Chapter 10
They knocked on the door just past
two in the morning. The first knock had
no effect, the second knock woke Edgar, and the third knock was followed
immediately by the sound of the jamb shattering as the door was kicked open.
Edgar jolted upright, immediately
on edge by the absence of the security alarm.
There were footsteps on carpet, wood, stairs, carpet again.
Voices: “Spread out!” “Secure every room!” “Mr. Latterndale! Mr. Latterndale!”
Upstairs, in his bedroom, he heard
the terrified, suddenly-awake scream of Ethan, Amanda's frantic shouts of
protest and anger. “Get away from him,
you bastards! You can't have him, you
can't—”
A flashlight, piercing blue in the
darkness, switched on and swept the living room.
“In here!”
Edgar looked over the back of the
couch and shielded his eye from the light.
“The hell—”
“No time, Mr. Latterndale!”
Strong arms gripped him and pulled
him to his feet.
“Package secure, moving out.”
Disjointed images flooded around
him—men in dark business suits, some wearing armored vests; EHUDs filling each
doorway; Mandy, pushing down the stairs, trying to keep the men away from her
son.
The intruders rushed Edgar towards
the front door. “Can't I at least get my
fucking pants—”
“Sorry, sir; no time, sir. Clothes are in the vehicle.”
“Edgar! What's going on?” Amanda was down the stairs, struggling
against captors of her own, lunging toward her husband. “What's going on?”
He tried to break away from the men
who held him, but they were too strong.
“I don't know! Get back to Ethan
and—”
A young woman in a business suit
and armored vest approached Amanda.
“Everything will be all right, ma'am.”
“Where are you taking him?”
Edgar was almost to the door.
“Please, ma'am, just return to your
son. You'll see your husband again
soon. Now, we're going to help you pack
up anything you'll need for a few—”
“Where the hell are you taking
him?!”
And then he was gone. He felt the pebbles of the front walk digging
into his feet as he was dragged towards a line of black utility vehicles parked
along the curb. There was movement in
the windows of surrounding houses as neighbors peered out at what was going
on. Edgar felt a twinge of
embarrassment, wondering what they must think of this, before abruptly realizing
that he might never see Amanda again.
What had happened? Had Isaac finally decided to clean house and
frame Edgar for the entire Defender debacle?
Only one way to find out....
They reached the middle of the line
and Edgar was roughly forced into the back seat. As soon as the door was closed, the vehicle
was on the move.
There was an exhaling of breath,
and a light turned on overhead. Edgar
blinked and recognized the face of a Secret Service agent.
“What's going on?”
The agent cleared his throat, then
made eye contact. “It is my unfortunate
duty to inform you that at one seventeen this morning Isaac Latterndale,
President of the United States of America, was assassinated.”
Silence filled the vehicle, dancing
back and forth with the sound of tires on roadway.
“So why am I here?”
The agent cleared his throat again
and passed a shopping bag across to Edgar.
“These should fit you. We're
going through and collecting all surviving members of the cabinet. NSA's idea.
With so many deaths and resignations recently, it was thought best that
we get a contingency in place to keep this government running until the next
election.”
Edgar pulled a pair of pinstriped
trousers and a pale blue shirt out of the bag.
“I'm assuming we're not going to the White House to swear in President
Wong?”
The agent narrowed his eyes. “Give us some credit.”
“I just assumed that if Isaac was
involved with this—”
“The president was not aware of the
plan.”
Edgar nodded and began to pull on
the trousers. Part of him was terrified;
the agent had said “assassinated.” There
was no “accident”, no “natural causes”.
“Assassinated.” In Edgar's mind:
Defender. On the other hand: Deep
satisfaction. The old man was finally
dead, and Edgar didn't have to worry about him anymore. It was as if a weight had lifted, and Edgar
could walk tall and proud into whatever future Mistlethwakey had arranged.
Still needed to be sure. “Am I correct in assuming it was a Defender
who did this?”
“Yes, a Ms. Maria Ruiz. You know her?”
Edgar swallowed; he knew her better
than the agent ever guessed. At first hostile,
later one of the program's best results.
She had done a lot of off-the-books work for the past few
administrations. And the General had
chosen her... How long ago? There was no way he could have programmed her
in the last few months; he had planned this at least a year ago.
“I've met her a few times, yes.”
“She's in the Pentagon now, sedated
and scrambled to hell and back.”
Edgar nodded and finished pulling
on a pair of socks.
Time for the shirt. What about Amanda? Chances were that wherever they were taking
Edgar, Amanda would be brought soon after.
He was now an important person in the government in exile; a family
loose in the world was too big of a security risk.
Edgar finished dressing and return
his attention to the agent. “So, big
question here—”
“Where are you taking us?”
Amanda stood, dressed for bed and
feeling tired, in the middle of her dining room while armored security agents
invaded her home and collected her belongings.
The agent standing before her
sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.
“I'm sorry, ma'am, I don't know that.
As I've already told you, the location will be determined when—”
“Then tell me just where the fu—”
She stopped herself from finishing the curse as she felt the weight of Ethan
leaning on her leg. “Where do you think
you might be taking us? Do you know
that?”
The agent sighed again and closed
her eyes in acquiescence. “We have a
number of secure facilities all across the country. We'll try to keep you on the Eastern
sea-board, as close to the capitol as possible, but I simply do not know, will
not know, until a final decision is reached.”
“But it will be someplace
safe?”
The agent paused for an
uncomfortably long time before responding, “Yes.”
Amanda nodded. She knew.
None of them—the cabinet, their families—were safe anymore. The agent hadn't said the word when informing
her of Isaac's passing, but it was there, trying to hide behind every clinical
report, every assurance of future safety.
Defender.
Ethan yawned and pushed closer into
Amanda's side. She looked down at her
son, then at her home and the invaders in it, and privately cursed Edgar. She knew he was somehow responsible for
this.
It wasn't a feeling of blame; she
wasn't trying to hang her problems on him.
There existed a deep-down, pit-of-her-stomach certainty that Edgar was
wrapped up in this whole mess. Memories
of that night flicked in and out of her awareness, branded with new
clarity. In the East Room, watching
Edgar's strange behavior, his furtive glances at Mistlethwakey, at the
door. The horrors of the next hour, the
next night, had distracted her from what she had seen then. Lost in the panic of the crowd, seeing her
husband abandon her to face down the monster that had violated her reality, she
was forced to put everything aside save Ethan.
There was nothing more important then, not even her own life. She alone was left in the world, she alone to
save their son.
Edgar's actions later that
night—his soft words, gentle embrace, constant presence—should have
ended the loneliness, should have brought the family closer together as
she realized that Edgar's actions at the party had been to save his family, not
his president.
But all that was lost in what she
had seen in Edgar's eyes. It was an old,
familiar thing she had seen so many times before: there was something he wasn't
telling her. As the world crumbled, as
people died, as the physical universe was shaken by the psychic, there was
something Edgar wasn't telling her.
Analyzed by the light of that
realization, Amanda knew that Edgar's bravery had not been that of a man
defying the unknown. It was that of a
man who knew precisely what he was up against, and had calculated a fair chance
of survival. While Amanda and the rest
of the guests had been lost in confusion, scared and alone, Edgar had known
what was happening, what Lemlin was.
If there were any truth to Lemlin's
claims, then Edgar had been at the heart of it.
Now that heart was exposed,
shedding its blood over the world. The
president was dead, the country was on the edge of chaos, and Edgar was out
there somewhere, being taken to safety.
They wanted Amanda to be with him,
safe by his side...
She couldn't. She may not be safe here, but she would be
even less safe with Edgar. As
much as she wanted to trust him to keep Ethan safe from the Defenders, she knew
that the secret held in his eyes would destroy his family more absolutely than
any external threat.
“Please, ma'am, we have to
hurry.” The agent stepped closer, as if
trying to impress the need for haste through physical proximity.
Amanda sighed and looked down to
Ethan, who was falling asleep on his feet.
As much as she wanted to stay in this house—her home—rather than
follow Edgar, she couldn't separate Ethan from his father without letting the
boy have his say.
“Are we being forced to go, or is
this voluntary?”
“Ma'am—”
“Well?”
“Voluntary.” The agent sounded uncomfortable.
Amanda looked up at the agent and
pointed into the kitchen. “Could you
excuse us, please? I need to talk to my
son.”
“Ma'am—”
“Alone.”
The agent remained for a moment,
then went into the kitchen.
Amanda rested her hand on Ethan's
shoulder and steered him towards the couch that his father had slept on minutes
before.
“Mom,” Ethan half-yawned as he lay
down, “do I have to go to school tomorrow?”
“No, you're up too late tonight,”
she said, sitting and positioning his head on her lap. “But right now we need to talk about
something really important, alright?”
“M'kay...”
“Honey... Uncle Isaac passed away.”
Ethan's eyes snapped open and he
sat up. “What? When?”
“Just a few minutes ago. That's why your father had to leave.”
“Did the EHUDs kill him?”
For a moment Amanda saw a squad of
armored soldiers descending on the president, ripping him limb from limb with
their powered suits, before realizing that Ethan had meant “Defenders.”
“I think so yes. But listen...
The agents here, they want us to leave—”
“I heard that.”
Amanda nodded. “Well...
I don't think we should.”
“Why not?”
Because your father is one of the
scary people who's responsible for this whole mess, and besides, he's never
loved you. “Because I don't think we'll
be any safer with him than on our own.
Because he might be in danger.”
“Like Uncle Isaac?”
He was only ten, she reminded
herself. He wasn't ready to hear that
his father might be on a hit list.
“There might be danger.”
Ethan's face took on a look of
determination. “Then we can't leave him
alone.”
“So you want to go with dad, even
if that means leaving all your friends, this house?”
“We can't leave him alone.”
Amanda nodded, stood, and went into
the kitchen.
Three hours of driving, and Edgar
was in Maryland, only thirty miles from home, or so the agents told him. He was holed-up in what appeared to be a
corporate board-room: light wood paneling half-way up the walls, textured
off-white wallpaper, a long table. It
was only when he looked up and saw the concrete ceiling, the exposed pipes and
wiring, that he was able to convince himself that he was underground.
He padded around to the head of the
table and sat down, leaning back with his feet on the table. As he stared up at the bare utility of the
ceiling, he did some quick math and realized that six months ago that
Mistlethwakey had promised him the presidency.
“Where's Charlie?” he asked the
single agent who had remained in the bunker.
“Hopefully, flying over New
Jersey.”
“You don't know?”
“It takes at least half an hour to
get to New York, even with Air Force One.”
Edgar nodded and hoped that Wong
would simply turn down the promotion, rather than have a plane wreck.
He sat in silence for another few
minutes, listening to the low sounds of the pipes overhead. At some point he drifted off to sleep, only
to awaken when someone slid through the double-doors at the end of the room. It was Julia.
“Hey.”
She smiled and tilted her head
fractionally. “Hey.” She walked around the table, sitting about
halfway down on Edgar's left side.
Hours slid by, and the remaining
members of the cabinet drifted in one by one.
Edgar tried to gauge their
reactions. Julia seemed calm, reacting
to conversation with cool indifference.
She did, on occasion, show signs of stress, raising her voice for no
reason or glaring at someone who made a stupid comment, but Edgar chalked that
up to lack of sleep. It was the way she
moved her body that showed her true feelings; she was far too deliberate. All her steps were perfectly even, her back
was too straight, she moved as if she were controlling her body remotely. Edgar took that to be her coping, her trying
to control the situation.
Eli, though, was an easy read. He had never recovered from the first
Defender attack. Tonight he was jumpy,
his eyes never staying still, his entire body jerking at every sudden movement,
every too-loud sound. His conversation
was whispered, clipped, unsure. Edgar
wondered how long the man would last, and was amazed he made it this far.
For his own part, Edgar realized he
was somewhat dazed. He moved in a trance,
responding with exaggerated ease.
Nothing and no one really seemed to bother him. Nothing really seemed real. The General was about to fulfill his promise
to him, and Edgar was about to step into immortality. Tonight, the nervous waiting was over. Tonight, Edgar was simply... existing.
At some point in the early morning
he must have given in to sleep. The next
thing he was aware of was a female voice, a gentle shove on his shoulder.
“Hey, wake up.”
“Not now, Mandy....”
“You need to wake up a little more
than that.”
It wasn't Amanda's voice. He opened his eyes and saw the industrial
lights of the secret complex glaring down at him, much closer than they should
have been from ground level. Raising his
head exposed his body, fully clothed save for shoes, spread out on the
conference table. He turned and saw
Julia Telk standing off to one side.
“Shit. How long was I out?”
She shrugged. “It's after noon now.”
“Shit. They back yet?”
Julia shook her head. “No.
But they called Eli and said they were about fifteen minutes out.”
“Shit. They say how Wong's holding up?”
Julia shook her head again.
Edgar sighed and slumped back onto
the table. He turned his head and looked
around, seeing other members of the Cabinet slumped in chairs, leaned on walls,
all looking like they'd rather be anywhere but here.
He gave himself a few more minutes
of relaxation, then swung off the table and approached Eli. “Hey.”
Eli yelped and jerked, then turned
to look at Edgar. “Oh, uh, hey.”
“Just wanted to know what you've
said about Isaac so far.”
“Said?”
“To the press? About his death?”
Eli flinched at 'death.' “Nothing.
Media blackout. Not saying
anything until Charlie's here.”
Edgar closed his eyes and took a
deep breath. “Why?”
Eli shrugged. “He might have something to say about it.”
“Do you realize how guilty this
makes us look?”
Eli shrugged again. “Not my problem. Talk to Charlie.”
Edgar went back to the table and
pulled out a chair. He rummaged in his
pocket for his mobile, then remembered that these weren't his pants. Sleep seemed his only recourse at this point;
he didn't want to talk to anyone.
A commotion by the door caught Edgar's
attention, and he saw several agents enter.
Charlie wasn't with them.
He slumped back in his chair even
as Julia left hers and stomped up to the lead agent. “Where is he?”
The agent looked at her, exhaustion
evident in his face, and said, “He's not coming. He resigned.”
Julia nodded and glanced over her
shoulder at Edgar.
The agent stepped past her and
approached Edgar. “Congratulations,
Ed.” He turned to face the rest of the
cabinet and spoke, his voice at full volume.
“Secretary of Defense Edgar Latterndale shall now hold the office and
responsibilities of President of the United states of America, until such a
time as a vote of the people is to be held.”
All eyes turned to Edgar, who stood
and solemnly nodded. The lead agent
spoke into the microphone at his wrist, the doors opened again, and the elderly
chief justice stepped through, her silver hair stark against her black
robe. She stopped before Edgar and held
up a thick book. “Don't know what your
preferences are, but I went with a Bible.”
Edgar nodded. “That'll work.”
The chief justice held out the
Bible, Edgar rested his right hand on it, and she led him through the oath of
office. In a few minutes it was done,
and Edgar was president.
Minutes later Edgar stood at the
head of the table, the remnants of the cabinet arrayed around him, all waiting
for him to say something... He
thought back to what Mistlethwakey had said, six months ago. Edgar had been paid his price, now it was his
time to work. He was in the Oval
Office--or the next best thing--and he needed to get the rest of the world to
play along...
“Okay.” Relief was replaced by tension, of
anticipation of work to come. He clapped
his hands and bounced on his toes.
“Someone take notes on this.”
Julia raised her hand fractionally,
and Edgar nodded in acknowledgment.
“Okay. Call Terstein, tell him I
want a phone conference ASAP, today if possible. Next, need to talk with the U.N. We're going to address the Defender issue
head on, set them up as refugees seeking political asylum; no one can have
hands on them.”
Several people around the room
gasped.
“What?”
Julia lowered her tablet
stylus. “You're saying we have some
authority to give them asylum... that
means we have authority over them to begin with.”
“Yes. Besides that all those known are American
citizens, we're going to acknowledge that we made them. Anyone who has a problem with that can leave
now.”
No one answered. Julia raised the stylus in anticipation of
what Edgar would say next.
“We're raising security alert
level; things might get a little crazy in the next few days. I want every branch of the military
ready. Also, call Mistlethwakey. As of now, he's relieved of duty, and I want
him ready to be NSA first thing tomorrow.”
He straightened, placed his hands on his hips, and nodded.
“That everything?” Julia asked, her
eyebrows raised in frank disbelief.
“For you, yes. Eli!”
Eli twitched and coughed.
“Get me a press conference. The sooner, the better. Twenty minutes. Every network.”
Eli nodded and started scribbling
into a notebook.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Edgar said,
his arms outstretched. “Welcome to the
future!” He dropped his arms and turned
to look at the remaining agents.
“Now, where the hell is my family?”
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