This week: Making the most of treason

48 STATES.' Chapters 24 & 25

TWENTY FOUR

THE SECURITY ALERT popped up on Cooper’s tablet just as he was preparing to ride with Red to the airport. Possible trespassers near Grand Teton the message from his staff said, but the video was grainy and inconclusive. The operator wasn’t sure if he saw two people or just animals moving across the valley. In the beginning there’d been a lot of trespassing, looters mostly, hoping to steal something or protest the conversion of the land. Eventually both stopped as the public lost interest and the Territories established a reputation for tight security. That was no accident. Red worked hard to create the impression. He knew most people were too passive to break the rules, which allowed him to focus more on serious threats versus the curious.

It seemed unlikely two random hikers decided to try their luck inside Wyoming in the winter. The timing tripped all of Cooper’s wires. It was such a long shot, and yet it made a whole lot of sense. Why wouldn’t a pair of fugitives go to the last place someone would look for them? It went a long way toward explaining why his team couldn’t locate the couple. They were both tough enough to make the journey, but what was their final destination?

Cooper was itching to return to the office so he could activate another drone and get a closer look, maybe get a message to them. It was tricky to try to communicate–he would have to clear out the command room if he wanted to say anything to them without his staff knowing. He didn’t doubt his staff’s discretion, but Red would stop at nothing if he suspected someone on his team was sabotaging him.

Carrying around this particular piece of news made Cooper’s car ride with Red to the airport even more uncomfortable. They were already barely speaking. While the two men would never have been described as close friends, they’d often passed their time together in amicable–even animated–conversation. Cooper and Red’s mutual respect had been evident from the start to the entire senior executive team at Universal. For his part, Cooper considered himself lucky to have transitioned out of the military into such a fantastic job. It was not an easy set of responsibilities.

During the ten years he’d worked for Red, there had been moments when they’d disagreed, but they had trusted each other.

That time was over.

Red sat rigid in his seat, his piercing gaze fixed on Cooper. At the Houston airport, the CEO would board his private plane to Pennsylvania for what they both knew was his last and final meeting with the President.

“You’re a hard man to find these days,” Red said. “You’re not in the office regularly, and when I call your cell phone, you don’t pick up.”

Cooper had anticipated this line of questioning. He’d been rehearsing responses. “I’ve been reviewing our security,” he said. “Once you launch this plan of yours, they’re going to come for us, and I want us to be ready. I took a few quick trips out to the Territories to make sure everything is locked down tight.”

“You didn’t use our jet,” Red said.

“I didn’t want to tie up the plane in case you needed it,” he said. “You’ve been keeping pretty busy hours yourself.”

Cooper watched Red simmer next to him. He knew his boss didn’t believe him, but he’d yet to do anything clumsy enough to justify Red turning on him. Deniability was crucial if he was to survive long enough to stop Red’s plans.

“These are critical times,” Red said. “I need to know I can trust you. I need your absolute loyalty. I know you had something to do with the President’s son surviving. I can smell the scent of traitor on you a mile away. No matter. But if I find out you are trying to derail my greater plans in any way, I will kill you. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” Cooper said. “But you don’t have to worry, Red. I know which side I’m fighting on.”

Before Red could respond, his cell phone rang. The caller either didn’t require a greeting or was simply in a hurry to deliver a message because Red did not acknowledge the start of the conversation. After a few minutes, he said “Da,” yes in Russian, and hung up.

The call meant Red was going to get the support he needed to start a war. The Russians were particularly helpful when it came to purchasing illicit firearms. It seemed incomprehensible that there would be Russian soldiers on US soil. Surely, the NSA satellites would pick up the movement of artillery before they reached Philadelphia, the city of brotherly love, and the Liberty Bell.

“Do you want to review what you’re going to say to the President?” Cooper asked, trying to sound unconcerned about the arms shipment.

“What for?” Red asked derisively. “Ever since her husband walked out, she’s been bat-shit crazy. My meeting is a formality. A box to check off.”

Cooper was well aware that Red was setting a trap by insulting Elizabeth. If he appeared to come within spitting distance of defending her, Red would have more proof of his divided loyalties, so he changed the subject.

“How is our team of go-getters coming along?” Cooper asked.

“Very well,” Red said. “Our staff has located a training facility and begun recruiting. There’s an advance team in Pennsylvania as we speak, mapping evacuation routes. When others hear that I have the means to do this, they’ll fall in line to help.”

“Others?” Cooped asked.

“There are plenty of people in this country who are ready, willing, and able to stand up to a feeble, weakened government that would rather keep its head in the sand than prepare for a defense against its enemies,” Red said.

“You’re talking about the potential for armed conflict on US soil,” Cooper said. “American against American. That’s something that hasn’t happened since the Civil War.”

“Maybe it’s time. Time for people to decide what kind of country they want to live in,” Red said. “We’re at that moment when the good of the many at the expense of the few is how we should be operating. What’s a little inconvenience for generations of prosperity and freedom? And if none of that sways you, how about this: I expect the US troops to avoid firing on civilians, making my job easier.”

“You mean you think they’ll stand down because you won’t?” Cooper asked.

“Precisely,” Red said. “I expect them to use restraint, so I don’t have to. It’s good for you to know, too. I won’t stop once this starts. I will make the government bend before I do, no matter the cost.”

“Liberty or death?” Cooper asked.

“I think you’re mocking me, but that is exactly what I mean,” he said. “If this be treason, I intend to make the most of it.”

Cooper had a vague awareness of nodding as Red finished his lecture, but after that, the rest of the trip was a blur. He conducted a security check of the jet and shook the captain’s hand before leaving, but it was all autopilot. The Marine’s mind was elsewhere. Things were accelerating. Red was preparing for battle. Cooper fervently hoped he had enough time to avert a catastrophe.

---

TWENTY FIVE

RIVER HAD NEVER PUT much stock in the concept of auras, but that was before she’d witnessed the halo of anxiety hanging around Finn as they made their way down a long, winding driveway. Sleep deprivation was fuel for the fire. They’d both been taking shifts to keep watch for security teams at night. Even when they should have been sleeping, they were awake, too restless and worried to get any peace.

“The house is just around the bend,” Finn said.

“You ready for this, Ivy League?” River asked, hoping using the nickname would lighten the mood.

“As much as I can be,” Finn said. “If he’s not in there, we’ll spend the night and head straight for Denver in the morning.”

River nodded. “Let’s walk around the house and get a feel for things before we go in,” she said.

Finn followed behind as she moved towards the back of the large wood and stone mansion, her gun drawn and ready. Finn’s rifle was strapped to the back of his pack, but he knew he would be much slower on the draw in the event of a firefight.

“Keep close,” River said, slowing her pace so he could catch up. They completed a full sweep of the rear of the house and were coming around towards the front when they heard a noise. They looked up to see what appeared to be a large black bird resembling a raven circling high up in the sky.

“Does that look like something you’d normally see out here?” River asked.

“Possibly,” Finn said. “Except we haven’t seen any birds since we started to hike. There used to be dozens of species out here including falcons, woodpeckers, owls, and of course eagles. Ravens, while not unusual, are not that common.”

River didn’t answer. She was too focused on whatever was moving in the sky to reply. It was coming closer, flying lower and lower in slow, concentric circles as if it were looking for something. Finn came to stand next to River as the thing landed, allowing them to both silently confirm it was a drone and not an actual bird, although its feather-like features had made identification difficult until the very last seconds. The device paused and turned its mechanical head, shuffling toward them. Before Finn could ask her what they should do, River aimed her gun at the device and blew it apart. The sound of the gun discharging echoed in the open valley, sending shivers up their spines as they realized she’d just fired off their own version of a flare gun.

“Sorry,” River said. “I didn’t think about the noise. I just wanted to stop the drone from transmitting back to its operator. Unfortunately, we have no idea how close by they are.”

“Let’s go inside and regroup,” Finn said.

“We need to make sure it’s not transmitting,” she said. She used her foot to stomp on the broken pieces of the machine, especially the camera that was mounted inside the head of the device. “OK. Now we can go in.”

Finn nodded and walked over to the front door, testing the handle. “It’s unlocked,” he said. They walked into the foyer, a large wooden chandelier above their heads.

“Do me a favor and don’t shoot anyone until you hear from me,” Finn said, their footsteps echoing in the empty house.

“You better speak quickly,” she said, lowering her gun as she walked alongside him into the kitchen. It was a handsome room, with none of the horrible cowboy cookout décor so many rich people insisted on using in their homes. She’d seen it dozens of times in the expensive rentals she’d visited in Sun Valley as a teenage babysitter, the insistence on patriotic plaid upholstery and antler cabinet knobs. Instead, she observed a French Provençal kitchen, complete with distressed cabinets and a large farm table that seemed rather awkward in the middle of the room, devoid of other furnishings. But even empty, it was refined and luxurious. The scenery jabbed at River, reminding her that Finn belonged to a world she had little connection to.

Finn, meanwhile, ran his hand along the countertops, stopping at the stove. For a moment, he thought he smelled freshly baked cookies but chalked it up to a childhood memory running amok–until he felt the oven door.

“This door is warm,” Finn said, catching River’s gaze.

“Interesting,” River said, raising her Glock back up to eye level.

Finn moved from the stove to the adjacent cabinets, opening them to inspect the contents. There were a few wine glasses inside, certainly not the eclectic collection of Parisian flea market castoffs his parents had once displayed. He tried to recall if he’d been responsible for packing dishes when they’d evacuated, but couldn’t remember. Next, he walked over to a set of drawers on the other side of the kitchen. He pulled one out, the deep kind that normally held hand blenders, measuring cups, and colanders, all balanced precariously and set to tumble with the first item removed. At least, that was the state of things when he’d been a young man. Now, as he peered in, he saw two dinner plates, two bowls, and four drinking glasses.

“Somebody is using this kitchen,” Finn said.

River walked over to the refrigerator and opened it. A wave of rank air almost felled them both as she slammed the stainless-steel door shut.

“If someone is living here, they’re storing their food somewhere else,” River said, waving at the air to move along the stench.

“So, we have a few dishes and a warm oven but no food,” Finn said. “What does it mean?”

“It could be anything,” River replied. “Squatters, or maybe some soldiers or a defense team passing by on a tour of the area. Maybe the same people who own that drone. We need to search the rest of the house.”

“That won’t be necessary,” a voice said, startling them both.

In a millisecond, River had pivoted, her gun trained in the direction of the speaker. Finn was momentarily disoriented, trying to reconcile the image of his father, a man he hadn’t seen in two years, being held at gunpoint by his lover.

“It’s OK,” Finn said. “This is my dad.”

Richard Cunningham, his red hair dotted with grey and cut short against his head, stood stock-still, hands at his side. “You can put that away now,” he said calmly. “You heard Finn.”

River nodded but did not stand down. She recognized Richard from the gas station, mainly because the vagrant’s spooky warning had imprinted the whole episode on her brain. Nobody liked it when the crazy old coot turned out to be right. If she’d been in the field with her unit, they would have all pulled out their good luck charms and given them a squeeze to clear the bad juju. It meant something, seeing him again. But what that something was eluded her. River couldn’t tell if Finn’s father recognized her. Nothing in his mannerisms gave anything away.

“I did,” River said. “But first, I’d like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind.”

Finn watched his father nod in agreement, wondering what the slight gleam in his eyes meant.

“By all means,” Richard said. “Fire away.”

“Are you alone?” River asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“Are there any security teams in the vicinity?” she asked.

“None,” Richard said. “They didn’t stay on this side of the state after the evacuation. It’s too far from the oil and difficult to patrol except by drone, which I gather you just figured out.”

“Does this seem funny to you?” River asked. “We just blew a drone to pieces. They could have a group here within an hour to kill us.”

“Nothing like that has happened since I’ve been here,” he said.

“It’s amazing, the fabulous illusion they’ve created.

The public is certain this place is off limits, crawling with troops, yet here I am cooking in my own oven.”

“How did you know it was safe to come in here and approach us?” River asked.

“I didn’t, not until I peered through the peephole I drilled in the door that leads to the basement. I have a rifle sitting just outside the door. I heard voices, but if I’d looked in and seen anyone else…well, let’s say I would have reacted differently.”

“It’s OK,” Finn repeated, catching River’s eye. “You can relax.”

River and his father exchanged nods, but she did not lower her weapon immediately. Although she knew it was Finn’s father, the resemblance was irrefutable, it was obvious he was loaded with secrets. What had he been doing that day when she saw him, she wondered? She hoped that his past behavior wouldn’t cause more pain for Finn.

“I guess there’s no mistaking the red hair,” she said, finally lowering her gun. “And you have the same eyes.”

“He has his mother’s eyes, actually,” Richard said. “Something I expect you’ll see for yourself soon enough.”

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