Politics of Blood (Gray Spear Society Book 8)

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Politics of Blood (Gray Spear Society Book 8) Page 18

by Siegel, Alex


  Aaron put his mouth near the pilot's ear and yelled, "Find open space. Get us on the ground."

  The pilot nodded and flew off. The sky was crowded with other helicopters. The logos of local television stations marked the smallest ones. The police and fire departments also had their birds in the air. A couple of fearsome, black Vipers were part of the President's security detail.

  The pilot went half a mile north and found an empty parking lot. The helicopter descended quickly to the asphalt and touched down.

  Aaron didn't need to tell anybody to hijack the helicopter. It was the obvious thing to do.

  A minute later, he was in the pilot's seat, and Ethel had the co-pilot's position. Boreas, Norbert, and Tawni remained in the back which now had plenty of extra room. The soldiers were left standing on the parking lot without their weapons, radios, phones, or pride.

  Aaron waved at their sad faces as he flew off.

  He went straight up into the night sky. He turned off all the running lights to make the helicopter invisible in the darkness.

  "Ma'am," he said, "can I borrow your phone again? I need to call Perry."

  "Sure," Ethel replied in an irritated tone.

  She gave him her phone, and he used one hand to dial Perry while flying with the other.

  "Ma'am?" Perry answered hesitantly. "Sir?"

  "It's me again," Aaron said into the phone. "I'm flying the helicopter. Why did you send the National Guard instead of the police?"

  "The police helicopter was too small. I knew you had a big group."

  "Oh. Good thinking."

  "Thank you, sir," Perry said. "I also located Olaf Wagner for you. The Secret Service arrested him this afternoon and put him in the Metropolitan Correctional Center. He was charged with conspiracy to kill the President. Twenty other members of Pure America are there with him."

  Aaron knew that place as a federal prison in downtown Chicago. It held criminals who were on trial in federal court or waiting for their turn. The security was top notch.

  "In that case, we'll need official release papers to get Olaf out."

  "That will take me a little while, sir," Perry said.

  "I'm flying back to headquarters. You have until I get there."

  Aaron returned the phone to Ethel. He steered towards headquarters and pushed the helicopter to its maximum speed.

  * * *

  A wool blanket was wrapped around Haley's shoulders, and he held a mug of hot chocolate in his hands. He finally felt warm again.

  He was sitting in the back of an ambulance. Paramedics were running all kinds of tests, but he wasn't worried. Boreas' attack had been meant to incapacitate not injure.

  Haley wasn't sure how to feel about the incident. Aaron had saved a lot of lives tonight including Haley's. It was hard not to be grateful. On the other hand, the whole crew had acted like anarchists. Ethel seemed to believe she didn't have to obey any laws at all, and maybe she didn't. Haley didn't know how to deal with somebody like that.

  The back doors of the ambulance opened. Vice President Darrow and Director Seferis climbed in.

  "We need to be alone," Seferis told the paramedics.

  They cleared out and closed the door.

  Haley looked up at the dignified features of the Vice President. His skin had just the right number of wrinkles to make him appear wise but not decrepit. When he smiled, perfect white teeth appeared like a magic trick. His voice was perhaps his most charismatic feature. It resonated with undeniable authority and gravitas.

  "How are you feeling?" Darrow said.

  "Not bad." Haley sipped his hot chocolate. "I'll live."

  "You still don't know what happened? Where that blast of cold came from?"

  Haley shook his head. Even now, he wasn't ready to betray Ethel's trust. He believed she was still his friend, and he certainly didn't want to make her an enemy. He wasn't stupid.

  "Regardless," Seferis said, "we need to make some important decisions."

  The Director's face sagged with exhaustion. His brown hair needed to be combed. He was wearing a black Kevlar vest over his black suit, and the combination looked odd.

  "Yes," Haley said, "like how we're going to get the Democratic Convention back on track."

  "Excuse my language, sir, but fuck the convention. It's over. Both of you need to go back to Washington immediately."

  "No. The President doesn't run home with his tail between his legs at the first sign of trouble. I've fought my own battles my whole life. This time is no different."

  "What happened tonight wasn't a 'sign of trouble,'" Seferis said. "It was a goddamn bomb in the middle of a goddamn arena packed with people!" His face was red.

  Haley raised his chin. "Nonetheless, I won't bow my head in fear."

  "You're not thinking clearly, sir. You have a responsibility to the people of this nation. You can't take dumb risks."

  "Don't tell me my responsibilities." Haley faced the Vice President. "If you want to go home, go. I won't order you to stay and risk your life. But I'm needed here. I have to manage this crisis from the front."

  Darrow snorted. "You think I'd let you hog all the glory? Not a chance. If you stay, I stay." He slapped Haley on the shoulder. "Partners until the end."

  Seferis looked back and forth between them. "You're both insane."

  Haley chuckled. "Maybe."

  "Well, you're not going back to the hotel. That's too obvious a target. We have to find more secure accommodations."

  "A secret place?"

  "Yes, sir." Seferis nodded. "Your location will be classified."

  "Wait." Haley knocked on his own forehead with his knuckles. "I remember something. I met a guy this afternoon. What was his name? Billionaire banker... Bernard Templeton! He has a place. Get him on the phone."

  "Sir?"

  "Just do it."

  Seferis left the ambulance.

  Haley looked at the chaos outside through the open doorway. It was a sea of flashing lights, wandering people, and stopped cars. The police were trying to impose some kind of order, but they could barely get themselves organized. Protestors carrying signs added unneeded spice to the mix.

  Darrow sat on the stretcher across from Haley. "I noticed you were talking to an unusual Secret Service agent. An older black woman. I've never seen her before. You had a nice, little conversation."

  "Miss Pickenpaugh," Haley said.

  The color drained from Darrow's face. "My God. What was she doing here?"

  "Saving my life, apparently. How do you know her?"

  "She's only a name to me. That's the first time I've seen her face. I know a little more about her predecessor, the legendary Mr. Nightbird."

  "There was somebody before her?" Haley said.

  Darrow nodded. "Those people go way back. Visit the Library of Congress and ask the Librarian to show you the secret diary of Thomas Jefferson. There are some interesting revelations best kept under lock and key. But back to Mr. Nightbird. It happened when I was the administrator of the Environmental Protection Agency."

  Haley leaned forward and sipped his hot chocolate.

  "My investigators discovered a major toxic waste leak in Virginia," Darrow said. "Evil stuff. The chemical caused extremely painful blistering of the skin. In bad cases, the blisters turned into open wounds. I saw some pictures...." He shuddered. "Thirty people died before we found the source of the chemical."

  "Go on," Haley said.

  "It was coming from an old factory that was supposed to be abandoned. I was about to send in the troops when I got a call from Mr. Nightbird. He told me to stand down until the next day. He was very convincing."

  "Miss Pickenpaugh is the same way."

  Darrow nodded. "The factory burned to the ground that night. We found human bones in the ashes, lots of them. We never managed to identify the dead. One victim escaped from the fire though. He crawled a few hundred feet through a forest before dying."

  "Was he shot?"

  "No. He had been forced to drink
the toxic waste. The poison turned his internal organs into stew. It was an excruciating death."

  Haley winced.

  "Be careful with Miss Pickenpaugh," Darrow said. "Very careful. If you poke that beehive, you will get stung. Being the President won't save you."

  "I already figured that out. What do they want?"

  "Information. Influence. Those people are your best friends as long as you don't ask any questions."

  "But why?" Haley said. "They certainly aren't law abiding citizens, but I don't think they're criminals, either. Until a couple of days ago, I never even knew they existed."

  Darrow shrugged. "It's a mystery."

  Haley furrowed his brow.

  About fifteen minutes later, Bernard Templeton walked up to the ambulance, accompanied by George Seferis.

  Haley was surprised to see the billionaire in person. "You're still here?"

  "I can't leave," Templeton said. "My car is boxed in and there are no taxis. I'm certainly not going to walk away in this neighborhood. What can I do for you, Mr. President?"

  "Earlier today, you invited me to visit your private nature preserve."

  Templeton straightened. "Yes, sir. Pick a date. I'll work my schedule around it."

  "How about tonight?" Haley said.

  "Uh." Templeton stared.

  "It will be me, the Vice President, a staffer or three, and a couple dozen Secret Service agents. I know it's short notice, but we have a crisis situation here. We need a safe place to hide until we find out who planted that bomb."

  Templeton stood tall. "It will be a privilege to host you in this time of need. As a patriot, I could do no less. I'm profoundly honored you came to me first."

  "I'm glad you feel that way." Haley smiled. "Hopefully, we'll reward your generosity by being good house guests."

  Chapter Twelve

  Landing a helicopter at night on a dark rooftop with no running lights was quite a trick. Aaron couldn't risk turning on the lights though. He didn't want to be seen from the ground. The rotor noise was too much of a disturbance already. Fortunately, the skin of the Rosemont Tower Hotel was soundproofed in anticipation of issues like this one.

  He stared into the gloom below as the helicopter descended. City lights reflected from the clouds helped him locate his landing spot. Finally, he touched down on the roof of the hotel.

  As the rotors spun down, Aaron turned and said to everybody, "We're not staying long. Norbert and Tawni, assist the legate in finding what she needs for the interrogation. I want to be back in the air in ten minutes. We'll take the blue helicopter this time. It's quieter and faster than this hunk of military junk."

  Aaron jumped onto the roof and jogged to the nearest stairway. He ran down the steps, taking two at a time.

  As soon as he was inside, he yelled at the ceiling, "Who is in the security booth? Where is everybody?"

  Sheryl's voice answered through overhead speakers, "It's me, sir. Nancy and Kamal went home. Perry is working in your office. Smythe is eating dinner in the kitchen. The twins are in the booth with me. What happened at the United Center? I heard there was a bombing."

  "That was me."

  "What?"

  "We'll talk about it later," Aaron said.

  He went to his office and found Perry sitting at his workstation. The hacker's fingers were a clattering blur of motion on his keyboard.

  "Prison release papers," Aaron demanded. "New phone."

  "Yes, sir. I just need four more minutes."

  "How long does it take to forge some paperwork?"

  "It's not just paperwork, sir," Perry said in a whiny tone. "Computer records need to be tweaked so everything checks out. I have to break into a dozen different systems."

  Aaron rolled his eyes. "Four minutes."

  He went next door to his private quarters. The feds had taken all of his weapons, and he needed to reload. He also needed fresh, clean identification.

  He opened the top drawer of his dresser. Stacks of manila envelopes were inside, each containing a false identity. Part of getting dressed in the morning was deciding who he wanted to be that day. He rifled through the envelopes until he found one for a federal marshal. It seemed like an appropriate cover for tonight's operation.

  He dumped out the contents of the envelope onto the top of the dresser. There was a wallet, a birth certificate, a social security card, a checkbook, a diploma, and other documents. He just needed the wallet this time, so he stuffed that into his pocket and left the rest.

  He rushed across the room to his personal armory. Guns hanging on hooks covered an entire wall. He didn't expect to see a lot of action tonight, so he picked out a pair of FN Five-sevens with fully automatic capability. He also grabbed a Remington XP-100 which was a cross between a pistol and a sniper rifle. He always liked to have a long-range option. He concealed the weapons under his clothes.

  Aaron was curious about what the twins were doing, so he jogged to the security booth next. He knocked on the door, and Sheryl let him in. She wore a white shirt and a long, black skirt, her costume from earlier. She and Smythe had spent the day investigating other threats against the President.

  Bethany and Leanna were working on a tall rack full of computers in the middle of the booth. Thick bundles of cables connected the computers to the underside of the security console. Aaron noticed the air was significantly warmer than usual.

  "Is that the new security system?" he said.

  "Yes, sir," Bethany said. "We're still putting it together. It should be fully operational by tomorrow. Jack, say hello to Aaron."

  The voice of the dead security chief emanated from speakers, "Hello, Aaron. I'm glad to meet you. I look forward to working with you."

  Aaron was shocked. "You named it Jack? Isn't that a little ghoulish?"

  "It seemed appropriate," Bethany said. "It will be doing Jack's job."

  Smythe rushed into the booth. He was wearing a formal, blue shirt and black slacks.

  "There you are, sir," he said. "I thought I heard your voice. What happened at the United Center tonight? The news reports are confusing."

  "I realized a bomb was about to drop onto the stage and kill the President. I detonated it by shooting it."

  Smythe grinned. "Wow."

  "Congratulations, sir," Sheryl said. "That makes you an honest-to-God national hero."

  "Just doing my part," Aaron said.

  "Was it Pure America?"

  "No, our true enemy is still a mystery. Pure America was just a decoy. We're about to snatch Olaf and interrogate him. I'm sure he knows something."

  "Will the legate be conducting the interrogation?" Smythe said in a horrified tone.

  Aaron nodded. "You can come."

  "No, thank you, but I expect Tawni will have a grand time. That woman still has some anger management issues."

  "One other thing. There is a stolen National Guard helicopter on the roof. Tell Nancy it needs to be taken apart and destroyed, but she can keep useful parts. I have to go."

  Aaron jogged back to his office, but Perry wasn't at his workstation. Aaron looked around in confusion.

  Perry ran in carrying a sheaf of papers in one hand and a new phone in the other. "Here you are, sir. Hot off the printer." He gave both items to Aaron.

  Aaron inspected the documents. They looked like federal prison transfer forms and even included proper signatures. The cell had a special machine that could hold a pen and reproduce any person's handwriting perfectly.

  Aaron turned his attention to his new phone. It was slightly thinner than the old one.

  "New model?"

  "Yes, sir," Perry said. "Longer battery life, better security. There is one cool new feature. It can unlock certain kinds of electronic locks by transmitting a radio pulse."

  "Sounds useful. I'll read the manual later. Stay at your workstation until I get back. I may still need your help tonight."

  Aaron hurried out of his office. He went back up to the dark rooftop and looked around. Only Boreas was the
re.

  "Where is everybody?" Aaron said.

  "Still gathering the implements of torture," Boreas replied.

  He was standing by the blue helicopter that Aaron normally flew. It was big, sleek, and fast. It could carry four passengers in back and had plenty of cargo space. A secret compartment contained spare weapons.

  Aaron sighed. "Whew. What a day." He allowed himself to relax for a moment.

  "Indeed."

  "I don't know much about you. Do you mind telling me a little about your background? How did you get that amazing gift?"

  "You could say cold has always been in my blood," Boreas said. "Before I joined the Society, I was an arctic wildlife research scientist. I studied how animals survived the long dark winters up north. I even lived with the Inuit people for a few years. The cell in Yellowknife, Canada recruited me. They have the largest territory of any cell in North America: two million square miles."

  "Impressive. What's the smallest?"

  "Washington, DC. That team is responsible for watching the United States government only. It's a big enough job for a whole team."

  Aaron nodded. "How did you get your gift?"

  "It happened five years ago. An enemy of God convinced a battalion of Russian soldiers to attack Canada and start a war. They came across in boats during the night. Most of my team wasn't in a position to respond. It was just me and one other legionnaire against six hundred Russian troops in full battle gear. We had the advantages of skill, darkness, and surprise. God gave me another one: the ability to use cold as a weapon." Boreas smiled grimly. "The polar bears feasted for weeks. You can probably still find frozen bodies on the tundra, at least parts of them."

  "I'm jealous. My gift is wimpy in comparison."

  "I'd much rather be you than me."

  Aaron drew back in surprise. "Why?"

  "A widely respected commander and one of the legate's favorites," Boreas said. "Your team worships you. I can see it in their eyes. I'm just a thug with exceptional talents."

  "I'm sure you're more than that. The legate wouldn't pick a mere thug to be her bodyguard."

 

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