The Foundation: Jack Emery 1 (22 page)

Michelle smiled warmly at the gaffe. She split her glances between the camera and the child as she answered. “Because, young lady, I want to make sure you grow up in an America that is exceptional, that leads the world in knowledge and innovation and is a beacon of freedom and prosperity.”

The girl smiled nervously, and after a brief moment of silence the principal asked another child for their question.

A boy’s hand shot into the air. “Why are we fighting China? My mom says it’s bad to fight.”

Michelle frowned, then walked over to where the boy was sitting. She kneeled down, and put her hands on his shoulders. “Unfortunately, sometimes countries do things that are wrong. China has attacked a place called Taiwan, like a giant bully. Have any of you ever been bullied?”

Michelle waited for the nods and then continued. “Well, like when a bully bothers you, you hope that there’ll be someone to help you and look after you. Maybe your teachers or your parents. Now, our country, America, has had to stand up to the bully and look after our Taiwanese friends.”

Michelle flashed another smile. She loved children and their simple questions. They let her ram home any point she wanted without any backtalk or danger of going off message. She’d used the tactic liberally during her campaign, so it was fitting that her final public event would be at a school.

She took the boy’s hand in hers. “Unfortunately, it shouldn't have become this bad. For many years, we’ve watched the bully get stronger, while we’ve become weaker. One of the things I want to do, if I’m allowed into Congress, is make sure bullies are never able to push us around again. I want America strong. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Ms Hamilton stepped forward with the smile. “Well, thank you, children, we’ll keep moving along and let you get back to your class.”

After a short tour of the rest of the school, Ms Hamilton farewelled Michelle at the front steps. Michelle was careful walking down them, lest the last televised moment of her campaign be her falling down stairs. The polls were showing a comfortable win for her and for many of the other Foundation candidates, as long as they avoided mistakes.

As she reached the final step, the two members of her security detail—also Foundation loyalists—stepped forward to intercept a man who was pushing through the crowd toward her. She backed away, but as he reached the front of the crowd he lifted his arm and threw something at her.

She cowered as the plastic cup sailed through the air and her security tackled him to the ground. She couldn’t avoid a substance that smelled like urine splashing all over her.

The man shouted uncontrollably, even as he was wrestled into submission. “Do not vote for this woman, she’s worse than Bush, she’s a neo-con who will bring war to America and plunder our public services! Do the right thing, America, stand strong!”

“Alex, Grant.” Michelle stood proud as her guards turned to look at her. “Let him go.”

The two guards looked confused, but nowhere near as confused as the protestor, who gave her a quizzical look. Her words were even enough to stop his ranting. Michelle tried to mask her disgust as she stood tall, aware that the cameras were still rolling.

She gave the man the steeliest look she could muster. “While I don’t condone your assault, I agree with your call for a strong America. I may not agree with your views, but I’ll defend to my very last breath your right to hold those views. Our founding fathers would have expected nothing less.”

Without another word, she resumed her walk to her car, which was waiting with its back door open.

The campaign had just been won.

Jack glanced at yet another table of baubles and miscellaneous shiny junk as he followed the flow of the crowd through the busy Taipei market. At least he had a good disguise: a pair of Levis and a New York Yankees cap. America and US citizens were fairly popular in Taiwan at the moment, given that the United States Armed Forces were the only thing separating the Chinese dragon from the Taiwanese lamb.

As he paused to look at a stall that sold second-hand books, his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, and sighed at the caller ID. Celeste was still mad at him, but at least she was talking to him. She was safe in Hawaii, but he didn’t want to talk to her right now. He let the call go to voicemail.

He continued to walk through the market, which was riotously busy considering the constant threat of Chinese rocket attack. Someone bumped into his shoulder. Jack turned his head and recoiled. The stranger who’d bumped into him was perhaps the ugliest man he’d ever seen. Though the man was well dressed in jeans and a collared shirt, he had burns and a shocking scar down the entire left side of his face.

“Out of the way, Yankee.”

“Sorry, mate.” Jack took a step back and overplayed his Australian accent, hoping the man would go away. He didn’t need the attention right now. “My bad.”

The man stepped closer and pushed his face closer to Jack. “You should come and see my shop, buy lots of things and atone for your assault.”

“No, thanks.” Jack turned and started to walk away.

The Taiwanese gentleman didn’t give up, and started to walk after Jack. Before he knew it, he had a large, barrel-chested Pacific Islander in front of him, and the ugly, yammering salesman behind him.

Jack turned. “Look, I don’t want any trouble, I’m just not interested in whatever you’re selling.”

“I was talking to you. You should listen to what I have to say or my boy will make you listen. Nobody walks away from me.”

Jack turned back to the man mountain, just in time to hear bone crack. The Islander howled in pain and crumpled and the Chinese man who’d inflicted the damage aimed another vicious kick at the Islander’s leg. The pain must have been immense, and the man screamed in agony. Jack stepped out of the way of the man’s two hundred and eighty–pound bulk as he fell.

As onlookers screamed and ran, the Chinese man who’d delivered the kick spoke to the ugly man in decent English: “Walk away and don’t do anything stupid.”

Jack swallowed hard, knowing that was nearly the universal signal for someone to do something stupid. He took another step back as the man reached for a small knife in his boot. Jack’s Chinese savior stepped forward, easily deflected the quick thrust of the blade, and caught the man in a wrist lock. Jack heard something snap, and the Chinese man gave his victim a punch to the throat for good measure.

Jack breathed a sigh of relief, the immediate threat gone. He stepped toward his Chinese benefactor and held out his hand. “Thanks a whole lot for that. I’m not quite sure what their problem was.”

“You’ve been looking for Chen?” The man’s whispered tone was harsh. “You’ve found me, but we need to get away from here. They’re amateurs, but others are closing in. The next bunch might not be so sloppy.”

Jack’s eyes widened. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the knife he’d been carrying for exactly this eventuality. He hadn’t expected Chen to find him, but Jack’s approach was unchanged. He flipped open the knife and held it out. His hand was shaking.

Chen sighed. “Didn’t you just see the futility of that? You have a strange way of thanking someone who just saved your life.”

Jack ignored him as he held the knife out. “You’re Chen Shubian.”

Jack was disappointed by how calm the Chinese man seemed. “I am.”

“Your bomb killed my wife.”

Chen shrugged. “Did it? Unfortunate.”

“That’s it?”

“It was not deliberate. She could have just as easily been hit by a bus, or been stabbed and mugged. But I’d suggest neither of us have time for your vengeance at this moment. The Foundation want me dead, and my own wife is dead thanks to them, so we’ve something in common.”

Jack didn’t lower the knife. He hadn’t expected to find Chen on quite these terms, and clearly someone had told the two idiots to attack him, yet he was still torn between a desire to rip Chen’s throat out and the need for his evidence that only Chen could give him.

Chen sighed again. “Look, the only reason you’re alive is because they think you can lead them to me. You’re more useful next to me, and probably safer too. So if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to get out of here.”

After a second, Jack nodded, pocketed the knife and followed Chen at a brisk walk through the market. A few people looked sideways at them, and Jack worried that with every corner they turned, the next street was going to be filled with armed thugs.

They were near the edge of the market when, as Jack had feared, they were surrounded on all sides by large men armed with a mix of bats and blades. At once he wondered where the rest of the crowd had gone, and how many foes Chen could take down while he ran.

One of their assailants stepped forward. “Hello, Chen. Michelle Dominique sends her regards. Hand over your friend, give yourself up and your children will be spared.”

Chen laughed. “Spared what? The rape and murder of their mother? Being abducted? It’s too late for that.”

Jack looked sideways at Chen. But before events could proceed further, there were shouts and an ear-splitting whine. The ground shook with tremendous force and Jack was knocked off his feet. He landed hard and could taste dust and dirt, mixed with blood. He must have bitten his tongue. He rolled over onto his back and did a quick stocktake. He could see no injury. He was unhurt but dazed. 

He rose to his feet involuntarily, as Chen grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up. Together they ran past screaming shoppers and away from the flames and rising plumes of smoke. The Chinese missile could have landed right on top of Jack’s head, and he was glad to have a little luck for once. In all of the confusion, they lost their pursuers. He was thankful when they reached the edge of the market without further incident.

Jack stopped, trying to catch his breath when Chen turned to face him. “Now what do you want? It better be good, because you carried the vipers to my doorstep.”

“How did you find me?”

“You’re not as subtle as you think. Word of a Westerner asking questions about me made its way to my ear. It wasn’t hard to find you. Now, what do you want?”

“I want to talk to you about Michelle Dominique and the Foundation, then kill you.”

Chen laughed darkly. “I like honesty. You may hate me and want me dead, but there is one thing we both want. I can give you the rest of the information you need, and you can use it in a way I can’t. Now if you’re going to stab me, do it, because the noose tightens around our necks.”

“How do you know what evidence I’ve got?”

“If you know who I am, then I know you’re the one who found my USB. The fact you’re here shows that you need me, and now I need you too. I’ll help you.”

“Okay. But why are you willing to give this to me?”

“Dominique has my children. I owe her.”

***

Chen cracked the egg shell firmly and carefully let the insides spill into the frying pan. The egg gave a satisfying sizzle as it hit the hot oil beside the steak, and he repeated the act three more times. Chen hummed a nameless tune as he waited the few minutes until the food was done. He removed the pan from the heat and divided the meal evenly between two plates. He carried the plates over to the small dining table in the kitchen.

“You sure know how to impress on a first date.” Emery’s tone was dry.

“The war rationing makes these steaks worth more than diamonds.”

They ate in silence except for the clink of ice in their water glasses. Within a few minutes the two of them had cleared their plates. Chen stood, gathered the dishes and placed them on the kitchen counter. When he returned, he sat and looked calmly at Emery. The journalist had kept his cards fairly close to his chest, but Chen could sense a fierce intellect and a burning anger.

“Okay. You’ve eaten. Now it’s time to open your mouth with something that impresses me.”

Emery’s gaze didn’t waver, and if he was intimidated, Chen couldn’t tell. “As I said earlier, I know you’re responsible for the deaths in Shanghai, including my wife, and for the attack on Ernest McDowell. While that burns me to the core, I also know you’re probably the only one left alive who can give me what I need on Michelle Dominique.”

He didn’t mind that the journalist knew all of this. He was here because Chen had let him in. The major threat to him remained the Foundation. The threat was twofold: they had his children and were also hunting him. Assisting Emery expose Dominique could help with that, though he didn’t need to tell Emery that.

He’d spent the last two days trying to locate his children, using every network he had at his disposal. He’d had no luck. It was quite possible that they were still in Taiwan, under guard, but it was just as likely that they’d been squirreled away by the Foundation and flown to America. The trail was cold.

Without any information about where his children were, he’d needed a different approach. He’d been alerted to the journalist getting too close for comfort, and had decided to bring matters to a head. If he could use Emery to flush out Dominique, or cause her some damage, she might reach out and negotiate the release of his children.

Chen shrugged. “Why do you care so much about all of this?”

“Vengeance, justice, repaying a debt.” Emery balled his fists and placed them on the table. “Because she’s behind a whole lot of bad shit that’s gone on lately. I know you killed my wife and others, including Ernest McDowell, but there’s more at stake. You were the weapon, not the wielder; the tool, not the tradesman. Dominique is the threat.”

Chen nodded. He understood the pervasiveness of a personal crusade as well as any man. “Fine. My wife was murdered and she has my children. We want the same thing—to expose Dominique and to cripple her organization. But I don’t need you for that.”

“You do, actually. It has taken a lot for me to swallow my distaste for you, but now we’re linked whether you like it or not. I need you to finish painting the picture, you need me because I have the networks and profile to expose her using the information.”

Chen leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. The next move was his. The Foundation could—and had—hurt him, and still had his children. He wanted the same thing as Emery. While Emery had some information, Chen had it all and more—movements, transactions, records of contact, plus his confessions. Enough to destroy Dominique. If Chen was the ammunition, the man sitting in front of him was the gun that could fire it. Chen stared at Emery and nodded slowly.

“Okay.” Emery leaned forward on his elbows. “I want information. All of it. Every scrap of paper, every single name, date, time, equipment manifest, motive.”

“Go and get your notepad and tape recorder. Let’s get to work.”