Orson Card - Empire

Two people inside the White House, betraying what was supposedly the most fanatically conservative presidency in history, to hear the Left talk about it—or an endemically corrupt, power-hungry government no matter who was in power, to hear the Right talk about it.

And who inside the Pentagon? It was time to call DeeNee and find out if she knew anything yet.

She wasn’t at the office, of course. Or maybe she was—on a Sunday with New York under attack, everybody would be called in. He called her cellphone anyway. She answered on the second ring.

“Hope I didn’t interrupt anything,” said Reuben.

“I got the preacher to hold the prayer till I’m off the phone,” said DeeNee.

“Not really, right?”

“Where are you?” she asked.

“Not in Washington,” said Reuben. “If you don’t know—”

“I know,” she said.

“What do we know?”

“Well, we know you’re supposed to be under arrest near the Holland Tunnel,” she said, “and there’s a guy standing here telling me not to say this.”

The phone was apparently torn out of her hand as she said the last few words. A man came on the line.

“Do you realize how guilty you’re making yourself look?” Reuben recognized the voice of one of his debriefers.

“I was in New York looking at Ground Zero,” said Reuben. “One of their pod monsters started shooting at me. Some cops and I got the sucker down on the ground and looked inside. Then I got a dozen or so cops out of the city and helped plug the Jersey side of the Holland Tunnel. There I pulled a semi-living soldier out of one of the mechs for later interrogation. I also saved the body armor and personal electronics of one of their ground troops. And you want to arrest me for something you know damn well I tried to prevent ?”

There was silence for a moment.

“Hell, Malich, I don’t want to arrest you, but that’s the orders we’re getting.”

“Getting from where?” said Reuben. “Doesn’t it occur to you that the same people who gave my plans to the terrorists might be the people who are ordering you to arrest me?”

“Major Malich, you know as well as I do that it’s possible to be a hero and a traitor. Benedict Arnold was.”

“Not on the same damn day,” said Reuben. He turned the phone off.

“Probably talked too long,” said Cole.

“They already know I’m in Jersey.”

“I’d throw away that phone.”

“And lose all my speed dial numbers?” Reuben tossed it out the window. “This is getting expensive. I wish I had some of the budget these guys had to build the mechs.”

“I thought they were pod monsters.”

“One is the brand name, the other’s the generic. Like Coke and soda pop.”

“Or heroin and smack. I noticed how you made yourself the lone ranger. I did this, I did that.”

“Trying to keep you out of the discussion.”

“Yeah, like the cops will forget there were two Army guys helping them.”

“I can’t stand to share credit,” said Reuben. “Live with it.”

Reuben came toward Aunt Margaret’s house from the north and parked the car two streets away. “Keeping your weapons with you?” he asked Cole.

“I’m not taking a piss without my weapons, sir,” said Cole.

“Just don’t yank the clip out of the wrong one,” said Reuben.

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir.” Cole got out of the car.

Reuben drove on to the house.

Nobody waiting out in front. No news vans. No police cars. No military vehicles. No unmarked black cars with guys in suits.

So maybe the guys who were after him weren’t perfect.

Or maybe they just didn’t care enough right now to make him a top priority, compared to, say, conquering New York.

When he went into the house, Cessy greeted him with a hug. She had been crying. “Where were you?” she said.

“I don’t think we can make it to Mass this morning,” he said.

“You were there, weren’t you. You and Coleman, you had to go into the city, didn’t you?”

“We didn’t know this was invasion day,” said Reuben. “But we got out alive. Now we’ve got to get out of here. They know we’re in Jersey, it doesn’t take a genius to think of checking the homes of known relatives.”

“Who’s after you?” she asked.

“I don’t know. There’s an order from the Pentagon to arrest me. But I don’t know if it’s the good guys, who are fooled by the phony evidence planted against me, or the bad guys, hoping to use that as an excuse to get their hands on me and shut me up for good. Where are the kids?”

“I confined them to their rooms. Mark and Nick are entertaining the girls and J. P.”

Aunt Margaret came in dangling keys. “Take my PT Cruiser.”

“We won’t all fit,” said Reuben.

“You aren’t taking the kids,” said Margaret. “Don’t be insane. People are shooting out there. This is a nice little house in a nice little town in the Garden State. But the two of you are very smart. You need to get away from the kids to keep them safe.”

“In your PT Cruiser.”

“I have your nice SUV. Where’s the one you borrowed to come here?”

“In the city,” said Reuben. “I don’t want to leave the kids.”

“Neither do I,” said Cessy.

Her cellphone rang. “I guess it’s not you,” she said.

She said hello and then listened. Then she said “all right” about five times and hung up.

“That’s one hell of a cold-call salesman if you just bought new carpet,” said Reuben.

“That was Sandy. LaMonte wants us to meet with him.”

“Us? You and me?”

“And Captain Coleman. Where is he? He’s all right, isn’t he?”

“He walked the last couple of blocks in full battle gear. In case this place was surrounded.”

The doorbell rang. Aunt Margaret opened it. “You have blood on your uniform, young man.”

“I had a cut thumb,” said Cole. He held up his Minimi. “In a neighborhood like this, I feel like a little kid playing army men. Can I come in?”

“May I come in is more proper,” said Aunt Margaret, opening the door wider to let him pass. “But it’s rude to correct people’s grammar, so I never do.”

The PT Cruiser didn’t like going faster than 65. At 70 it started trembling.

Then again, Cessy didn’t like driving faster than 65 anyway. And she was driving. Cole was sitting behind the seats with the shelf over his head. They looked like two nice citizens on their way to or from church. Unless you looked closely and saw all the weapons on the floor of the back seat. And the guy in the back with the machine gun.

Aunt Margaret was taking the kids to the home of some very good friends in Hamilton. “Good Croatians,” she said. “They’ll not breathe a word. And I’ll stay with the kids the whole time.” She was only driving Charlie O’Brien’s car as far as Lawrence, and her friends were picking her up there. She’d mail Charlie’s keys to him and tell him where to get the car. “I feel like a spy,” she said.

“You should feel like a refugee,” answered Cessy.

But it still tore her apart to leave the kids behind. And she could see that even though Mark was as manic as ever and Nick as quiet, they were scared. There was terrible stuff happening on the news, and their own parents were right in the thick of it, and now they were going into hiding. The girls, of course, were irritated that Mom and Dad were leaving them, but they had no clue about the outside world. They’d be fine, she was sure of that. Fine fine fine.

“I thought I turned down that job in the White House,” Cessy said.

“Well,” said Reuben, “technically, since the President isn’t in the White House… ”