Firestorm: Book III of the Wildfire Saga (14 page)

"I missed you," he whispered through cracked lips.

"I know," she replied.
 
She slipped her slender arm under his and Barron marveled at her strength—or was it his own weakness?
 
He felt like an octogenarian—weak, frail, and brittle.
 
His arm was no bigger than hers.
 
What have you done to me?

"Now the fun begins," she said loud enough for everyone to hear.
 
She guided him slowly toward the dais and positioned him behind the oak podium.
 
She pointed at the teleprompter.
 
"Can you read that?"
 

Barron blinked and focused his eyes.
 
"My fellow Americans—"

"Good!" said Jayne.
 
She turned and snapped her fingers.
 
"Get the cameras, he's ready.
 
You," she said, pointing to another guard.
 
"Get a glass of water for the President."

"What do you want me to do?" asked Gruber.

Jayne pursed her lips and tapped them with one red-tipped finger.
 
"Contact Reginald—let him know we're about to begin.
 
And make sure those IT geeks get the signal and
hold
it this time."

"I still don't understand why we can't just tape the damn speech and send it when we're ready," began Gruber.

"Because any time now Harris will be able to shut down our transmissions whenever they want.
 
It's got to go out now—before they realize what we're up to."
 
Jayne dismissed him with a wave and turned back to the President.
 
"You know what I want you to do, dear?"

The President gripped the podium with emaciated hands.
 
"Talk?" he asked with a weak nod toward the teleprompter and the camera beyond.

"Yes, love.
 
But more than that—I want you to give your finest speech.
 
Read the words, but put yourself in them.
 
You need to make America believe again.
 
Our country is sick, love," she said.
 
Her eyes pleaded with him to help her fix things.
 

Barron reached out and gently wiped at the wetness she'd produced in the corner of her eye.
 
Oh, you're good, you're real good.
 
"Don't worry, I'll take care of everything."

Jayne looked at him with eyes full of false adoration.
 
"You will?"

Barron nodded.
 
You bitch
.
 
He caressed the side of her warm cheek with his hand and smiled as she closed her eyes and nestled into his touch.
 
Barron stared at the bones protruding from his skeletal claw of a hand and had to use every ounce of his willpower to keep his anger locked away.
 
"I'll do it for you, Jayne."

She smiled.
 
"I knew you could help me, help us all.
 
That oaf Gruber said we should kill you, but I wouldn't let him.
 
I knew you would save us."
 
She leaned in and gave him a long, lingering kiss that promised much more than he knew she would deliver.
 
As she slowly pulled away, he looked down at her ring as she adjusted her suit.

There it is.
 
Is that what you're going to dope me up with again?
 

Gruber stood up from a laptop on the other side of the room.
 
"We're ready," he announced.

Jayne nodded and stepped away from the President.
 
"Good.
 
Places everyone!
 
Get the camera rolling."
 
She turned and gave him a wink.
 
"Knock 'em dead," she whispered.

The President returned his attention to the teleprompter.
 
One of the guards handed him a glass of water.
 
Barron thanked him, but the man merely grunted and walked away.
 
The cool water quenched his parched throat.
 
He licked his lips and enjoyed another drink.
 
He couldn't remember how long
 
it had been since he'd had a full glass of clean water.

"Are you ready?" asked Jayne from the darkness on the other side of the spotlights.

The President adjusted his vision until he could see the teleprompter again.
 
He nodded.
 
I can do this.
 
Just get through this speech—whatever the hell it is.
 
And then…

"Did you hear me, love?" called out Jayne.

President Barron stared at the teleprompter.
 
The words had scrolled to the top of the thin plastic screen and paused waiting for him to speak.
 
What's your plan?
 
He stared at Jayne.
 
Why are you making me do this?
 
He began to read the words.
 
This doesn't make any sense.
 
Jesus, she's making me out to be a monster…

"He's not gonna do it…" muttered Gruber's voice in the distance.

"Go ahead, pull up the picture," Jayne said.
 
Louder, she spoke to him:
 
"Mr. President, I'm going to have to ask you to look to your left.
 
Watch the screen very carefully."

The President turned his head toward the monitor on his left.
 
It had displayed the Presidential Seal but now went black.
 
The image was replaced with a picture of his wife.
 
His heart raced.
 
His mouth fell open.
 
"Alice!"
 
Her name choked in his throat and he nearly collapsed at the foot at the podium.

"Yes, we know you thought she'd been killed while ago.
 
Your family is perfectly safe.
 
They're at a secure location.
 
But they won't be alive for very long if you don't read the script.
 
Watch," commanded Jayne.

The camera zoomed out and Barron saw with horror his two teenage sons, each held by a couple of guards in black suits and ties.
 
His boys had a man behind them with a gun pointed straight at the back of their heads.

A choked cry escaped his throat, strangled on the fear.
 
Barron collapsed to the floor, his arm reaching for his family.
 
It was one thing to believe his family had been killed.
 
To see they had been kept alive all this time while he betrayed his country, to know they'd seen the things he did—the things he authorized…the shame of it all was too much.
 
And now, to see them at the point of death…all because of him.
 
He turned and stared at Jayne from the floor.
 

Not because of me.
 
Because of you.

"I see the hate in your eyes, love," she said, one hand on her chest.
 
"It hurts, it really does.
 
I've done nothing but help you.
 
You've been a willing partner in everything that we've done."
 
When she noticed her words had no effect, she frowned.
 
"Don't look at me like that," she said.
 
Her voice sharpened, all emotion vanished.
 
"Get up."

Barron flinched as if struck, but didn't move.

"Clock's ticking.
 
We're going to get a good signal soon…" muttered someone in the background.

Jayne frowned.
 
"Do you hear that Mr. President?
 
You're only going to get one chance.
 
You need to get to your feet and start reading that speech, now.
 
If you don't, I'll give the order and your family will be executed while you watch."

"No!" breathed the President.
 
He staggered slowly to his feet.
 
He fell heavily against the podium and nearly toppled it off the stage, but managed to remain standing.

"That's good, very good.
 
Now, compose yourself and begin to read."

The President glanced at the image of his family one more time.
 
"Don't hurt them…"

"I'm going to count to three," said Jayne, her voice completely serene.
 
Warning bells went off in the President's mind.
 

She's serious!

He snapped his attention back to the teleprompter.
 
"Okay, okay!" he said, both hands up in surrender.
 
He slowly lowered them to the podium and cleared his throat.
 
"Okay.
 
You win.
 
I'll do it."
 
He mustered his last shred of dignity and forced his voice to mimic the commanding tone of a President one last time.
 
"Roll the cameras, let's do this."

"That's more like it!" said Jayne as she gave a little clap of approval.

The President stared at the teleprompter and swallowed.
 
I need to figure a way to get a message out.
 
A message they'll get in Denver…think damn it!

"My fellow Americans…" he began.
 
A smile threatened to curl up the corner of his lips as he remembered his Secret Service training from after the inauguration.
 
He read the words on the teleprompter, not bothering to read them.
 
He was a vessel.
 
His body was occupied with repeating the words his eyes saw.
 
His mind turned inward.

When he and Denton had first been elected, a grizzled Secret Service agent had warned them about the possibility of kidnapping one or both of them by terrorists.
 
President Denton had laughed it off as nonsense.
 

The agent was from the old school Secret Service—nothing was assumed, everything was a threat.
 
And so he insisted they prepare for every possibility.
 
Barron had been taught if he'd ever been kidnapped and forced to read a hostage statement, to give certain tells Secret Service agents would recognize.
 

Barron let his eyes and mouth run the show.
 
He was on autopilot.
 
The words scrolled up the teleprompter, and he read them like the good little prisoner.

"… egregious transgressions from the North Koreans, the nuclear strike on Atlanta…"

The word stabbed at his heart.
 
Atlanta
.
 
At once the President was back in the Bunker staring at the screen, watching the body counts rise.
 
The red glowing crater in the center of Atlanta that marked the death of thousands.

Focus.
 
Stay focused.
 
What the hell was I supposed to do to let whoever is watching know that what I'm saying this under duress…?

"…fully authorize the use of deadly force against the civilian insurrection and…"

C
HAPTER
14

Denver, Colorado

Emergency National Reserve Operations Center.

C
OOPER
SIPPED
HIS
COFFEE
and split his attention between President Harris' news conference on a TV and the digital strategic threat map net to it listing global Council assets.

The information he’d retrieved from the chalet had proved worth the effort so far.
 
Reginald had operatives in fourteen states and seven countries in Europe.
 
Cooper frowned.
 
Those were the ones easily identifiable—the data was mostly still encrypted.
   

He put his mug on the table and crossed his arms.
 
The problem was the assets that hadn’t been identified yet.
 
The tech guys knew the intel was in there somewhere, they just had to get through all the bogus info and protection systems first.
 
It would take time.

Cooper glanced back at the TV.
 
The scrolling text at the bottom read:
President Harris reacts to Barron speech, declares flu Wildfire Event—takes emergency measures not seen in ten years…

Time is something we don’t have
.
 
He looked at the map.
 
The orange dot over Denver bothered him, it represented where one of Reginald’s known operatives had been discovered and neutralized.
 
He remembered the look on the assassin’s face as he’d driven a broken piece of his knee brace under the man’s chin.
 
If
one
of Reginald's spies had wormed his way in to Harris’ new capital complex, how many more had as well?