by Dirk Patton
She waved at the TV.
“Same here,” I said.
We watched and listened for a few more minutes, hearing the woman describe a militia that didn’t exist and two men we didn’t know.
“Why are they lying about our dads?” I asked.
Tanya turned toward me and I saw the rage in her eyes was back.
“I don’t know, but I’m not going to let them get away with it!”
Chapter 9
The same press conference was playing on the TV in William Carter’s office. He gently drew on a cigar as he watched with satisfaction. White House Chief of Staff Tony Wise was the only other person in the room, dividing his attention between a secure smart phone and the screen.
“How is this playing in middle America?” Carter asked without taking his eyes off the TV.
“Better than predicted,” Wise said. “There’s a lot of concern over the scenario we’re selling.”
“Outstanding!” Carter said smugly.
“I would caution against being overly optimistic,” Wise said gently. “The American people have the attention span of a kindergartner. They will forget this in a day or two and go back to what’s comfortable for them. Guns and religion.”
Normally it wasn’t a good idea to disagree with William Carter. He famously had a volcanic temper, especially if someone dared to challenge or correct him in his own office. But he was in an expansive mood from seeing the first pieces of a carefully orchestrated campaign fall into place.
“They’re nothing short of unwashed savages,” he said. “I honestly don’t understand how they think. God doesn’t protect them. Men with vision do. Men like me. Men who built this country. Who built the world!”
Wise had heard the speech before and carefully avoided any words or body language that might lead Carter to believe he was in the slightest disagreement.
“Great men,” he said.
“Precisely!” Carter cried, his chair rocking forward as he leaned on his desk and stared intently at Wise. “And great men have never been afraid to make the hard choices! To do whatever is necessary to accomplish their goals. The rest of the…”
He paused, searching for the right derisive term as he flapped a hand at the TV.
“Rabble?” Wise offered.
“Yes! The rabble! They just come along for the ride, benefiting from those few of us with the brains, balls and determination to do great things.”
Wise bobbed his head in enthusiastic agreement as Carter leaned back with a self-congratulatory expression.
“Tell me again how we’re going to proceed with this phase.”
Wise cleared his throat, hiding his irritation with having to recite plans that had already been discussed multiple times.
“A disinformation campaign on social media has already begun. Pre-approved articles are being distributed to the large outlets who will not be dismissed as fake. They contain just enough information to pass muster with the fact checkers, if they happen to contain any actual facts, and are primarily suggestions, leading questions and innuendo. The opinion shows are geared up, ready to go with carefully selected and coached guests. By the end of the day, the public will be worried that we’re on the verge of a crisis of epic proportions. Then, phase two begins and they’ll be convinced.”
“That’s the consensus of the team,” Carter interjected, nodding. “It certainly sets the stage, preparing the public for what’s coming.”
He puffed on his cigar, staring at Wise through a cloud of blue smoke.
“President Williams? Does she have the chops to pull this off? Really sell it?”
“She’s a woman. Of course she does,” Wise said, a little too flippantly for Carter’s taste.
“That’s not an answer, Mr. Wise,” he growled, eyes boring into the Chief of Staff.
“You saw her on the campaign trail. How she handled the scandal. How she performed in the debates. If she hadn’t gone into politics, she could have made a fortune in Hollywood.”
“Not with an ass the size of hers,” Carter snorted.
“She is prepared and more than capable of playing her part. She’s already got a coalition of Governors in her pocket, not to mention a third of the House and Senate. This will get her a lot more. Not all of them, but a large enough majority to do whatever she wants.”
“Those that resist?”
Wise shrugged.
“There’s no such thing as a politician without dirty laundry. And if we can’t find any, it’s child’s play these days to manufacture some. They can be distracted and controlled. And if they can’t, we have teams ready to go. People will fall in line after seeing what happens to those who exhibit anti-American behavior.”
“What a wonderful term,” Carter laughed, clapping his hands in glee. “It means nothing and everything at the same time! But I still think we should bring in an external threat. A malevolent foreign power assisting the militias.”
Wise was already shaking his head.
“We discussed this. It’s been successful in the past. But to try it again might be pushing our luck.”
Carter glared at him for several long moments, then finally nodded.
“What about that young reporter at the Tribune?”
Wise was momentarily caught off guard. Partly by the sudden change in topic, but also by Carter being aware of such a small detail. Carter recognized the reaction, smiling like a Great White about to take a bite out of a swimmer.
“I didn’t realize…” Wise began.
He stopped when Carter flapped a dismissive hand in the air.
“Do not underestimate who you work for, Mr. Wise. I didn’t get to where I am by failing to keep my ear to the ground. Very little escapes my attention.”
The two men stared at each other for a brief second, the pecking order firmly reestablished.
“A team was dispatched. It will look like a street mugging gone bad. Just more street crime that will go unnoticed and unreported by the media. I’m awaiting confirmation that the problem has been resolved.”
“Make sure it’s taken care of,” Carter said, the warning clear in his voice. “We cannot afford to have some crusading bitch reporter digging into things that are too big for her to understand.”
“It will be,” Wise said, appearing uncomfortable for the first time. “Private contractors for the CIA. They’re good at what they do and even if things were to go wrong, they can’t be traced back to us.”
Chapter 10
Ashley redoubled her efforts as the man dragged her into the pitch-black alley. Heart racing with terror, she clawed at the powerful arm encircling her chest but couldn’t penetrate his heavy clothing. She flailed with her feet, stomping down hard with no effect. Through her thin-soled running shoes, she felt the steel caps in the toes of his boots. Kicking back, she contacted his shins, earning a grunt of pain but nothing else.
She was lifted into the air as he moved faster, ignoring her struggles and carrying her as if she weighed nothing.
“Stop it! I’m trying to help you!” he hissed in her ear.
Her eyes widened in hope when she saw a man come out of a run on the sidewalk and stare into the alley. Had he seen her being dragged off? But he couldn’t see her now!
Twisting her head against the hand that covered her mouth, she bit down when she felt a finger slip between her lips. Blood flowed into her mouth and the hand was jerked away.
“HELP!” Ashley screamed.
He shoved his forearm into her mouth as she yelled and she bit down again, but there was no getting through his rough jacket’s sleeve.
Still being dragged backward, hope surged as the man on the sidewalk stepped forward. He’d looked young and strong in the dim street lighting, but now he was just a dark silhouette. His arm came up and she briefly saw the outline of a gun.
“Fuck me,” her captor growled.
Ashley was suddenly thrown to the side, spinning through the air to tumble across the pavement. Before she came to a stop,
there were several of the mechanical thumps she’d heard on the street. They weren’t loud but seemed to have a power behind them. A similar sound came from the mouth of the alley as she rolled to a stop and scrambled to her feet.
She sprinted for the man who’d come to help, falling to the ground when her right leg went out from under her. More of the thumps, then her captor loomed over her. It was too dark to make out anything other than his shape as he dropped to a knee.
“Help!” she screamed again, crawling away and looking for her rescuer.
He lay unmoving on the ground, half his body hidden in the darkness of the alley. The rest was on the sidewalk and she gasped when she realized the dark pool forming around his head was blood.
“We have to go!” the man said, urgency clear in his voice.
Her leg wasn’t working right and she couldn’t stand, but she was doing her best to crawl away. It wasn’t enough and he grabbed her with a strong hand and yanked her onto her feet.
That was when the pain hit and she cried out as a lightning bolt shot through her. The man paused and quickly ran his free hand over her leg, stopping at a point halfway between her hip and knee. She flinched away, swinging at him and connecting solidly with her fist.
“Christ!” he breathed, slapping her arm down before she could hit him again.
With a small grunt, he scooped her onto his shoulder, turned and ran deeper into the alley. His shoulder pressed into her stomach and her upper body hung behind him as she pounded ineffectually on his broad back. It was like hitting a wall and she suddenly realized he was wearing some sort of body armor.
Changing her tactic, she twisted as far as she could and clawed the side of his face, feeling her nails tear into his flesh. He didn’t make a sound but shifted her until the front of her legs were on his shoulder, one thick arm wrapped around her ankles to hold her in place.
Her face now hanging all the way to the small of his back, she cried out as the point on her leg that was the source of all the pain rested directly on his shoulder. The new position prevented her from reaching his face so she attacked the only spot she could. Hands balled into fists, she pounded on the man’s ass as she continued screaming.
This was about as effective as her assault on his armored back. She twisted, hoping to unbalance him as he ran. Grabbed a leg as thick as a tree trunk, then fumbled across his lower body, trying to reach his balls. It didn’t matter how strong he was, if she could get even one of them in her hand, he’d let her go in a hurry.
Still fumbling and screaming for help, she was caught by surprise when he skidded to a stop and threw her off his shoulder. Strong hands caught her, pulling her into a van and pinning her to the floor. There was some weak light spilling in and she realized they’d left the alley.
She caught a glimpse of three bearded faces before her captor leapt in and slammed the door. Plunged into darkness, she struggled and screamed as the vehicle accelerated hard. A few seconds later there was the pinch of a needle being inserted into her arm and the world started to spin as she was pulled down into darkness.
---
Ashley slowly came awake without opening her eyes. She was comfortable, but her limbs felt heavy and there was no motivation to move. With a deep sigh, she started to roll over. A white-hot bolt of pain in her leg snapped her to full consciousness and she jerked upright with a sharp intake of breath.
She was in a bed with cool, crisp linens. Tearing them aside, she gaped at the thick bandage wrapped around her right thigh. Then she realized her pants and shoes had been removed and she was only wearing panties and a T-shirt. Her mind was sluggish, but when she moved her leg again, the pain cleared the fog and she remembered what had happened.
Whipping her head around, she gasped when she saw a man calmly watching her from a chair on the far side of the small room. She shrank away in fear, pulling the sheet to her breasts.
The man didn’t react, just stared at her. He was big, appearing to be well over six feet and heavily muscled. She couldn’t guess his age because of an aggressive beard that concealed half his face. As he watched her, he turned his head slightly and she saw four deep, bloody furrows in his cheek, glistening with some sort of ointment. Her captor!
“You’re safe,” he said in a deep, rumbling voice.
Her eyes flicked across him. Noted the boots and tan cargo pants. A dark green T-shirt stretched tightly across his powerful chest. Tattoos down both arms. Skulls and demons fighting with knives. And one of the fingers on his left hand with a heavy bandage. He saw where she was looking and held it up.
“You took a chunk,” he said as if discussing the weather.
“What do you want?” she asked, shivering from the adrenaline pumping through her body.
He stared back for a long pause.
“My boss wanted to have a conversation with you,” he finally said with a shrug.
“Your boss?”
He nodded.
“Who’s your boss?”
“He’ll be along soon. Think he had some calls to make.”
Had she been right? Was this guy some kind of crazy stalker and she’d fallen into his trap? Terrified, mind racing, Ashley imagined a hundred different scenarios that wouldn’t end well for her.
“You had a gun!” she blurted.
“Still do.”
She stared at him, fear ebbing slightly because of the man’s demeanor. He was watching her, but he wasn’t leering. As frightening as he was, he wasn’t giving off the creeper vibe.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you have a gun?”
“Why not?” he shrugged as if it was a silly question.
“Because normal people don’t have guns in New York! It’s illegal.”
She started to move, then froze, hissing in pain.
“What happened to my leg?”
“You took a round.”
“A round?”
“You were shot,” he explained.
Ashley was stunned.
“You’ll be fine,” he continued. “Doc cleaned the wound out and stitched you up. Through and through on the outside of your thigh. You lost some blood, but nothing to worry about. Should have a pretty cool scar to show your friends.”
“I was shot?” Ashley asked in a whisper.
He nodded.
“You said ‘Doc’. There’s a doctor here?”
“Well, Doc’s not a doctor. We just call him that. He’s a medic, but he’s probably treated more gunshots than any doctor. You’re in good hands.”
Ashley raised the sheet and stared at the bandage on her leg. It certainly looked neat and professional.
“You shot me because I was trying to run away!”
“No,” he said, unperturbed by the accusation. “The guy you screamed at for help after you bit off a piece of my finger is the one that shot you. I shot him.”
He shrugged again. Ashley took a breath, disconcerted at how calm and rational the man was as he admitted to killing another person.
“What are you going to do to me?”
“To you? Jesus, lady, I saved your life. I don’t do things to innocent people.”
“Saved my life?” she asked incredulously. “I wouldn’t have needed saving if it wasn’t for you!”
He raised his eyebrows and let out a low chuckle.
“If you say so.”
“Are you always an asshole?” she asked, frustrated with the cryptic answers she was getting.
“Pretty much.”
There was a light tap and the man stood in a single, fluid motion. Effortlessly. One instant he was comfortable. Relaxed. The next he was a coiled spring, eyes focused on the door.
“It’s Doc,” a voice called from the other side.
“Come,” the man responded, resuming his seat.
Doc hustled into the room, a faded canvas satchel in his hand. He was a tall, broad-shouldered black man, nearly as large as the man seated across from Ashley. He stepped close and smiled at
her.
“Hello, Ms. Dumont. I’m Doc. I’m the one that stitched you up. How are you feeling?”
“Hurts like hell,” she said, relaxing slightly at the man’s bedside manner.
“I can give you something for the pain, but it will probably put you to sleep. The boss wants to speak with you, so that’ll have to wait. May I take a look?”
He placed the bag on the bed next to her and gestured at her leg. She looked at him for a long moment, then cut her eyes to the man in the chair.
“If he leaves,” she said. “I’m not wearing any pants.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Doc said. “They had to come off so I could properly treat your injury.”
Ashley nodded, then turned to face the man.
“Well?”
He stared back, blinked slowly then stood and left the room. Once the door closed, Ashley pulled the sheet back only far enough to expose her injured leg.
“What’s his problem?” she asked as Doc began unwrapping the bandage.
“Him? Oh, he’s in a lot of pain. Took a couple to the chest.”
“A couple of…” she grimaced as Doc gently lifted the back of her leg off the bed so he could unwrap the bandage.
“Sorry,” he said, focused on his task.
“A couple of what?” Ashley asked after several deep breaths.
“Rounds.”
“Rounds! He was shot?”
“No biggie,” Doc said, moving carefully to minimize her pain. “He was armored. Still hurts like a bitch, though. I think he’s got a bruised lung but don’t have a CT machine to confirm.”
“Are you serious?” Ashley asked, staring at the door in shock.
“That he was shot? Sure. Not the first time. Probably won’t be the last.”
“Who the hell are you guys?”
The wrap was removed and Doc carefully lifted off a gauze pad that was nearly saturated with blood. Ashley forgot her question when she saw her wound.
There were only a few stitches closing a small hole an inch and a half in from the outer curve of her thigh. It could easily have been covered with a dime. But it was angry red with a large purple bruise the size of a softball marring her tanned skin.