Ameristocracy (8 page)

Inside, in the kitchen, Jack munches fruit for breakfast. He looks up as Thomas enters the room.
“Someone to see you.”

Charles enters.

Jack stares. “What happened to goodbye?”

“Had to pretend I was casting you aside. Eyes and ears everywhere, Jack. You of all people should know that.”

“I do know that. Just didn’t realize you did.”

“I didn’t,” answers Charles. “But she convinced me.”

“She?” queries Jack.

Charles steps aside, revealing Maggie standing behind him.

“Maggie!” calls Jack, shocked.

Thomas points to Maggie. “Officer Templeton and I have been trading Instant Messages. I gave her a very cryptic way of finding this place.
And
she found it with no problem. Don’t know if that means I’m slipping, or that she’s just really, really good.”

“She’s good,” smiles Jack. “She’s really good.”

Charles sits down. “Let’s save the group hugs for later.
More important matters at hand.”
He looks Jack in the eye, deadly serious. “There’s a reward on your head.”

“Yeah?” answers Jack. “What am I going for these days?”

“A hundred grand,” replies Maggie.

“Sons of bitches,” mutters Jack. “Ask for a raise, and there's no budget; go rogue, and they whip out the wallets.” Turning serious, he looks at Charles. “So can you get me in?”

“The tunnels lead to an escape route in Griffin Park. And if you can get out…”

“You can get in,” smiles Jack.

They get to work. Soon, the kitchen has become a war room of sorts.
It’s
now covered with blueprints and printouts, taped to every cabinet and chair back and spare inch of space.

Jack, Charles, Thomas, and Maggie toil away in the room, pouring over the information at their fingertips, tirelessly trying to formulate a plan.

They work all through the day and, as the moon slowly rises, Charles snores on the living room couch. Behind him, Thomas is slumped over the keyboard of his computer in the other room, visible through the half-open door.

It’s
clearly been a long day and though a few have called it a night, someone is lurking about. They tiptoe out of the kitchen, en route to the guest bedroom.

Jack sits on the edge of the bed,
wide awake
but deep in thought. The lurker appears in the doorway behind him. Jack spins and sees... Maggie.

Maggie looks at him. “It would be romantic, wouldn’t it?
This place?
I mean, under different circumstances.”

Jack nods.
“Yeah.
I guess it would.”

Maggie steps into the room quietly and closes the door behind her.

Jack notices and cocks his head to the side. “What are you doing?”

Maggie sits down on the corner of the bed. She leans against Jack’s body. He turns to her and she smiles. “We’ve got a big fight ahead of us. We wouldn’t want any pent-up energy getting the best of us.”

“No. We wouldn’t want that.”

Maggie leans towards Jack who leans back slowly. “Best to burn it off any way we can.”

“You know, they tell boxers to stay away from women before a fight.”

Maggie looks at him. “Well, when you start prize-fighting, let me know.”
And
with that, Maggie presses her lips against Jack and they fall backwards onto the mattress.

A run-down, abandoned building in an industrial district on the outskirts of Washington D.C. Trucks on cinderblocks out front.
Windows broken.
Graffiti on the walls.

Inside, Jack stares out a broken window while Charles leans against the wall. “How’d you get the day off?”

“I just requested it and, knowing that I know you, I think they were more than willing to be rid of me for a few days.” Charles looks at Jack, sees him staring off wistfully. “God, I’m so sorry about your dad, Jack. I just hope that you and he... before
he
...”

Jack slowly nods. “We did. We’re good now.”

“I should have been there for you.”

Jack looks at his friend. “You’re here now. That’s what counts.”

“I just wish…”

“Drop it, okay? Nothing is going to bring him back to life.”
An awkward pause.
Jack offers an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m the one.”

“It’s just... this whole thing. These conspiracy theories, they’re ruining my life.”

“It’s not a theory if it’s true, Jack.”

“Even so, after this is all over, I’m going straight.
Gonna
just be a normal guy.”

Charles grins, knowing better. “What fun would that be?”

Bang! Bang!
Then a pause.
And then
… Bang! Bang!
It’s
a coded knock. Jack unlocks the door and Maggie steps inside. A quick look of intimacy between the two, but it comes and goes quickly.
There’s
business to attend to.

“They’re here,” says Maggie. She peels out of the way and Thomas walks in, surrounded by four mercenaries aged between
twenty five
and forty.

First up is Keith Hodges,
camo
-clad tough
guy
twirling a buck knife in his fingers. Then
there’s
Cole Davies, built from sheet metal, snarling lip, serious as a heart attack. Then Angel Diaz, who would be beautiful if she
wasn’t
so harsh.
And then
there’s the biggest
hardass
in the group, Luke Theodore, lean and mean African-American.

Thomas looks at Jack. “These are the men I told you about.”

Jack walks over to him while the mercenaries sit down on wooden crates. They all look tough as nails and Angel
doesn’t
seem all that displeased about being referred to as a man.

Thomas looks at the four of them proudly. “Best you’re ever going to find.
Did the heavy lifting in
Beirut
,
Afghanistan
,
Iraq
.
No one ever even knew it.”

“Military?” queries Jack.

Thomas chuckles. “Government salaries don’t pay for what these men can do.”

“
Blackwater
?”

“Dig deeper.”

“Mercenaries?”

Thomas nods. “Philanthropy doesn’t buy bullets, young man.”

“I just…”

“The fact that they take payment for a highly valuable skill set shouldn’t dissuade you.
And
it shouldn’t make you think they don’t believe in a cause. They are... like you and me... patriots.”

Jack stares at them, still unsure. “Can they be trusted?”

Thomas firmly nods. “I’d trust them with my life.”

Jack looks at Thomas. “Would you trust them with mine?”

Thomas
doesn’t
answer. He just gives a coy grin. After a second, Jack returns the smile. “Well, we’re ankle deep in sewage-and-snakes now.”

Thomas chuckles. “It was up to our elbows in alligators in my day.”

Jack walks over to the mercenaries as Charles and Thomas guard the exits. He places two wooden crates together and stands on top of them. Maggie watches from not too far away, a gleam in her eye. She likes seeing Jack like this.

Jack speaks to the four people. “Judging from the scars you guys wear like a uniform, I don’t figure I have to talk to you about risking your lives.”

Keith stands up, picks his teeth with his buck knife. “These scars don’t come cheap. Where’s the paycheck?”

“How’s valor for compensation?”

Keith shakes his head. “Don’t pay the mortgage.”

Jack ponders his answer, thinks, and then speaks. “I’ll have to sort it out with my attorney, but I think I may have just inherited a multi-million dollar estate in Virginia. I’ll liquidate that property and we’ll split the money.”

The mercenaries exchange looks. Jack waits nervously for their response. Cole looks to Angel. She nods, turns to Jack. “What’s the target?”

“The White House.”

A buzz spreads quickly through the room. Jack holds up his palm to quiet the men. “Please, let me speak.”
It’s
no good. The chatter just gets louder.
Until…

Maggie yells out. “Hey!” The shout is so loud it echoes through the cavernous space for quite some time.
But
it does shut the mercenaries up.

Thomas steps over and whispers into Maggie’s ear. “I like your style, but the idea is to keep a low profile here.”

Luke stands up, looks Jack in the eye. “Give it to us straight.
This a
coup?”

Jack shakes his head. “No, it’s…”

“A rescue mission,” breaks in Thomas.

The mercenaries all turn to Thomas, liking the way
he’s
characterized the mission.

“Can’t the Secret Service protect the president?” asks Keith.

“The Secret Service can’t do jack,” says Angel.

“Hey!” calls out Charles.

“What?” asks
Cole.
“You work for them or something?”

Everyone laughs, but when the laughter subsides,
they
realize he does.

“Sorry, man,” says Luke.

“Trust me, the Service is on its game,” replies Charles. “That’s the problem. If this is coming from within the White House, there’s no telling how many agents they’ve flipped.”

“Okay, so how do we get in?” speaks up Keith.

“We’re working on that,” says Jack.

“Going in hot?” asks Angel.

Charles nods. “No question about it.”

Thomas glances around, speaking as he does. “Gentlemen, beneath the White House there is a series of tunnels that have existed since it was built. They
were created
as a safety valve for the president, a way to escape if things got too unsafe.
But now
, the threat comes from those tunnels. The answer is in the rooms there, so
that’s
where we’re going. But make no
mistake,
it’s going to be a battle.”

“And we don’t want to bleed the good guys,” speaks up Jack.

Maggie hands Jack a particular pistol. He aims the gun and pulls the trigger. A tranquilizer dart flies out and hits the wall.

“A dart?” asks Luke, confused. “Why don’t we just play laser tag while we’re at it?”

“Highly concentrated tranquilizer,” answers Jack.
“Puts them down quickly, but not for very long.
All we’re trying to do is keep them out of our hair long enough.”

“Long enough for what?” asks Angel.

“To search the rooms until we find whatever we have to find.” Jack sees looks of dissent from the mercenaries. He has to step up the rhetoric. “Guys, the president’s life, and the fate of our society, is in jeopardy. I have no idea how high this conspiracy goes, but what I do know is this. The
threat will be ended by the men and women in this room
today. We will stop the assassination attempt, and we will save Lombard. It will be the toughest assignment any of you will ever have.
But
, you don’t look like the kind of guys who back down from a fight. Are you?”

Luke and Keith exchange a look and a shrug. “We’re in.”

As Charles races down the tunnel in the White House, Jack checks his watch as he waits inside a black van that
is parked
nearby.
 
“C’mon, c’mon...”

“Be patient,” says Thomas, who
is staring out of the window, deep in
thought.

Jack shakes his head. “There’s no time for patience.”

“And there’s no call for haste.
It’ll
kill you as quick as a bullet. Now let the
man do
his job.”

From Jack’s nervous energy,
it’s
clear he’s not going to take Thomas’ advice.

Suddenly, a
bird call
sounds in the distance. “There’s the signal!” yells out Jack.

Thomas turns and looks toward the park where Maggie stands with her foot up on a bench, pretending to be a jogger tying her laces. She gives a fake bird call and turns toward a statue of Abraham Lincoln which cracks open, the bust of the great president tipping long enough for Charles to climb through.

Thomas chuckles. “Honest Abe...
fitting.”

Charles looks around,
then
does an almost-imperceptible nod, and the nearby van opens up.

Jack, Thomas and the mercenaries pile out. The group scrambles toward the statue, moving in impressive military formation, and disappearing through the portal within seconds.

Maggie starts jogging, passing the strike team as she heads toward the van, climbs in and drives away.