Zero Hour (Wealth of Time Series, Book 5)

by Andre Gonzalez

  Martin shook his head. “We can’t afford that. Chris has a direct feed into our system. I’m sure he’s not constantly monitoring it, but we can’t afford to take that risk.”

  “Well, something needs to change,” she replied. “For us, our plan is to no longer work from stationary chambers. We’ll bounce around every few months, and plan recesses where we can return home and actually enjoy our homes and families.”

  “What is your initial plan then?” Martin asked.

  “I’ll let Councilman Uribe discuss that with you. That was a long trip, and I need to use the ladies’ room. Excuse me.”

  Murray let herself out of the office and closed the door, Martin turning his focus to Uribe.

  “Our original plan is to start working here in Denver, and move around every quarter,” Uribe said.

  “Is that necessary?” Martin asked. “We can expand the office here and give you plenty of room to operate. And we wouldn’t tell anyone where you’re working from.”

  “It’s necessary. I’m incredibly shaken up by what could have happened to us that night if we weren’t tracking that mob of people headed toward our chambers. They would have done to us what they did to that Vegas hotel, no doubt about it. They still may try, but I think the worst has passed at this point in time. I hope.”

  “I have tons of security. No one gets into this office without approval from me.”

  “And you decided to let in those protesters? They could have hurt you.”

  “They were checked before entering. I’m not going to turn away our own members out of fear. I had Gerald in the room with me when I met with them, and more guards standing right outside that door. Besides, I’m a trained machine, don’t you know? I can handle a few upset people if they tried anything cute.”

  “Yes, of course. I forgot about your training before that mission you took into the future. I suppose you are just fine.”

  Martin nodded as Uribe fell silent, the old Councilman staring into space as he debated his next words.

  “Is something wrong?” Martin asked when the silence carried on too long.

  Uribe looked over his shoulder to the door before turning back to Martin. “May I speak in confidence?”

  “Of course.”

  Uribe shifted uncomfortably in his seat, leaning on one arm rest as his head remained halfway turned toward the door to see anyone who might appear. “I think Murray was a part of those attacks on us. Possibly even part of the Vegas ones.”

  “The attacks on your chambers?” Martin asked, frowning. “That makes no sense.”

  Uribe nodded. “I know it’s a heavy accusation, and that’s why I haven’t told anyone yet. It’s absolutely absurd, but I’ve known that woman for a very long time. The more I think back to that particular day, the less things make sense leading up to us running from the chambers for our lives.”

  “Tell me about it.” Martin’s eyes kept dashing to the door.

  “She was on her cell phone a lot that day, way more than usual. Both phone calls and text messaging from what I could tell. I noticed her glance around the room numerous times throughout the day, both at all of us Councilors, and to the doors. I thought maybe she was bored or tired—it had been a grueling time for all of us, and I understood that everyone copes in their own way. But later that day, once we realized what was unfolding and headed our way, Murray was eerily calm. Don’t get me wrong, she’s an incredibly strong-willed person who I’ve never seen show fear, but the way she sat there and just nodded her head like we were reading news headlines . . . just bothered me.”

  “Did she say anything during all of that?”

  “Sure did. Told us it was likely nothing to worry about. Urged us to stay and get work done, that we were all overreacting. Again, nothing out of the ordinary for her. But I’ve sat next to her for over two decades in those chambers, and I could just sense something in her tone wasn’t quite sincere. She was saying the things she normally would, but it almost sounded scripted.”

  “What did she do when you all ended up leaving?”

  “That’s the thing, I made the call for us to leave, but she sort of hung back. I can’t actually say if she left the building with us. She was definitely the last one in the room. The more I think back on it, the more the pieces seem to fall into place. Maybe my imagination is running crazy, but she’s definitely seemed more distant than she usually is. And she’s never been one to shy away when it’s just the two of us. I just wanted to bring it to your attention, maybe see what kind of information you can gather without involving her.”

  Martin leaned forward. “I guess the main question is why would she do this? I’m happy to have a team take a look, just to see what might be there. I trust your judgment.”

  “I’ll admit, retirement’s been on mind, but no way I walk away with this much uncertainty. If I were to retire, especially now, she’d become the next Chief of Council, seeing as everyone else will be fresh blood. And if she was running the show that night I don’t think any of us would be alive today—except her.”

  “How sure are you about this?” Martin asked.

  Uribe shrugged. “I don’t have any actual evidence—just speculation. But something isn’t right, I know that much. I think you should at least look into it. And if I’m crazy, then perhaps I will step away for good.”

  “I can do that. I’ll keep you updated, but let’s drop the topic for now, she should be back any minute.”

  They stared at each other in a brief moment of silence before discussing the weather.

  12

  Chapter 12

  A week later, business had resumed as usual; at least, that is what Martin wanted portrayed to the Council and general public. Over that time, five new Council members were sworn into their positions, each one carefully interviewed and selected by Martin and Gerald after extensive discussions. Each new member was vetted on their thoughts regarding recall votes, and each believed that should only be considered if the present commander had done something to put the greater population at risk. Specifically, none believed Martin had done anything to even warrant a discussion.

  They decided to choose aggressive candidates to fill the five open spots. Martin’s main objective for his term was to bring an end to Chris Speidel, and having a Council backing him every step of the way would prove critical for his entire tenure.

  With the new Council in place, they agreed to work in the Denver office, stealing the big conference room as their chambers, for the next three months, at which point they would evaluate what they wanted to do next. Uribe explained the importance of working closely with the new commander while they figured out their own structure moving forward.

  Behind the scenes, an early investigation revealed links between Councilwoman Murray and the Liberation. Investigators were still gathering information, a final summary expected by the end of the week.

  Uribe decided to remain within the office building around the clock, not so much as stepping outside for five minutes of fresh air. As the investigation uncovered more disturbing truths, he decided his life might be in danger, Murray capable and willing to arrange an assassination on him to propel herself to the Chief’s seat.

  “When our sessions are over, I’ll be in my room,” he had explained to Martin after one of their secret meetings regarding the matter.

  All conference rooms had been converted to temporary bedrooms for the Councilors.

  Today, however, was the first official meeting between the new Council and Commander Briar. The agenda was to simply come to an agreement on proceeding with the attacks on the Alaska mansion.

  Martin entered their chambers and shook hands with each member, the room buzzing with excitement as a sense of normalcy started to return.

  “Let’s get started,” Uribe boomed in his authoritative voice.

  The Council hushed and sat around an oval table, Martin sitting in a chair to the side of their group.

  “Today we have Commander Briar in attendance. It is
also our first official session. Councilwoman Murray and I have spent the last few days making sure all of our new members understand our processes and what they should expect on a daily basis for this new line of work. Being our first official day, I’d like to congratulate and welcome our newest members, for the record.”

  They all applauded, nodding to each other around the table. Council sessions were always recorded, so Uribe made sure to speak these words clearly into the microphone in front of him.

  “Our new members include: Councilman Charles Bolt, Councilwoman Jordan Barns, Councilwoman Victoria Penny, Councilman Patrick Roth, and Councilwoman Lily Dawson. All have been sworn in during a ceremony orchestrated by myself and Councilwoman Murray. All have been appointed to lifetime terms and have the option to retire when they so choose.”

  Uribe paused to clear his throat and take a sip of water before continuing.

  “I’d like to state that we have implemented new rules for these uncertain times. It’s safe to say that our lives are potentially at risk for the near future. We are vulnerable to attacks from both the Revolution and the Liberation. Therefore, any Council members who wish to leave the premises must do so with at least two security guards. It doesn’t matter if you’re just stepping outside for a smoke break – these rules must be followed to assure our safety.

  “The second rule I’m implementing is the cease of non-verbal communication between Councilors. Only Councilwoman Murray and I will recall the times where topics were sometimes discussed and fleshed out via email or text message. That is no longer. We know the Revolution has access to our television stream, and we’re not sure what else. All official business must be discussed face-to-face. This does not mean they can only be discussed within these chambers. If you and another Council member need to hash out details and want to do it from your own office, you have that right. Does anyone have any questions regarding these rules?”

  They all looked around and shook heads.

  “Perfect. Now, moving on to the business at hand. Commander Briar had authorized a tunnel to be built to reach the foundation of Chris’s mansion in Alaska. The plan is to plant multiple explosive devices on every retaining wall we can reach, four in total. The tunnel’s completion is expected within the coming week. As a sign of good faith for the public, Commander Briar is requesting a review of this decision. Let’s cast an initial vote to see where we stand. Only a majority is needed to advance, but we will debate the matter if there are less than five ‘yes’ votes. Please fill in your votes and pass them to the middle of the table.”

  Uribe had long been a proponent of anonymous voting for the Council, and pulled out a small box for the members to deposit their slips of paper. It only took him a minute to collect all votes and count them out, passing each slip along to Murray for verification.

  “Seven to zero in favor,” Uribe said. “That was easy. Now for our second vote we are looking ahead. This is all contingent upon actually capturing Chris Speidel. If that doesn’t happen, these next few votes we cast are irrelevant. If captured, Commander Briar is asking for a total separation of Chris Speidel’s body, into at least twelve different parts, to be stored separately in remote locations around the country. This also assumes we have not found a way to make him mortal, leaving us no decision but to ensure he never roams the planet again. Please cast your votes.”

  Martin watched them scribble on their slips, only one of the new Councilors, Patrick Roth, showing disgust at the request with his eyes bulged and jaw slightly hung open.

  Uribe counted them up. “Six votes to one in favor. Easy again. Final vote is regarding our steps to return to peace. Should we capture and separate Chris Speidel, the commander is requesting we terminate all Revolters and Liberators, by any means necessary, until not a single one exists. Please cast your votes.”

  This topic caused some stares around the table, and a slight hesitation as the votes took a bit longer to be thrown into the box.

  Here comes a discussion, Martin thought, reading the body language in the room. He had a Council who would stop at nothing to get Chris, but the handling of his followers was crossing a different ethical line for some of them.

  “Four votes to three, opposed,” Uribe announced. “At this time we will discuss the matter and recast votes to see if anyone changes their mind. Would anyone who is on the fence like to open the discussion?”

  Murray spoke first. “I don’t think terminating everyone is the right move. We should be looking to recruit from them, especially the Liberators, as they were once Road Runners. We can strengthen our numbers while reducing the amount of enemies we have on the streets.”

  “Councilman Roth, your thoughts?” Uribe asked, his attention on the tall, lanky stick figure sitting next to Murray.

  Roth looked up, his Adam’s apple bulging, and clasped his hands in front him. “I think leaving anyone on the streets will maintain a threat to our safety. Just a few weeks ago there had been no such thing as the Liberation, and now they’re a daily threat to us. Even if the Revolution were to falter with Chris gone, we’ll just see new groups forming of those who insist on overthrowing us. Complete termination is the only way to guarantee safety.”

  “Councilman Bolt,” Uribe said, continuing around the table. Charles Bolt was the oldest of the new Council members. The other were in their early thirties or late twenties, Martin wanting them in the Council for many years to come. But Councilman Bolt was sixty-five, and won Martin over with his lifetime of dedication toward helping those who had their lives turned upside down by Chris. He was a psychiatrist with the heart of a public servant. Martin had met with him via teleconference shortly after Marilyn had been killed by Chris, and he grew a deep respect and appreciation for the man. Bolt knew how to be stern and caring at the same time, an ideal attribute for any Councilor.

  Bolt brushed back his silvery hair and looked to Uribe from above the glasses perched on his nose. “I agree with Councilwoman Murray. These people can be converted back to our side. It will take some work, but we can do it. Especially if the threat of war is no longer present—we’d have no need to work under fear and could see to it these people get the proper help they need.”

  “Councilwoman Barns?” Uribe asked.

  Jordan Barns had followed the same course as Arielle Lucila, cutting her teeth on the streets with mission after mission. But she was looking for something less dangerous, and the Council seemed a natural fit on Gerald’s recommendation.

  “I’ve seen the future,” she said. “We have no choice but to exterminate these people. Even if there are some who are genuine about returning to the Road Runners, the risk of leaving the rest vastly outweighs the reward. As long as one person exists who wants to see our demise, we’ll never truly be safe. We must abolish their existence.”

  “Thank you. Councilwoman Penny, your thoughts please?”

  Victoria Penny had long worked in the Road Runners’ treasury department, overseeing all financial decisions related to the war.

  “We are not a people of committing genocide, plain and simple. While I understand the fear, I can’t in good faith vote for the extermination of millions of people, many of which will likely mind their own business as soon as this is all over. I urge those of you who voted to approve to reconsider—we are not monsters.”

  “Councilwoman Dawson?”

  “I voted as opposed. I don’t think we need to kill these people or welcome them into our organization. If we just let them be, they will keep to themselves. There wasn’t a mass hunt and extinction of Nazis after World War II. They still exist, but are irrelevant in today’s society. I believe we are dealing the same kind of circumstances.”

  “Thank you all for sharing,” Uribe said. “I am personally in favor of removing our enemies from society, but am open to debate. I agree with many of the initial points made. This one is tough, to balance our reputation as peacekeepers while considering the safety for all of our members. Perhaps the death of all Revolution members is wh
at will bring the peace. Perhaps we can meet in the middle? We can set up a vetting system to decide who can join the Road Runners, and exile those who don’t make the cut. We can also send a message by destroying targeted populations of Revolters, but not all. We can attack their leadership team to leave them truly crippled once Chris is gone. Thoughts?”

  “I like the vetting idea,” Murray said. “We’d need to outline some parameters on what exactly we’re looking for in potential new or returning members.”

  “I don’t know,” Roth said. “It seems like a surefire way to get people in our organization who shouldn’t be there. They might say whatever they need for us to accept them, but we have no way of knowing their true intentions. We’re essentially giving them free insider access to the Road Runners, and I only see that backfiring.”

  “I agree,” Uribe said quickly. “Would hate to see what it’s like having an enemy infiltrate and use our own information against us.” He stared at Murray while he said this, looking for a reaction that she never gave. He knew it was only a matter of time before they took her out of these very chambers in handcuffs.

  She held her gaze on the table in front of her, avoiding eye contact with anyone as she spoke. “We can’t barge into people’s homes and kill them. We can’t drop bombs on communities and extinguish them. If we do those things, then we’re no better than the Revolution. Who would you fear more if you were a neutral bystander: the crippled population who just suffered a defeat in war, or us, the people who just keep pushing the envelope to spread death, fear, and chaos?”

  Her supporters around the table nodded in agreement, the other two looking to Uribe for their rebuttal. “I think we’re in for a long debate on this one. Let’s take a ten-minute recess and meet back here to hash this out.”

  Uribe stood without another word and left the chambers. Only he had the power to call an item to vote, and he planned on dragging this out as long as he could while the investigation continued into Murray’s past.