State of Emergency: Jack Emery 2 (21 page)

But even now, reports were coming in of 24th Marine Regiment forces being harassed by drones and of State Guard forces closing in on Chicago. The entire operation had hinged on this moment. Jack had hoped he’d get a bit more time, but it would have to do. He nodded, removed the headset and held his finger over the transmit button for a moment. A million things could have gone wrong, but it had worked flawlessly until now. With a smile, he pressed the button. There were no fireworks, just a light on a console that changed from red to green.

The Emergency Alert System had been switched on in 1997 and upgraded continuously since. It was designed to allow the President to speak to the entire nation for ten minutes, or to disseminate information about more localized events such as disasters and extreme weather. Following the FEMA takeover, it had been further upgraded still, with one primary transmission center commissioned in each state capital and many other major cities. Jack was thankful that Chicago made the cut. He’d received a crash course in the system from Hickens over the telephone, prior to the assault on the station. He hoped he’d done everything right. The green light flashing on the console gave him hope he had, that the information he’d prepped for broadcast had been successfully beamed out. Out of the masses of information that Mariposa Esposito had gathered, he’d broadcast the best of it. It was enough to crucify FEMA.

Or so he hoped. He’d done all he could. It was time to go. “Okay, let’s go.”

Ortiz nodded and walked toward the door. Jack looked back for a second, satisfied that the green light was still flashing on the broadcast panel. Over the next few minutes, the information he’d uploaded would beam its way to every radio, television, computer and tablet in the country. The information would damn FEMA using the very system they’d used to spew their lies. It would continue to operate until someone reached the broadcast room and turned it off, but by then it would be too late.

He followed behind Ortiz and they descended to the basement, where a dozen or so marines were waiting. They were the last of the 24th Marines still here. “What now?”

Ortiz placed his carbine on the ground then pulled out his pistol and stepped closer. “Now? You’re going to learn how to use this. If we get into trouble, it might save your life.”

“But—”

“Turn the safety off.” Ortiz ignored Jack’s protests as he held the weapon out and flicked the safety off.

“Okay.” Jack nodded.

“Cock it.” Ortiz pulled back the slide on the handgun and let it spring back, loading a round with a satisfying click.

Jack felt like he was being taught how to drive for the first time. “Okay.”

“Hold it like this.” Ortiz held the weapon out in front of him with two hands. “And none of that sideways, one-handed gangsta shit, either. If I see that, I’ll shoot you myself.”

“Okay.”

“Squeeze the trigger.” Ortiz tapped the trigger with his index finger, then reset the safety and then he held the weapon out to Jack. “Take it.”

Jack looked down at the weapon in horror. “I don’t want it. If you’re relying on me to take out bad guys, then chances are you’re all dead.”

“That’s why you need this.” Ortiz thrust the weapon forward into his chest. “I’d rather you know how to use it before the rest of us are down.”

Every synapse in his brain was telling him to refuse. He didn’t want to hold the weapon, fire the weapon or be responsible for the weapon. But he didn’t seem to have a choice in the matter. As he looked around, there were a dozen Marines with eyes on him, apparently waiting to see if he’d stand alongside them in the conflict to come. He couldn’t ask them to take up arms for the final battle if he wasn’t willing to. He took the gun from Ortiz.

Jack had been in the shit plenty of times, but he’d never been in the sewers before. Ortiz had dreamed it up. Heading down there was a way to escape the airstrikes and ground forces that would be bearing down upon the city, just like they had in Indianapolis. But Jack had learnt something else in that unfortunate city. He’d learnt that Richard Hall liked to handle things personally.

The first job was done, and Ortiz had given the bug out order to all 24th Marine Regiment forces. Jack just had to hope that the first attack would open up the second.

For that, they needed far fewer men.

As soon as the helicopter touched down, Richard unbuckled and climbed out. As he did, he reflected on how much things had changed in only a handful of hours. He’d thought he was flying in to deal with the attack on Chicago by the marines. But instead he faced a different issue: the hijacking of the Emergency Broadcast System by Jack Emery. Though his forces had retaken the facility, the damage had been done. Half of America had now seen some of the evidence against FEMA. It would take a huge effort to deal with the blowback. If he could.

Outside the helicopter he was met by a five-strong armed security detail. It was excessive, but the local FEMA office had insisted. The commander of the security forces nodded. “Good morning, Administrator, we’ve secured the building and the Area V Command Center is ready to welcome you.”

Richard nodded and as walked across the roof to the waiting elevator, he wanted to kick himself. He’d underestimated Jack Emery so much. Though Richard had whipped Emery and the resistance furiously, the man had clearly learned from each setback and each lump Richard took from his hide. He’d figured out that it wasn’t the people you controlled, or the information you held, or the distribution method you had at your fingertips. Those were irrelevant.

No, real power came from those with the drive, the sense of moment – of
gravitas
– and the ruthlessness to do what needed to be done. Once Richard had decided he needed to seize power, to be the leader he’d waited decades to serve, he’d taken over America and imposed the order he considered so vital. It was also how he’d deliver the final mailed fist right to the teeth of Emery’s supporters. He hoped it would be how he’d finally finish Emery, if he could find him.

They reached the main work area and Richard waited as the staff of the FEMA Area V Command Center were summoned. When they had gathered, he grasped the edge of the table with both hands. “Are we certain that all elements of the 24th Marines have now been eliminated or driven from the city?”

The State Guard attaché to the office, whose name Richard hadn’t learned, nodded. “The last troops were eliminated thirty minutes ago. Airstrikes took care of the last of them. Our forces have regained control of the city, though unfortunately there was some collateral damage—”

“There always is.” Richard tapped his hand on the table. “Have we found Jack Emery?”

The local supervisor coughed softly. “That’s our next highest priority, Administrator.”

“Wrong.” Richard stood up straight. “It’s your
only
priority. I don’t want this office doing anything else until Emery is found.”

The supervisor swallowed hard as he nodded. “You’ll understand that amid so much carnage, it can be easy to lose one man. We’ll inform you once we have him.”

Richard smiled thinly. “I don’t plan on departing until he’s been located.”

Richard turned and walked away from the table. He’d given them a fright, now it was time to let them work. Though his power in the organization was absolute and his word was god, there were downsides. If he was hovering where his staff worked, very little would get done. He’d made his point. He went to the staff lounge and poured a coffee from the communal pot, took a sip, grimaced at the quality and then sat.

He used the time to make some calls to his subordinates. Though Emery was the only thing on his mind, some other business wouldn’t wait for a resolution to that particular headache. He was thankful that none of the individuals he called, nor anyone in the Command Center, had mentioned the information dump that Emery was responsible for leaking. He was certain they knew about it, but they’d kept quiet.

The calls were the standard time killers he dealt with every day: the President, to re-assure him that everything was under control and that the executive orders would be needed for just a little while longer. Various lobbyists and influential Americans, protesting this or that or FEMA control in general. The State Guard general staff, begging for more manpower and resources. It was all a distraction.

“Administrator?” A woman spoke from across the room.

He looked up at the distraction. “Yes?”

“We’ve found Jack Emery, sir. We’ve alerted the State Guard in the building.”

“Alerted them about what?”

“Emery, sir.” The woman paused. “Radio triangulation confirms he’s here.”

***

Jack never thought the darkness would be worse than the smell. Even though it was a line-ball decision, he could overcome the stink of shit. But hours of moving underground with only the powerful shafts of light provided by the Marines’ flashlights had made him anxious. The blackness was suffocating, akin to the cell he’d very briefly called home in China. He was tired and wet. Most of all, he missed Celeste and was worried about her.

They’d moved for blocks through the sewers underneath Chicago. As they did, the elements of 24th Marines still in the city should have started to pull back or, if they were cut off, dug in for a protracted defense. Jack had no idea if that had gone to plan or not, but the broadcast had gone out and the little band of sewer rats had gone off the radar. As far as FEMA and the State Guard were concerned, they were phantoms.

In the wake of the 24th’s departure, they’d left spotters in civilian clothes to monitor dozens of locations around Chicago, possible areas where Richard Hall would arrive to coordinate the defense of the city and the search for Jack. Less than twenty minutes ago, one of those scouts had sent word: Hall was at the Clark Street building that FEMA used as its area command in the city. Hall had gone to the most obvious location. Now they just had to reach him.

Jack sighed with relief as he watched a man at the top of the ladder give the cover a firm push. He was clearly doing his best to be quiet, but it was hard to shift the heavy steel manhole cover with any sort of stealth. The man stuck his head above ground, and Jack found it odd to see nothing above the man’s waist for several moments. Eventually, the Marine ducked down and gave the all clear.

Jack exhaled heavily. Ortiz had said that this would be the hardest part. If there’d been guards outside the building, it would have been nearly impossible for the Marines to force their way inside. As it was, even as they climbed the ladder one after another and he waited his turn, Jack kept his hand on his weapon. He felt stupid for doubting its necessity when Ortiz had tried to hand it to him earlier. Jack was the last to climb to the top of the ladder and pull himself up to the street.

Once he was above ground, he saw the defensive perimeter that Ortiz and his men had formed, their weapons pointed outward. He stayed in the middle of the group and followed as Ortiz’s men fanned out and covered all possible directions, moving as one toward the building. They reached it with no incident, then waited as two of the soldiers scouted the lobby and returned with a report that it was all clear. Jack looked at Ortiz. He seemed disturbed by the lack of civilians, but said nothing. They moved inside.

Jack looked around the lobby. As the scouts had reported, it was dark and deserted. He frowned and felt for the gun again. A large government building such as this should have been bustling, especially given it was home to the FEMA Area Command. It should also have been guarded. All he could hope was that, with Marines assaulting the city, all non-essential workers had been sent home and the building locked down. It seemed a forlorn hope, but it had to be true. The alternative was too terrible to contemplate.

Jack was directed to wait near the door as the team started to move more quickly, waved forward by Ortiz. They had to reach the fire stairs on the other side of the lobby. He watched as the marines scanned their surrounds, including the mezzanine balcony above. When they were halfway across the lobby, every light in the area flared white hot. Jack raised his forearm to shield his eyes, even as he heard shouts and the tapping sound of boots on tiles all around. He backed away.

“
Put down your weapons!
” The shout echoed around the lobby. “
Weapons down, now!
”

Jack backed further against the wall as Ortiz’s soldiers kept their weapons trained on the State Guard soldiers above them on the mezzanine level. They were outnumbered and outpositioned, but their assailants were obviously waiting on something before opening fire. Given what he knew of Richard Hall, that seemed strange. Maybe the information he’d broadcast had soothed some of the itchy trigger fingers.

“
I won’t tell you again
.” Jack couldn’t see the man who was shouting. “
We want your weapons and the location of Jack Emery
.”

“I’m Captain Daniel Ortiz, 24th Marines.” Ortiz’s voice boomed in response, with no hint of fear. “I ask you to stand down and hand over Richard Hall.”

Ortiz kept his weapon raised but turned his head away from it. He caught Jack’s eye, hidden from the view of the attackers, and winked once. The message was clear: they can’t see you, so stay hidden. Jack wanted nothing more than to shout out, to give himself up and save these lives, but every man here had known their fate in the event of capture. Whether it was in a fire fight or in a FEMA detention center, death was certain.

“
Last chance, Captain Ortiz.
”

“Fuck yourself!” Ortiz fired.

Jack screamed as the world exploded in front of him. There was no way his voice could be heard over the roar of gunfire, the screams of combat troops and the cries of wounded men. Ortiz’s team got some shots of their own off, but it was a drop against an ocean. Jack had never seen anything like it. In action movies, the heroes win regardless of numbers or positioning. Not this time. This time they were slaughtered.

He turned and ran back across the street, toward the sewer, with tears streaming down his cheeks. He fought hard to stay composed. With three steps to go, he tripped and fell, landing hard on the road. He sucked at the air, but none entered his lungs. He started to panic until, after a few moments, his breathing returned. He scrambled to his feet and to the manhole. He hauled it open and climbed down, replacing the cover.

Darkness was the only ally he had left.

***

Richard strode forward from the elevator and inspected the carnage from moments earlier. He’d ridden down as soon as the fire fight was over, but could still smell the smoke. The scene was chaos. Around a dozen dead men in marine uniforms were sprawled in tight formation in the middle of the lobby. Their guns had been taken but no other effort had been made to move them. Emery was not among them.

He growled in frustration as he took in the scene. “How fucking hard can it be to catch one man?”

The State Guard attaché to FEMA Area V, who’d ridden down with him, did his best to soothe Richard’s anger. “All attention has shifted to finding Emery, sir.”

Richard turned, grabbed the man by his collar and looked him straight in the eyes. “I’m sick of this. Find him. Kill him.”

The man nodded. Richard let go and turned back to the dead soldiers. He took a few steps toward them, then stopped when he heard a cough. One of the soldiers he’d thought dead a moment ago was apparently still alive. Yet another fuck up from the State Guard troopers. He approached the wounded man, just as a guardsman hovered over the Marine and prepared to finish him.

“Don’t you dare.” Richard grabbed the man from behind and pulled him back. “Give me your weapon.”

The young trooper looked confused, but handed over his rifle. “Sir, be careful, if you’re not careful he’ll—”

“Be quiet.” Richard crouched down to the dying soldier. “What’s your name, young man?”

“Daniel Ortiz.” The soldier coughed hard once, then again. Blood dribbled down his chin.

“Here’s the situation, Daniel.” Richard leaned on the rifle as he crouched. “I have you and a lot of your comrades. To help all of you, I need you to tell me where Emery is.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Ortiz smiled. His teeth were bloody. “Just kill me. I’m not telling you shit. Neither will any of the others you’ve captured around the city.”

Richard sighed and stood. He looked around. The State Guard troopers were searching the ground level of the building, as well as the basement and the stairs, but he had no faith in their ability to find Emery. He looked down at Ortiz again, struggling for breath and clearly fighting the pain. He pressed the barrel of the rifle into the man’s stomach, right where he could see a bullet wound. Ortiz gasped and cried out.

“Where. Is. He.” Richard pressed the barrel harder and ignored the man’s shrieks. But the effort was hopeless. Ortiz bled out. Richard roared with rage. “Just
find
him!”

Richard threw the weapon onto the tiled floor then stalked back toward the elevator. There was no point in him staying here much longer, among the slugs crawling around trying to please him. He could do more back in the Command Center, coordinating effort across the city to find Jack Emery. He rode the elevator on his own, using the time to think about what he’d missed, where Emery could be.

Hours passed as Richard waited futilely for his people to get results. Without Emery’s head on a pike, he’d have no enemy to parade before the public, to take the attention off the information that had briefly leaked. With Emery, he could torture the other man to say the evidence was all fabricated. He made his way through four coffees and eight fingernails. He’d never felt like this before, his future so contingent on something so completely out of his control.

After yet more hours, his phone rang. He nearly screamed. He was not in the right frame of mind for this phone call, but had no choice but to take it. “Mr President.”