The Foundation: Jack Emery 1 (7 page)

He waved toward the bar. “I was just enjoying a drink. What can I help you with?”

“What can you do for me?” A nasty snarl grew on her face. “You can give me what’s mine. You can answer the fucking phone when I call.”

Ernest sighed. While it had cost several million dollars to cut away the cancer that Catherine Salerno had been, the outcome had been positive. A watertight prenuptial agreement and a sympathetic judge who’d been considerate of her narcotics issues had seen him escape relatively unscathed. Daddy Salerno, a Supreme Court Justice, was still a danger, but if things stayed civil, he left Ernest alone.

“I owe you nothing, Catherine. Our relationship ended with the court ruling. You’ve got every dime you’ll ever see out of me.”

He stepped back as two large men approached from behind her. The larger of the two tapped Catherine on the shoulder and whispered something in her ear. A dark look came over her face. He knew it well: shock, mixed with anger and just a touch of indignation. Only Catherine’s father could paint that particular picture. One of the suited men put a hand on her waist and led her away. The other came closer to Ernest, discretely apologized and said he’d find her a cab.

Ernest sighed with relief. “Thanks. She’s unwell.”

“We know. Justice Salerno sends his regards.” The man turned and walked briskly after his colleague.

Ernest leaned on the bar. He put down his champagne and ordered a whisky, the barman pouring him a double without any hesitation. Ernest downed half of the drink in one gulp. While the burn of the whisky as it followed the path to his stomach satisfied him, he’d pay for it tomorrow. He was tired. In Washington for the Senate hearing, he’d been roped into a charity function at Sandra’s behest. She was fresh out of hospital, despite his protests. The evening had been organized months ago, and he’d agreed to attend and do his best to drum up some money for the cause.

Fortunately, he hadn’t had to do much. Sandra was a natural, and he just needed to keep out of her way and let her do her thing: raise large amounts of money with a smile and a few minutes of conversation. He searched for his wife and spotted her across the room, resplendent in a navy blue ball gown, complete with a scandalous split up the left side. She still took his breath away. She moved from group to group, not letting herself get bogged down but leaving each guest she spoke to with a smile on their face and fresh concern for cancer-stricken children.

Ernest downed the rest of his whisky and plucked another champagne flute from the tray of a passing waitress. He gave her a pained smile and received a wink for his troubles. He pushed himself away from the bar and stepped into the crowd, determined to at least stay through the speeches. 
He was quickly engaged in conversation with a rotund investment banker and his trophy wife. He took the path of least resistance, nodding at everything the man said while he considered what was bigger, the banker’s account balance or his wife’s cleavage. It would be a close call.

Ernest held up a hand as the banker continued to prattle on. “Hey, President is on, better listen up.”

As the applause lifted the mood of the room, Ernest smiled at the sight of the President of the United States, Philip Kurzon, his friend since college.

Kurzon waited for the applause to die down. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming tonight to support such a great cause. Ms Cheng and her fellow directors do a great job at events such as this one, helping the families of childhood cancer victims stay together while they’re in treatment. Let’s give them a round of applause.”

Ernest joined the rest of the crowd in polite applause.

Kurzon frowned and glanced at the glass prompter, positioned slightly to his left. “I’d ask that you give generously to the fine cause we’re here to support tonight. I was planning on saying more on that, but certain fast-moving international events have forced my hand and made this speech a little less intimate than I’d intended.”

Kurzon gripped the lectern and leaned forward. “In recent days, the People’s Republic of China has suffered great trauma at the hands of a well-organized group of terrorists. This is a pain the United States of America is familiar with, and we stand united in fury with China that this could happen again.”

He paused briefly. “However, it appears that the PRC is using this attack as justification for aggression against its neighbors. Though some evidence appears to link Taiwan to these attacks, the United States does not consider it compelling. Nor do we consider it a legitimate basis for Chinese saber rattling.

“Yet earlier today, a missile was fired from the south of China over Taiwan. Though it splashed down in the ocean south of the island, it represents an escalation that’s both worrying and unacceptable. It is quite disgusting that China would respond to acts of terror by terrorizing the civilians of Taiwan.”

Kurzon lifted his hands, palms facing upward, the model of reassurance and calm. “I speak now to the government of the People’s Republic of China. Stand your forces down. Work with the United States and the international community to secure justice for your dead.”

Ernest’s eyes widened. It was not often you saw the leader of the free world plead with the leaders of the oppressed world to stay in their own backyard. Not so bluntly, at any rate. He had a feeling that the speech would push his looming Senate testimony from the front pages, especially in the papers he didn’t own.

Kurzon continued. “For our part, we will not be idle. To ensure ongoing peace in the region, I’ve ordered the USS
George Washington
carrier group to deploy from Yokosuka, Japan, to the South China Sea. There, the carrier and its aircraft will provide the world with eyes and ears into what’s happening in that region.

“I’ve requested that members of our media travel with the carrier, to document this mission and ensure the world can see the truth. It’s my hope that the nations of the region step back from the precipice of war, and recognize the prosperity and security we all gain from continued peace.

“But let me be clear. The United States is bound by an Act of Congress to defend Taiwan. With force, if it becomes necessary.”

Ernest wasn’t surprised by anything in the speech, having caught wind of it earlier in the day. Kurzon left the stage and Ernest decided to leave the party as conversation started to buzz with the ramifications of the announcement. He was certain that Sandra would understand his early departure. She knew he had a lot on his mind.

He nodded at the doormen when they opened the oak doors of the convention center. As he started his walk down the marble stairs that led to the car park, a tall, black-haired woman pushed herself off one of the decorative pillars to intercept him. He was also aware of the two large, suited men standing nearby.

“Mr McDowell, can I have a minute of your time?”

He kept walking. “I’m sorry, miss. I’ve got a very busy day tomorrow. If you need to make an appointment, my assistant would be more than happy to take your enquiry.”

“I’d really like you to hear me out!”

He didn’t look back as she called after him.

Michelle stood outside the door to one of the better suites at the Jefferson Hotel. She took a deep breath, then nodded at Andrei and Erik Shadd. The two hulking Czechs counted down from three in their native tongue and at zero, Erik gave the door a heavy kick. It gave little resistance to the strength of the six and a half foot–tall behemoth.

“What the fuck?” Michelle heard from inside.

She followed Andrei and Erik into the cavernous space, lit by the torch app on one of their phones. They moved through the sitting area and into the bedroom at the same time as the bedside lamp flicked on. She sat in an armchair near the window and made sure to keep the bulk of one of the Shadd brothers between her and the bed.

She watched from the comfort of the chair as Ernest McDowell, bleary-eyed and confused, looked from her to the two men and back again. She noticed his eyes drift down to the suit jackets the brothers wore. He must have spent enough time with bodyguards to spot the tell-tale bulge of a concealed handgun.

Tap…tap…tap
…Michelle said nothing, simply tapping her pen on the side table.

“Will you be tapping that damn pen all day?” McDowell exploded eventually. “Or are you going to tell me what the hell you want?”

She laid the pen on the table, then leaned forward, rested her elbows on her knees and steepled her fingers. “Ernest McDowell. Eighty-two. Married to Sandra Cheng, prominent lawyer turned socialite. Fourth marriage. One child to a previous wife. Masters in journalism and…theology?”

McDowell shrugged. “Easy subject. Left me more time to chase skirts. I’d like to congratulate you for managing to find your way to my Wikipedia profile. Who’re you?”

Michelle laughed. “Quite forward. I like it. Explains the four wives. My name is Michelle Dominique.”

McDowell frowned. “Whatever you want, was it entirely necessary to break into my hotel room to achieve it?”

“I gave you the chance to talk last night. Your refusal forced more drastic action, including my friends here.” Technically it was true. In more normal circumstances, Michelle would have spent additional time working her way into McDowell’s life. As it was, with Anton gunning for her, events in China proceeding at breakneck pace and the election just a few months away, she needed to get a move on with EMCorp. Having the brothers with her—a protection against Anton’s adventures—was just a happy coincidence on occasions such as this.

He looked to Andrei and Erik again. “Fine. So what do you want?”

She stood up and walked over to the drinks cabinet. She browsed the labels before settling on the Bombay Sapphire. She turned over two glasses and poured. “Are you aware of the danger America faces today, Ernest?”

He didn’t reply.

She dropped a couple of ice cubes into each glass. “Of course you are. Your papers got good mileage out of hundreds of our boys coming home from Afghanistan in pieces last year.”

She poured the tonic, then carried both glasses over and handed him one, which he put on his bedside table. “I’m here to help ensure the elimination of the greatest threat to America since the terrorists we’ve battled for the last decade: weakness and complacency. Congress is deadlocked by the two parties fighting to be the most petty. Our financial might is in ruins. Our military is weary. Our freedoms are curbed more each year. This complacency, this weakness will lead to our destruction.”

McDowell snorted, his skepticism plain on his face. “Forgive me, but this is all sounding a little Tom Clancy to me. I just run newspapers.”

“Don’t be a fool, Ernest. The media in this country is the hinge that great change turns on. It decides whether a president is free to act in America’s interests. It shapes opinions. It changes governments and fortunes. Companies like yours remodel the world.”

“They sure do.” McDowell yawned. “You should get one of your own.”

Michelle smiled, but didn’t rise to his bait. “Today the front lines are newspapers and blogs, Twitter feeds and Facebook posts, television stations and talk-back radio. And this space is populated by sheep, but led by only a few, including you. My organization seeks to harness these assets for a greater good: making America great again.”

McDowell raised an eyebrow. “Nice theory. And who exactly do you work for?”

“The Foundation for a New America.” Michelle left it at that. McDowell didn’t need to know about her difficulties with Anton.

“Okay. And what’re you trying to achieve with this little monologue?”

“Rebirth.”

He snorted. “You could just get a good man, a good bottle of red, wait nine months and you’d have your birth, miss.”

“Smart. Rebirth for America. Whenever it has grown stale, America has always rejuvenated itself through war: the War of Independence, and the birth of modern America; the Civil War, and the forging of an American social identity; the Spanish–American War, and the arrival of the United States on the world stage; World Wars One and Two, and America becoming a global power; the Cold War, and America becoming the Superpower.”

McDowell seemed to consider her statement carefully. “Your thesis has problems. What about Nicaragua, Lebanon, Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan? Wars that the US has fought, and lost. Or at least not won.”

He was done with batting away her statements with bluster and derision, and was now engaging in the contest of ideas. She knew she had his interest. “Tactical missteps. America has thrived from big conflict, from the contest of big nations and big ideas.”

“So what exactly are you suggesting, Ms Dominique? What’s your end game?”

This was her chance. If Michelle was going to enlist McDowell and his company to her cause, she had to hit him between the eyes. It was the key to shifting the balance against Anton and ultimately prying power from him, while still keeping the Foundation intact enough to make its—
her
— run for Congressional control.

“War between the United States and the People’s Republic of China.” She smiled sweetly. “Then, the rejuvenation of America through dozens of my colleagues and me in Congress, able to fix the problems.”

“Ah.” He laughed. “Republicans? Can’t beat the Democrats fairly the last few times around, so you look for the wacky way to do it? Usually I sympathize with your side of politics, miss, but I am increasingly daunted by their level of crazy.”

“No, we’re not Republicans, though we do hide ourselves among them for now. They loathe our message, and are equally responsible for this mess. No, Congress requires a new force.”

“You’re nuts.” He shook his head. “Isn’t there a chance that America will lose this theoretical war of yours?”

Michelle shrugged. “Empires on the wrong side of great conflicts have fallen, but America has yet to fail. What’s worse? To try and fail, or to never try and be overtaken?”

“Well, whatever. But keep me out of it.”

“History is on my side, Ernest. Unfortunately, technology is on yours. While the reality of America’s need for war hasn’t changed, the means for fighting those wars has. I’ve already explained how the media fits in. I’m interested in how far you’re willing to go to help stamp out these problems.”

“Not an inch.”

Michelle sighed and signaled to Erik, who drew an envelope out of his jacket pocket and walked over to hand it to McDowell. He looked at it in confusion. “What’s this?”

“This is the means for you to destroy the good Senator Mahoney. The whole nasty business of the Senate committee will just go away. If you make the right choice, it’s also the way to create a greater future for your family and all Americans. The right future. The future I decide.”

“And the cost?”

She rolled the dice. “Print what we tell you to, just every now and then. It will help us to stoke the right flames, and to get my colleagues and me the public support we need. Things will be fine. It won’t be difficult, given what the public expects of news. Surely that’s a better option than letting them ruin you and dismantle your company.”

She waited and continued to sip her drink as McDowell weighed up his options. The bait in front of him must be impossibly tempting—exactly as she’d designed. She knew that with McDowell and his organization on her side, the war was nearly guaranteed, her power base against Anton would expand and the Congressional run of Michelle and the other Foundation-aligned candidates was much more likely to succeed.

“I don’t see the link?”

“We create an incident, you stoke the flames, war erupts, public dissatisfied with response of President Kurzon and both major parties and clamor for change.” She sighed. “You’re our ticket to the party, Ernest, and I’m your ticket to destroying your enemies and keeping your company. It really is the perfect scenario.”

McDowell stared at her, then placed the unopened envelope on the bed. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time breaking into my suite. I don’t like being at the mercy of anyone, but given the choice, I’ll try my hand with the government. At least I can see them coming. Unlike you and your friends here.”

Michelle shook her head and put her empty glass on the table. She’d known that this was a strong possibility, but had hoped he’d take the easy route. “How unfortunate. I hope you don’t come to regret this decision, Ernest.”

***

Ernest was seated at a table in the Senate inquiry hearing room. In front of him was the bench from where the eleven senators would judge his fate, while behind him, the public gallery was full to bursting. He’d been offended by their stares and glared back until the EMCorp Director of Legal Affairs, Saul Alweiss, had discreetly told him that stink-eyeing the public wouldn’t look great on CSPAN.

As he tapped his foot and worked his way through the day’s third coffee, Ernest hated to admit that Saul was right. The wrong look and his testimony would get wall-to-wall coverage on television and in print. He didn’t relish the thought. Since Saul’s quiet word he’d simply stared straight ahead, sipped his coffee and showed no emotion. He couldn’t help the leg shake that he’d inherited from his father.

He thought back to the invasion of his hotel room earlier that morning. While he’d initially written Michelle Dominique off as a nut, he’d done some digging. There was more to her than met the eye, including a Congressional tilt in the coming midterm elections. She clearly had some crackpot theories, so even if she could get him out of his current mire, it wouldn’t be worth the cost.

“Will they get on with it any time soon?”

Alweiss smiled and leaned forward. “Usually takes them a while to get going.”

“It’s ten am. Don’t these bastards do any work?” Ernest kept his voice down. “I’m usually well into my day by now.”

While Saul had handed the first part of the hearing, Ernest was glad his time to speak had arrived. The Senate Judiciary Subcommittee on Privacy, Technology and the Law had oversight of laws and policies governing collection of information by the private sector and enforcement of privacy laws. Because of the activities of EMCorp, Ernest was squarely in their sights. Part of him was terrified about what the hearings would bring.

Alweiss placed a hand on his knee. “Keep your cool, Ernest. Everything hinges on that.”

Ernest laid his palms down flat on the wooden table as the senators walked in to the room. Last to enter was Senator Mahoney, Chairman of the Subcommittee, who took his seat on the middle of the bench. As the senators settled in, Mahoney stared straight at Ernest with a large, shit-eating grin on his face. Ernest was sad that he was too old to leap the table and stab the bastard with a pen.

After a few moments of quiet chatter between the senators, Mahoney cleared his throat. His microphone carried the sound across the room well enough that most people seemed to get the point. Chatter stopped and people readied themselves for the showdown. Ernest stopped shaking his foot, put down his coffee and sat up straight in his chair. He stared at Mahoney, who started to speak.

“Good morning, everybody. I call to order the third day of the inquiry into the conduct of EMCorp within the borders of the United States.” Mahoney paused, apparently for dramatic effect. “Mr McDowell, thanks for joining us this morning.”

“And a good afternoon to you, too.” Ernest managed to draw a few short laughs from the gallery. “Glad to be of service to the duly elected representatives of our fine democracy.”

Mahoney bristled, but continued. “As you know, EMCorp, the company you chair and have a large holding in, has been embroiled in significant controversy overseas, most notably the United Kingdom. The opening two days of this inquiry heard a catalog of allegations. Our role is to determine the extent of misconduct in the US.”

Ernest waited until Mahoney was done, then lifted his coffee cup and drained the contents. He looked to each of the eleven members of the committee in turn then spoke. “Nice editorial, Senator. Give me a call once you’re out of politics.”

Mahoney laughed. “I’ll take the first question, Mr McDowell. Quite simply, can you guarantee EMCorp hasn’t engaged in illegal behavior of the kind that we’ve seen overseas inside the United States, beyond what has already been declared?”

Ernest looked to Alweiss, who took the question. “No corporate leader could offer such a guarantee, Senator. But we’re confident that, beyond what we’ve already disclosed to the authorities and to the markets, no further activity along those lines has occurred in the United States. The company has performed a full audit.”