Wired

by Robert L. Wise

  “The world is absolutely coming unglued, Graham. People have gone nuts, irrational, berserk!” Jackie crawled out of her side of the bed. “You must get to your office as quickly as you can. We need to know all the details of what is going on.”

  Graham nodded his head. “Yes. No question about it.”

  Without touching the transistorized music system, Graham hit the shower and was out in a minute. He wasted no time in dressing. Grabbing a bagel, he rushed out of the back door to catch the next Metro Express downtown. He didn't have any idea what he could do, but he would be available to help if anything consequential was needed. The train had only just pulled out of the station when his cellular phone started buzzing.

  “Graham Peck here.”

  “Graham, it's me, the mayor. Where are you?”

  “I'm on my way to the office. On the Metro.”

  “Excellent. I guess you know about the war?”

  “Got the first report of the war on our television this morning.”

  “It's bad, Graham. I talked to the White House a few minutes ago and they believe this crisis has already spun out of control.”

  “You're certain?”

  “They're telling me that Russian nuclear missiles have already been fired at Middle Eastern countries.”

  Graham took a deep breath. “Oh, man. It doesn't get much worse than that! Do you know what's happening in Israel?”

  The mayor paused. “This is totally confidential.” He lowered his voice. “The Israelis may be firing missiles back at the Russians.”

  “Why?”

  “Looks like the Russians missed a target near the Lebanon border and hit the Israeli town of Sharm-el-Sheik. The Jews panicked and shot back.”

  “This is terrible, simply terrible.”

  “Graham, I'll be in the office when you get here. We're looking at another red suspenders day down here. I need to be on television. We've got to come up with an immediate press release proclaiming our stand behind the president our country. Jake Pemrose is already working on some ideas.”

  “At the speed the Metro travels I'll be there in short order. I'll try to come up with something new for you to consider.”

  “Good. See you when you get here.” The mayor's phone clicked off.

  CHAPTER 23

  GRAHAM STUCK the small phone back in his pocket. Only then did he notice people on the Metro Express staring at him. They had been listening to one side of his conversation with the mayor almost as if he were a television correspondent. He looked away and started scribbling on his electronic notepad. The Metro Express roared on through the city, passing the intermediate stops while Graham wrote; he avoided eye contact with the people around him. Obviously the war had left everyone unsettled and nervous.

  At the reelection office, Graham walked past the empty desks and silent computers. At least no one was there to ignore him. Sarah Cates wasn't in yet so he didn't pause at her desk, but walked straight to his office. Graham flipped on the light switch and sat down at his desk to organize his thoughts for a moment. He drummed on the desk with a pen tip and tried to clear his mind. Only then did he become aware that he was also running away from something with breakneck speed.

  Maria Peck's picture still sat on the corner of his desk. The world might be blowing apart with the crazies bombing each other with nuclear missiles, but inside him another war was raging. He still felt as deeply depressed as he had when he stood beside his mother's casket at the cemetery. Her loss gnawed at him; Graham felt empty and lost like a child wandering through a blizzard. For a moment his mind felt frozen and his stomach as empty as the Sahara desert. He sank down in his desk chair.

  “Got to get a grip on myself,” Graham said to himself. But he couldn't get his mother off of his mind. He wondered where she was and what she was ding. Was she still alive out there somewhere in the beyond or had she simply become nothing more than a dried, hard substance beneath the dirt and forever gone? Was she no different than last summer's grass?

  Graham flipped on his computer and waited for the screen to come into focus. He had never realized how much he loved his mother until after she was gone, but Maria had been stability, permanence, the guarantee of continuity. Maybe all of those assurances of security and endurance were now gone as well.

  He put his hands on the keys of his computer keyboard and took a long deep breath, but nothing came to mind. Only the thoughts of Maria crowded out other reflection from his memory. The telephone rang.

  “Peck here.”

  “Graham, I'm here in my office now. How's your work going?”

  “Mr. Mayor, I'm trying to get a few ideas down on my computer screen. Of course, I know nothing about this war.”

  “None of us do, Graham. However, I'm getting ready to talk with Borden Carson in Istanbul. I hope to get some insight.”

  “Turkey?” Graham felt his voice rise in pitch. “Carson? You've got to be kidding.”

  “No. Let me see what I can find out and then I'll give you some ideas. I appreciate your being here at this early hour.” Bridges hung up.

  Graham slowly put the phone back in the cradle. Borden Camber Carson on the phone with Bridges like they were old buddies? Graham frowned. He didn't like the sound of the entire scenario.

  For the next hour Peck hammered away at his keyboard, trying to find some fresh new angle. In the end, he decided that the most important position the mayor's office could take was an unqualified support of the president of the United States. He pared his thoughts down and came out with a terse two-page statement essentially saying that the mayor stood with the president regardless of the circumstances.

  The office door opened and Sarah Cates walked in. “I'm sorry to bother you. They told me you're working on an important statement for the mayor.”

  “Thank you,” Graham said without looking up. “I'm nearly done.”

  “Mr. Pemrose just came by and said you have a meeting in the conference room in five minutes. I thought I should remind you.”

  “Thank you.” Graham kept staring at the paper. “I'll be there.”

  Sarah Cates retreated toward the door, but paused. “I hope you're feeling better today.”

  Graham looked up, surprised by the kind concern he heard in her voice, “Well, yes. Thank you. I appreciate your interest.”

  “Just know that I care.” Sarah smile and shut the door behind her.

  Graham stared. She was the only person in the office who had said anything personal or caring to him since the funeral. He wasn't sure what it meant, but thoughtful words helped. Picking up the sheets of paper, he hurried out of the room.

  CHAPTER 24

  WALKING into the conference room, Graham nodded to Jake Pemrose and Jack Stratton. Both men sat at the mahogany table with sheets of paper in front of them and sullen scowls across their faces.

  “Tough morning?” Graham said.

  “You bet,” Jake snapped.

  Graham nodded and sat down. “You boys have obviously heard about the war.”

  No one answered, but they nodded their heads.

  “Good morning, men.” Frank Bridges hustled into the room. “I appreciate the fact you are here so early. We are looking at a major international crisis this morning.”

  Graham studied the mayor. The casual look was gone and Bridges appeared much formal. It was a red suspenders day, which meant the mayor needed to look powerful. Trouble and television time were ahead.

  “I received a report from Washington during the night,” Bridges continued. “They aren't sure why this war has blown out of all normal proportions, but a baptism of fire is storming through the western edge of Kazakhstan and down into Turkmenistan as well as into Georgia and into Iran.” Bridges took a deep breath. “They know Iraq got hit.”

  “That's a significant amount of territory,” Graham said.

  The mayor nodded. “And that's not all. Syria has gotten into this fray and missile hit Israel. Of course, the Jews have fired back at everybody in sight.”<
br />
  Pemrose rubbed his chin. “Sounds nasty.”

  “Yes,” Bridges answered. “That's the reading I got from Borden Carson. He is better informed than the White House.”

  Graham cringed, not grasping why even the mention of Carson's name affected him so much, but it deeply troubled him that this one individual appeared to be in control of such a large amount of sensitive data. The pieces of the puzzle weren't fitting together right.

  “Carson told me that the exchange has become nuclear. It looks like the Russians are really taking it on the chin, but the Muslims have gotten hit hard enough that the radioactive fallout is going to be with them forever.”

  “What are we saying here?” Graham cut in. “You're talking about vast areas being turned into a nuclear wasteland?”

  “I am afraid so,” Bridges continued. “Apparently, Damascus got bombed and portions of southern Russia experienced nuclear damage with some areas probably becoming uninhabitable. We're fortunate they didn't shoot at us.”

  Pemrose cursed. “This whole thing is nuts! I don't understand how these incursions could have gotten so far out of hand.”

  “Frankly, I don't either,” the mayor agreed. “It's like the sudden appearance of a tornado, but wars don't usually happen on this basis. There were signs and signals, but none of them showed up on our radar screens.”

  “What do we do next?” Graham pushed.

  “We've got to make an intelligent statement backing our president,” Bridges said, “and of course, we need to put ourselves in a good political position. We don't want our opponent making any hay out of this problem.”

  “I have a declaration.” Pemrose pushed his papers toward the mayor.

  “I have one too.” Graham said.

  “Excellent!” Bridges gathered up the pages. “Let's see what we can put together.”

  For the next hour the men exchanged ideas. Thoughts were fired back and forth and debated. Slowly a general statement emerged. Bridge seemed to be pleased and the project moved forward. Just as the second hour of discussion began, the door suddenly burst open and Sarah Cates rushed in.

  “I'm sorry and I know it's inappropriate for me to burst in like this, but I must talk to Mr. Peck!”

  The mayor blinked several times. “Something's happened?”

  “I apologize for bringing bad news, but I just received a call from Mrs. Peck and… oh, my goodness… you must call her at once.”

  Graham shot up out of his chair. “What's happened?”

  “There's been a gunfight of some sort at the Computer Control Center near your children's school,” Sarah said. “Apparently, the gunmen, the terrorists, whoever, escaped and have holed up in your kids' school.”

  Graham grabbed the table. “You're sure?”

  “The police are already out there,” Sarah continued, “but apparently the school has turned into a battleground.”

  Graham slumped. “No! Not my kids!”

  “Graham!” Bridges rushed to his side. “We'll get a police car to take us there. I'm going with you. We've got to get the city's best officers into this operation.” He turned to Pemrose. “Jake, get us a police car downstairs immediately. We're on our way.” He stopped. “Oh, yes! Alert our newspaper contacts.”

  Graham felt like his heart would burst out of his body. His head seemed to spin and he suddenly became lightheaded. “I've got to get to the school,” he shouted, trying to catch his breath. “Right now!”

  CHAPTER 25

  GRAHAM DASHED OUT of the conference room, leaving the mayor trying to catch up with him. “I've got to run,” he shouted over his shoulder.

  “Your wife has her cell phone with her.” Sarah rushed along side Graham. “She'll be waiting for you to call her back.”

  “I will.” Graham headed for the exit. “From the car.”

  “This way.” Bridges pointed toward the elevators. “It'll get you out of here quicker.”

  The elevator ride down to the street and the dash toward the police car flashed by in a blur. Graham tumbled into the backseat and the siren screamed as the car shot down the street toward the freeway. Graham dialed his cell phone.

  “Hello?” Jackie sounded like a child lost in a forest.

  “It's Graham! We're in a police car.”

  “Graham, the police have surrounded the school and it sounds like a war. I'm nearly out of my mind worrying.”

  “Where are you?”

  “About two blocks back of the police line. I heard about the attack from a television bulletin I saw by accident at the beauty shop. Terrorists attacked the Computer Control Center near the school, but the alarm system went off. The TV announcer said gunfire followed and that's when these men fled toward the school.”

  “I understand,” Graham said.

  “What will we do if… if… anything happens to…”

  “Stop it, Jackie! Pull yourself together.”

  “I'm trying, but I keep thinking about your mother.”

  “Don't! I'm going directly to the school. Don't worry! Some way or the other, I'll get inside.”

  “Graham, I'm frightened—something terrible could happen to you, too.”

  “It won't,” Graham snapped. “Jackie, be calm.”

  “Do you realize that both George and Jeff are in there?”

  “Yes, Jackie. I'll get them out.”

  “Do you think you can?”

  “Definitely. We're flying down the road way over the speed limit. We'll be there shortly. I've got to hang up, now.”

  Graham snapped the phone off. He didn't need any more anxiety. His entire nervous system was already on overload. Sinking back into the seat, Graham realized if there was anything in the entire world that he wanted, it was that those two little boys would not be hurt. With Maria's death so close behind them, he couldn't bear the thought of his innocent children falling in a volley of wild gunfire.

  By the time the police car reached the outskirts of Arlington Heights, the driver knew exactly which streets to take form his satellite guidance system. He slowed only slightly as the car shot down the main street and made an abrupt turn to the left. Graham could see the police cars surrounding the school. The driver slowed and the mayor turned around.

  “Don't worry, Graham. We're going on through this blockade. We'll get as close to the school as we safely can.”

  Graham nodded. “Step on it.”

  A policeman near the blockade of patrol cars pointed to a side opening and their police car slipped inside the front line of vehicles and inched closer to the school. Everywhere Graham looked, he saw policemen with guns pointed at the school.

  “I'm going in,” Graham announced peremptorily. “We're city officials. I have a right to enter the school.”

  “Graham, it's dangerous inside that building.” Bridges shook his head. “We need to leave this matter up to the police.”

  “I want a Mylar vest and a helmet.” Graham's eyes narrowed. “Understand me?”

  Bridges grimaced. “I don't know… you're talking about a job that policemen wouldn't want.”

  “I mean it,” Graham growled. “Let's get me in there right now.”

  “Well… whatever you say,” Frank said slowly. “We've got protection in this car?” he asked the driver. “Anything to keep a man from getting shot?”

  “Sure. We've got some equipment, but nothing that guarantees a man won't get shot somewhere.”

  “The man's saying a bulletproof vest won't save you.”

  “That's all I need!” Graham ripped his tie off and unbuttoned his shirt. “Let's get gear on me.”

  Bridges looked down at the seat for a minute. “Frank…” He started to say more but stopped. “Okay, officer. Let's get this man rigged up immediately.”

  “Whatever you say, sir.” The driver nodded and pulled up close to the big entry door into Harding school. “You're the boss.”

  The one-floor red brick building appeared to have long halls and a gymnasium located behind. An eerie quietness h
ad settled over the building. No heads appeared in any of the windows. Graham huddled beside the car and put on the protection gear.

  “Look, Graham. You've got to be careful. Very careful.”

  “Don't worry, Frank. I know what I'm doing. I was in the military once.”

  “Just don't get yourself in an impossible bind,” the mayor warned.

  Graham took off in a hard run. Just as he reached the entrance a burst of gunfire echoed down the hall from somewhere far off in the direction of the gym. Graham dived at the floor and slid across the hallway. He heard the knee to this pants rip and felt a burning sensation on his leg. A quick look revealed only a minor skin burn. For a moment he crouched against the wall, trying to get his bearings. The lights had been turned out and probably all the electricity was off. For as far as he could see, the halls were empty, but he could smell gunpowder in the air. Cries and moans echoed up and down the halls. The sound of the shooting faded away and the foreboding silence returned.

  Slowly and carefully, Graham crept up to the first door and peered around the corner. Computers sat on their desks and the children lay on the floor, covering their heads with their hands. They looked smaller than George, but larger than Jeff. Some of the children were crying. His boys couldn't be in this room. The room was secure, but it just wasn't the right place. He quickly pulled away and rushed down the hall toward the convergence where the hallways made a T. Graham cautiously looked around the corner, but couldn't see anyone. Off in the distance he could hear shouting, but the halls remained empty. The yelling sounded like policemen giving directions to each other.

  Crawling on his hands and knees, Graham turned to his right and started down the corridor. As best he could remember, George's room was down this hall. Thirty feet away was the door to a classroom. He slipped up quietly and cautiously peered into the room. Ten feet from the door a teacher lay on the floor, clutching two children next to her body. The rest of the students huddled together on the floor around the room. They looked the right size.