3 Thank God it's Monday (5 page)

E
ven with the view from south-facing windows, the
approximately eight hundred square feet of the oval room felt like a prison. The
most comfortable prison ever constructed. He held a folder in his hand,
astounded that it was not an iPad or a tablet.
So much has changed in
technology, but I still hold a manila folder in my hand
, he thought.

He hated waiting on people. He was the President of the
United States. He should not have to wait. He smiled in spite of himself. He
was prone to these bouts of self-importance and pouting lately. Gabriel Scott
Vine, 46
^th
President, would not live to see the 47
^th
President take office. That was a sobering and depressing realization.

It was obvious to him that he would not avoid being murdered
at some point. It was everything he could do just to prevent his son from being
the one who pulled it off.

More security would not solve the problem. The bunker was
out of the question. In the meantime he had to continue to rule and to hope
that his son was safe.

He had avoided telling Catherine. She would only tell him to
have Jake jailed. Or worse. He did not need that headache on top of everything
else. It was a struggle to consider the nation he served in the face of
imminent, inescapable death. He had to pay for his past sins in some manner; he
just wished it would be something less definite. Less final.

A furtive knock sounded at the west door.

“Come in.” He knew it was not Carol, his assistant secretary.
She had left for the evening.

The sun had not completely set yet. Catherine would be
waiting for him. She had the kitchen staff on hold. Special day. The day they
met at a rally just over a decade ago. He was never so sentimental, but he
understood that Cat held some days special above others. He usually humored her
and managed to get flowers or a special gift. He gave Carol the order to send
the flowers with a note that he would be late. A note. Should have been a text.
Or a tweet.

“Mr. President.” The gravelly voice was familiar and always
gave him a sense of peace and safety. He needed that right now.

Gabriel turned, forcing a warmth that he did not feel.

“Harold. I am glad you came. I have some more issues I want
to discuss.”

“About your son?”

“Yes. About Jake,” he gestured to the chair on his left. “Come
sit.”

He sat at the Resolute desk, its wood almost two centuries
old. Something about the size and age of the desk gave him comfort. Harold sat
in the old chair, an extra Gabriel had suggested to be moved from the red room.
It creaked under Harold’s weight. All muscle.

Harold looked uncomfortable. It was not the high back of the
chair—Harold had perfect posture anyway.

“Jake is missing, sir. My team lost him after he left
Senator Swane’s mansion.”

“I’m not concerned about that right now. He is going to hide
now. That is perhaps for the best. Surely he knows now.”

Harold nodded.

“We confirmed that Jake was fully informed of his actions.”

“Was it wise to abandon the programming?” Gabriel asked. He
had always had his doubts. It was best not to mess with Jake’s head, but the
clever blocks they developed at least suppressed any emotional triggers that
would have made it easier for Jake to pull the trigger. It would be simple to
convince an assassin to kill someone they hated.

Harold shrugged.

“He was bound to find out sooner or later, sir. Personally,
I was surprised that Hallie did not notice his confusion. Besides, the science
of blocking memories like that is inexact at best. Between what we were doing,
Galbraith, and whoever else was in Jake’s head, it was a wonder the man didn’t
just go crazy. Senator Swane was able to break the news to him in a way that
was almost merciful, given the circumstances. The senator has really stuck out
his neck for your son, sir.”

Gabriel felt a hot lump in his throat, emotion he thought he
would never feel.

“That will make two of us. I guess we will both pay the
price of that folly.”

Harold looked confused for a moment.

“You are possibly the best protected man on the planet, sir.
Do you still feel threatened?”

Gabriel smirked.

“I will not always be President, Harold. And there is no way
to protect me from the storm that is coming.”

“You are the most powerful man in the world. Why are you
afraid? Your son can be handled, Mr. President.”

“I am not afraid, Harold,” Gabriel said, an edge on his
voice.

“I am sorry sir. I am just confused. I don’t understand
what...”

Gabriel waved away his apology.

“Harold. Don’t waste your breath. I am not the most powerful
man in the world. Not even close. That is the first lie you have to stop
believing if you truly want to protect me. You have to see this, Harold. I
trust you. I cannot even allow the Chief of Staff or the Director see the
contents of this folder. But for you to know why I am resolved to my own
demise, you must read this folder first.”

He slid the manila folder across the edge of the desk toward
Harold. He looked at, his fingers touching it and then glanced up at the
President, a question on his face.

“I don’t really want to open this, do I?”

The President sighed.

“Probably not. It is like Pandora’s Box. I found it too
tempting and now I am wishing I had never made the deal with this particular
devil. Power corrupts, Harold. Remember that. But, like a man who occupied this
desk before me was fond of saying, the ‘Buck stops here. ’”

Harold smirked.

“Truman?”

He nodded.

“Read it, Harold. It is a risk. You will not be able to
pretend you do not know the truth afterward. There is no going back.”

“I will think on it, sir. As long as you are not making this
a requirement, I would rather just trust you at your word.”

“Of course. Take your time. I believe I have at least until
after the election.”

“They? What kind of conspiracy is this?”

Gabriel shook his head.

“I am sorry, Harold. I am just getting paranoid. Just read
the folder if you want. If not, just leave it here at my desk.”

Harold sat back. Gabriel had never seen him fearful or timid
before.

“I am sorry, sir. I will help protect you the best I know
how. I will give my life to defend yours. My whole agency will. But, this
smacks of corruption and I cannot be involved in that. You will just have to
trust in our abilities with the information we have.”

He appreciated Harold’s candor. Honesty. Something that
currency could not buy anymore.

“I appreciate that, Harold. I am aware I am putting you in a
difficult position. I only ask that you protect my family. Especially Jake.”

“He is one of us. Of course we will.”

Gabriel shook his head.

“He is no longer one of you. My guess is he is heading to New
York now to confront Kyle Evers and turn in their resignation.”

Harold looked confused.

“Resign? But why? We are protecting them.”

Gabriel shrugged and pulled the folder back under the desk
to his lap.

“He does not trust anyone. Most of all, anyone who would
like to help him. He will go it alone. I have seen him do this before.”

“When you divorced Margaret?”

Gabriel gazed back through the portico to the Kennedy
Gardens.

“Yes. And when she died. I knew he would never forgive me
for that. He entered the service and I knew I had lost him. I even dreamed that
as President we could finally develop at least a calculated relationship.” He
turned back to Harold. “This must sound pathetic. Commander-in-Chief to family
crisis.”

“On the contrary, Mr. President. It sounds human. It makes
me proud to know that I am serving someone who can have real human feelings.”

Gabriel scoffed.

“Well, don’t tell Catherine. She will think that I am
getting soft. I will never hear the end of it.”

Harold smiled.

“I will guard it as the highest National Security, Mr. President.”

Gabriel stood, his hand extended.

“Excellent. Well, Harold. I appreciate you meeting me this
evening. Now, get back to Susan before she makes you quit this thankless job of
yours.”

Harold stood and shook his hand. His eyes were misty.

“Yes sir.” He turned without afterthought and exited the
room.

Gabriel stood, the rough grit of Harold’s hand still a
sensation on his palm. He sighed and put the folder on the desk. His phone rang.
It went direct. His staff was off. He had been waiting on this. He pushed the
button for the speaker. He had always hated listening to self-important bozos
talk in an empty room on a speaker phone. Now, he found it completely
indispensable.

“Are we secure?” President Vine asked.  He always took a
brusque approach with his covert operatives.

“Yes, sir.” Gabriel noted that he did not use the term
“President.” Clever.

“What do we know?”

“They picked him up at Kennedy airport. Shuttling him now to
Colorado.”

The man’s tone was exasperated. He sounded as though he
desperately wanted to do something but was being held back. It reminded Gary of
when Jake was younger and wanted to join the military. He had refused to allow
him to throw away his life like that.  He regretted it now. Look where Jake
ended up.

“Denver or Colorado Springs?” He asked.

“The bunkers, we guess. Denver is too dangerous after...well,
you heard about the incident, right?” The man explained.

“I know about Lars. You know what to do next?” Gabriel
replied tersely.

“Follow him there?”

“Yes. And Hallie?” He asked.

“Safe. For now. I think she will come to see me.”

“Avoid her if you can. She cannot be connected to this,” the
President commanded.

“I understand. When I find him? What do you want me to do?”

“You know who the bad guys are. Take care of it.” He wanted
to sound commanding. He was perhaps too tired to pull it off. It almost came
off as a plea.

“Yes sir. I will need a team.”

“You will have what you need. Meet them in Denver and call
me when you have a plan and more information about their location. Let’s hope
they are not in those bunkers. I cannot access the Air Force for this, you
understand.”

“Yes sir. Sometimes the force used needs to be in relation
to the threat, though.”

“I said you will have what you need. Now call me as soon as
you are prepared to do something. You have my new secure cell?”

“Yes sir.”

“I will be waiting. I hate waiting.”

“Yes sir.”

He hung up with the touch of a button. He stared at the
folder on the desk, the darkness finally coming. It truly was already
surrounding them. They just had never realized. America was a pawn. Actually,
it was Bishop. Controlling but one-tracked. Feeling powerful but maligned.

Independence Day was a week away. What a joke. They had
never been free to begin with.

W
hen the security team had rushed him at the airport two
hours ago, Jake had thought it was best not to fight back. Now, sitting in the
back of the cargo plane, he wished he had at least taken some of them down with
him. Especially the jerk with the face mask. It was a modified gas mask, making
his voice sound muffled. The guy had seen one too many comic book movies.

The sound of the props was a roar in his ears. He was grateful.
He was able to doze. His captors sat around him smoking cigarettes and joking
harshly. He shut them out and concentrated. He prepared himself for the
inevitable. Surely, the answers lay at the end of this road. He was as lucid as
he had been in years.

He still held the locket in his palm, the thin chain bundled
around it. The memories flooded in. Mostly good ones. It would be easier to
control him if he could not remember his wife, his child, his mother, his home.
Things that matter. Things that buttress the man he became.

He realized then that the man that these people and events
formed had been there all along. It was a relief. It was an epiphany. It was
exactly what he needed. It strengthened his resolve.

He cracked open his eyelids and scanned his captors. Eight
in total that he could see. He imagined that if he wanted to escape, now would
be the ideal time. Just simply overwhelm eight armed men and jump from 20,000
feet. When he got to his destination, escape would likely be impossible.

Instead, he closed his eyes and tried to relax. He knew his
memory was not completely restored. Gaps remained, but he recalled enough to
gain his confidence. He knew enough about himself and the ones he loved to
regain a sense of direction, a sense of conviction. This made him almost feel
giddy. He tried to bottle those emotions and feed off of the energy of a
renewed spirit.

He must have dozed because he did not remember descending. He
felt the wheels touch down. The plane jolted and bounced. He opened his eyes
and saw that he was braced by armed men. The man on his left had a bruised
cheek and a crew cut. They all looked like mercenaries and smelled like gun oil,
sour sweat, and leather.

He saw no insignias. Ex-military, he guessed. Trained and
expensive. The bruise on his neighbor’s cheek was probably from some internal
fight set off by bravado and machismo.

After they had taxied to a stop, he was grabbed by the
elbows and forced to stand. His manacles were unlocked while two men twisted
his shoulders until the blades touched. Another held a pistol to his temple.

The ramp was released, its hydraulics loud in the confined
space. No one spoke. No promises, no threats, no orders. Everyone knew their
roles and no one was stupid enough to complain.

These gents are well-paid and well-trained. Maybe I made
the right decision to not fight back,
Jake thought.

They escorted him down the ramp as a team. Two men on each
side, one in front, and three behind or flanking. He could hear their footsteps
but could not turn his head to see them. Two pistols nearby his head and three
more ready behind him. He decided the wisest decision would be to go along.

The darkness of the airport almost made it indistinguishable.
After a moment, he saw the mountains. He looked up, realizing this was a
familiar place. He had just been here. This was Peterson Air Force Base. Why
was he here? Who were these people?
How can they have access to Peterson? To
a C130 Hercules?
Jake wondered. Money, of course. Jake should know that
money can buy just about anything.

“Head down,” came a voice from behind. A gloved hand pushed
his head forward. He barely kept his balance.

He obeyed. It was easier to think if he just stared at the
tarmac. His head ached from the plane ride, his ears still adjusting to the
relative silence of the base. He could see the reflection of halogen lights on
the tarmac in front of him and assumed he was being marched toward a hangar. He
wanted badly to just look up.

By his best calculation, it was around ten o’clock, but his
little nap may have skewed his internal clock. He shuffled along, his captors
still flanking him. They were all shorter than him, but heavily muscled, built
like fire hydrants with legs. He could only see their boots and pants legs, but
nothing he saw could be remotely confused for Government Issue.

They stopped and the barrel of a M16 was placed under his
chin. The guards in front had parted and flanked him. Two people stood before
him, a halo of light blurring their features. The taller one walked forward as
Jake squinted.

“Glad to have you back, Jake,” Eilif said.

Somehow, Jake was not surprised. Revenge was such a powerful
emotion. He could attest to that. He was feeling the same thing right now. It
completely formed his resolve.

“Nice to be back,” he quipped.

Eilif shook his head.

“You don’t even know why you are here. Have they completely
wiped your memory, Jake? It would be too bad for you if we have to re-program
you. You might not survive this time. From what I understand of the process, it
is one step from a lobotomy.”

Jake smirked.

“If I had more brain to work with, I might be scared.”

“Your humor is weak, Mr. Monday. If you were not absolutely
crucial to our plans, you would not be here now.”

“How about you? Why are you here? I thought you were in jail.”

He shrugged.

“Out on good behavior. Mr. Monday, I know it seems that I am
a small player in this drama. However, your recruitment was my idea in the
first place. Someone who is a common enemy to both of us plotted to use you against
me.”

“I wish I cared. I thought it was unusual I did not just
kill you.”

“Alas, it was against your programming. Clever little
component that will compel you to turn on yourself before you will actually
take my life.”

“So, why Peterson?”

“Why indeed? I feel at home here among these frosty peaks. Our
bunker is a few miles off and we should head there before we are questioned by
the good folks at the base.”

Jake tried to focus on the other individual behind Eilif.

“Why do you need me so badly? Galbraith has dozens of
trained assassins, two divisions of mercenary armies, tons of pull in countries
all over the globe. I seem insignificant to all that.”

“It would seem so, Mr. Monday. The only difference is that
your father is the President. Our plan is to perform a grand-scale patricide of
the current rulers of the world. In most cases it takes care of two birds:  the
ruler and the successor. However, in our case in America, it simply creates
enough of a controversy for the citizens of this appalling nation to question
their government.”

“I see. So you expect me to kill the President.”

“Your father.”

“I failed once. What makes you think I will succeed now? His
security has been tripled, surely.”

Eilif squinted.

“Have you ever wondered why you are still alive, Mr. Monday?”

“It hasn’t escaped my notice, yeah.”

He reached behind him and pulled the other person who still
stood in the backdrop of bright light.

“It has something to do with your half-sister,” Eilif
claimed.

“Giselle?!”

Giselle stepped forward, her eyes staring blankly ahead.

“Your mother would be so proud to see you two working
together again,” Eilif said.

“My mother? I don’t understand.”

“Of course not. Your mother and I conceived Giselle.”

“But, how?” Jake was not sure if he was more angry, shocked,
or in denial.

“Surely, the memory of reproduction has not been erased?”
Eilif teased.

“But, I was an only child.”

“The only child of Gabriel and Barbara Vine, yes. Barb and I
had a relationship for years before your mother and father met. I saw her one
day in Glasgow and she spent three days with me in the Alps. This was two years
after you were born. She hid the pregnancy, took a trip to Europe for
‘humanitarian concerns’ and then gave me legal custody of Giselle.”

“That cannot be true.”

“Your mother hated your father. He had betrayed her while
serving in the state legislature. She soon began to hate all that he stood for.”

He swallowed, realizing the implications, understanding for
the first time why he found Giselle so compelling but so taboo at the same time.

“Why did they wait so long to get divorced, then?”

“Image matters most. It had to appear as though it was a
natural divorce. And because of you, of course. They both loved you so much,
Jake,” Eilif mocked.

“What have you done to her?” Jake asked, indicating Giselle
with his eyes. He resisted calling her “my sister.”

“The same thing we will do to you if you refuse to submit to
new programming voluntarily.”

Jake squinted, anger welling into his throat.  He felt his
right eye twitch. He took another look at his sister (
half
-sister) and relented.

He allowed himself to be taken to a black Ford Expedition
and shoved inside. His friends from the C130 sat beside him, behind him, and in
front. Eilif and his charge were escorted to another vehicle and they quickly
exited Peterson. Soon, they were climbing the mountain passes on the west side
of Colorado Springs.

When Jake saw the massive doors of the underground facility
open and the dozens of security personnel, his heart sank. The bright flame of
his revenge and resolve burned white coal hot. If he ever got out of here,
everyone would pay.