No civilised man should ever be awake at this hour, thought Jed, as he waited in the darkened office for his last meeting of the night. Not unless he had a bottle of good champagne in one hand and a couple of exotic dancers in the other.
He stayed away from the window by habit now, but there wasn’t that much to see. The downtown city centre was in darkness, save for a few buildings running on generators, one of them his own hotel, a few blocks away to the south. The never-ending caucus would still be in session there, his delegates – he did think of them as his now – working the phones and counting heads as they attempted to stave off defeat in the morning’s vote.
But they would be defeated. Jed Culver had stolen enough votes in his time to know when the situation was hopeless. The Putsch were going to get their amendments up. They were going to turn the United States Government into something like a third-world junta. He shook his head at his own incompetence in not foreseeing this and aborting it at conception. But, looking back, he could understand. He’d been so focused on his own, much humbler agenda that he simply hadn’t been prepared for the depth of feeling, the visceral fear that had infected everything here in a way it hadn’t back in Hawaii. That was understandable. You couldn’t see the Wave in Hawaii; you didn’t live every minute with the prospect of it moving and just eating you alive. He should have factored that in.
‘There is a tide in the affairs of men,’ he muttered to himself, ‘which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune – but omitted, and all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries.’
‘What’s that, Jed?’
Culver turned around to the doorway and was surprised to find a thin man standing there, silhouetted by the light of a small hand-held phone. Two larger companions, instantly recognisable as bodyguards, loomed a discreet distance behind him.
‘Just mangling the bard, Bill,’ the lawyer replied. ‘It always helps me when creeping murmur and the pouring dark fill the wide vessel of the universe.’
Bill shrugged. ‘Me, I like to read or play bridge. Golf’s pretty good too. But not at this time of night.’
‘No,’ agreed Culver, who hadn’t been expecting anyone like this. The others he’d met tonight had all been anonymous people. Quiet men and women. ‘So… er…’
The figure chuckled in the gloom. ‘I really threw you for a doozey, didn’t I? Coming here, I mean.’
‘Yes, you did,’ Culver admitted. ‘I was expecting someone… lower down the food chain.’
‘Someone expendable?’
‘If you like.’
The man walked into the room while his bodyguards remained in the corridor. ‘This is important, Jed,’ he said. ‘I have a lot invested in this venture. We all do. If it fails, we’re sunk. If it plays out, who knows, maybe people will remember us hundreds of years from now. Assuming there’s anybody left, of course.’
The lawyer shrugged. ‘People would remember you anyway, Bill.’
‘Not for something as cool as this, though, Jed. This is the sort of thing that ends up in oil paintings. Like Paul Revere’s ride. It’s that important.’
Culver couldn’t argue with that.
‘You did bring your phone, right?’ asked Bill.
Jed pulled it out of his suit pocket and handed it over. The man’s face was underlit by the glow of the screen as he keyed in a series of codes.
‘Okay,’ he said, as the smart phone beeped. ‘The network is active.’
‘And secure?’
‘And secure.’
Culver thanked him as he took the phone back. He opened the message window and pressed a few buttons.
And with that, a single hard-encrypted message beamed out across the city to hundreds of identical devices.
‘It’s done,’ he said. ‘It’s happening.’
Most of the delegates at the convention had succumbed to the lack of air-conditioning and removed their jackets; ties were loosened and, in some cases, dispensed with altogether. The atmosphere in the auditorium was sour, hot and rank, although partly that had to do with the split on the floor that was threatening to tear the whole process apart. James Kipper pressed his lips together in an effort to maintain his calm as some asshole from Spokane attempted to tell him how to do his job.
‘This isn’t how we would run things, let me tell you, Kipper. We’d have had this show wrapped up days ago, and there wouldn’t have been any of this school-camp bullshit with lights out and no air, either. How the hell do you expect people to make decisions under these conditions? It is impossible.’
Kipper’s jaw moved like he was chewing gum, which he wasn’t. It was simply an old habit. He folded his arms and resisted the urge to tell this… Malcolm Vusevic, according to his name-tag – that he was full of shit because Spokane, lying behind the Wave, wouldn’t be organising anything ever again.
He kept his mouth shut, because, in his experience, people who’d hailed from the dead zone tended to be a little sensitive about it, which was only reasonable. What wasn’t reasonable was the delegates demanding that they get special treatment over and above what the rest of the city could expect.
‘Not gonna happen, sir,’ said Kip, resolutely shaking his head. ‘Redmond, Finn Hill and North Creek are all on their allotted power-ups at the moment. If you want to turn up the air-con here, it means diverting grid power from those folks. I’m not going to do it. Not on your say-so.’
‘Well, on whose then?’ Vusevic demanded to know. ‘Would an order from General Blackstone do it for you?’
‘Nope.’ Kipper shook his head equably. ‘I work for the city, not the military. At least not yet.’
He instantly regretted the indiscretion as Vusevic’s eyes lit up in triumph. ‘Oh, I see… one of those anarchists, eh? You’re just doing this to delay the inevitable. Whatsa matter, buddy – don’t like losing a vote? Can’t handle democracy?’
Kipper’s shoulders and arms ached with the tension building up in them as he restrained a violent urge to beat this idiot into a pulp. ‘It’s none of my business, sir,’ he replied flatly. ‘City utilities are my business. And you’re not getting any extra power.’
With that he turned and walked away from the delegate from Spokane, wondering how the fuck anyone from Spokane got a ticket here in the first place. All Vusevic represented was a burnt-out ruin of urban wasteland.
‘Whoa there, Nelly! You’re gonna throw a shoe, stomping off like that.’
Kipper pulled up at the sight of Jed Culver, who’ d just emerged from the crush around the refreshments table. He seemed to live there, and it was taking its toll. The guy looked like he hadn’t slept. His face was puffy and dark bags hung under his eyes.
‘Sorry, Jed. Not today, man. I’ve got a world of fucking hurt on my shoulders.’
‘Who doesn’t, Kip, who doesn’t? Just a word in your shell-like. Won’t take a minute.’
Kipper frowned at the odd phrasing, until he remembered that Culver had worked in London for a couple of years. Or he said he had. Sometimes with Jed you were never quite sure when he was feeding you a line. The engineer sighed, exhausted. He really was buried by work, and being called down to the conference floor to get reamed out over the air-conditioning hadn’t improved his mood. He hadn’t slept last night, after the Gestapo, as Barb called them, had left. Partly because Barney Tench had stayed until just before dawn, attempting to win him over to the cause. His friend had left in a police cruiser of all things. ‘Not everyone in uniform wants to be the Fuhrer,’ Barney had explained, winking.
Kip shook off Culver’s guiding hand and continued on his way to the exit. The lawyer fell in beside him, not saying anything. Just grinning and waving at the other delegates as he passed them, even those who Kip knew for a fact he hated. How the hell he did that was a mystery for the ages. When James Kipper didn’t like someone they didn’t die wondering.
‘You going back up to your office?’ Jed asked, as they left the auditorium behind.
‘Yes, I am, but…’
‘Great. I’ll come with you. Come on.’
‘Don’t you want to be here for the vote?’ the engineer enquired. ‘It’s on soon, isn’t it?’
‘Already lost that one, Kip. So no, I have other plans, my friend. Come on.’
He reluctantly allowed Culver to tag along with him, mostly because he knew the man was congenitally incapable of taking no for an answer. Kip could have blown him off, but he knew that by the time he reached his office many floors above, this expensively suited fixer would most likely have been waiting in his chair with a big dumb grin on his face.
‘That doesn’t sound like you, Jed, giving up because you can’t win.’
‘Who says I’m giving up?’ Culver asked in reply.
Kipper spared him a glance and was disturbed by the wolfish smile he found there. ‘What’s happening, Jed? This really isn’t the morning for it.’
‘No, that’s where you’re wrong, Kip. This is very much the morning for it. This is the morning the American people – what’s left of ‘em, God help us – take back their government.’
They entered the elevator, which Kipper had tried to shut down without success – the city councillors had baulked at that power-saving measure. Jed punched in the number for the Engineering Department’s floor, before smiling graciously and using his arm to bar the way of a young woman who’d rushed up behind them to share the ride. ‘Sorry, darlin’. Do you mind?’
She did, but there was nothing she could do about it as the doors slid shut.
Kipper bristled at the impoliteness. ‘That wasn’t very nice, Jed, and it was wasteful,’ he chastised the lawyer. ‘And what are you crapping on about anyway? You already said you were going down in that vote this morning. Blackstone is gonna get his congressmen, whether the rest of the army wants it or not.’
Jed put a finger to his lips before gesturing around the elevator. Kip sighed with exasperation, but after last night he wasn’t so quick to dismiss paranoid speculation about surveillance.
The lawyer nodded. ‘Well, you’re right about one thing, Kip. Not all of the military wants this situation. Ritchie and Franks are dead against it.’ Culver looked around as if addressing an unseen audience. ‘And nobody in uniform is arguing in favour of it, of course. But in the end they’ll accede to the wishes of the people.’
‘But people don’t want this,’ Kipper said. ‘Some people maybe, but not everyone. This is just fear and craziness.’
‘Well, fear whispers loudly downstairs, my friend. Come on.’
A bell dinged as the elevator came to a stop. Kip made to step out and head for his office but Culver grabbed his arm and directed him towards another room.
‘I had this one swept fifteen minutes ago,’ he said quietly, pulling the door closed behind them.
‘You what?’
‘Found this…’ Jed pulled a small electronic device from his breast pocket. ‘Don’t worry, it’s been disabled.’
Kip stared at the tiny piece of technology as hackles rose on his back. ‘Sons of bitches.’
‘Nah, amateurs, Kip,’ Culver corrected him. ‘Rank fucking amateurs playing at big boys’ games. Now, come to the window. I want you to see the sort of view you miss when you work indoors all the time.’
The chief engineer followed Culver to the window and looked down on his city. It was a relatively clear morning, the first in a while. A few grey clouds scudded out near the mountains to the east, but otherwise the sky was clear, save for two army helicopters holding position over the bridges across Lake Washington. And then he saw them – a sea of colour, a teeming, seething mass of humanity, streaming onto the bridges and heading for the city centre.
‘What the hell?’
The crowd had already swept past a small army roadblock at the eastern end of the bridge and were beginning to string together a long procession that took up every available lane.
‘The wishes of the people, Kip. I didn’t think they were being heard downstairs either. So I invited them all here to have their say.’
The engineer was speechless.
‘You’re a local – how long do you think it will take them to walk that distance, Kip? To get them here, I mean, beating on the doors of the Municipal Tower?’
Kipper shook his head. ‘Not long, I guess. If they’re allowed.’
Jed Culver snorted. ‘If they’re allowed! What, did I wake up in Soviet Russia this morning? They’re American citizens down there, Kip. Your neighbours and friends. Nobody tells them what they can or can’t do. And sure as shit, nobody tells them how they’re gonna govern themselves.’
Kipper pressed his head to the glass, which felt cool against his sweating brow. ‘How did you do this, Jed, without anyone knowing?’ he asked quietly.
‘Without Blackstone knowing, you mean? I had some friends – some of them friends of yours, actually.’
‘Hey buddy, sorry to keep dropping in like this.’
‘Hello, sweetie!’
Kipper spun around to find Barney standing at the office door. And next to him was Barb, holding Suzie on one hip.
‘Holy crap, Barn, they’ll fucking lock you up, man! And Barb…’
‘Daddy said the rude word!’ squealed his daughter.
He pulled up, realising he’d just dropped an F-bomb in front of his six-year-old child. Damn.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Daddy shouldn’t have done that, darlin’. It’s just that he was a little… surprised. And kind of upset.’ The bomb diffused, Kip turned to the two adult visitors. ‘So, what’s going on here?’
Barney was peering out of the doorway and back along the corridor, where his former co-workers had begun to gather and point at the slow-moving crowd snaking across the bridges. One or two saw him and waved. He smiled back before returning his attention to his old friend.
‘I told you last night, Kip, that there were a lot of people involved in the Resistance. Some whackjobs, for sure – you know, commies and anarchists, just like you hear all the time – but a shit-load more decent folk. Guys who used to work for the media, the telecom companies, the government. Moms and dads.’
Barbara nodded as she carefully lowered Suzie to the ground. ‘You run along, princess,’ she said. ‘Find some paper to draw on. See if you can find Ronnie, she’ll help you.’
‘I like Ronnie!’ Suzie cried before dashing out of the office.
Kip stared at his wife. It was as though he didn’t recognise her. ‘You too, Barb? You were part of this?’
‘I’m sorry, Kip, yes. Well, I’m not sorry for being part of it, but I am sorry I had to keep it from you.’
‘But why?’ he asked plaintively. ‘Couldn’t you trust me?’
She smiled sadly. ‘It wasn’t safe, honey. If you knew I was helping Barney and the others, how could you have come in here every day and faced off Blackstone? You’re a lot of things, Kip, but you’re not a liar. You couldn’t have done it.’
Kipper turned on the lawyer. His head was an angry swirling mess of emotions. ‘You knew about this, Jed? About my family being involved?’
Culver nodded. For once he wasn’t smiling. ‘I’ve had contact with a number of opposition cells,’ he admitted. ‘Your wife’s was one.’
‘You had a cell?’ he asked Barbara. His voice rose with incredulity.
Barbara sniffed. ‘You make it sound like a spy movie, Kip. It was just me and some of the moms from school, and some of our friends. People I could trust.’
‘Jesus Christ…’
‘They’re down there, Kip,’ she added, pointing out of the window. ‘They’re coming. Because they have to.’
Barney walked over from the door and looked down on the massing crowd. ‘We’ve been waiting for this, Kip,’ he said. ‘Waiting for the right moment when those assholes downstairs would go just a bit too far. I thought they’d done it when they locked up the councillors, but people were still frightened out of their minds back then, willing to give up anything just to feel safe. That just isn’t so, now. They’ve had enough and they want their country back. The little bit they have left, anyway.’
Kipper was stunned. Never would he have imagined the day turning out like this. He had kept his opinions private, but he’d been expecting a bleak and wretched day.
‘We need your help, Kip,’ Barney went on.
‘Mine? What do you need me for?’ He waved a hand at the window. ‘Looks like you’ve got it all locked down.’
Culver answered his question. ‘We need you to shut off power to the city, and to Fort Lewis. And we need it done now. We have to knock the legs out from under these idiots before they have a chance to get to their feet.’
‘But they’ll have their own back-up plans,’ he protested.
‘Everyone has back-up plans,’ Culver smiled silkily.
‘What about it, Kip?’ Barney Tench implored. ‘You saved this city once. You can save your country if you act right now.’
‘Come on, honey,’ added Barbara. ‘You know what’s right.’
Kipper turned back and gazed out of the window. The crowd looked to be hundreds of thousands strong. He could see them bunched up at the bottleneck of Faben Point, a great mass of people emerging from the suburbs. He could see a similar crowd heading over the Evergreen Point Bridge to the north.
Telephones began to ring all over the floor, as voices rose in confusion, surprise and even awe. His secretary, Rhonda, came bustling down the hallway and into the room with Suzie trailing behind her. She looked surprised and delighted.
‘Barney!’ she cried out. ‘And Barb!’
‘Hey Ronnie.’
‘Hiya Ron.’
She turned her attention back to Kipper and said, ‘I’m sorry, boss, but it’s General Blackstone’s office on the phone. They desperately need to talk to you and the other department heads. What should I tell them?’
Kipper smiled.