennsylvania and New York, small towns seem to rally and circle the wagons around their friends and neighbors.”
Julia leaned forward on the sofa. “You guys know I’ve been monitoring communications across the country,” she said. “The cities are falling apart, and the rest of the nation is hanging tough. State and local governments
seem to be doing okay, except in the mid- to large-size cities. Cities like Chicago, Detroit, and Memphis are on fire.”
“The military has been ordered to enter some of these areas, but they’re considered too dangerous,” added Brad. “When state and local law enforcement or first responders become overwhelmed in an environment of chaos and panic, one of the President’s obvious options for restoring order would be to declare martial law. We may see this response as an extreme option, well beyond what is contemplated under the Constitution relating to disaster-response actions or limited military support to civilian law enforcement authorities.”
“Naturally, I’m not in favor of the President’s declaration of martial law because it is too broad in scope,” said Sarge. “I agree that necessity should be a mandatory precondition to impose a state of martial law. Necessity justifies the declaration and implementation, but it should also measure the extent and degree to which it should be employed. This President has used necessity as a justification for suspending the Bill of Rights. It’s an overreach.”
“I agree, Sarge,” said Brad. “I’ve studied the Army Techniques Publication, ATP 3-39.33: Civil Disturbances. The Army details preparations for full-scale riots within our borders which may deem the deployment of troops a necessity. The ATP provides various scenarios under which the Constitutional rights of American citizens can be suspended in times of civil unrest.”
“Why didn’t the President use the powers granted under this publication?” asked Katie.
Sarge stood and paced the floor. “Because he has bigger plans,” he replied. “It’s logical that a President should be able to impose martial law to preserve the nation, even if not explicitly authorized in the Constitution. President Lincoln once asked: ‘Are all the laws, but one, to go unexecuted, and the government itself to go to pieces, lest that one be violated?’”
“In other words, if the Prez decides the Constitution should be set on fire, who are we to argue? Am I right?” asked Steven. He slammed his empty glass on the table in front of him.
“Some might argue the President should have the inherent authority, in fact, the responsibility, to preserve the nation in a time of extreme crisis, even if it means taking actions in contravention of the Constitution.”
“Because he considers the action a necessity and in the nation’s best interests,” said Steven sarcastically.
“That pretty much sums it up,” added Julia. “This is why elections matter. The President is using the collapse of our nation as an opportunity to exert his ideology on the entire nation and to stomp on his political opposition. This is much worse than the societal war we experienced between the haves and the have-nots. This is a battle for the heart and soul of America’s freedoms.”
Brad nodded and raised his glass in Julia’s direction. Well said.
“People are going to have to pick a side,” said Sarge. “Are you a patriot, or are you a loyalist to this tyrannical government that has arisen out of this crisis?”
They sat quietly for a moment until Steven spoke, breaking the silence. “There’s one more thing. Today, I went with Katie to Mass General, and I ran into someone I know.”
“Yeah, our old friend Rose,” interrupted Sarge. “You need to know this, Brad. Soldiers from Fort Drum are wearing Citizen Corps badges on their uniforms. They busted into Mass General looking for a so-called fugitive. Do they have jurisdiction here?”
“Well, none of the normal rules apply anymore,” replied Brad. “First off, it’s a violation of the Constitution for any military members to be acting as domestic police personnel on American soil. But after Thursday night, as we just discussed, they ripped the Constitution to shreds and threw it out the window.”
“It’s going to become very difficult to determine who the good guys are under these circumstances,” said Sarge.
“Yeah, but I’m not talking about Rose,” said Steven as he stood up and began to pace the floor. He stared out the window, hands in his pockets, before he spoke again. “Last month, Mr. Morgan sent me on an operation with Malcolm Lowe.”
“Malcolm Lowe, Morgan’s do-boy?” asked Brad.
“That’s the one,” replied Steven. “He actually did a good job, although I’d forgotten about the details until something jogged my memory today.”
“What was the op?” asked Brad.
“He sent us undercover locally to hire a hacktivist group called the Zero Day Gamers. They were the group that hacked into Abbie’s computer after the Democratic National Convention in July.”
“What did he hire them to do?” asked Sarge.
“We don’t know,” replied Katie. “But a couple of weeks ago, Morgan had Steven and his Aegis team abduct the hackers and deliver them to a warehouse.”
“Then what?” asked Brad.
“I don’t know,” replied Steven. “Lowe handled it at that point, and his own team took over security. We were pulled out of the equation.”
“What are you guys saying?” asked Sarge.
“I’m saying that I don’t believe in coincidences, that’s all,” replied Steven.
Chapter 13
Monday, September 12, 2016
8:00 a.m.
Camp Curtis Guild
Reading, Massachusetts
Camp Curtis Guild, a Massachusetts Army National Guard Reservation located fifteen minutes north of Boston in Reading, was commissioned in 1916 during the First World War. CCG, known for its variety of training facilities, was widely recognized in the law enforcement community as the location of their SWAT competitions. It was an ideal location for the training of military and law enforcement personnel. Today, it was going to be used for the training of Governor O’Brien’s Citizen Corps enforcement team leaders—a mixed bag of union thugs, criminals, and tough guys.
Brad and First Lieutenant Chin Gibson stood alone at the entrance of the sixty-five-thousand-square-foot maintenance facility that was ironically shaped like a stealth bomber. Brad had plans for the new governor, and 1LT Gibson had to be stealth to make it work. As the vehicles carrying O’Brien’s men began to enter the parking area, Brad took this opportunity to give Gibson a history lesson.
“George Washington was a master of deception. The fight for our independence was a story of patriots and acts of great sacrifice, Lieutenant. You are about to play an important role in what I see as a similar battle against a tyrannical government.”
“Yes, sir,” said Gibson. “I understand what needs to be done. It will be hard for me to give even the appearance of disloyalty to you and my principles. But it is necessary, sir.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. During the Revolutionary War, General Washington utilized a wide variety of intelligence-gathering methods. Some of the people who performed these missions paid the highest price in order to forge a new nation.”
Some of the new arrivals shouted greetings to each other. Brad knew that this group would be tight-knit, exhibiting the kind of camaraderie necessary for a fighting force. Unfortunately, their ideals and purposes would be misguided. Brad continued.
“Washington had a passion for intelligence gathering, and he recruited the best people to spy for him. His spies developed elaborate cover stories and backed up others to protect themselves. They were adept at sending information via code and other covert methods. But they were especially successful at military deception and counterintelligence.”
“I have to gain O’Brien’s trust first, right, sir?” asked Gibson.
“When he arrives, don’t move too fast or he’ll suspect something,” replied Brad. “You’re a smart guy. The opportunity will present itself. Play on his ego. When you meet our governor, it will be real obvious that his ego is as big as his belly.”
“Yes, sir.”
“As your relationship with O’Brien becomes more secure, we’ll begin feeding him false information. If you’re good at it, he’ll believe you. If he suspects something, well, just be aware of shifting winds, Gibson. Don’t put yourself in danger.”
O’Brien parked his red Cadillac ATS in the grassy area in front of the building and extricated himself with a lot of effort from the front seat. He made his way toward Brad and Gibson.
“That has to be him. He walks like the Penguin character in the Batman movies.” Brad stifled a laugh, as did Gibson. He was gonna do just fine.
“Good morning, Governor,” said Brad, using his best impression of greeting a superior. It took Brad a tremendous amount of effort not to show his disdain for O’Brien. “Welcome to Camp Curtis Guild, the best training facility in the Massachusetts Guard.”
“Yes, it is, that’s why I picked it.” O’Brien bristled. “Are all of my men here?”
Brad caught his breath. “Governor, they appear to be arriving now,” he replied. “We are ready for forty-four trainees. I would like you to meet Lieutenant Gibson. He’s our best trainer.”
“Gibson,” gruffed O’Brien.
“Hello, sir,” said Gibson. “It will be an honor to train your men, sir.”
“Good,” said O’Brien. He turned as the first group began to approach.
“Sir,” said Gibson to O’Brien, “I would be remiss if I didn’t make a suggestion.”
“What is it, Lieutenant?” asked O’Brien.
“Well, sir, you’re the most important person in Massachusetts and the northeastern part of the country,” started Gibson. “Arguably, you are one of ten critically important people in the nation, charged with the responsibility of rebuilding America.”
O’Brien stood a little taller and his chest puffed out with pride. “That’s true, soldier.”
“Sir, you should not drive yourself anywhere,” said Gibson. “You should have a uniformed, military security detail with you at all times.”
O’Brien studied Gibson for a moment and then spoke. “You’re right, young man, I should be well protected,” said O’Brien. He turned towards Brad. “A man of my stature should have a captain of the guard. This man is only a lieutenant. I want you to elevate his rank to captain, effective immediately!”