CHAPTER ELEVEN
Colonel Prentice ambled across the CDC carpark, with Davidson beside him and Delray trailing behind. The Colonel said to Davidson: "What do you know about that Watkins woman?"
"Not much. I only met her yesterday. Why do you ask?"
"She claims she shot the FA fighter because he reached for his pistol ..."
"Yes."
"The pistol was at least four feet away. He couldn't have reached it - not while on his back."
"Maybe she kicked the pistol away - we didn't ask."
"Maybe. She also turned down a Medal of Valor. Few people do that."
"Like you said: she was being modest."
"Which I find very suspicious. Keep a close eye on her."
"You don't trust her?"
"I don't trust anyone - including you, or me."
A smile. "Fair enough."
Delray sidled up beside Davidson. "Congratulations. Three dead, huh? Good shooting, though I'd have bagged all of them."
Davidson hated Delray's jovial attitude to a shootout still a raw wound. "I'm sure you'd have shot yourself as well. I'm sorry you won't get a medal, but that's not my fault. What are you doing here anyway?"
"The Colonel needed a driver and I volunteered."
"You mean, you're now his chauffeur?"
"No, I'm assisting him."
"Really? Make sure you drive carefully."
Like most of the elite in Webster City, Colonel Prentice drove around in a huge armor-plated black Lincoln sedan. When they reached it, Delray got behind the steering wheel and Davidson sat next to him. Prentice sat on the back seat.
A common saying in Webster City was: "If it's been designed before, why design it again?" The Chancellor's Palace was a massive edifice modeled on Buckingham Palace that faced onto Webster Plaza. Three Palace Guards, wearing their distinctive bright red uniforms, stood in front of the wrought-iron main gate. The Palace Guard Regiment was originally set up to guard the Palace and provide the Chancellor with personal bodyguards. Then it morphed into a 3000-strong para-military unit that also provided the army with elite troops and monitored the whole security apparatus - including the ISB - for any signs of disloyalty to the Chancellor. It was, without a doubt, the most powerful organization in Webster City. Even Colonel Prentice and his officers danced to its tune. Not for nothing were Palace Guards known as "the Chancellor's Dogs".
Delray stopped at the main gate and showed his ID to one of the guards, who waved him through. He parked the car beside the iron spiked fence. They all got out and walked through a massive portico with four Doric columns into a huge marble entry hall.
Several Palace Guards relieved them of their side-arms and put them in small lockers. Then they were frisked and made to pass through a metal detector. No exception was made for Colonel Prentice, despite his rank.
A tall, thin man in a red uniform approached. He had a razor-sharp part in his black hair and gimlet eyes. "Colonel Prentice?"
"Yes."
"Captain Roger Archibald of the Palace Guard. I've been told to escort you to the Chancellor's office. Please follow me."
Davidson had only ventured into the Palace a few times and looked around with interest as Archibald led them up a wide curved staircase to the next floor.
They passed through a huge marble rococo hall lined with big oil portraits of Alexander Webster and the seven other Chancellors, including the present one. Davidson had heard rumors that, during the second century of the Webster Era, a ninth Chancellor went crazy and a clique of senior officers of the Palace Guard had to assassinate him. His name was erased from the historical record and no portrait of him was hung in this room. However, it was impossible to know the truth.
The group passed through two more marble halls, each lined with Old Masters rescued from derelict museums all over the globe, and entered a long corridor with offices on both sides. Loud voices, chattering computer keys and murmuring televisions wafted out of open doorways. Young people in business suits rushed back and forth.
At the far end, Archibald ushered them into an elevator which took them up two floors to a circular rococo hall with a massive chandelier. The chessboard marble floor was dotted with original ancient Greek statues that Davidson learned about at High School. On the far side, a raven-haired woman in a pencil dress sat behind a Louis XV-style desk. Behind her, two beefy Palace Guards, bearing automatic rifles, stood on either side of a huge red-leather door.
Captain Archibald approached the woman. "Ruth, this is Colonel Prentice and his party. They're here to see the Chancellor."
She stood on a great pair of legs. "Good. He's expecting them."
Archibald glanced at the visitors. "When you see the Chancellor, don't forget to kiss his ring of office."
Websterites were reluctant to touch each other in public lest they catch a disease. Indeed, shaking hands was frowned upon. However, it was traditional, when introduced to the Chancellor, to kiss his ring.
The woman pushed open the red door and led them into a large office in which everything - the desk, the bookcases and even the floor - looked like it was carved out of a single piece of mahogany. Two men stood talking at a long lead-lined window that overlooked a courtyard with a lush lawn, bubbling fountain and faun statues.
One of them was Joshua Webster, the eighth Chancellor of Webster City. Davidson had often seen him on television or in the pulpit at the Cathedral. But he'd never been this close. So he studied him intently, trying to understand his youthful appearance. Webster became the Chancellor, 40 years ago, at a huge inauguration ceremony in the Cathedral. He was then aged 32. That meant he was now 72 years old. However, he was a short and chubby man with a smooth face who looked to be in his early forties. Sometimes, when complimented about his youthful looks, he attributed them to clean living, pure thoughts and devotion to God. However, Davidson knew that, in the years just before the Great Plague, medical science made huge advances in human organ transplants and longevity drugs, and wondered if someone had salvaged that technology.
Like most Websterites, Davidson knew little about the Chancellor's private life, except that his wife died about ten years ago and he had a grown son, Abraham, who was designated to replace him. However, Davidson had heard scuttlebutt that, despite his age and religious authority, the Chancellor led a dissolute lifestyle. He was said to have several mistresses and at least seven illegitimate children, and to host drunken orgies on his luxury yacht as it sailed around the lake. It was even rumored that he recently ordered a dozen mechanics to restore a 300-year-old rollercoaster at a disused amusement park just outside the City, so he could ride it. Most were killed when the Freedom Alliance ambushed them and the work had to be abandoned.
The Chancellor was chatting to the Commander of the Palace Guard Regiment, Edward Mellon, a cadaverous man whose red uniform was heavily laden with medals as if he'd won several wars solo. Mellon was a shadowy figure. Indeed, Davidson had only glimpsed him a few times at official functions. However, his closeness to the Chancellor and control of the Palace Guards made him the second most powerful man in Webster City. It was said that he knew where all the bodies were buried, because he buried them.
Both men turned to face their visitors.
The Chancellor looked at Prentice. "Ah, Bob, good to see you. You brought our hero?"
"Yes. This is Major Davidson. He was instrumental in repulsing the attack."
The Chancellor looked at Davidson with pale blue eyes and casually proffered his ring. Davidson stepped forward, kissed it and stepped back.
The Chancellor said: "On behalf of the City, I thank you. We can all sleep safer in our beds because of your efforts."
"Thank you, your Worship."
The Chancellor looked inquiringly at Delray.
Colonel Prentice said: "Oh, this is Captain Delray. He is my, umm, aide. He wasn't at the CDC when the terrorists broke in."
The Chancellor looked annoyed he wouldn't get to pin a medal on the chest of such a heroic looking specimen
. After letting Delray kiss his ring, he nodded towards Mellon. "Let me introduce the Commander of the Palace Guard Regiment and my strong right arm, Edward Mellon."
Mellon nodded and launched a smile that never left his face.
The Chancellor turned to Captain Archibald. "What time is the press conference?"
"Eleven o'clock, in the Hall of Mirrors, your Worship."
The Chancellor glanced at his original Rolex. "Fifteen minutes. You have the medal ready?"
"Yes, your Worship."
"Good. Make sure everything is in place and fetch us when we are needed."
The Captain left the room and the Chancellor turned his pale blue eyes on Davidson. "Now, Major, I want to hear what happened at the CDC. But first, you should tell us what you were doing there."
Davidson didn't know how much Colonel Prentice wanted him to reveal about his investigation into the death of Robert Meredith and was relieved when the Colonel interrupted. "Oh, I assigned the Major to investigate the death of a biochemist who worked at the CDC. The guy went over the balcony of his apartment a couple of nights ago."
The Chancellor's eyes narrowed. "Really? You mean he was murdered?"
"We don't think so. The evidence we've turned up so far points to suicide."
Davidson wondered why the Colonel was trying to downplay the cause of death. Did the Colonel fear the Chancellor was, in some way, behind it?
The Chancellor looked a touch relieved. "So, you're going to drop the investigation?"
"Yes, it's a wild goose chase."
A shrug. "That's a matter for you." The Chancellor turned to Davidson. "Anyway, tell us what happened this morning."
Davidson described how five Freedom Alliance fighters, using fake IDs and a swipe card, entered the building and got into a firefight with him and some security officers. Each time Davidson described shooting an intruder, the Chancellor squealed with savage delight and said: "Well done, well done." He sounded far removed from the man who gave sermons about peace and tolerance.
When Davidson finished, the Chancellor smiled. "Excellent. Just what the scum deserved. The Bible says, at Matthew 3.10: 'The ax is already at the root of the trees, and every tree that does not produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire.' That is what you did: you cut down bad trees and threw them into the fire. Congratulations." The Chancellor turned to Prentice. "It sounds like they were trying to destroy the vaccines in storage to stop Immunization Week going ahead."
"Maybe. That's something I want to investigate further."
"Well, whatever their mission, I want a much stronger guard placed on the CDC building. I'll send over an army detachment." The Chancellor turned to Mellon. "Please organize that."
"Yes, your Worship."
The Chancellor looked back at Prentice and frowned. "Why didn't you find out about this attack? You're supposed to my eyes and ears."
"I have limited resources and the Alliance obviously sent in a small, self-contained team. They're very hard to detect."
A frown. "I don't agree. But we'll discuss that later. In the meantime, I want you to find out how the terrorists got the fake IDs and swipe card. Sounds like an inside job."
"I will."
A grim smile. "Good. You know how heavily I depend on you." The Chancellor looked around. "Alright, we've still got a few minutes to wait before the press conference starts. Please be seated."
As the three visitors sat on leather armchairs and couches scattered around the office, the Chancellor wandered over to a bonsai tree on the window ledge and stared at it reverentially. "You know, Alexander Webster was a keen bonsai artist. This was one of his trees. It's more than 300 years old. This City is like a bonsai tree. It must be carefully trimmed and pruned to make sure it stays just the right size and shape. That's what Chancellors have done for the last 300 years. If we don't, there will be a return to the Dark Years that led to the Great Plague."
Davidson saw Colonel Prentice wore a glazed expression, as if he'd heard that speech before. He also realized that, several years ago, he would have been a lot more impressed with the Chancellor than he was now.
Fortunately, the Chancellor lost interest in the bonsai tree, strolled over to Mellon in the corner and resumed their inaudible conversation.
A few minutes later, Captain Archibald returned and approached the Chancellor. "Everything is ready, your Worship."
"Good." The Chancellor turned to the others. "When we face the press, please let me do all the talking so we stay on-message."
Everyone except Mellon followed the Chancellor towards the door.
As Davidson passed Archibald, he said: "What if a reporter asks a question?"
A surprised look. "There will be no questions."
As Davidson strolled through the circular hall, he turned to Delray. "What the hell are you doing here? You're not getting a medal."
A big grin. "I'm adding some sorely needed class."
A roll of the eyes. "If only you were half as good as you think you are."
The Hall of Mirrors was a half-sized replica of the hall in Versailles Palace that was obliterated 310 years ago when a Russian nuclear missile turned the palace into ground zero. The Chancellor and his party entered to find a dozen cameramen, photographers and reporters from government-owned media organizations standing in a horseshoe around a small podium.
The Chancellor stepped behind the podium and Captain Archibald shepherded the other three into a line behind him. Davidson stood at one end, Colonel Prentice in the middle and Captain Handsome at the other end.
The Chancellor looked directly at the cameras. "Fellow citizens, God gave Alexander Webster the task of saving mankind and created this City as an ark for humanity. He gave us - His chosen people - a special mission to rebuild civilization. We have taken great strides towards that goal, but haven't reached the mountain-top. Unfortunately, scum and vermin in the Badlands want to stop us and plunge humanity back into darkness.
"Fortunately, our morale is strong and our armed forces are powerful. This morning, twenty Freedom Alliance terrorists attacked the Center for Disease Control. However, our brilliant Internal Security Bureau obtained advance warning and laid an ambush. It killed all of the terrorists, including a high-ranking officer called Captain Zorro.
"One officer showed special bravery during the attack: Major Carl Davidson, who killed six terrorists. Because of his courage - and the courage of citizens like him - the City is winning its war against the Freedom Alliance and will soon achieve final victory. I now intend to bestow upon him the highest award for courage that the City can bestow: the Chancellor's Medal of Valor. Will he please step forward?"
Davidson obeyed his instruction. A small man in a dark suit scurried forward, holding a red-velvet cushion on which the medal was displayed. The Chancellor pinned it on Davidson's breast and patted him on the shoulder. "Congratulations. On behalf of the citizens of Webster City, I thank you."
Despite his amused contempt for the Chancellor's lies, Davidson felt a flutter of childish pleasure at being feted as a hero and smiled broadly at the cameras.
Without further ado, the Chancellor turned on his heels and strode out the way he entered. None of the press tried to ask any questions. They just started packing up equipment and chatting among themselves.
Davidson realized he hadn't called Barbara to tell her about the shootout or the medal presentation. When he got home, she would be very happy and very unhappy. Which emotion would triumph? Hard to say. Well, there was nothing he could do to repair the damage until he got home.
Prentice approached him. "Congratulations. A well deserved honor."
As usual, Davidson couldn't tell if Prentice was serious or not. "Thank you, sir."
Prentice looked around. "Where's Delray?"
Davidson had seen Delray slip out the way they came in. "I'll get him." He strode across the room, opened the door and found Delray standing in the corridor, chatting to Edward Mellon. They looked around, startled.
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Davidson said: "Sorry to interrupt."
Captain Handsome shrugged. "No problem." He turned to Mellon. "Good to meet you, sir. I hope we meet again."
Mellon nodded and strolled off.
Delray frowned at Davidson. "What do you want?"
Davidson ignored his question. "What was that about?"
"What?"
"Chatting to Mellon?"
"Oh, I was doing a bit of networking. I like to ingratiate myself with my superiors, as you know. What do you want?"
"The Colonel wants to speak to you."
Delray held out his hand. "Alright, after you."
When they reached the Colonel, he frowned at Delray. "I'm going to stroll back to headquarters with Major Davidson. You drive the car back."
Delray looked annoyed. "I can stroll too."
"Did you just win a medal?"
"No."
The Colonel scowled. "Then follow my orders."
Delray realized he'd gone too far. "Yes, sir."
Prentice turned to Davidson. "Come on, let's stretch our legs."