John Birmingham - Without warning

Jed could have argued with him about some of the prison-camp aspects of post-Disappearance Seattle, but he let it go. ‘Good man,’ he said, as he slapped Cesky hard on the back. ‘That’s the spirit. Question is, though, what are we going to do about it? What are you going to do about it, Henry? The days when we could leave this stuff to the insiders and the beltway crowd are over. Those assholes are gone. Well, mostly gone. There’s a few of them hanging around like farts in a phone booth at the convention, let me tell you. But that just means we’ve got to step up. You have to.’

‘Hey, I’m doing my bit. I’m here, aren’t I!’

‘Yeah, but it’s going to take more than standing around flapping our gums, Henry,’ replied Culver, steering the smaller man into a makeshift alcove formed by a couple of couches. He leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘Might come a time soon when we have to act… How would you feel about that?’

‘What do you mean, “act”? You mean, break some fucking heads? If that’s what it takes, Culver, that’s what it takes.’

‘Oh, I’m sure it won’t come to that,’ said Jed, moving them off again, towards a door connecting two of the hotel suites. ‘There’s no point butting heads with the army. You’ll lose. But it’s good to know, Henry, that if push comes to shove in some other way, we have you and your organisation behind us.’

Cesky stood a little taller and nodded emphatically. ‘Six hundred guys I got on my payroll, Culver. Six hundred families I’m keeping fed and housed and warm at night. I’m fucking proud o’ that, you know. It’s not just about the money or my own family. It’s what I can do for others. You need me to get out the vote – it’s out. You need boots on the street – you got ‘em. They’re my people. They know who looks after them, and they know who’s been trying to take food from their fucking tables, too.’

Cesky frowned and waved his beer at a TV in the next suite. Through a shifting mass of bodies, Culver could just make out somebody on the screen, wearing an army uniform.

‘Mr Culver, Mr Culver.’

He gratefully embraced the distraction. Looking for an excuse to break free of Cesky, Jed craned his head around, searching for whoever was calling his name. Unfortunately, the builder saw the guy first.

‘Over there. Faggy-looking mope.’

Culver saw him straight away then. Aaron Metz from Microsoft. He was attempting to cut a path through the tidal flow of the crowd, and not doing so well. Jed could see he was holding something aloft in one hand.

‘Come on, make a fucking hole, would you,’ shouted Cesky, bruting his way into the crush and virtually hauling the fragile-looking Metz out of it by force. ‘Not you of course, buddy,’ Cesky added, grinning at the Microsoft executive. ‘Wouldn’t want you making free with any holes around me, eh?’

The very obviously gay Aaron was both flustered and grateful, and chose to ignore the upfront homophobia of his rescuer’s comment. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘So many people here, Mr Culver. It’s almost as mad as the convention floor. Not that I can get in of course, but -’

‘How can I help, Aaron?’ Jed asked, cutting him off before he started to babble. He’d learned the hard way not to let Aaron Metz get up a head of steam.

‘Oh, Mr Ballmer wanted you to have this, sir, right away, Mr Culver. It’s one of our new smart phones. Well, not ours – it’s an iMate but it runs the Windows Mobile OS. It was still in development, you know, when…’

Culver nodded and waved off the rest of the explanation. ‘Thanks, Aaron. You tell Steve it’s greatly appreciated.’

‘It has some special security features, Mr Culver…’

‘I’m all over it, Aaron. Thanks again. Tell Steve and Bill, I will be in contact, later today.’

Metz looked even more flustered now than when Culver had first seen him. He gushed and flapped around, and even bowed at one point.

‘What a bag of fruit,’ grunted Cesky as soon as he was out of earshot.

‘To each their own,’ said the lawyer, pocketing the smart phone. ‘I’m grateful for their help, Henry. I’m grateful for anyone’s help, given the mess we’re in.’

‘So how come they’re not here, then, those big software guys? You got a lot of corporate types here, Culver. Really heavy hitters, eh? You can’t tell me there’s anyone big enough in this town to put the fucking frighteners on Bill Gates. He’s still richer than God.’

‘You wouldn’t think so, would you,’ Jed replied, but not with enough volume for Cesky to hear him. ‘You’ll have to excuse me,’ he said, a little louder. ‘I have people I need to talk to. Now, as for you, Henry, I can count on you and your guys?’

‘You bet, Culver. I’m not gonna get rolled over and ass-fucked without a fight.’

‘Great. And your family, they’re good? There’s nothing I can do to help out there?’ he asked, studiously avoiding the actual reason Cesky had fronted him – his complaint about getting shut out of city work by the Army Corps of Engineers.

Cesky shook his head and flexed one bandaged hand. ‘We had some trouble getting out of Acapulco,’ he said. ‘Some people I gotta settle up with about that one day. But my girls are all in Sydney now. They’re safe. I don’t have to worry about them if things get difficult around here.’

He cracked the knuckles on his undamaged hand and jutted his chin out. Culver gave him a comradely squeeze on the shoulder, excused himself and made for the nearest exit. As he muscled through, at least six or more people attempted to intercept him, but Jed shook them off with a smile and a wave of the smart phone that implied he had A Very Important Call to make, which he did.

Although it wasn’t nearly as hectic and crowded out in the corridor, he was unsurprised to find a spillover crowd, working the space just as intently as the folks back in his trio of rooms. It was a weird vibe for an old hack like Culver. He saw figures he recognised from both the left and right of politics, some of them West Coast, others national figures who hadn’t been caught by the Wave. Heads bent together, their devious minds were plotting against a new enemy – this cross-party faction in favour of a total rewrite of the Constitution and the Bill of Rights, paring them back, and ceding permanent powers of near autarchy to a smaller, militarised executive, all of it sold in terms of the dire need to protect the Republic from annihilation or anarchy or some such bullshit.

Culver had seen it all before. Frightened people driven to mortal foolishness by the extreme situation in which they found themselves. Well, not on my watch, buddy, he thought to himself.

He’d been blindsided by how bad things were politically, when he’d first arrived here in Seattle. But Jed Culver was nothing if not adaptable.

The future of the country was being fought out in this city, and he was a large part of the battle. As Governor Lingle’s personal envoy to the surviving representatives of the civil authority in what was left of the mainland United States, he had driven the convention process harder and faster than anyone thought possible. And yes, he had to admit, to himself if nobody else, the whole push to institutionalise a role for the military in the new system of government had caught him unawares.

It certainly wasn’t coming from any of the uniformed guys he’d dealt with back in Hawaii. That wasn’t their style, and they had their hands full anyway. And it wasn’t coming from the military power structure here in the Northwest, as best he could tell. Not publicly at least. That Blackstone asshole out at Fort Lewis – a real Captain Bligh character, thought Jed – even he was scrupulously careful not to be drawn into any political debate.