Project Maigo (26 page)

But not today.

Today he’ll get the chance to do the right thing.

Or not.

The outcome will be the same, either way.

I’m surprised when Dunne opens another door and motions us through, this time with a polite smile and a nod.

“Laying it on a little thick,” I whisper to Endo. “When this is done, he’s going to hunt you down.”

“I’m no longer controlling him,” Endo says.

On the inside, I’m thinking something close to,
whhhaaaaa?
But I manage to ask a slightly more intelligent question. “But...how?”

Dunne walks past us, through the study, which I’ve barely noticed. He pauses at a second door, listening.

“His memory of today’s events are...skewed,” Endo says. “He is simply doing his job.”

“You didn’t...” I point to my head, wiggling my finger.

He nods. “Subtle changes. In his mind, we’ll always be good guys. Don’t worry, it takes more time and focus to alter a mind permanently than it does to make someone sit in a puddle. You’re still you.”

The memory makes me frown. “That was a really dirty puddle.”

“Sorry,” Endo says, wearing a smile that says he’s not.

I look to Dunne and decide to test Endo’s claim. “What’s the hold up?”

“Sorry, sir,” Dunne says. “President Beck is speaking to someone. Since your meeting is private and unscheduled, I believed it best to wait.”

Well holy guacamole, it worked
.

“How?” I ask Endo. “You should have told me about this sooner.”

Endo must know I’m right, but he’s not apologetic. “Keep your thoughts simple. A key phrase that encompasses everything you want, works best. Think it over and over until it becomes their thought. Their belief.”

“Their reality,” I say.

“Exactly. The more complex the control, the longer it takes.”

The sound of a distant door closing catches my attention. Dunne turns around, oblivious to our conversation. “Sounds like the room is clear. Let me take a look.”

Without knocking, Dunne opens the door to the Oval Office.

“Agent Dunne?” It’s Beck. He’s confused by the sudden interruption. I detect a trace of fear as well, probably because the Secret Service would only enter the room unannounced if there was some kind of danger.

Dunne ignores the leader of the free world and waves us in, “You guys are clear.”

Walking past Dunne’s open arms and big smile is surreal. This is the guy who wanted to kick me shitless and fugly. Now he’s like my Aunt Gertrude at Thanksgiving. These neural implants are dangerous. So much so that I’m rethinking our plan.

“What’s going on?” Beck stands behind the Resolute desk. He’s dressed in black slacks and a blue button-up shirt. His jacket hangs over the back of the desk chair. His red tie is loose. He wasn’t expecting company. He’s more angry than afraid now, glaring at Endo and then at me with his piercing light blue eyes that can look both intimidating and manic. “Hudson, I’m going to have your job for this.”

I nearly smile at the way his double chin—the chubbiest part of the man’s body—jiggles when he speaks. “You could probably do a lot worse than that.”

“You’re damn right!” He picks up the phone. “You’re in the shitter too, Dunne.”

Oblivious, Dunne responds, “I’ll just wait outside.” He steps back into the side office and closes the door.

“Before you call...” Endo starts, making himself comfortable in one of the two flower print couches positioned face-to-face in front of the large, ornately carved desk. The office itself is far gaudier than I would have imagined. The gold and white oval rug covering most of the floor is some kind of modern design that looks more like an 8-bit Mario got sick. To make it worse, red flowers cover the design like explosions, or blood. Next to Gordon and his Kaiju, it’s the most horrible thing I’ve ever seen. The paintings around the room are equally bad, framed in gold. “…I believe you will want to hear us out.
My employer
would agree.”

The phone hovers next to Beck’s ear, but he doesn’t dial.

“You’ve been ignoring your supporters,” Endo says. He nods at me. “And those who have saved you in the past. That is rude, don’t you think?”

“Look,” Beck says, leaning forward, one hand on the desk, the other hanging up the phone. “I’m not some stooge you can just tell what to do. Irregardless of your employer’s support, I need to do what is best for this country.”

I raise an index finger. “First, did you really just say, ‘irregardless?’ And second, since when is letting giant monsters kill U.S. citizens and smash billions worth in property, what is ‘best for this country?’”

“We’re not going to let that happen,” Beck says. “All you’ve supplied us with are band-aids and medical bills. Speaking of which, I thought you two were supposed to be in the hospital?”

Endo chuckles. “Thoughts can be deceiving.”

“Ignore him, sir,” I say. “He’s an idiot, and you should have never assigned him to the FC-P.” I glance at Endo. This is going to hurt my soul. “That said...I believe the technology supplied by Zoomb is our best bet at containing—”

“I don’t want to
contain
this problem,” Beck says. His tomato face ripens before my eyes. “I want to eradicate it. I want to bury it.”

I look at the domed ceiling and sigh. “You going to nuke the Kaiju.”

“You’re damn right I’m going to nuke them.”

“Where?” I ask. “Because in case you haven’t noticed, they tend to only surface in populated areas.”

Beck’s anger slides away. He understands the reality of his position. “Sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good.”

I smile like Steve Martin just entered the room holding a banjo. Still smiling, I take my red beanie cap, which now has a neural transmitter woven into the fabric, from my pocket and slide it onto my head. It’s a tight fit, but makes my head feel normal for the first time in a week of disguises.

“What?” the President asks. “You find all this amusing?”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I really shouldn’t be smiling. It’s just that I’m very glad to hear you say that. Because sacrifice is exactly what will be required.”

Beck nods slowly, unsure whether I’m agreeing with him.

I reach out to shake his hand. He looks down at my peace offering with skeptical eyes. “This is why you entered my office unannounced?” He waggles his finger at me. “I don’t think so. You’re many things, but agreeable is not one of them.”

I keep my hand extended. “Funny, that’s how I would describe you.”

“What are you really after?”

I lift my hand higher. “A hand shake.”

Beck winces like King Kong just farted. My very presence offends him, most likely because I’m a stark reminder that he’s a sucky president.

“Maybe you should look at what’s in my hand,” I say.

Beck squints at me and leans forward. “I don’t see—”

I snap my arm up, twist it around and smack the face of my watch, identical to Endo’s, against his temple.

The President reels back, aghast, blubbering, winding up to scream for help.

“Sit down and shut up,” I say.

The man obeys. My orders—my very thoughts—are sent to his mind as though God himself were commanding the man. The connection to a human mind is insignificant compared to that of Nemesis. I feel a slight headache coming on. Nothing a few painkillers couldn’t handle. I can feel his mind, like a pliable blob of clay, ready to be shaped. I’m not sure what it would feel like with a stronger minded person, but luckily, Beck is fairly weak-willed.

Endo yawns and leans back, placing his feet on the couch. “How does it feel?”

“Easy,” I says.

“That’s not what I meant,” Endo says. “How does it feel to be the most powerful person in the world?”

I don’t respond to the question. It reminds me of why I considered not going through with this. If I can control the President of the United States, what’s to stop Zoomb from doing the same?

“I need you to do two things for me,” I say to Beck. “Cancel your appointments and request to be undisturbed for...” I look at my watch. It’s nearly 5pm. The sun won’t be down for another few hours. Gordon will wait until dark like a good soldier. “...the rest of the night. And while you’re at it, request a large dinner.”

Beck slowly reaches for the phone, and I imagine his hand reaching for a big red button. Way too dangerous.

While Beck makes his calls, I close my eyes and focus. I’ve got a few hours to brainwash the President.

35

Michael Spielberger lifted the $9 bottle of wine and looked at the label. It was simple and artistic.
At least it doesn’t look cheap
, he thought. He had spent a year’s worth of savings on this date, which had taken three months to plan. Cheap wine wasn’t originally part of the deal, but the price of renting a yacht for the night, was far higher than he’d anticipated. He’d been boating since he was a kid. Knew how to navigate the 40-foot-long yacht—it wasn’t even a sailboat. But his experience didn’t change the price tag. So he made due by cutting corners elsewhere.

He left the small galley where he’d cooked supper and headed for the deck, and his date, Deb Burns. She was a long time friend. His best friend. They spoke nearly daily, e-mailed and texted all the time. They had fun. Went to movies. Traded secrets. But in their fifteen years of friendship, nothing more had developed, despite Michael’s desires. A year previous, his friends in the IT department where he worked, had mocked him. Declared that he’d been sent to the ‘friend-zone’ until Deb decided to get married to someone else and dropped him like a sack of cow patties. The thought sickened him enough to push him into action. Tonight was the result of his long-term plan to break free of the friend-zone.

He vaulted back to the main deck with a spring in his step and the wine bottle in his hand, declaring, “Vino for the voman,” like he was a vampire. It was a long running joke between them. His widow’s peak came to a point at his forehead, making him look like an adult Eddie Munster. Although Eddie was technically a werewolf, Michael argued that his mother was a vampire, so he was at least partly vampire, hence the accent.

Deb sat on the deck, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. When they’d left, she believed they were going to a movie. That the dinner would be Burger King. She’d teased him for his more formal attire, joked that he was looking for love. She had been right but didn’t fully understand at the time. She did now, that was for sure. She glanced in his direction as he returned, but shifted her gaze back to the setting sun, a slice of orange peeking up from the horizon behind the shoreline.

He stopped beside her to admire the view. He’d rarely seen the Chesapeake Bay waters so serene. The whole scene was perfect, straight out of a movie. The boat rental company might have ripped him off, but God had his back and was supplying the perfect backdrop.

When Deb didn’t look at him, he went to work on the cork, popping it loudly with a victorious whoop. While Deb remained fixed on the view, he filled the glasses, double in his to compensate for his growing nervousness. Deb was uneasy. He knew her better than anyone, and she was distant, hardly present.

“Did you have a good day?” he asked.

She shrugged. Such a question might normally generate a half hour’s worth of co-worker gossip.

Michael glanced down at the steak he’d cooked. Mushrooms and onions covered the meat. Potatoes and green beans on the side. Her favorite meal. She hadn’t touched it. Had let the food go cold. He saw it as a symbol, and he knew how this was going to end.

They were right,
he thought.
I’m in the friend-zone. Always have been.

The realization came like a sucker punch. Fifteen years of strong feelings and hope for the future were crushed without Deb even speaking a word. It was like a break up. A betrayal. How could she not know? How could she not feel similarly?

He sat down, a scowl on his face, and cut into his chilled steak. He stabbed a mushroom and ate it. The food was perfection. He looked at the view again. Stars twinkled in the now dark purple sky. Wasn’t this the stuff that women dreamed about?

The next piece of steak was juicy and full of resolve. “Fuck you, Deb.”

The three words got the first real reaction out of her since they stepped on board the yacht. She turned slowly in his direction. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, taking another angry mouthful. “Fuck. You.”

This time she whirled around on him. “No, fuck
you
! How dare you put me in this position? You knew, Michael. You knew the whole time. And now
this
? You wine and dine me, and what? You think we’re going to shack up? That we’re going to somehow fall in love? That I’m going to suddenly not be a lesbian?”

Michael choked, gagged and spit the wad of half-chewed steak onto his plate. “What? You’re...” Michael’s mind spun in circles.
A lesbian? Holy shit
, he thought,
the ‘girlfriends’ she told me about weren’t just friends that were girls!