4 Rainy Days and Monday (13 page)

“Who are they?”

Swane glanced to his left and right. Lowered his voice.

“Look. It sounds silly. They are really interested in furthering this country. They are true patriots.”

“You are defending them because you are still one of them?”

“A little, yeah. I also want to think that in working with them that I erased some of the things I am not so proud about.”

“But killing in the name of your country? That makes it alright?”

The senator lowered his gaze, a dark pall across his face.

“You have no room to talk, friend.”

He felt something slip in him. Not anger or resentment. It was trust.

“What does this have to do with the folder?”

Swane sat back and uncapped the bottle of Jack. Poured another drink.

“Plenty. Your father knew about both outfits. He has files on both.” He pointed with the glass. “That file is the one on ViVeri. If truth be told, I provided a good portion of the information in that file.”

“Who has the file on this other group you still have not named?”

“TRELLIS? They call themselves ‘The Brotherhood.’ I suppose I have it around here somewhere. I was meaning to give it to you tonight.”

“Are you trying to initiate me? Convince me to join?”

Robert Swane laughed. He looked into his glass without speaking for a moment.

“You are already a part of the Brotherhood, Jake.”

“What?”

“You’ve been doing work for TRELLIS all along.”

“Galbraith?”

He shrugged.

“Part of it. Sure.”

“I don’t understand.”

Swane sighed.

“We have been mirroring ViVeri for the last decade or so. We have infiltrated their organization. We have dummy companies that ‘work’ for them, false followers that keep us engaged with their leadership. They are powerful, Jake, but they are overconfident. We intend to bring them down.”

“The team I worked on?”

“Funded by the Brotherhood. Zhou was one of ours. Evidently, they found out and killed him. Small loss. Zhou was a plant. They figured it out.”

“So, the warheads and dirty nukes are yours?”

“Not really, no. We intend to use them to discredit ViVeri. To weaken their hold on Europe and Asia. In the end, we want the US to be the dominant world player. Politics, economy, military, and population. We want to crush the ViVeri Consortium because their plan to dominate the world puts the rule in the hands of the elite.”

“And yours doesn’t?” Jake was desperate. He wanted to put his hands on this old man for deceiving him.

“Jake, we are talking about the difference between patriotism and despotism.”

“They are the same thing.” He paused, calming his breathing. He wanted to lash out, to jump off the swing, and bring this man he had trusted down. The cards were on the table and just as many new questions were presenting themselves as answers were being provided.

“What is the difference between the two groups? Why did you choose the Brotherhood over ViVeri? They both seem similar to me.”

“In most ways they are. The simple answer would be that I prefer the Brotherhood’s way of governance.”

“What do you mean?”

“ViVeri is using corporations to govern. Ever heard of a corporatacracy?”

“Yeah. Seems pretty lame to me, like something out of Orwell.”

Swane shrugged.

“I suppose that would be a fair comparison. Well, this corporatacracy is just a way to enact an oligarchy or dictatorship depending upon who you listen to in ViVeri.”

“They have a divided leadership?”

“It’s complicated, but that would be an accurate description.”

“So how do they differ from the Brotherhood? Other than an obscure reference to patriotism, I mean.”

Swane shook his head.

“Whatever I say, it will not be enough for you to understand. I did not have a choice, really. I chose the lesser of two evils, Jake. Have you ever had to do that?”

Jake thought about it for a moment and remembered some of his own fateful decisions.

“Of course. You aren’t living if you don’t. But you haven’t answered my question.”

The Senator laughed.

“Years of being a politician, I guess. The Brotherhood would rule only America, for one. Not some One World Rule or anything like that. We are insular. We seek to re-establish America as a superpower and wrest control of our government from organizations like Viveri. We want to inspire Americans to trust in their government for everything.”

“So we are talking about Communism?”

Swane shook his head.

“Too broad a term, first of all. We are tired of politics as usual. Our vision is different than Marx or Lenin. We do not seek equality in anything, really. We wish to re-establish rule to those who deserve to wield it.”

“So, another oligarchy. Just like ViVeri, but with a decidedly American flavor?”

“We are the new regime. We have what it takes to make our plan work. Trust me: you do not want to mess with The Brotherhood.”

“I got that impression,” Jake managed to tone down his sarcasm just a little.

“You have to understand that I have been protecting you the best that I can, Jake.”

Something came to Jake suddenly. An intuition, perhaps. A sadness in the senator’s eyes. A guilt that lay there just behind his gaze, just under the words that he was saying. Like a confession.

“What role did you play in my father’s death?”

“None. That was ViVeri. That was their play.”

Jake narrowed his eyes.

“Did you know she was a ViVeri agent?”

“Yes. And we knew your father was one as well.”

Jake’s heart stopped for one second. He could not draw a breath. Hallie and Macy. Giselle. Too many questions to ask. He decided to find out where it had all started.

“Then why did you give him the file on ViVeri?”

He smiled.

“Who said I did? I said I provided the information. Someone else compiled it and gave it to Gabriel. Gabriel was truly divided. He chose to remain above it all. Or, at least, that was his intent.”

“That was why he was a target?”

“As good as any,” the senator agreed.

“And the threat at the ballpark?”

“ViVeri, of course. You knew him, I think. He was one of theirs. He was there for me, as you know. ViVeri had discovered my links to The Brotherhood. My campaign was put on hold. My cover blown. I was no longer an asset to The Brotherhood and my privileges at ViVeri were suspended. That is putting it mildly.”

“That is how you lost the house?”

“That is how I lost Nancy, too. Her doctor was ViVeri. He discreetly administered her death to appear natural.”

“I thought she was sick,” Jake said.

“Curable under the right care. Not the same life as before, but a life nonetheless.” His voice cracked.

It was difficult for Jake to feel sorry for him. Jake had worries of his own.

“What about Hallie and Macy? I left my family in your hands. What happens now?”

“I am assuming you mean that you intend not to take sides.”

Jake did not answer. His hands were clenched in fists. His drunk had sloughed off him in seconds. He was sober now.

“Well, not to worry,” Swane said, “Hallie and Macy are safe. They are with our best. I made sure of it.”

“You better hope nothing happens to them,” Jake threatened. His throat was raw.

“You know better than to threaten me,” Swane said, his voice low and menacing.

“Surely you understand it would be simple for me to kill you,” Jake replied. He allowed menace to creep into his voice. He hated himself for it immediately, of course.

“Not as easy as you would think, actually.”

A vehicle swung off the highway, its lights breaking the darkness and throwing an eerie light across the senator’s face. It was drawn and haggard. Yet, there was a calm confidence there that made Jake pause.

“You are still programming me, aren’t you?”

“More subtle than that, but accurate, I guess,” Swane replied.

Swane glanced back.

“We have visitors,” he said.

Jake was still stunned by these new revelations.

“You have to tell me more about this ‘Brotherhood’ outfit. Who are you? What are you trying to accomplish? I have to know who I have been serving all this time.”

Swane turned back to him, all color drained from his face.

“We don’t have time. Go! Take the folder with you. Go around back and hop the fence. Stay away from the dunes and head north. There is an abandoned home on the next property from here. I own it. Take the Harley. I won’t be needing it.”

He tossed Jake a set of keys that glimmered in the moonlight. Jake caught them and stood, the folder tucked under his arm. He felt frozen in place.

“There’s a rifle inside the door. Be kind enough to hand it to me,” Swane said, hopping down to the porch and stooping.

Jake opened the creaking screen door and found a .30-30 Winchester Model 94 just inside the door. Its smooth wood and bright brass glowed dully in the night. It was a deer-hunting rifle, not a military weapon.

The truck pulled up, spewing rocks, and parked about fifty yards from the house. The men inside were silent and clothed in black. Five of them got out and cautiously approached the house. Jake watched them fan out, one of them pointing to the sides of the house.

Swane looked up at him and took the rifle from his hand. He ratcheted the lever and checked the ammunition.

“The file you want is in the abandoned house. Look upstairs in the cabinet beside the safe. Take care of my Harley. She only has about twelve hundred miles on her. Go now. They are circling around.”

“I can—“

Swane’s eyes lit with anger and spittle flew from his lips.

“No you can’t! Now go!” he growled.

Jake turned and vaulted the porch without another thought.

He landed in the grass and circled around the house, breathing shallow and keeping low. He saw a figure by the back gate and tried to move around him.

A voice sounded from the front of the house, a firm confident voice. He stopped.

“We have you surrounded Senator! Give up Monday now and you will live!”

Jake stepped forward and onto a piece of driftwood and it snapped. The man by the gate turned. Jake was already moving.

He leaped, his left foot finding the top of the low wooden fence and he lifted off the ground, arcing past his seeker in the dark. Jake grabbed him by the chin with both hands as he passed. Jake lowered to the ground, his arms twisting and he heard the man’s neck snap as his back bent and his knees gave out. The man let out a low groan and slumped to the ground.

Jake stayed low, pulling the man’s body parallel to the fence line, hiding him in the tall grass growing there.

“I would just go home if I were you fellas. Mr. Monday is out of the country until further notice!”

“We know he is here, old man. We know what you are doing. Calvin and his boss are not going to win this one, Senator. Your Brotherhood is dwindling. Even though you may have the conviction, a self-righteousness on your side, you do not have the size nor the power.”

Jake did not have time to listen to this exchange. The shooting would begin soon and the temptation to interfere would be too great. He had to think of Hallie and Macy now. They were the only ones that mattered. He tucked away the file he had dropped on the ground into the back of his jeans and ran. He burned off the last effects of the alcohol before he made it past the fence. He leaped over it and kept going.

He made it to the edge of the dunes when the first gun fired. More voices. Warnings. Threats, Taunts. Jake continued to run. Three more shots echoed in the night, followed by a stutter of automatic gunfire. Then silence.

He tried not to think about the Senator. Jake was exhausted and drained. He kept his legs churning, his eyes searching. The sounds of the ocean crashing into the beach drowned out any sounds of pursuit but he did not take any chances.

His chest heaved as he ran in the deep sand.

A darkened house loomed ahead of him.

He was so eager to get to his wife and child, he almost forgot to retrieve the other file.

Top-Down Management

C
alvin stepped into the bunker and waited for the Marine guard to latch it shut. He looked around the room and ascertained that it was decidedly un-presidential. Wires ran circuits around the room both at floor level and along the vaulted ceiling. Open venting churned away sending warm air into the space.

The walls were solid concrete, painted an institutional gray.

He adjusted his suit, pulling at his cuffs and brushing down his jacket.

Everything else in the room was a dark gray to match the walls except for the desk, a tall, deep green screen, and a gold ornament on a small shelf nearby. The ornament was a coin. He recognized it. It was an heirloom from the President’s past. A sentimental reminder of how far she had come.

Calvin was not a fan of sentiment.

He heard her in the executive washroom. He waited patiently. What else would one do? Knock?

In the meantime, he looked around the room some more. A camera was set up as well as lights that pointed toward the desk in front of the green screen. This is where they were filming her “State of the Union” addresses. A low table sat against the far wall, an empty plate, and glass ready for a servant to discard. The rest of the room was drab. A wall of mirrors that were certainly two-way. Two doors. One to the facilities and one to the corridor.

Forty feet beneath the surface. Bedrock, concrete, and almost a hundred armed personnel. The bunker was practically impervious. Defensible positions. Secret location. All the bells and whistles of technology.

The door handle turned and Calvin forced a smile to his face.

“Calvin. You startled me.”

It was a lie. She was expecting him. Knew he was there. Had taken her good sweet time. He could see it in the twinkle of her eye.

He remained relaxed. His purpose here was to retrieve information. It was dangerous to have them both together in the same place. It would be best if he could get the answers he needed somewhere else. President Vivian Walker was his best and possibly only source.