Politics of Blood (Gray Spear Society Book 8)

by Siegel, Alex

  He looked across Lafayette Park. A famous statue of Andrew Jackson on a horse stood in the center of the tree-filled park. The front of the White House could be seen further away.

  Seferis stood up and announced, "End of the line."

  Vice President Darrow left first, and he immediately headed towards the reporters. Despite his exhaustion, he kept his head high, his back straight, and a smile on his face. He was a consummate politician.

  Everybody else filed out in an orderly manner. They looked around with puzzled expressions as they stepped onto the sidewalk. Most of the Secret Service agents stayed and were obviously waiting for orders. The traitor Julie Zimmer walked off at a brisk pace.

  Bernard Templeton hung back to talk with Seferis.

  "What's going on?" the billionaire said. "Why are we here?"

  "I don't know, and if I did, I probably couldn't tell you. Go home. On behalf of the President of the United States, thank you for everything you've done."

  "What about my house?"

  "We'll work out some kind of compensation," Seferis said. "If you'll excuse me, I have a job to do."

  He stepped off the bus. Cool, fresh autumn air invigorated him. The big, black bus was stopping traffic and getting a lot of attention from people on the street.

  His Secret Service agents gathered around.

  "I need ten volunteers to stay and guard the Vice President," Seferis said loudly. "I know you don't have weapons or radios, and you're dead tired, but we can't abandon him. The rest of you have the option of going home. I have to run to my office and try to get things sorted out." He sighed. "It's probably total chaos over there."

  * * *

  General Joseph was sitting in a Pentagon conference room with an Air Force colonel and a major. They were going over budget figures and allocating money for procurement. It was tedious, mind-numbing work, but Joseph didn't mind. He was still feeling the warm glow of heroic accomplishment.

  The colonel's phone buzzed. He grabbed it and checked the message on the screen. Joseph frowned at the interruption.

  "That's a relief," the colonel said. "The wild rumors about the President being dead aren't true."

  Joseph leaned forward. "What do you mean?"

  "The Vice President is giving a press conference in Lafayette Park. He just told the media the President is safe and sound."

  "The Lafayette Park here?"

  "Yes, sir," the colonel said. "Near the White House."

  Joseph felt a chill. He stood up quickly. "I have to go, gentlemen. We'll reconvene... later."

  He bolted out of the conference room. He jogged through the long, tiled hallways of the Pentagon and ignored the looks people gave him. His heart was pounding. It was impossible for the Vice President to be alive and in Washington. He was supposed to be dead and in Illinois. Something had gone horribly wrong.

  Joseph went into his office, closed the door, and locked it. He turned on the television and flipped to the local news channel. His eyes widened in shock. Vice President Darrow was indeed giving an outdoors press conference. Secret Service agents stood in the background. Everybody looked exhausted, and their suits were rumpled, but they were unharmed.

  "The President is safe," Darrow said in his deep, booming voice. "His life is not in danger. Recent events forced us to take extraordinary security precautions, but thanks to the heroic efforts of the Secret Service, we've come through unscathed. I'd like to thank Director George Seferis in particular. His leadership was invaluable in this difficult time..."

  Joseph felt numb as he staggered over to his desk. He sat heavily on the chair.

  Bright red words, drawn with holographic lasers, appeared on the television screen. "2: WTF? I SEE DEAD MEN ON MY TV!"

  Joseph quickly grabbed his rubber stress ball and squeezed hidden buttons. He sent, "1: WHAT WENT WRONG?"

  "3: DON'T KNOW. MY CONTACT JUST CALLED ME. SHE WAS PISSED. MADE THREATS. REFUSED TO TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED."

  "4: NEED TO TIE OFF THAT LOOSE END QUICK."

  "3: ALREADY ON IT."

  "1: CALM DOWN. WE CAN FIGURE THIS OUT."

  * * *

  Aaron cocked his head and said, "What the fuck? Why are they just sitting there? They should be panicking."

  The surveillance video showed all three conspirators at their desks in their offices. They were watching the news on television.

  "It's strange," Neal said. "They're certainly working those stress balls like crazy."

  Wesley moved closer to the surveillance monitors. He squinted as he stared at the grainy images.

  "See anything?" Aaron said.

  "Something is wrong with those stress balls."

  Aaron focused his attention on the ball in Joseph's hand. The general was holding it in his lap, so it was almost hidden from view. Aaron could just see Joseph's fingers frantically clenching and releasing in a peculiar manner.

  "Damn it!" Aaron said. "He's sending messages using some kind of code. They're all doing it. Those balls must have a transmitter inside. But how are they receiving?"

  Hidden microphones were planted in the offices. The sound was playing through a speaker, but all Aaron could hear was the noise from the televisions.

  "I don't see any earpieces," Neal said. "They're just watching the news."

  Aaron squeezed his fists in frustration. His enemies were having a crucial conversation right in front of him, and he wasn't getting a word of it. His clever plan was failing.

  * * *

  A white envelope was shoved under the door of Joseph's office. He dropped the stress ball on his desk and ran over to grab the message. The envelope was made of thick, hard material with a textured surface. Residual heat forced him to hold it by the corners.

  He opened the door and stuck his head into the hallway outside. There was no sign of the messenger, of course. There never was. Joseph closed the door and relocked it.

  He pulled a piece of paper out of the envelope. Most of the message was alien gibberish, but there were a few recognizable words. They read, "Yure ennemees ar watshing yu now!!! - frend."

  Joseph's heart fluttered as he looked at the ceiling panels of his office. He couldn't see the bugs, but now he knew they were there.

  He went back to his desk, sat down, and picked up his stress ball. The Corners of Freedom had devised a form of communication that was secure even in the presence of spies. The holographic laser lines were visible from just one spot behind his desk. The transmitter in the ball used a special code. Those extreme precautions would be put to the test now.

  Joseph sent, "1: JUST GOT NOTE FROM FREND. MY OFFICE IS BUGGED."

  "3: GOT SAME NOTE."

  "2: ME TOO."

  "4: NOT ME."

  "1: WHY NOT? WHAT MAKES YOU DIFFERENT?"

  "4: DON'T KNOW. DID FIVE GET NOTE?"

  "1: NO IDEA. WAIT. YOU DIDN'T DRINK WITH US LAST NIGHT."

  "4: RIGHT. SOMEBODY AT THE BAR SAW YOU TOGETHER. I KNEW CELEBRATION WAS BAD IDEA."

  Joseph's heart sank. He remembered the strange, muscular waitress. Three of the five Corners were now hopelessly compromised. It was just a matter of time before they were arrested or worse.

  "2: WHAT NOW?"

  "1: LET ME THINK. MAYBE WE CAN USE THIS."

  * * *

  "I need to read that note!" Aaron said. "It's too blurry. Can we enhance the image or something?"

  He looked at Todd, who was sitting at his computer workstation.

  "Working on it, sir!" Todd answered. His fingers were clattering on his keyboard. "I think I can recompose the image using multiple frames."

  "Just do it fast." Aaron sighed with frustration.

  He turned to Ethel. She and President Haley were holding hands like teenagers in love.

  "I'm sorry, ma'am," Aaron said. "I seem to be falling a little short today."

  "I don't expect you to be absolutely perfect all the time," she said. "Ninety-nine percent of the time is adequate. And I thought it was a brilliant plan, too."

  Aa
ron's attention drifted to Wesley's protection team. They were standing back and showing only mild interest in the proceedings.

  Aaron had spent some time with all four of them, but he knew Yvonne best of all. She had once been part of the Chicago cell. She was a small woman with freakishly bulbous muscles. She had enough strength to literally tear a man to shreds with her bare hands.

  Charles had been the legate before giving the job to Ethel. His gift was something called "psychological camouflage," which meant people didn't pay attention to him. When he used his gift at full power, he became effectively invisible. His enemies would ignore him even when he was killing them.

  Atalanta had been Charles' bodyguard before becoming Wesley's bodyguard. She had Japanese ancestry and was as tall as Aaron. Atalanta's skin was impervious to anything lighter than a high-power rifle bullet, and her bones were almost unbreakable. She was also one of the best swordsmen on Earth.

  Aaron knew Guthrum the least. He had been Ethel's bodyguard until four months ago. He was very tall with deathly pale skin. His extraordinary gift was the ability to see a few seconds into the future. He could respond to attacks before they actually occurred. He was unbeatable in straight combat.

  Together, they formed a frightening team. Messing with Wesley was a quick and sure form of suicide.

  "I got it!" Todd declared. "Come look, sir."

  Aaron stepped quickly over to Todd's workstation. Ethel and Neal were just behind Aaron.

  A clear image of the secret note was on one of the computer screens. Aaron could read the words easily despite the atrocious spelling. He was just as interested in the complicated glyphs that decorated the rest of the page. He had seen writing like it before.

  "We need to shoot this over to the twins and get their opinion," he said.

  "The twins?" Todd said excitedly. "Can I talk to them?"

  "And I want to see their faces," Wesley said.

  Aaron shook his head. "No. That's a bad idea."

  "I'm sure God made them beautiful."

  "Yes, but their condition is a secret."

  "Let me see them!" Wesley's glittering, blue eyes glared at Aaron.

  Moments like these reminded Aaron that the boy was still a boy. Wesley could be as selfish and petulant as a normal ten year-old.

  "Do you promise I can trust everybody in this room?" Aaron said. "They won't endanger the twins?"

  Wesley looked around. "Yes."

  "Fine."

  Aaron took out his phone and called Bethany.

  She answered instantly, "Sir?" She didn't actually use a phone. The communication went straight into her artificial brain.

  "I'm in the computer room in the Washington headquarters. The people here want to talk to you and your sister, and they want to see your faces."

  "Is that a good idea, sir?"

  "No," he said, "but do it anyway."

  All the computer screens in the room changed at once to the same feed. It was a shot of the science laboratory in Chicago from a high, sharp angle. Aaron guessed the twins were using a surveillance camera for the video conference.

  Bethany and Leanna stood in the middle of the frame wearing white lab coats. Their metallic skulls gleamed under the bright lights. Subtle, gray swirls gave their skin an interesting texture. Black, crystalline eyes stared up at the camera without any hint of emotion.

  "Will this do, sir?" Bethany said. Her voice consisted of pure tones, hums, and clicks.

  Several people gasped.

  "Are they robots?" Todd whispered.

  "Even more beautiful than I imagined." Wesley sighed.

  Aaron ignored them and said, "We have a document for you to look at. Todd, send it to Bethany."

  Todd typed on his keyboard for a moment.

  Bethany didn't hesitate. "The extraneous notation is forbidden mathematics. An enemy of God wrote this note. The bad spelling is to be expected. They can't follow rules."

  "That's what I suspected," Aaron said. "Thank you. I don't need anything else."

  All the computer screens flicked back to their previous state.

  Neal gave Aaron a serious look. "I assume they were normal women at one time. Am I allowed to ask what happened to them?"

  "No," Aaron said.

  "That's what I thought." Neal nodded.

  Aaron looked at the surveillance feeds coming from the Pentagon. General Joseph was still chatting with his two friends using the stress balls. Aaron desperately wished to know what they were saying. This investigation had just become a full-scale mission.

  Chapter Nineteen

  "2: THIS PLAN IS INSANE."

  "1: YOU HAVE A BETTER ONE?"

  There was a long pause. "2: NO."

  "1: WE HAVE TO IDENTIFY THE REAL THREAT. THAT'S THE FIRST TASK IN ANY BATTLE. THIS WILL FORCE OUR OPPOSITION TO SHOW THEIR FACES."

  "2: WE'LL GET CAPTURED OR KILLED."

  "1: WE'RE SCREWED ANYWAY."

  "3: I AGREE WITH FIRST CORNER. NO CHOICE. WE CAN'T RUN UNTIL WE KNOW WHO WE'RE RUNNING FROM. WE KNOW NOTHING NOW."

  "4: LET'S GET STARTED."

  "1: YOU CAN DO YOUR PART?"

  "4: AFFIRMATIVE."

  "1: I'M LEAVING NOW. SEE YOU SOON. I HOPE."

  "4: DRIVE SLOW. I NEED TIME TO GATHER THE TROOPS."

  General Joseph put down his stress ball and turned off the television.

  He walked over to the liquor cabinet in the corner. He grabbed his best bottle of whiskey and unscrewed the cap. He took a long pull straight from the bottle. The golden liquid burned like fire as it went down his throat, and it tasted like burnt honey. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and put the bottle back. He hoped he would get a chance to drink the rest of it, but it was a faint hope. The Second Corner was right about this plan being insane.

  With a quick, confident gait, he walked out of his office.

  * * *

  "What do you want to do, Aaron?" Neal asked. "My legionnaires are in position. They can abduct our enemies as they leave the Pentagon. A vigorous interrogation will get the truth out of them."

  Aaron pursed his lips as he contemplated his options. "I'd rather see where they're going first. Ma'am, do you have an opinion?" He turned to Ethel.

  "I'm inclined to agree with Aaron," she said. "You put homing beacons on their cars, right?"

  "Yes, ma'am," Neal said. "We'll have no trouble following them."

  "Then let's give our enemies a little more rope. We can grab them later."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  President Haley leaned forward slightly. "Can I ask a favor?"

  "Go on," Ethel said.

  "I want to talk to George Seferis. He was on that bus all night with orders to look for a traitor. Maybe he has useful information."

  Aaron shook his head. "It's not safe for you to go out, and we're certainly not bringing him down here. Stay hidden for a while longer."

  "I'll wear a disguise," Haley said. "Only George will know it's me. You can send somebody along as a bodyguard."

  "Tawni is the only legionnaire available." Aaron looked at Tawni.

  She brightened. "I'd love to be the President's bodyguard, sir!"

  "I'm sure, but I don't feel comfortable putting so much responsibility on such inexperienced shoulders. And this isn't your territory. You don't know the city."

  She pouted.

  Wesley stepped into the circle of adults. "The President can also use Atalanta if he wants," he said cheerfully. "She and Tawni like each other. They'll make a good team. I'll just stay down here until Atalanta comes back."

  Aaron looked down at his perfect, pink face. It was hard to argue that Atalanta would be inadequate protection. She was ranked among the most elite fighters in the world and had once been a legate's bodyguard.

  "I'll help Roy disguise himself." Ethel smiled lovingly at Haley.

  Aaron could see the tide was turning against him. "Yes, ma'am. I have to insist they also ride in the strongest armored car available."

  "I have one they can use," Neal s
aid. "It's practically a tank."

  Ethel nodded. "Sounds perfect. Aaron, Boreas, and I are also going out. I want to participate in the capture and interrogation. Neal will manage the operation from here."

  Both commanders nodded.

  * * *

  General Joseph's footsteps echoed on the tiled hallways of the Pentagon as he neared the exit. He had one task to perform before he left the building for perhaps the last time.

  He needed a handheld radio with built-in encryption for secure communication. The perfect choice would be an AN/PRC-148, the tactical radio used throughout the Armed Forces. The Pentagon was not a good place to find military hardware though. It was more like an office building than a base.

  He decided his best chance was to get a radio from the Pentagon Police. The building had its own dedicated police force which operated under the umbrella of the Pentagon Force Protection Agency. That agency was as much a civilian unit as a military one, but they did use secure radios.

  The police occupied small offices scattered throughout the Pentagon, but there was always one near every exit. Joseph spotted a doorway with the police logo painted on the glass window. He went inside.

  A big, African-American man in a gray-green uniform stood behind a counter. His nametag read, "Sgt. Collins." He snapped to attention when Joseph entered the room. The three stars on his epaulets always had that effect.

  "I need to borrow a secure radio," Joseph said.

  "Sir?" Collins said.

  "You heard me."

  "You want to take one of our radios? Why?"

  Joseph glared at him. "That's none of your business. I'll get it myself."

  He walked around the counter and went through a doorway to another room in the back of the small office. A second police officer was working at a desk. He looked up with a surprised expression. Joseph nodded politely to him.

  Collins followed Joseph and said, "Sir, I don't think you should be back here."

  A shelf held spare police equipment including radios. Joseph went over and picked through the badly organized collection of gear.

  "Sir!" Collins said in a firm tone.

  Joseph continued to search for the right kind of radio. "If it makes you feel better, I'll fill out a form."