“What will that mean?”
“God only knows,” said York, shaking her head. “Kind of in unknown territory there. A centralized command for sure. Suspension of the Constitution and a streamlined civilian authority headed by military personnel. Either they’ll get the governors on board or they’ll install puppets to run the states — state militias and law enforcement. Once they have the guns under control everything else will fall into place. They’re going to marshal the entire national machinery to their power structure beyond the military — NSA, FBI, banks.”
“It’s really headed toward a dictatorship?”
“It’s a rare military coup that end with a vote.”
They continued walking, their shoes muddied and soaked from the brown sludge coating the bottom of the tunnel. “Until this all gets cleared up — and who knows how long that will take — they’ll want an iron fist to hold the nation together. I see their point. I really do. I just don’t think all of them see how things can go very wrong, very quickly. You walk down some paths and you can’t go back.”
“Do you think Hastings knows?”
Her eyes flashed intensely toward him. “My greatest fear is that he does, indeed. Temporary may be something only those around him believe. He always had a run of the crazy in him.”
The tunnel opened into another cramped chamber, a dull light above revealing a rusted spiral staircase. The walls and metal throbbed from a disturbance above.
“Bird’s here,” said one of the soldiers.
They scaled the steps, Tooze awkward and often requiring assistance as they climbed, his wounded arm useless. The light grew rapidly near the top.
They exited the emergency tunnels through a hole at the corner of a helipad. The blades of a powerful helicopter thundered overhead, kicking dust and forest foliage into their path. The green and beige camouflage of the machine rose like a wall before them.
“Damn, that’s a big one,” gasped Tooze.
A soldier smiled. “Sea Stallion, sir. Big mother. She’s loaded with an armored transport inside for when we drop you two off the mountain. Entrance in the rear.”
The president and the Homeland Security director followed the soldiers around the churning aircraft, heads bowed, hands over their faces to mask the debris. They rushed up a ramp lowered from the back. Several officers and two civilians greeted them inside.
“Ms. President,” said a boyish face in a mud-splattered suit. “Let’s get you strapped in and get the hell out of here.”
York quickly embraced him. “Daniel. So the Secretary of Defense is still with us. With Treasury I think we might just be able to field a government in exile.” She smiled toward a statuesque blond in a badly torn white dress
“Ms. President, please,” said the Treasury Secretary. “We’re sitting ducks.”
They made their way around an eight-wheeled armored vehicle with an enormous machine gun. Foldout seats were fixed to the sides of the aircraft. Civilians and soldiers took their places, buckling the belts. The rear door slammed shut.
The Defense Secretary spoke loudly over the growing din of the engines. “We were planning for an off-shore base, but they’ve seized control of the important carriers. They’ve got a version of events painting us in a bad light and we won’t get safe passage.”
“NORAD?” asked York.
“That’s the goal. The military and civilian leadership is resisting Hastings there. But it’s a ways and we’re going to have to regroup with some of the armed forces loyal to you.”
“Should I call them all Loyalists, now?”
The Defense Secretary didn’t smile. “It’s chaos out there, Elaine. The whole system is coming unglued. We’ve got anarchy in the streets and a governmental split. We need numbers and weapons to make it to Colorado.”
York felt the tug on her stomach as the giant bird went airborne. “No arguments from me, Daniel. This is going to be ugly and long.”
One of the soldiers gazed out of a window beside him and whistled. “Goddamn. The admin building’s blown! I can see fires across Mount Weather!”
The president released her belt and steadied herself beside the young man, staring grimly through the glass. “Fighting has started.”
Tooze shook his head. “I can’t believe it’s come to this! We’re turning on each other. First the riots in Washington. New York by now, I guess. And now this.”
York continued to look down at the retreat site, her words cold.
“Rome burns.”
65
How they had made it back to Intel 1 was as much by miracle as by the muscle they were forced to use. Between National Guard roadblocks and bands of rioters roaming the city streets, they’d had to fall back on force on three occasion. In one engagement they’d killing several armed gang members who’d tried to carjack them. It was a scene Savas had never imagined living through, firing weapons in the middle of the day on mobs swarming them in the heart of the city. The relative safety of the Javits building suddenly seemed like a haven in a growing storm.
The staff left at the FBI building were frazzled and leaderless. The brass had fled, either called to other duties or frightened for their own skins in the anarchy spreading across the island. Savas pulled the remaining personnel from normal functions and organized them into guards at all entrances to the building. The last thing he was going let happen was for some random group of thugs to undo all that they had accomplished.
They had Fawkes. Alive. And now they were going to make him stop this enfolding catastrophe, or show them how to.
“He looks like a damn kid,” said Miller, glaring at the man slumped handcuffed on the couch in Savas’ office.
The masks were gone. A dark-haired cipher rested calmly before them, his eyes closed behind cracked smart glasses, his voice strangely controlled given his situation.
“How’s the battle out there, agents?”
Cohen stared through the large window in the office down to the streets of New York. She spoke sadly. “People are dying. Many suffering. Some accomplishments you’ve racked up.”
“Simon’s gone,” Savas said. “JP's critical. Good people you’re not worthy of, Fawkes.”
“I meant in the matrix. Where’s that Angel girl?”
Lightfoote sat clacking over a laptop. “Here, boy-genius. Look for yourself.”
She turned the screen around toward him furiously as he opened his eyes. With a groan he raised his head slightly, blood still coating the back of his neck from the blow Houston had landed.
“Nice shoulders,” he said. “Drop that bikini top and we’re in business.”
“The red lines are my immune worms. The blue yours. Fucking kicking your sorry ass.”
He lay back and smirked. “Going to go twelve rounds, I think. Fuck, that’s beautiful, you bitch. Never imagined anyone would be that crazy.”
Houston and Lopez entered the crowded office in a rush. “Okay, we’ve got people at the main entry points. But it’s a weak job. Some are just secretaries, for God’s sake! They’ll fold quickly under any real assault.”
Savas nodded. “Hopefully there won’t be one. In the meantime, Fawkes, or whoever the hell you really are, we need to make sure Angel’s code wins. We need you to shut your worms down or tell us how to do so.” He pulled a chair up and placed a foot on it, leaning toward the hacker. “No good cop, bad cop. It’s all bad, today. You don’t look like you’d last five minutes with Frank.”
“He wouldn’t make it through one,” growled Miller.
“So you’re going to talk to us.”
Fawkes laughed. “You think I built an off switch? You fools. This was it. This was meant to go the distance. You can kick me, drown me, get me to do whatever or say whatever. I’ll even pretend two plus two is five for you. I’ll get on a terminal and tell you I’m fixing everything. If you hurt me enough, I might even believe it myself. But it will be for nothing. A lie. Because I didn’t build that worm to come home. No one can call it back.”