Hot Wire (22 page)

"Let's get out of here," Arn whispered.

"Don't do anything," Brown said. "Don't make a move."

Another shot made me jump, then a door or a boarded-up window smashed in the back of the warehouse and I could hear a lot of shouting on the dock in front. Metal clattered like somebody had just knocked over a pile of iron pipes and I saw a couple guys run across one of the aisles in the distance. Voices and scuffling sounds closed in all around. It sounded like an army had just invaded the place from a couple different directions, but they were still on the other side of the building, concealed by all the cargo.

"Who is it?" Arn asked. "The cops?"

"Take it easy," Brown said. "Just take it easy."

The noises got louder, moving in our direction, but we still couldn't see anything. Crewcut rubbed his eyes with an air of resignation, then leaned back in his chair, studying us like he was trying to decide if he should go ahead and blow our heads off. The guys working on the bomb were climbing down from the platforms, crowding around their computers, running from monitor to monitor like they were trying to wrap it all up before the invaders reached our end of the building.

"Ready to activate!" one of them shouted.

"Do it now!" Crewcut yelled back.

A couple seconds passed, then one of the lab-coat guys ran over to the table.

"It's done," he said breathlessly. "They can initiate remotely with the right frequency, but you'll have to alert them."

"OK." Crewcut looked relieved. "Thank you."

The guy took off running, yelling at his partners, and they started to clear out, taking off their lab coats and heading into the stacks.

"You can't do this!" Brown shouted at Crewcut. "It's insanity!"

Crewcut ignored him. He made another call on his sat-phone, talked to someone for a few seconds, then disconnected and sat back in his chair, waiting. It looked like he'd just passed on some kind of code.

"Do what?" Arn's eyes darted from Crewcut to Brown. "What did they do? What're you talking about?"

"They activated the bomb." Brown looked sick. "They can set it off with a radio signal." He turned to Crewcut. "You can't do this, Oliver. It's not human."

"Is he going to blow it up?" I thought I was going to crap myself.

Crewcut smiled at me. "Don't worry," he said. "I'm not suicidal." He looked almost relaxed now that his job was done. "The actual decision's out of my hands, but that won't help you much." He shook his head. "I guess you'll just have to wait it out in a jail cell instead of the office."

I started to edge away, trying to put the car between us.

"Don't bother." He pointed his gun at me, then waggled it at Arn and Brown. "Just stay right where you are."

We cowered by the Lexus, waiting for whatever was going to happen. The commotion was everywhere now, a chaotic din moving through the aisles, the warehouse echoing with the sounds of voices and junk falling over and boots clomping across the floor. A minute passed, then another. Then Crewcut stood up, laid his gun on the table, and ran a hand through his hair. When I saw him put the gun down, I moved back again, ready to bolt for the garage door, but it was too late.

The aisles were suddenly full of armed goons. They were coming out of the side passages, heading towards our end of the warehouse. Somebody shouted something, then a dozen guys dressed in ponchos and carrying assault rifles moved out of the stacks from all directions, pushing a bunch of Crewcut's men in front of them like prisoners of war. Whoever they were, the intruders looked like feds or military types. They shoved their prisoners into the space in front of the office, yelling and cursing and shuffling around, giving the bomb plenty of distance. Baldy walked out with his hands clasped behind his head and he didn't look too thrilled.

"Get down!" his guard yelled at him. "Now!"

"Jesus Christ," Arn whispered. "Who are
these
assholes?"

Brown ran over to the table, waving his arms.

"They activated the bomb!" he shouted, trying to get somebody's attention. "You've got to listen!"

Some lug walked up to him and slammed him in the gut with his rifle butt, knocking him down. Brown rolled over onto his side, clutching at his stomach and gasping for breath, his face turning a dull red.

There was no way out. The intruders had caught fifteen or twenty of Crewcut's guys and they were all over the place. We watched as they made everybody lie down on the floor, poking them with their guns and ranting like a bunch of lunatics. Some guy wearing a headset mike pushed Crewcut against the wall by the office door and we got frisked by a couple of gum-chewing lugs with wet hair and dripping ponchos. "Clear!" somebody yelled, then a team of suits wearing goggles rushed in with a bunch of gear on dollies and started checking out the bomb with these handheld deals like geiger counters, inspecting the wires and open panels, shouting at everybody to move back. Then the mob parted and Matthews strolled into the light, dressed in a trench coat with his hands in his pockets. Barking orders, he spotted Crewcut and walked over with a look of pure hatred on his face.

I was almost glad to see him.

Matthews had used me as bait to flush out Baldy and Crewcut and get his hands on the bomb. He must've been following me the whole time, along with Crewcut and Heberto's crew and everybody else in the universe for all I knew. It was scary. I'd thought I was being real clever switching cars and sneaking around like that, but Matthews' guys must've been dogging me ever since he got me released and they probably knew I'd shot that guy in Vincent's back yard. They were probably watching when I met Brown, then they followed us to the garage and Yah Joe, spotting Crewcut's van after we got snatched and tailing it back to the warehouse. Or something like that. Nobody bothered to tell me how they did it.

"Matthews!" Brown was sitting up now, yelling weakly. "They activated the bomb! They can set it off remotely!"

No one paid any attention. It was so noisy they probably couldn't even hear him. Matthews had pulled off his raid without a hitch, jamming Crewcut's radios, surrounding the warehouse and moving in under the cover of the storm, catching everyone off guard. The whole thing had been weirdly quiet and low key. Hardly any shooting at all. I couldn't tell how many guys Matthews had scattered around the place, but the area in front of the office was crowded with all these knuckle-dragging paramilitary types, the air thick with the stink of sweat and tension. They were scared of the bomb, all right, keeping as far away from it as they could, everybody looking kind of pale and twitchy.

"Listen to me!" Brown shouted. "You've got to shut it down!"

They kept bringing in more of Crewcut's guys, dragging them out of the stacks at gunpoint and dumping them on the floor. Matthews' goons milled around the Lexus and the table, standing guard over Crewcut's goons while the team with the geiger counters studied the bomb, trying to figure out how it was hooked up or something. Matthews looked totally shocked by his discovery. Maybe he hadn't expected to find the thing in the warehouse.

"Matthews!" Brown yelled. "It could go off any time!"

Matthews finally heard him. He looked over, then worked his way through the mob and glared down at the ratty reporter, obviously distracted. "What the hell are you talking about?" he asked. I couldn't tell if he knew Brown personally, but he must've known who he was.

"The bomb," Brown gasped. "It's active. They armed it just before you got here. We heard them talking about it. Oliver called somebody on the outside and they can set it off remotely with some kind of radio signal. You've got to disconnect the trigger."

Matthews didn't say anything. He stood stood there, studying Brown, his face unreadable. Then he walked away again, staring at the bomb like he couldn't believe it was for real.

"Matthews!" Brown yelled after him. "You've got to do something!"

Some guy hustled another one of Crewcut's goons out of the stacks, punched him in the gut and shoved him down on the floor. Matthews paced around for a while, making calls and yelling orders, then he walked over to the table, yanked a chair back and sat down, clenching his hands in front of him while his guys frisked Crewcut and made him sit down across from him. I was standing close enough to hear everything they said over the noise in the warehouse, but they were talking some kind of spook gibberish that didn't make a lot of sense.

"Well, well." Crewcut didn't look worried at all. "I thought it might be you." He gave Matthews a tired smile. "Do you think they're going to give you a medal for this?"

"We're sending you back tonight," Matthews said through clenched teeth. "If you cooperate, I might be able to get you off with life."

Crewcut shook his head. "You're too late for that. The bomb's armed and fail-safed. They're controlling it remotely and they'll detonate immediately if you try to disarm it or take us into custody."

"Find his techs!" Matthews shouted at his goons, then turned back to Crewcut. "If you activated it, you can shut it down again."

"Not anymore," Crewcut said. "They'll initiate if
anyone
tries to disarm it or interferes with their telemetry, and you can forget about tracing their satellite relay. The minute they find out what you're doing, they'll push the button."

"They'll do it anyway," Matthews said in a strangled kind of voice. "That's the plan, isn't it? The psychopaths want a totalitarian state and they don't care how many people they have to kill to do it."

"Release us and withdraw," Crewcut said mildly. "They're not going to wait forever." He gave Matthews a smile, studying his expression. "You're not sure who to report to, are you? If I were you, I'd call this off and take a long vacation."

"You're talking mass murder. Forced collectivization. Ethnic cleansing..."

"Who can you report to, Matthews? Who can you trust?"

Matthews was about to say something when a commotion broke out on the other side of the Lexus. One of Crewcut's guys had scrambled to his feet, trying to make a break for it, but a couple goons knocked him down with their rifle butts and gave him a few kicks to keep him quiet. Crewcut looked over at them, then turned back to Matthews like he'd never seen anything more boring.

"Disengage," he said. "They'll hold off for a while if you don't make any trouble. There's still some things to do and they'll give you time to warn your families." He glanced over at the bomb. "You're screwed no matter what happens, but you've got to think about your wife and kids. They live in Berkeley, don't they? If the thermal radiation doesn't vaporize them, the overpressure will blow them into Nevada."

Matthews leaned forward, flushed and sweating. "I ought to shoot you right now, you deranged son of a bitch." He was struggling to keep it together. "How many bombs are there? Who issued the directive to disperse the stockpile?"

"You really don't know, do you?" Crewcut looked amused. "Things have changed, Matthews. They changed a long time ago, but I guess you were too busy to notice. You've got no idea how isolated you are. You and your little cadre of Country Club Republicans. You had a chance to get with the program, but you threw it away. And for what? This goes all the way to the top and I'm going to be there when they chop your head off."

Matthews blinked at him. "You really think you've got sanction for
this
?" Somebody leaned over and whispered in his ear, then he sat back again, watching as one of his guys searched the briefcase, pulling out documents and holding them up to the light. "We're talking about a million people...maybe twice that many with the long-term effects..."

"Collateral damage," Crewcut said.

"You're insane." Matthews looked like his head was about to explode. "This is a rogue operation and I've got explicit authority from the Director to shut you down."

"The Director's history," Crewcut said. "They'll give him the Medal of Freedom before they push him out and you'll end up twisting in the wind with all the rest of the bleeding hearts."

"Some of us want him to go public."

"You might as well blow his head off."

"The People have a right to know."

Crewcut looked startled, then burst into laughter.

"You
are
a simple bastard," he said after he'd calmed down. "The People are fat, stupid sheep who believe what they're told to believe. They don't
want
to know. They traded their right to know for cheap fruit and disposable electronics at Wal Mart." His face turned cold and nasty. "You can't stop this now, you stupid asshole. Don't you get it? You're in a box. You and all the rest of the limp wrists and party hacks who ran this country into the ground. In a couple of days, people are going to
beg
us to save them. We're going to clean house. Impose some order and discipline. The parasites are going to wish they'd never been born."

Matthews had turned really pale. "There
are
more of them..."

"You're finished, Matthews. You just don't know it yet. The country's a failed state and this is the only way to turn it around." Crewcut shook his head. "It doesn't matter what happens here. The camps are ready. Everything's ready. They issued the go months ago and we're going to kick it off with a bang."