Eddy's Current (50 page)

Peterson’s agents’ assignments were clear: Protect Peterson at all costs. Get him to safety. Forget all others. Hernandez had a hunch, though. What if Hall was right? If the roof were doomed, Hernandez could die protecting Peterson. Death for protecting a man who was summarily hated by nearly all in the world? Hernandez took his chances. He followed after Hall.

Hall raised his hands, “Don’t shoot. Don’t shoot. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll go back up. I’ll, I’ll cooperate. I’ll—” He stopped, and was lost for words.

“Shut up. I’m not after you, I’m going with you. Let’s go. We’ve got to get out of here. Do you have your gun with you? Hernandez said.”

“Yes. It’s right here.”

“You better keep it out. You’ll need it.”

Albert’s computer geeks had broken into the security system and permanently locked all personnel inside their offices. Peterson’s agents were unable to exit their offices and go to the roof to save Peterson.

As far as Briggs and Albert knew, they would be able to capture Peterson and Hall on the roof. Briggs and Albert reached the roof first. The helicopter was waiting there. Albert approached the pilot. “Mr. Peterson will be here shortly. You know the drill. Get that thing ready to go now. As soon as he arrives you’ll have to get him out of here.”

Except that Briggs had a surprise for the pilot. If Peterson did make it to the helicopter, it would go nowhere. The helicopter had been rigged. Briggs had thought to bring a simple eighty–foot chain and a padlock. Earlier that day, he had wrapped the chain around the leg of the helicopter and locked it securely to a steel guide beam on the roof. The copter would ascend up — the pilot would presume he was home free — then the chain would tighten and jolt the copter, it would plummet back to its pad soon after it rose from it, and crash to the roof. Hopefully the crash would cause a large fire, so the backup helicopter could not land. By the time the backup helicopter arrived, Briggs and Albert would be long gone, down to the bottom of the building and into yet another waiting car.

It worked. As soon as the door to the roof opened, the helicopter revved up. Briggs drew his Smith & Wesson, pointed it at the remaining agents who were escorting Peterson, demanded to know the whereabouts of Hall, was told he bailed out, grabbed Peterson and ducked into the door, back into the building. Albert remained on the roof, holding his gun on the agents to give Briggs a head start.

Albert forced all the agents to remove their guns from their coats, using only their index finger and thumb, and throw them off of the roof. Then, just to be sure, each one removed his coat and threw it off the roof as well. Albert bolted through the door, but before he could close and lock it, a wayward U.N. Leader Protection Agency agent who had been hiding in a maintenance room on the roof shot at Albert several times. Albert dove inside the door and bolted it shut. He then ran after Briggs and Peterson.

The agents on the roof realized that they had just allowed Peterson to be captured by the USFIA, and they realized that they would either be killed for having allowed that to happen or be captured by the USFIA and tried for participation in the U.N. Leader Protection Agency. Believing that they could escape either fate, they boarded the helicopter. The pilot pushed the acceleration arm of the helicopter forward, rose up rapidly to a height of forty feet, jolted violently, then slammed back down onto the roof and exploded into a ball of fire.

Briggs was hustling Peterson down the stairs with his Smith & Wesson held tightly against Peterson’s right temple. As they descended, Briggs stopped and said to Peterson, “So, Mr. Peterson, I understand that you don’t like the United States of America. It that right?”

Peterson didn’t respond.

“My Smith & Wesson was made in a factory, here in the U.S. On behalf of all of the hard–working factory workers in that factory, and on behalf of all other Americans, I am honored to introduce you to seven of these factory workers’ children. These children were bred just for someone like you.”

Briggs’ eyes were wild. Every muscle in his body tightened and flexed. The only muscle that hadn’t contracted fully was the one in his trigger finger. He was prepared to change that, though, as he began to jamb the end of the gun’s barrel into Peterson’s right eye and then his left.

“These seven little children can and will change your mind about America. Look, here, inside this barrel, and you’ll see these seven little people,” Briggs said.

Briggs then realized that his baby sister and Eddy were watching him from far off. He could feel their presence and their disapproval of his planned sadistic act. He stared into Peterson’s eyes. Both men were in a trance, although for vastly different reasons. Briggs moved the gun barrel as close to Peterson’s right eyeball as possible without actually touching the it. He held the barrel there for seven seconds, as he counted aloud in a harsh whisper, “one… two… three… four… five… six… seven.” Briggs pulled back the gun, moved it around to Peterson’s right temple, pressed it tight against his flesh there, and pushed Peterson forward, forcing his strides to match Briggs’ exactly as they proceeded down the stairs.

“Do we now have an understanding, Mr. Peterson, that you are no longer in charge of the world, and that we Americans are now fully in charge of you?” Briggs asked, as the two proceeded on.

Peterson didn’t respond.

Albert felt a piercing pain in his right side. Something had blown a hole in his side. He had been hit by one of the bullets fired by the UN Leader Protection agent on the roof.

Albert stumbled and caught up with Briggs and Peterson. The plan called for them to exit the stairwell at the sixty–fourth floor, proceed to the express elevator, enter the bypass code, go straight to the bottom floor, exit the building, get into the car and leave. They exited the stairwell, as planned, on the sixty–fourth floor, turned right, then left, then headed to the elevator.

Briggs held his gun to Peterson’s head, Albert held his to Peterson’s heart. Guard dogs smelled Albert’s blood and barked incessantly until their masters, agents stuck on the floor because of the permanently locked doors, followed them to the elevator landing. There, in front of them, stood Peterson, a loaded gun pointed to the left side of his head by Briggs and a loaded gun pressing into his heart, held by Albert.

There would be no standoff. Peterson’s agents were not allowed to ever increase the danger to Peterson’s life. They had no idea that Albert and his group had decided that no harm should come to Peterson. There was no need for them to find that out. Without a word from anyone on the landing, Albert entered the code onto the elevator access keypad, the three boarded the elevator. Albert entered the command code, instructing the elevator to proceed directly to the bottom level without stopping.

The elevator opened on the ground floor. Briggs and Albert held the guns against Peterson, walked from the elevator, and proceeded to the waiting car, a large black foreign SUV. The driver, one of Albert’s agents, identified himself using a code that only he and Albert knew. The three were to enter the car and drive off. But there was a problem that only mattered to Briggs, and it mattered a great deal to him.

“Get that damn foreign piece of junk out of here,” Briggs barked to the driver, referring to the car he was driving. Then, motioning his head back to a Ford Explorer that was parked off to the side — a car that was also to be used for the escape — Briggs said, “I believe that Mr. Peterson should be run out of town in an American made car. I believe that it would be a better lesson for him if he were hauled out of here in one of Henry Ford’s finest.” Briggs turned his head toward Peterson, “Once again, Mr. Peterson, you are being well served by the proud factory workers of America. Today’s your lucky day.”

Samuel believed that he was on his way to save Peterson and Hall on the roof of the building. He thrust open the roof door, saw the crippled helicopter engulfed in flames, its backup hovering above the building. Samuel believed that Peterson didn’t make it, that he was among the dead in the fire. Samuel was overcome with grief and fear. He stumbled around the roof, looking frantically for Peterson and Hall. Realizing his fate for the failure he had accomplished, Samuel ran back to the door, propped it open so the fire would spread inside the building from the roof, rushed to the edge of the building, rose up on the parapet, stood awkwardly for a second or so, then leaned outward and fell one–eighth of a mile to the sidewalk below.

Hall made his way down to the ground floor, slipped out of the building and waited in the courtyard between the Peterson Building and the adjoining office building, hidden in the bushes. He cowered there, remaining quiet as the chaos continued around him.

Briggs thought he saw Hall running down a corridor, between the headquarters building and an adjoining building. As soon as he turned over Peterson to al Qatari, he began to chase after Hall. The two men ran between the buildings. Briggs stopped, pulled his Smith & Wesson, and took aim at Hall’s back. He had a clear shot, and he would try to convince himself to take full advantage of a chance to issue long overdue payback to Hall.

But Briggs held his fire. He needed fresh thinking, and he certainly wouldn’t get it from his own mind. The only answer he had for himself was to empty all rounds from his Smith & Wesson into the back of a seemingly defenseless Dante Hall. Rather than shoot, he began to rifle through his categories to search for answers.

The first category he focused on was the compartment he kept the people in who confused him. Perhaps he had missed something throughout the years about those in this category. Maybe those in this category could provide answers to life’s most important decisions after all. Maybe they would come through for him this time. They had all let him down before, yet they were supposed to have been good to him and for him. So he was confused throughout the years by their actions. Briggs’ reasoning during his lifetime was that people were supposed to support one another, so why would people let each other down? Why had those in this category let Briggs down?

The category was labeled, “Those I Never Really Understood.” He searched frantically for answers there. His father was there, but offered little advice and even less encouragement for whatever decision Briggs was to make. He asked his childhood priest for counsel and was told by him to trust God, that God would do His perfect will. This was the same advice the priest gave him when Briggs was a child and his only sibling, his baby sister, lay critically ill in the hospital. God was not there at the time to defend himself from the priest’s accusations, so little Mark couldn’t check with God about the priest’s charge that God would will a little baby girl into such a state. Besides that, his priest had taught him that only priests have access to God. Little boys were to trust the priest to explain God’s thoughts, actions and reasons. His priest had few answers then, and he had fewer now.

God was not in this category so His input would have to wait. Briggs’ priest and God were once again in two different places.

Still in the same category, Briggs sought the wisdom of his wayward, egocentric cousin. “Shoot, shoot,” his cousin told him. “He’ll get the bullets; you’ll get the glory. Listen, there’s a book deal here… and a movie. You’re rich. He deserves it anyway. There’s not a person in any of your categories that cares at all whether or not that guy dies. He’s useless. Get him! I’ll go line up an agent for you. I’ll represent you, too, but it won’t cost you anything extra. I’ll split the agent’s fee. We’ll all be rich.”

Briggs’ angry neighbor from the old ranch community was in the category as well. He advised Briggs to torment Hall for days to repay him for the evil he and Peterson had caused the world to endure. He should bear the punishment for the murder of all two million of those who died in the recent nuclear war, the neighbor said.

Briggs jumped out of that category, skipped several categories, then arrived at the one he didn’t really want to search, but knew in his heart would contain residents that would give him straight–forward advice as to what was right. The category he named, “Those I Have Trusted” had the fewest members of any of Briggs’ categories. He kept God and Christ there, in a special sub–compartment at the pinnacle. Eddy was there, too, with Briggs’ mother and his eighth–grade English teacher, Mrs. Gardi.

His grandparents were there, as was his baby sister, Daniella, who died of Menkes disease when he was eight and she was only two. As a “little man” of eight he had watched helplessly for twenty–four months, unable to do anything to alleviate Daniella’s suffering, until she finally succumbed to death. She fought for her life every minute of every day for two years as the disease tormented her little body without mercy. No one knew what was wrong with her. Doctors and even scientists with many degrees after their names couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her. All very smart people who were stupefied. They were so smart and yet so stupid about a simple disease. Finally, two days before Daniella died, a young scientist diagnosed her. His diagnosis was accurate, but he was too late.

Briggs had made a pact with Daniella that she would always be a critically important part of his life, and that he would fight just as she had fought. Briggs was a man of his word. Daniella meant as much to him today as she did all those years ago.

Briggs even allowed several of his new colleagues from the USFIA to be residents of this category, including al Qatari, who proved to be a good man after all, in spite of his heavy accent. Briggs also kept in that category the lessons learned during all six months of his basic training at the Montana State Highway Patrol as well as those learned from his entire four years in the Marines. There were many individual heroes from both that were allowed permanent citizenship in this category as well. And, believe it or not, several of the bad guys and enemies he faced while in the Marines and while working as a patrol trooper were there.

As he sought counsel from those in this category, he received similar advice from all of them. Particularly troubling and challenging for Briggs, though, was the uncompromising advice and clear direction he received from Daniella and Eddy. They were especially emphatic that he was to demonstrate restraint and compassion toward the man. That really bothered him because his personal answer differed a great deal from what they expected of him.