The Foundation: Jack Emery 1 (3 page)

Chen laughed softly, and the sound chilled Michelle. “I have planned wisely. My equipment is excellent, my companions sound and my preparations meticulous.”

“I’m glad to hear it, but I still have some concerns about your willingness to see this through.”

“Sitting here together is proof that we’ve already won.” Chen looked around. “If the secret police had any clue that I was a threat, we’d be rotting in prison.”

Anton smiled. “Glad you’re on board. You have my blessings and the green light. I wish you well.”

Michelle waited impassively as Anton stood, and had started to stand when he gestured for them to remain seated. “You two finish your drinks. I want to get some shopping in before we unleash your handiwork, Chen.”

Chen smiled, but said nothing.

Michelle waited until Anton was out of earshot. “Nicely done, he can be quite difficult. You handled it well.”

He shrugged. “The last matter I need confirmed is that my identity will remain anonymous. I have a family that needs to be protected.”

Michelle nodded. “The only way a soul will know is if you fuck it up, and that’s entirely up to you.”

“That won’t happen.”

“Well, here’s to you, then.” She raised her coffee in salute and took a long sip, then grimaced again, having forgotten how poor it was.

Chen smiled slightly as he stood to leave. “Make sure you have a good view, I will make the night as bright as day.”

Chen had eagerly anticipated another ride on the Shanghai Maglev. When he’d arrived three days ago, he’d ridden the wondrous train from the airport to the city. Man’s ability to create something so remarkable—a transit system where the train rode above the track, without needing to touch the rail—amazed him. He didn’t understand the science, but was amazed nonetheless.

With his business in Shanghai nearly concluded, he arrived at the Longyang Road metro station for the Maglev that would take him to Pudong International Airport. The station was amazing, wrapped in a large curved roof that made Chen feel like he was in a spaceship. He waited on the platform with a mix of tired-looking businessmen and tourists.

After a few minutes, the train pulled into the station. The doors on the other side of the carriage opened and the passengers disembarked. Once the carriage was empty, the doors on Chen’s side opened and he stepped onto the train, took a seat near the door and put his backpack on the seat beside him. The train wasn’t scheduled to depart for a few minutes, so he clasped his hands and waited.

An old woman stepped onto the carriage just as the intercom beeped, warning that the doors were about to close. She was hunched over heavily on her cane. Chen moved his bag off the seat beside him and gestured for her to sit. The old woman smiled at him warmly and sat with an audible sigh of relief. The doors of the carriage closed and the wondrous machine began to move.

As the train gathered speed and he settled in for the seven-minute journey, Chen pulled his cell phone from his pocket and sent a quick message. It would set in motion the synchronized attacks he’d planned for Shanghai—several large bombs, a few targeted killings and a wave of cyberterrorist strikes. Half the incidents targeted the arteries that made Shanghai move, the other half aimed to disrupt the World Trade Organization conference. All were designed to inflict the maximum amount of damage.

He smiled at the perfection of his timing, knowing he’d be out of the country before the Shanghai authorities knew the full extent of what had hit them. He’d leave a horrible, destructive wake that would have ramifications for the entire region and rock China to its very foundations. His vengeance would be complete.

His thoughts were interrupted by an announcement that the Maglev was arriving at the airport. He checked his watch, pleased that he had a bit of time to get a snack and a drink before his flight. He moved closer to the doors and looked outside as the train slowed and the platform came up alongside. The train stopped and the doors opened.

He was about to step off when the old woman waved at him, before coughing several times. “Your bag! Young man! Your bag!”

Chen felt a degree of panic as he waved at the woman. “The bag isn’t mine. I’ll inform the stationmaster that somebody has left it unattended.”

The woman smiled and placed the bag back down on the seat. Chen moved out of the way as passengers bustled past him, including the kind old woman. As he waited, he made sure that nobody removed the bag. At the last possible moment he stepped off the carriage, relieved that the bag was still in place and the train was ready to go.

He raised his cell phone, entered a number and then waited. As the train pulled out of the station and built up speed, he marveled again at the science that made it work. Once it was out of sight he hit the green call button. He waited ten seconds to be sure and then hung up.

He couldn’t help smiling when he heard the explosion in the distance, a muffled boom that shook the glass windows of the station. Within seconds, a plume of dark, greasy, brown smoke rose into the sky, confirmation that his strike had been successful. Without further delay, he turned around and walked to the platform exit. He opened the back of the cheap phone and took out the SIM card. He threw the phone into one trash bin and snapped the SIM card in half before dropping it into another.

His next decision was what to eat in the terminal once he’d passed through security. He really felt like pizza.

***

“A toast to my soon to be ex-wife!” Jack raised his glass.

The patrons closest to him joined his salute to Erin as Jack laughed and drained half of the double whisky in one motion. The news break had shown the replay of a report by Erin from Shanghai. It was bad enough that she’d received the gig for the
Standard
, but she was also apparently a darling with the TV guys. Thankfully, the news break was over and the network had crossed back to the baseball.

He was just glad he hadn’t been able to hear her voice over the noise in the bar. While Clay’s staff had delivered the papers to Erin’s lawyers the day before, the news had apparently not reached her, or else she was unconcerned. She looked as fresh, happy and gorgeous as ever. He hated that, but most of all, he hated the fact that he still cared. It was another kick in the balls.

For his part, Jack had made a formidable effort to forget the whole thing, enlisting the help of Josefa and Shane Solomon. He’d worked with Josefa for a decade, and known Shane for just as long. Jack followed the whisky with a long pull from his beer. He slumped back into his seat and looked around the table. The others stared back at him, concern evident on their faces.

“I knew you were struggling, Jack, but this is something else.” Josefa reached out and pulled Jack’s beer away from him. “Maybe this wasn’t my best idea.”

Shane laughed. “I bet Jack thinks it was.”

Jack flared. “Fuck off, Shane. You left your wife to marry your secretary. I left mine because she was fucking the neighbor.”

With his beer now out of reach, he considered ordering another from the big-breasted waitress. She was the one highlight of the bar, which was the lowest of low. The tables were scuffed by the love and care of thousands of drinkers and the carpet was stained in some places, sticky in others. He ignored the rest of the conversation at the table and turned his attention to the game. Though he wasn’t much of a baseball fan and had never watched it at home in Australia, it would do.

He was just about to find that waitress when jeers sounded out across the bar as the game feed was cut. Jack snorted as one fan threw a beer bottle at the screen, but missed. A razor sharp news anchor appeared, doing his best to get the public up to speed on some momentous event. He looked anxious, though Jack couldn’t hear what he was saying. It was the news ticker across the bottom of the screen that told him everything: thousands dead, a city attacked and a country in chaos.

It spoke of Shanghai.

“Hey, shut up, fellas.” Josefa stood and pointed to the screen. “Turn the sound up!”

As Jack stood and swayed, nearly losing his feet, the barman turned up the volume and the sound of the broadcast flooded the bar. “
…it appears as if the attacks, which began just minutes ago, have struck at the heart of the Shanghai summit. The hotel housing the world’s media has been severely damaged, and it appears that other parts of Shanghai are also under attack, including the Bund.”

“Erin’s there.” Jack tried to clear the cobwebs from his head as he looked between Josefa and Shane. “That’s where she’s staying.”

“Stay calm, Jack.” Josefa placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure she’s fine. Shanghai is a big place.”

“No!” Jack cried out in distress. “Her report was from outside of that hotel, Jo!”

Josefa nodded as Jack continued to watch, unable to peel his eyes away from the screen. The bar was silent. The vision shifted to shaky footage of a large building, racked with fire. Whoever was filming ran toward the building. The shot panned down to a woman, huddled in the fetal position, bloody and frantic.

“That’s Celeste.” Josefa pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “I need to make a call. Shane, keep an eye on Jack.”

Jack watched as closely as he could for any sign of Erin, but the vision cut back to the presenter in the studio.

“
That was footage from what appears to be the focal point of the attacks, the Grand Hyatt Shanghai, where international media are staying during the WTO conference.”

Jack slammed his fist on the table, knocking two drinks over in the process. He remained standing, frozen in place, not knowing what to do or where to go but needing to do something. The thought of Erin, wounded and alone in Shanghai, felt too much for him to process.

He also knew how this sort of disaster was reported—drip-fed information, half-truths and speculation by reporters. Added to that would be interviews with subject experts usually starved for relevance, who took the opportunity to pitch sensational theories. Good for the viewer, but not necessarily for someone with a missing loved one.

He strode toward the exit, though he had to push past patrons who were chatting loudly about the attacks. Once outside, he tripped and landed roughly on the sidewalk. He was breathing heavily and felt like vomiting. Nothing came except sobs. He felt two people move closer, and turned to see Josefa and Shane standing over him.

Shane crouched down. “I think she’ll be alright. Jo’s on it, I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

Jack nodded and tried to regain his feet, but failed spectacularly. He landed on his right wrist and a shot of pain lanced up his arm. He cried out, and Shane placed a hand on his shoulder, no doubt to reassure him but also probably to prevent him from doing further injury.

Josefa was in the middle of another call, obviously having tried Erin with no luck. “We’ve got people over there, Ernest, we need to help them.”

While it reassured Jack that Erin was about to have the resources of the company looking out for her, it wasn’t enough. Despite how much she’d hurt him, he still felt a connection to her that went as deep as his marrow. He needed to act. He pulled out his cell phone and held it out to Shane.

“I need to get over there, Shane.” He paused. “I need to find her.”

Shane nodded. “I’ll get you on the next flight.”

***

Michelle felt like a god as she surveyed Shanghai from one of the top-floor rooms of the Marriott Courtyard Shanghai. She’d chosen the room carefully to ensure a view of the Shanghai New International Expo Centre, the site of the WTO conference. She was relieved that the attacks had gone well, at least if judged by the amount of smoke that billowed from a dozen different places across the city. In front of her was the evidence that she had the ability to achieve anything. Yet it was more than that: it felt like the final cremation of her past, a signal that her rebirth was complete.

Though she’d had a rough family life, which explained her slightly obsessive interest in guns, she’d made it to Yale and studied law and political science. While her grades had been outstanding for two years, that had changed after an internship with a senator during spring break. They’d slept together and she’d thought it was a relationship, but later found out that she’d been the latest in a long line of wide-eyed interns. Her grades had plummeted and all thoughts of her future had changed. From that moment onwards she’d hated the Washington establishment to her core.

But years later, as a graduate, Anton had spotted her potential and recruited her, then spent the next few years slowly introducing her to the truth behind the Foundation for a New America. Her career since had been fighting for the American rebirth and for the Foundation’s power. Now they were on the verge of success.

She shook her head and focused on the scene in front of her. There would be time to reflect once she was back in the States, but until then she needed to be alert and careful. Martial law had been declared since the attacks and the airport and other major facilities were closed. Hungry for updates, she’d been forced to rely on state television and what she could see from her hotel window. She’d smiled at the grainy picture on TV of the burnt-out remains of the Shanghai Maglev, derailed and embedded in the side of a building. She couldn’t have asked for a better visual from a Hollywood studio.

Chen had done well. Michelle knew that no matter how quickly the fires were put out, and how swiftly the wounded healed, it would take China years to get over this. They could fix the Maglev and rebuild the other targets, but it would take far longer to soothe the anger. She was counting on it. The Foundation was counting on it.

She turned away from the window and smiled when she saw Anton asleep, naked, on top of the bed covers. Once the attacks were underway, she’d taken him to bed. The sex had been furious and energetic—an outlet for the pent-up stress and emotion of the previous few days. It seemed a fitting climax to this part of their plan. She crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, next to where Anton was asleep. She put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. He was awake in seconds, staring up at her. He looked satiated, but she still saw the deep intelligence and cunning in his eyes.

He lifted himself up onto one elbow. “What is it?”

“It’s time to go. We’ve done what we needed. I don’t want to push our luck.”

He smiled. Michelle didn’t feel it was friendly. “Not quite everything.”

“What do you mean?” She stared at him. “What’ve you done?”

He stared straight into her eyes. “Leaving Chen alive is too risky. I’ve sent a team.”

Michelle was dumbstruck. This was the first time she’d felt disconnected from him. The attacks had been designed to help preserve the correct world order—and America’s place in it—by pointing the Chinese at Taiwan. They’d painstakingly linked the evidence trail back to the island and its government, leaving little doubt who was responsible and what the Chinese reaction would be.