The Foundation: Jack Emery 1 (6 page)

***

Chen sighed with exhaustion as he searched his pockets for his keys. He’d left Shanghai without incident following the attacks, and after a stopover in Osaka, he’d arrived home in Taipei. The indirect route had been a precaution, but now he wanted to kiss his wife, hug his children and reacquaint himself with his pillow. He was sure he’d sleep for days.

When he opened the door of his apartment he was surprised by the darkness and silence that welcomed him. The house should have been abuzz with the sounds of his children playing and the smells of his wife’s cooking. He flicked on the light switch.

“Hello?”

There was no response. He stepped further inside and looked around. There was no hint of anyone, but also no sign of a struggle or disturbance. It took him a few minutes to check the other rooms—bedroom, bathroom, living room. His family had either gone out for the night or disappeared into thin air.

Their abscene wasn’t right. His wife was a homebody. She liked spending time in the house with their two children. The situation was so unusual that Chen nearly considered calling his mother-in-law. He climbed the stairs to the living room and sank into the sofa with a deep sigh.

It was then that he saw an envelope on the coffee table. He reached over and picked it up. He considered it, checked it front and back, but there was nothing to indicate who it was from. He hesitated for just a second, then shrugged and opened it. Inside was a slip of paper with two words written on it.

Call M.D.

He stared at it, and struggled to link the disappearance of his family with the message. He needed to get to the bottom of it, so he pulled out his burner cell phone and dialed the emergency number he’d memorized. The phone rang for a long time, and Chen thought it would ring out. Finally, she answered.

“About fucking time.” Michelle Dominique’s voice was terse.

Chen was taken aback by her tone. “My plane was delayed in Osaka.”

She seemed unrepentant. “Whatever. You’re lucky you’re not dead or stranded.”

“Stranded where?”

“Taiwan. China. East fucking Asia. Who cares?”

“Why?”

“You've been compromised.” He could hear the doubt in her voice. “There’s probably a team on their way to you.”

The phrase struck at Chen’s confidence like a hammer. He’d been sure that he’d carried out his operation flawlessly. “How? I was assured that wouldn’t happen.”

“Doesn't matter. We've already extracted your family.”

Chen was shocked. “They went willingly?”

“Not exactly. Your wife has a nice bruise, I hear. Couldn't be avoided.”

His anger flashed. “If you’ve hurt them—”

“Relax. I sent a team to get you and your family out safely. You weren’t there. I could have abandoned them, and you, and you'd all be dead. I got them out. Remember that.”

“I want to see them.”

“Look, you’re not getting it. Anton sold you out. He sold me out too. I’m risking my life for yours. Now get with the fucking program and go to the airport.”

Chen took a deep breath. “I understand, and thank you. I will repay your service to my family, and I’ll express my displeasure with Mr Clark in person.”

“Worry about that later. Now go.”

He ended the call, opened the back of the phone and removed the SIM card. He put the phone in his pocket and snapped the SIM card in half. Standard procedure, as automatic to him as breathing. He thought about the ramifications of the call. He’d been compromised by Anton. His family was gone, but probably safe.

He exhaled. Things were okay, but he had to move. Chen knew it was only a matter of time before they were knocking on his door. He needed to get to the airport.

He rushed to the bedroom and went to the bedside table. He opened the bottom drawer, lifted it from its runner and pulled it out completely. He looked into the gap where he’d hidden his kit. There were enough false identity papers, money and contacts contained within that small hiding space to last a great many years. He stacked the cash in one pile on the bed. Next to it he stacked the IDs and a few other things he needed.

He left the handgun and first aid supplies behind, because neither could be easily loaded onto a commercial flight. Satisfied he had all that was helpful, he reached under the bed and found his small carry-on case. He stuffed the money and the documents inside, covered them with clothes and zipped the lid closed. He replaced the drawer, then hefted the small case and walked to the front door.

He knew this was the last time he’d see this place, where his children were conceived and raised. He knew he’d never hug his wife inside these walls again.

He had a heavy heart, but no choice. It was time to go.

Jack walked along the main pier of the American naval base at Yokosuka, escorted by a burly Marine sergeant. The man had said nothing for the five-minute walk, which Jack was thankful for—it was about all he wanted to hear right now. The port was alive with activity as many of the berthed naval vessels were readied for sea. Jack had stopped several times to gawk at the aircraft carrier USS
George Washington
and its accompanying ships, and each time the sergeant had waited with his hands folded behind his back.

As they reached the gangplank of the carrier, the sergeant led him to a large man in an officer’s uniform, who was looking up at the ship. “I have Mr Emery, Admiral.”

The officer turned to them and returned the sergeant’s salute with a lazy wave. The sergeant turned on his heel and walked away.

“Mr Emery? I’m so sorry to hear about your wife.” Jack was taken aback by the Admiral’s thick southern accent. He was old, but had a certain bearing and a lot of decorations on his chest. “I’m Carl McCulloch, commander of this here procession.”

Jack shook the other man’s hand. “Thanks for the kind words and pleasure to meet you, sir. I appreciate you meeting me, but I could have found my way. I’m sure you’ve got more important work to do.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised.” McCulloch jerked a thumb over his shoulder, toward the ocean. “I earn my living out there. In port, I’ve got staff to do everything as long as I bark loud enough. Besides, half the point of this expedition is to give the folks back home a look-see in the region. I can only do that through you, so you’re my new best friend.”

Jack was surprised that McCulloch was being so candid. Usually embeds were spoon-fed content by the Pentagon press corps, but the admiral’s admission showed how worried the United States was about the situation unfolding between China and Taiwan. It seemed that his coverage from aboard the carrier was as important to the flag-waving mission as the ships and crew themselves. It gave him leverage. Jack liked that.

Jack nodded toward the aircraft carrier. “Quite an impressive display, Admiral.”

“Sure is. Worth more zeroes than you can count and can do whatever we need doing.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think it’ll inflame the situation?”

McCulloch shrugged and turned, gesturing for Jack to follow him aboard the ship. “Tough question. Off the record? If China make a proper job of attacking the Taiwanese, we’re in the game anyway. We’re not trying to provoke the Chinese. Hell, this sort of thing has often worked in the past to help keep the peace.”

Jack laughed as he walked alongside McCulloch. “Keep the peace? By sailing a fleet past their front door?”

“Sounds crazy, and I understand the skepticism, but the balance of power in this region is fragile.” McCulloch turned down a hallway. “China, Taiwan, South Korea and Japan all have legitimate fears and grievances at the best of times.”

“Nothing so bad as half of Shanghai being blown up, I’d think.”

“You’d be surprised, son. The folk in this region don’t forget easily. They still hold grudges from centuries ago. It's our job to mediate and be the counterweight to too much ambition on any one side. The policy has worked for half a century.”

“Surely the Chinese understand it’s not Taiwan’s fault. Despite the bit of evidence that has trickled out, it seems capital-S stupid.”

“Speculation isn’t my business.” McCulloch shrugged. “Who knows? But the State Department thinks that things are different now. China and Taiwan have been cautiously friendly for the last few years, but that’s gone—Shanghai changed everything. China blames the island, and they’re going to keep flexing some muscle. That’s why we just need to cool everyone down.”

Jack wasn’t sure he believed the premise that more guns equaled less likelihood of conflict. “Guess we’ll have to see.”

“Damn right.”

They walked in silence through the maze of long corridors, Jack doubted he’d be able to find his way back to the deck. As they went deeper into the ship, junior sailors stood to the side and saluted.

Eventually they reached a door and McCulloch paused in front of it. “Here we are, Mr Emery. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a fleet to get moving.”

“Of course, Admiral, appreciate the chat.”

“Welcome aboard the
George Washington.
We’ll catch up once we’re underway and you’re settled in a bit.” McCulloch turned and walked away.

Jack opened the heavy steel door and stepped inside his quarters. He was immediately taken aback by the sight of Celeste Adams seated on the bed. While he’d known that she’d be here, he was shocked at how she looked. Her face was covered in grazes and scratches, and her left arm was in a sling. She smiled at him.

He put his bag down in the doorway and approached her. “Looks like you’ve seen better days.”

“Hi, Jack.” She stood and held her one good arm out. He was surprised when she put the arm around him. “Thought you could use a friendly face once you got aboard.”

He recoiled instinctively from the contact, but she persisted. He gave in and put his arms around her as well. He held her loosely, awkwardly, not sure what was expected. In truth, he wished it was Erin he was holding, despite their issues. He wondered for the first time if agreeing to work on board the carrier was a mistake.

Eventually, after she pulled away and looked at him, he fumbled for words before the moment became awkward. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

“You're glad I'm alive?” Celeste’s laughter broke the tension. “Erin told me you were strange at times, Jack, but come on.”

“You know what I mean.” Jack smiled at the memory of Erin, who’d used to say that a lot. “Too many good people died over there.”

“Yeah.” Her voice trailed off. “You’ve got a nice room. Bigger than mine, anyway.”

Jack looked around. The cabin was not spacious, but he was certain it was better than most of the men and women on board enjoyed. A single bed ran the length of one wall, and there was a small table with two chairs against the opposite wall. There was also a small door that probably led to the bathroom.

She sat back down on the bed and punched the pillow. “Feels okay.”

“Yeah, it’ll do.”

They sat in silence, before Jack turned to her and blurted out what he’d been thinking for several minutes. “How did it happen, Celeste? How did she die?”

She continued to stare straight ahead and didn’t look at him as she spoke. “We were both outside the hotel. Erin had just filed and we were going to get a drink when it went off. I felt the shockwave. It knocked me over and stunned me. But once my head cleared, I realized what had happened. The front of the hotel was just gone. The rest was on fire.”

Jack felt empty. He wanted more. “That’s it? She didn’t say anything? Do anything?”

“Most of the rest is a blur. Erin was still alive, barely. I did some first aid, but there was a lot of blood and she didn’t last long. Then they bundled me into an ambulance.”

Jack exhaled heavily. “I saw you on the news and hoped she might be okay. But when you called me in Tokyo...”

“I’m so sorry, Jack. I don’t know what to say.” She smiled sadly. “I was just lucky.”

He felt his head cloud over, and he suddenly felt sick. He continued to stare at her, and finally she looked at him. They locked eyes, and Jack could see the strain etched on her face. “There’s something else, Celeste. Something you’re not telling me.”

She smiled sadly, and a tear splashed down her cheek. “The last thing she said before she died was to tell you that she loved you and was sorry.”

***

Michelle held her breath as she eased the door to her apartment open. The light from inside the apartment peeked out like a small, curious child as she crouched and probed her finger slowly inside the crack. When her finger grazed a thin steel wire, she exhaled with relief, reached inside and unhooked it.

She stood up, pushed the door open and hauled her case through, careful not to trip over the limp wire. It would be ironic to be blown up by her own trap, when she’d just organized to have a chunk of Shanghai destroyed, and she enjoyed a small chuckle as she closed the door behind her and locked it. She turned on the lights.

Evidently, nobody had disturbed her apartment. On the other hand, she also knew that while her defensive tripwires and a few other surprises would keep casual interest away, it wouldn’t deter a pro. She’d half expected to return from China to a room full of gunmen, but things seemed safe, though it was ironic that the training she’d been provided by the Foundation was now being used to defend against its leader.

She shook her head as she wound up the wire and separated it from the grenade, but stopped short of putting the trap away. There was a fairly good chance she’d need to set it again soon. While Anton had clearly decided to end her, she’d escaped that situation and Chen and his family were safe. There was a chance Anton wouldn’t try anything too ambitious on home soil, given she had her own support network within the Foundation.

But if he did decide to make a move, the clock was ticking. With the Congressional midterm elections drawing closer, if Anton had decided to remove her from play, he’d have a much harder time of it once she was elected. That put him on a timetable that was dangerous to her ongoing health.

She made her way to the kitchen, threw her keys on the kitchen counter and took a beer from the fridge. In the living room she found her pistol in a drawer and felt safer for it. After the close call in China, she’d vowed to never be so helpless again. She found her way to the couch, put the gun on the cushion beside her and took a long pull of the beer.

Anton wanted her out of the picture, but that knowledge meant nothing without proof. Her supporters would only move on him with proof or provocation. For now, she had no mechanism to bring the matter to a head. She opened her eyes and placed her beer on the coffee table. It was time to test a theory. She picked up her cell phone and dialed.

The call was answered in less than a second. “Foundation for a New America, you’re speaking with Grace, how may I help you?”

“Hi Grace, it’s Michelle.” She paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “I’m back in the country and I need to speak to Anton.”

There was a delay, which did not surprise Michelle one bit. “Just hold on for a moment, can you, Ms Dominique?”

Michelle tapped her foot as the hold music played. She knew exactly what was happening, but needed to be sure. Grace was asking her manager, who sat alongside her. The manager would buzz Anton on the intercom. Anton would refuse to take her call. The manager would tell Grace, who’d give her apologies to Michelle and suggest she try another time, or try his direct line.

The music stopped. “Ms Dominique? I’m afraid he’s unable to take your call. He’s also unavailable for the rest of the day. I suggest you call tomorrow or try his private line.”

Michelle terminated the call. It was the first time that Anton had ever refused to speak to her. Thankfully, with Shanghai now sorted, she had more opportunity to focus on other matters. She was surer than ever that the way to shift momentum in her favor was through control of Ernest McDowell and EMCorp. She picked up the phone and dialed again.

“What?” Senator Patrick Mahoney had a level of aggression that surprised her.

Michelle laughed softly. “Senator, I trust you’re well?”

“As usual, Ms Dominique, much better when I’m speaking to you.”

Michelle didn’t blame him for the sarcasm. Though the Foundation had their friends in the Capitol Building, most duly elected representatives were suspicious of her and the organization. Most of the conversations she had with them were a mixture of carrot and stick, and more than one congressman or senator had been whacked.

“I want a meeting. At your convenience, of course.”

Mahoney snorted. “Of course. When and where, Ms Dominique?”

“Your office. I’ll come tomorrow at noon. We need to discuss the EMCorp inquiry.”

“Why? It’s open and shut, really. Especially since he threatened me.”

That was news to Michelle. “Don’t be too cocky, Senator.”

She hung up the phone. If all went to plan, the result of the inquiry would soon be a foregone conclusion. She hoped it would be clear to McDowell that he needed to take drastic action to save his company. He would be backed up against a cliff, with the ocean below. She intended to be the one to save him, or push him over.

It all depended on his attitude.

She picked up the beer again and finished it. While she thought about the situation further, she peeled the label and tore the damp paper into several smaller pieces. She thought of Ernest McDowell, of Anton, of the Foundation and its plan for an American rebirth and controlling the agenda from Congress. It was coming together.

Her goals weren’t modest, but neither were her successes so far.

Shanghai was just the beginning.

***

Ernest walked briskly through the crowd of the charity function. He skirted around clusters of guests and dodged waiters with trays of drinks and canapés, protecting their precious cargo from potential disaster with practiced hands. A few looked his way in anger, then relented when they realized who’d nearly bowled them over.

He’d almost reached the safety of the bar when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and feigned surprise. “Oh, hello, Catherine, how nice to see you.”

She smiled coldly and handed him a glass of champagne. “Found you.”

Ernest looked down at the champagne flute. The liquid inside bubbled away, and for a brief moment he considered how a slight flick of his wrist would fling the contents all over his ex-wife, enabling his escape. He thought better of it.