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Authors: Reed Sprague

Eddy's Current (47 page)

BOOK: Eddy's Current
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“Very little makes sense today, Dante, you know that. I’ll give it to you straight. You really have no choice. Peterson knows of this meeting. He knows of the subject of this meeting, and he knows that he needs USFIA. Those are the basic facts.

“I have already set up protection for myself, Dante, so you can’t hurt me. Should you decide to come in with the cavalry, you’ll regret it. I have a surprise for you that only I know. There’s no way for anyone else to know. And I can keep my mouth shut. But let’s just say that you decide to get really aggressive with me. Let’s say that you administer truth serum, or even torture, or you kill me. Drop an atomic bomb on me if you wish. It won’t work. I have given over the power to execute my plan to a computer, and my computer has the power to set off a nuclear weapon that we at USFIA have under our control.”

“You’re bluffing. You’re a liar.”

“I’m sure you know about the suitcase bomb we got in Medina.”

“Yes. I know about it. Go on.”

“It’s been programmed to my advantage,” Albert said.

“The computer will be notified of any attempts to force me to give information, attempts to hurt or even kill me, and it will execute the plan. The computer will execute by default. If it doesn’t hear from me according to a precise schedule, it will execute its plan. Now, Dante, please listen carefully. Your WWCA, and all of its leaders, including you, will be destroyed by my computer. I assure you that the destruction will be complete.”

“You’re bluffing! You’re a liar!” Hall blurted out angrily.

Albert rose from his chair while continuing to speak as if Hall had not said a word, “…so, Dante, you see that we need each other. I need for you to be in control of me, but you need to allow me autonomy. Who knows? After a few short months of us working side by side, you may figure a way around my computer’s contingency plan. But, then again, your risk will be that my computer will find a way for me to supplant you after you’re gone.

“Think about my proposal. Call me within two days and let me know. Take good care of yourself. You’re under a lot of stress. You need to rest. Have a nice day.”

Hall seemed to have bought Albert’s ridiculous threat that a computer would execute a plan of destruction should anything bad happen to him. “If you tell a lie, make certain it’s a big one,” Albert whispered to himself on his way out.

Two days later, Albert was summoned to Hall’s office for a meeting. Albert realized that probably every bugging device on the planet had been set to record his every word over the previous two days. He had been careful not to speak to anyone about the plan, even in locations he considered safe, such as open parks, walking trails, beaches, and so on. He simply kept his mouth shut.

“Sydney, the two of us have not known each other long, but I like a man who can get to the point and who is forthright enough to lay his cards out, as you so obviously did two days ago.”

“Do you know what I think, Dante? I think you should learn to get to the point,” Albert replied. “I think you should learn to speak directly to me instead of down at me from your perch. Please let’s get down to business instead of speaking down to each other. Wouldn’t that be a great deal more productive?”

Hall had a short fuse. He was anything but cool and calm under pressure. “I will not be spoken to like that by one who is a traitor, one who would sell out his superiors in order to save his own skin,” Hall snapped.

That was interesting. Hall, the snake who would sell his mother into slavery for fifty dollars, was preaching to Albert his disdain of the horrors of the sin of disloyalty.

“Mr. Hall, you take all of this too seriously. Why not move aside three people so we can accommodate the inevitable? These are people who will retire, receive a nice pension from the government, and enjoy life in an upscale condo in Miami or Phoenix. They’ll be okay. But I am so impressed with your sense of fair play. I must admit that I didn’t uncover that personality trait when I researched your background. How noble of you.”

“Get on with it, Albert.”

“Please feel free to call me by my first name. It’s Sydney. Anyway, Dante, why did you call me here today?”

“Okay, you want me to be direct, I’ll be direct.”

“Mr. Danson,” Hall called out to his assistant. “Mr. Danson, please send in our four guests.” In walked four of Hall’s top security agents.

Hall’s office was massive, but he had only two guest chairs. Albert occupied one. One of the agents sat in the other, while the remaining three stood around the office, behind Albert’s chair.

“These gentlemen assist me in my work here, Mr. Albert. Ordinarily I introduce my guests to my visitors. Today, however, I’ve decided to be rude and forego the niceties, but only because you have so encouraged me to be direct.

“These are the top four agents of the U.N. Leader Protection Agency. These gentlemen don’t buy your screwball computer–executed contingency plan nonsense, and neither do I. We’ve decided that you’re bluffing. We’ve decided that we don’t need you. We’ve decided that no one needs you any longer. You will leave — quietly — with these gentlemen to begin your new life. Do I make myself clear?”

Hall and his men were the ones who were bluffing, or at least Albert had determined that they were.

“No, you did not make yourself clear.

“Do you mind?” Albert asked as he lifted his lapel and began to reach into his inner coat pocket. “I have nothing in here except an envelope,” Albert said referring to the contents of his left inside coat pocket.

“Go right ahead,” said one of the agents who was standing behind Albert, as he drew a large handgun and pointed it directly at the back of Albert’s head. “Remember, though, that this gun is very effective at what it’s designed to do.”

Albert removed the envelope from his pocket and handed it to Hall. “I’m not going anywhere with these gentlemen, and you will never propose anything so foolish again, Hall. This envelope contains proof of the plan I have set up for the computer system to execute should I leave this room with these thugs or should anything else ‘unexpectedly tragic’ happen to me. I invite you to have your best technocrats look it over to see if it’s workable. I’ll be waiting in my office down the road. Let me know what your techno boys think.

“Have a nice day.”

Albert rose from his chair and proceeded to the door. Two of the agents moved to block the door, but Hall quietly waved them off.

Albert was concerned that his bluff might be in trouble. The plans he presented for Hall’s inspection were viable, but they were only theoretical. There was no actual plan to be implemented. Hall and his people had no way of knowing that. Albert’s techno–agents at USFIA worked for months to make up this bogus yet seemingly realistic plan, not for this specific situation, but as a reserve plan to have if needed. Albert was a person who dealt with reality, not with theories, and not with ridiculous computer mumbo–jumbo nonsense. What if Hall or one of his agents asked questions about the details? Albert would have no answers. If they asked just a few simple questions, the whole thing could fall apart quickly.

It worked. Hall gave in. He felt he had no choice. Albert would be brought on board and given a suite of offices in the headquarters building. The only condition was that River would not be allowed to enter the building. Not a problem, Albert said, because River was no longer useful to anyone.

A suite of offices was available on the twenty–second through twenty–sixth floors of the building. Albert inspected the space and agreed that his operations would be based there. Every square inch of the space was checked for bugging devices. Several agents of the USFIA, whose sole job it was to watch over the new headquarters space, were assigned to each floor in order to ensure that each floor was protected twenty–four hours a day.

Albert’s office and the offices in close proximity to his were scanned electronically twice daily, at random times, for bugging devices. All other USFIA building space was scanned twice weekly, at random times.

The small band decided that their final plans to bring down Peterson would take place right in the building in which his throne was located. They agreed that few would suspect such bold planning would take place in the headquarters building. In fact, it was presumed that suspicions would be increased if they held meetings regularly at other locations.

Peterson and Hall wasted little time. Bugging devices in Albert’s office were discovered on his third day of occupancy. Bugs were found in closets, toilet stalls, drop ceilings, under receptionists’ desks and even inside the refrigerator, in the staff lounge on the twenty–third floor.

The message was clear. The game of cat and mouse would be played regardless of Albert’s threats to have his computer destroy Hall’s world. Hall took Albert’s plan seriously, but he was not about to roll over and play dead.

“We have got to get on with our planning,” Albert said at the first of the group’s major planning sessions at their new headquarters. “Today we will discuss plans to get the twins and return them to River. That will come first, but only by a few minutes. The entire thing has to go down within fifteen minutes. That’s all we’ll have. We can’t allow Peterson to have any more time than that.”

“What happens when we catch Peterson?” al Qatari asked.

Briggs was irritated by al Qatari’s heavy accent. “Please make sure you don’t slip and speak to us in Arabic or something,” Briggs said to al Qatari. “I speak and understand only English. I’m too old to learn another language. All foreigners involved in this operation should be required to speak our language.”

“My language is the same as yours, Sargent. I speak English, just as you do, and I’m not a foreigner,” al Qatari snapped.

“Yeah, sure, except I was born and raised in Montana, and when I speak English it sounds like English. When you speak, it sounds as if you’re going to go off into some foreign tongue at any moment. It makes me nervous,” Briggs said to al Qatari, all the while looking him up and down, studying him intently, trying to think of a category for him.

The planning meetings went on for weeks with agonizing review of details. By the time the planning wrapped up, each person in the group knew their role. Each one knew the details of the work of each of the others. The time came to proceed.

10:10 A.M., 28 May 2026. Dressed out of character in a suit and tie, Briggs entered Martin Samuel’s office for a prearranged meeting to discuss the need for increased security for the upcoming conference of world leaders, to be held at the Houston Convention Center. Hall’s deputy, Martin Samuel, was head of security for the chief of staff, but his own staff screwed up royally last month, so he was being “encouraged” by Peterson and Hall to speed the process of bringing in the USFIA for them to take over much of the security of the WWCA. Neither Hall nor Peterson had told Samuel yet, but Samuel was on his way out. His days were numbered.

Briggs despised both Hall and Samuel from the moment he was first told about them. Since he believed that he didn’t judge people before getting to know them, he held off categorizing them until he saw them face to face for the first time. They irritated him beyond words, though, just from what little he had been told about them.

When Briggs finally met Hall and Samuel, he took one look at them, created a new category he named “Stupid, Without Any Hope For Improvement,” and relegated both of them to it. He felt that he had only two choices for them, either that category or the back alleys of hell. He chose the category. More stupid people brought into his life could mean only one thing: God was still after him.

Briggs couldn’t have cared less about the conference of world leaders, Hall, Samuel, or anyone or anything else other than River, the twins, the others he worked with at USFIA, and the handful of people he had placed in his good categories throughout the years. Today was another bad day, and he was cranky. Albert had disallowed his boots, jeans and flannel plaid shirt nearly six weeks before. Briggs had been required to learn how to use a computer — which angered him beyond words — and, most offensive of all, he had been required to carry two 9mm, twelve–shot handguns under his business–suit coat rather than his Montana–state–issue Smith & Wesson 7–shot under his jean jacket. Albert also required that Briggs carry a cell phone with him at all times.

“Why in the hell do I need to carry two canons that each weigh a ton when fully loaded. I’d have to be within twelve feet of my target when firing them. And why do I need a base capacity of twenty–four rounds? I’d rather have seven rounds. With twenty–four rounds, I’ll be tempted to check my brains after I pull the gun. With seven rounds in an accurate gun, I’ll be forced to use my brains. What an original idea that would be!

“And I can kill a fly from fifty yards with one shot from my Smith & Wesson,” Briggs retorted almost daily. Still, for some reason he felt obligated to appease God by tolerating all the stupid people God had brought in to help him with his current mission, so he tried to cooperate.

Samuel was typical of Hall’s crew. He was suspicious and he was always probing. “How are you, Briggs?” Samuel asked, seemingly innocently.

“I haven’t been sick in years,” Briggs reported.

“No, I just, — well, never mind,” Samuel replied.

“The question, Mr. Samuel, is how are you? You appear to be under a great deal of stress. You need to relax. We have been handling this type of security for years at the USFIA. We even provided security for the FBI and the CIA brass, back when they were legitimate agencies.”

“How long have you been with the USFIA, Briggs?”

“Now I hear that you’re a very smart man, Samuel, so you already know that’s confidential.”

“Come on, Briggs, we have to relax and have idle chitchat sometimes.”

“Not likely, Samuel. This is business, and we are agents who know our business.”

“Okay, Briggs. Then let’s get down to business. My sources tell me that you have quite a résumé,” Samuel said, still fishing.

“You’re right, Samuel; let’s get right down to business. Let’s start by having you understand that any fishing expeditions you go on will gain you an empty hook and a great deal of wasted time. We can’t afford to waste time, especially my time. Let’s go. No more nonsense.”

BOOK: Eddy's Current
3.64Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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