“Wait a minute,” Kimble said, confused. “That Act expired years ago.”
Anderson and Brooke exchanged a glance.
Anderson spoke first. “It did, sir, and it didn’t.”
Hawke listened with interest as Kimble reacted. “And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means, Mr President,” Brooke said, “that parts of the Act were taken on and… initiated.”
“It means,” Anderson continued, “that there is a Kill Switch in place, even though its use would be highly questionable in law, not to mention the outrage it would cause.”
“But I strongly recommend you order its use right now, Mr President,” Brooke said firmly. “We don’t know what Kiefel is planning on doing, sir, but it might be in our interests to control the situation better than this, if you get my meaning… He can talk all he likes but something tells me things might start to get a little more graphic.”
Kimble looked at Anderson and considered what he had been told.
“And how does this thing work?” he asked.
“You order me to kill the internet, and I’ll make it happen.”
“How fast?”
“Not long — an hour or so. It’s a technical operation.”
Kimble furrowed his brow with the stress of indecision. “I’m not sure about the Constitutional implications here, Jack. This is a civil liberties issue, you realize. The President can’t be seen to be taking over the internet and policing freedom of expression like this.”
“You can’t be serious?” Brooke said. “We’re not talking about freedom of expression, sir. This maniac could start killing people on live TV any moment!”
Kimble and Anderson shared a glance. “Leave it with me, Jack. I’ll get back to you.”
The screen went black and Brooke slammed his fist into the desk a second time. “Damn it!”
“Maybe he has a point, Dad,” Alex said. “The Government shouldn’t be controlling the internet.”
Brooke looked at his daughter with his sharp, gray eyes. “Believe me, Teddy Kimble doesn’t give a shit about civil liberties. He’s stalling for some other reason. Joe was right about Kimble — someone’s pulling his strings… but who and where the hell is the puppet master?”
Hawke’s cell phone rang and he snatched it from his pocket.
It was Vincent and he sounded unnerved. “Did you see that?”
“Sure did. We need to get to Ivy City in a hurry, Vincent.” Hawke ran a hand through his hair. “…because things are really looking like shit from this end.”
“Naturellement, mon ami. We can do this. When you hire Foreign Legion you get results.”
Hawke smiled. It was good to hear the voice of an old friend once again.
“Okay — we’ll coordinate on the way and team up when we get there.”
“D’accord. This is the address.”
Hawke wrote the address down. “We’re out of here,” he said.
A second later, he and Kim Taylor were running to her Government-issue Chevy Suburban in the parking lot of the Pentagon.
Ryan looked at the screen of his cell-phone and saw Alex Reeve was calling for the second time that night. It was well after midnight on Elysium, but he was awake, lying on the beach, counting stars and slapping at mosquitoes. Condensation from a can of Red Stripe lager was running over his hand. He thought of Maria back in the compound, lying in bed… Life was good, for some at least.
“Alex, hi. You can’t seem to stay away from me.”
“Get over yourself, nerd.”
“To be called a nerd by you is a compliment.”
“Listen, Ryan, I know you said Eden wasn’t playing ball, but you need to hear this.”
“Sounds like it!”
“Joe just got back from the Smithsonian and said the guards there were frozen — turned to stone. More than that, I just had a long conversation with Dad in which he proceeded to tell me some very interesting factoids about all of this.”
“Sounds fascinating, not to mention highly classified.”
“Sure, but I know you can handle it, right?”
“Right,” he said confidently, noting the more serious tone in her voice.
“The short version is this is about Medusa, Ryan — as in ancient Greece, gods, and so on. If you’d seen the video you’d have no doubt, believe me.”
“Medusa?” Ryan said excitedly. “She wasn’t a god though. She was more of a… well, a monster, I suppose. Not sure how else you’d describe the Gorgon sisters, really.”
“Right, and this is why I want you here, helping me with this. I can get you all the clearance you need.”
“I don’t know. Eden was pretty clear.”
“But that was before we knew about Medusa. You have to tell him, Ryan. I don’t know about you but I think this has ECHO written all over it. You have to convince Eden to give you guys the go ahead and the use of one of those jets he keeps locked up down there.”
Ryan looked from the stars to his can of lager. “I’ll speak with the old man, but no promises.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Mikey O’Sullivan glanced at Lea and then checked the rear-view. “You mean the Range Rover?” Behind them, the orange lights of the Dublin streets flashed on the shiny hood of a looming black Range Rover.
Lea nodded. “Been following us since the quay. Don’t like the way it’s keeping three or fours cars behind us all the time.” The evening was getting on and the traffic, both pedestrian and road, was beginning to thin out for the night.
Mikey sighed heavily. “Could be Benny.”
Lea looked at him. “Benny?”
“Sure, he’s a bookie I might owe a few euros to, give or take.”
In the back seat, Kyle tipped his head back and laughed. “Try fifteen thousand.”
“You owe a bookie fifteen thousand euros?” Lea said.
Mikey shrugged his meaty shoulders. “Got a bad tip, you know? Bloody thing was off the bridle all the way around. It happens.”
“Your luck with the horses is neither here nor there, Mikey,” Devlin said. “Is it this mysterious bloody turf accountant on our arses or not?”
“Don’t get narky with me, Danny Boy — I’m the one risking me arse for you at the drop of a hat!”
Kyle nodded his head appreciatively. “The man makes a good point, Danny.”
Devlin rolled his eyes. “All right, then the flaming point’s taken, but would you just answer me please — is it Benny Euro or not?”
Mikey smiled and squinted into his mirror once again, taking a longer look.
“No.”
“No?” Lea said.
“I would say definitely not.”
Kyle narrowed his eyes. “What makes you say that, Mikey?”
The Range Rover was closer now, and Mikey was able to get a much clearer view. “Because I know Benny Quinn can get nasty with his fists, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know anyone with a submachine gun.”
Lea, Devlin and Kyle all turned to Mikey in shock and spoke in perfect unison.
“What?!”
Mikey nodded. “Guy in the passenger seat seems to be holding a submachine gun.”
Lea leaned forward again and checked her mirror. “Janey Bloody Mac, he ain’t kidding!”
Before they had time to respond, the Range Rover accelerated and skidded around the remaining cars in between them.
“Time to get outta here!” Mikey said, and floored the accelerator.