Autumn (Four Seasons Book 1)

by Robert Sullivan

  “How come?” Liam asked as they walked through the house.

  “You may have heard that we’re hurting for money these days?” Natalia asked. “It’s worse than the media reports because we don’t tell them the whole extent. No studio right now is turning a profit. The layoffs are going to start soon. Cast, crew, everyone is going to get hurt. The only way you are going to get any money is if you can convince them that you would be worth the investment and could bring back the revenue stream.”

  “I’ll try my best,” Liam said. “Do I have your support?”

  “You don’t just have to convince them,” Natalia said. “Convince me. It’ll be your time to speak in about half an hour, so you can meet with everyone until then.”

  “Thank you,” Liam said.

  Liam did his best to mingle with the celebrities as the evening wore on. Some of them seem interested in what he had to say, others were merely being polite. One theme was common among all of them, however, they were afraid. He could see their concern on their faces and in the way they talked in low voices to each other. They all had the same problem; their way of life was dying. Liam knew he had a monumental task ahead of him, but he looked forward to the challenge.

  In no time at all it seemed, Liam realized it was time for him to speak. Natalia was making her way to a podium in an open courtyard outside of the house and Liam followed her. The other celebrities were gathering towards the courtyard as well as Natalia began, “Thank you all for coming. I know we all are struggling these days and I’d like to thank you for your time in coming out. I wanted to host this get together to see if there was some hope for the future of our country and our livelihoods. Please welcome Liam Hensen, the Presidential candidate for the Globalist party.”

  There was a smattering of applause as Liam took the podium. “Thank you, Ms. Ivanov, for that introduction. It’s quite an honor being here with all of you tonight. As a boy growing up in Kansas, you never dream of meeting the people you saw in the movies and yet here I am seeing all of you and I have to tell you, it is an amazing experience.”

  “Our nation has fallen on hard times and everyone is struggling, from the blue-collar workers to the inner city, even to here in Hollywood. We are suffering from a crisis of confidence, a crisis of trust, and a crisis of optimism, values that helped build this nation for a series of squabbling colonies into what was the greatest nation on this planet. I have seen this for myself each time I have gone across the country, trying to speak to people, hear their concerns and reassure them that all is not lost. I can see it on your faces too.”

  The crowd of celebrities looked floored as Liam continued. “That concern, the uncertainty that you have, it is not unique to you. I’ve seen it everywhere around this country and I am running for President so I can fix that. I want to see the American economy booming again. I want to see the best movie making city in the world back at its peak again. It would be a sign that prosperity is here again.”

  “We can only make this happen, though, if we work together. Peace at home will help assure peace abroad as well. Once peace is achieved around the world, trade can open up again and markets that have become dormant the world over will be thriving with activity again. That includes, of course, the wonderful material you all have produced over the last century and a half.”

  “I am uniquely positioned to make good on this promise. I had a track record of success in the House of Representatives, something I intend to take to the White House in a year’s time. But I need your support to get to that finish line. Together, we can bring the United States back to its preeminent standing in the world and ensure peace and prosperity for generations to come.”

  No one spoke for a moment; all of them were just staring silently at him. Natalia Ivanov, however, had dug out her checkbook that she had been keeping on standby just in case Liam had done well.

  “It’s not much,” she said. “I’m only giving you ten grand, as a good faith donation. If you can show that you can make good on your promise, expect that to increase.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Ivanov,” Liam said warmly.

  The other celebrities started murmuring to themselves and did nothing else, although a few of them did dig for their checkbooks as well. Not daring to add up the money there, Liam saw himself out and left the celebrities to their own devices.

  His limousine was still waiting for him when he got to the front drive. He got in and only then did he count up the money. They had donated a little over fifty thousand dollars, which was not a bad take considering his party’s standing in the country at the moment. He needed to do something bold though to get more money from them and hopefully from other sources as well.

  Liam pulled out his phone and glanced at the new headlines. Despite the fact the Iowa caucuses were less than 24 hours away, the news was being dominated by the attacks in New York, which had only increased in intensity throughout the day. He made up his mind immediately; he would have to be bold to attract attention on the campaign trail and the only way he could do that was to go to New York in support of the beleaguered city.

  One thing was for sure, Liam realized. His campaign manager was not going to be happy with the change in scheduling.

  Chapter Seven

  A City Under Siege

  For two days, the Black Hand had rampaged through New York, taking a heavy toll on the morale of the beleaguered city. More importantly for Jared Bennett’s purposes though, was the fact that he had the city’s emergency services on the brink of collapse. Not that anyone in the city would know, but he was not done yet. The climax of this siege was about to commence.

  Tuesday, January 31st actually dawned over the city after two days of clouds. The light from the sun was filtered by the smoke that hung over parts of the city, courtesy of the relentless fires that the Black Hand had started two days ago. Jared was looking at the city from his plush apartment, thoroughly enjoying the signs of chaos and destruction that met his eye no matter which way he looked.

  Jared was waiting for a message from the Manhattan borough leader Ethan Rush. Rush had finalized his plans to chase out the homeless that dwelt in Central Park and burn it to the ground. In their minds, this attack would break the city’s emergency services, leaving Jared free to rob the Federal Reserve with minimal interference. Just in case though, they had brought in members of the Black Hand from every borough and staged them throughout Midtown and the Battery to cover Jared’s escape from the Federal Reserve.

  All that Jared had to do now was wait.

  Down on the ground, Ethan was standing at the 86st Street entrance to the park, looking with contempt at the vagrants that he could see even from the street. He had spent months planning this attack and Jared’s assault on the Federal Reserve gave him the perfect excuse to execute it. Ethan had been using the Black Hand’s forces under his command to harass, intimidate, beat, and murder the homeless in Manhattan. Most of them had either fled his territory altogether or had sought refuge in the park. It was the perfect trap for him.

  Ethan heard a noise behind him and turned to see two military grade trucks pulling up behind him. Around thirty men and women exited the trucks, armed to the teeth with illegally obtained automatic rifles and military grade flamethrowers. “Is everyone in position?” Ethan asked the neighborhood commander that led them.

  “They are, sir,” the burly man said.

  “Let’s begin then,” Ethan replied, pulling out his handgun and firing into the air. His troops swarmed around him, marching in a line into the park. Before following them, Ethan sent a message to Jared, whom he knew was nearby. “Started attack. Now’s your chance.”

  Ethan could hear the screams start to emanate around the park as flames began to spread throughout the bare trees. It was music to his ears.

  Jared felt his phone vibrate and he knew that Ethan had started his diversion. He could see smoke and fire beginning to curl around the edges of the park as he checked his phone to confirm his assumption.

  As
much as Jared would have liked to partake in the massacre, he had business elsewhere. He hurried to the far exit of his apartment complex and jumped in an SUV that was reinforced with bullet resistant glass and framing. He shouted at the driver, “Go!”

  The driver obliged and whisked him to the south. There were other Black Hand groups that would meet them at the Reserve bank. As they drove towards the bank, emergency vehicles rushed past them towards the park. Jared glanced back in the direction of the park and could see the smoke starting to reach high over the city.

  The flames were spreading rapidly through the park as Ethan’s forces rampaged through the area. People, homeless or otherwise, were running blindly trying to escape the searing flames, the choking smoke, or the bullets that were flying through the trees. Some escaped the tightening ring of Black Hand soldiers, but most were consumed by the attack, either brought down by gunfire or the choking smoke.

  Ethan was thoroughly enjoying the horrors he had unleashed on the park. His enjoyment, however, was being interrupted by the approaching wail of sirens. His platoon had just set a grove of trees on fire and the people who had hidden themselves in it were fleeing the flames only to be cut down by a hail of bullets. Through the flames, however, Ethan could espy police cruisers and fire trucks beginning to ring the park.

  Not wanting to get trapped in the park, Ethan knew that his time was up. His platoon members were all wearing gas masks so they would not be affected by the smoke, so he had to hit the neighborhood commander’s shoulder to get his attention. Once he did, however, Ethan pointed at the police cruisers beginning to ring the park and the commander understood that it was time to go.

  Ethan had prepared for this eventuality. The point of this attack was to draw all emergency services away from the Battery. He knew they were going to clash at some point. Though he had not told Jared this explicitly, he intended to take as many of the emergency servicemen and women out as possible in a permanent way.

  The neighborhood commander launched a flare into the sky. Once it got high enough, the flare detonated with a loud, concussive shock wave that was meant to be a signal to the Black Hand in the area that it was time to go. Through all the flames and confusion, it would be impossible for Ethan to confirm this himself, but once they got to a rendezvous point, he would do a count of his forces.

  His platoon spread out as they retreated towards their trucks. They were close enough that Ethan could make out the individual police officers and firefighters scurrying around their vehicles, trying to get some manner of disaster coordination started. Ethan, however, had no intention of letting them get that far. He lifted his handgun and fired at nearest police officer.

  Realizing that they were under fire, the emergency personnel quickly dove for cover. They had not come prepared for the extent of the disaster that now greeted them and were having severe issues with the smoke that filled the air. They returned scattered shots in the direction of the park, but the Black Hand, who were more than prepared, were able to return more consistent fire, damaging the emergency vehicles and occasionally hitting someone.

  Blinded by smoke, under fire, and exhausted from two days of chaos, the emergency personnel broke. Many fled into nearby buildings to take cover and get some fresh air, while others fled down the side streets. As one group’s morale was shattered, others saw them fleeing and likewise broke. Far from an intense firefight as he had been expecting, Ethan suddenly saw that he had free rein to unleash hell in the city.

  As they arrived back at their truck, he sent a message to Jared. “Emergency services broken and scattered. Do I have permission to rampage?”

  Jared felt his phone buzz as the Federal Reserve came within sight. He glanced down at the message to see that emergency services were destroyed in the city, or so Ethan told him. He was also asking rampage through the rest of the city now that they had free rein.

  Other men may have shown restraint, but Jared was not the kind of person to give up on an opportunity like this now that he had it. He replied, “Unleash hell.”

  Jared knew that Ethan would target the affluent areas in Midtown as his hatred of the rich was even more pronounced than Jared’s. Jared, however, could not spare more thought to the matter as he was at the Federal Reserve building now. During the drive there, he had suited up in stolen SWAT gear, so he and his fellow robbers were armed and armored for the heist. Now it was time to pull off the daring heist.

  The other squads of the Black Hand that had been called up for the heist were in view, so Jared emerged from his vehicle as a signal to the others that it was time to move. The fact that they had not come under fire meant that the Federal guards that stood watch on the roofs of the nearby buildings had been neutralized as planned. Jared was pleased; it both meant he was not getting shot at and he would acquire some new automatic weapons.

  The heavily armed soldiers moved quickly into the building of the Federal Reserve and opened fire on the security checkpoint before the guards had time to realize what was going on. Once they were through, a group of them split off to seek out the President of the bank; everyone else made for the vaults.

  The Black Hand had planned this assault based off of old information of what the vaults looked like from old stories by tourists when such a thing had been allowed. What they did not know, however, was how the guards would be positioned down there. It had crossed Jared’s mind that he should have extracted that information from the hostage he had murdered, but there was not use worrying about it now.

  His forces moved into the vault area and ambushed the guards that were there. Some of them fell before they realized what was going on, but the others quickly took cover and shot back. Jared had explicitly said that they were not to take any gold until all of the guards had been taken out. He knew that there was the possibility that the attack would turn into a protracted firefight, so he had brought some gas grenades to make it easier for his troops.

  Jared pulled out the grenades and threw them in the direction of the remaining guards. The grenades let out a noxious smoke that, while not poisonous, was still thick and difficult to breath. He could soon hear coughing coming from the direction of the guards and knew they were disabled. He motioned a few of his troops forward to dispatch them.

  The soldiers returned and one of them nodded at Jared, indicating that the threat had ceased. Jared pointed into the vault itself, which had not been sealed at the first sign of gunfire in the building like they thought it would, rendering the need for the bank president to open that door moot. There was, however, a secondary door that was locked behind the first, more imposing door. Two of the Black Hand soldiers rushed forward to the door and placed shaped charges along its hinges with the hope that the door would fall forward if they were destroyed. The rest of the soldiers retreated to a safe distance while they did their work.

  The two soldiers returned with the detonator and once they were around the corner as well, they blew the charges. After a loud blast, there was a creaking sound followed by a loud crash as the metal door fell forward. Jared was the first person into the breach and glanced around at the bars of gold the filled the room. He turned to the soldiers who followed him in and said, “Take as much of it as possible!”

  The other soldiers who had gone to abduct the bank president suddenly arrived with him at the now-open vault. Jared looked at them, bemused, and said, “We don’t need him anymore. Just kill him.”

  One of the soldiers obliged, dragging the body out of the way of the vault so that the Black Hand soldiers could move the gold.

  Ethan had done exactly as Jared predicted and went to go shoot up Fifth Avenue, which conveniently for him was right next to the inferno that used to be Central Park. Within minutes of his trucks arriving in the area, plowing cars out of the way with reckless disregard, people were running on the sidewalks and in the streets as his troops got out of the trucks to set the shops on the street ablaze.

  An abandoned police car was sitting on the side of the street, its occup
ant apparently having fled as well. Ethan suddenly had an idea and went to the vehicle and stole the police scanner from it. It would be useful to have the device so he could locate the remaining emergency services and eliminate them.

  The scanner was running at full pace as reports were coming in from all over the city of continued attacks by the Black Hand. This made Ethan happy; even if there were more police officers in the area it was unlikely they could coordinate a resistance to his rampaging.

  Ethan took the scanner back to the truck and set it on the seat. He turned to go pillage Fifth Avenue some more when the scanner suddenly chirped, “The Governors in the area have activated the National Guard. Guardsmen from New Jersey, New York, and Connecticut will be converging on the city shortly.”

  Ethan froze in his tracks as he heard the pronouncement. Even though his desire to continue to destroy the city burned within him, he knew they would not stand a chance against thousands of National Guard soldiers. He jumped onto the truck and whistled loudly to get the attention of his troops.

  They turned to him as he shouted, “The National Guard has been activated. Everyone stand down and retreat immediately.”

  The soldiers obliged as Ethan slid back into the truck. He got out his phone and messaged the other four borough commanders the news; they would have to get the word out to their subordinates themselves. After that, he sent a message to Jared as well.

  Jared felt his phone buzz again as he oversaw more of the gold being taken out of the vault by whatever means the Black Hand could come up with, including flat carts and dollies. They had already ransacked hundreds of gold bars worth billions of dollars and he was thinking that it was time to wrap up the heist. There was no way they could take the half a million bars that sat in there, but there was more than enough that they had seized to make them all rich and send a message.