“Son of a bitch!” the Pepsi kid said. “What happened down there?”
“An armed group entered the Shell building and disabled our I.T.”
“T.A. attacked us?”
“Those fuckers!” the kid said.
“We don’t know for sure it’s Team Advantage. There’s no way we can identify particular—”
“Of course it’s them,” John said. “It’s ExxonMobil, it’s T.A. What’s our counteraction?”
The Shell Liaison rubbed his forehead. “We need to prepare an announcement for the floor…we’ll extend the bid until tomorrow, maybe the day after—”
“No,” John said. “Your competitor just invaded your building. What’s our counteraction?”
“There’s nothing we can do.”
“Bullshit.” Some people couldn’t salvage anything from a defeat, John thought. Well, he wasn’t one of them. He was prepared to seize opportunities. “How many men do we have here?”
“Whoa, whoa,” the Liaison said. “Nobody’s going to—”
“I’m with John,” the kid said. “Let’s kick some ass!”
“We’ll refer the incident to the Government, and they will—”
“The Government? The enemy kicks you in the balls and you want to fill out a complaint form? You think the Government’s even on our side?”
“T.A. are dissing us,” the Pepsi kid said. “Listen to John-boy.”
“But what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to take these NRA guys and go tell ExxonMobil they made a mistake.”
“Let me talk to the Shell CEO first. Just—John, wait!”
“Too late,” John said.
“You,” he said. “I need your men to come with me for a counteroffensive against ExxonMobil.”
The NRA soldier looked him up and down. According to his lapel, he was a Lieutenant, but John didn’t know how high that was. “And who are you?”
He flashed his ID. “Nike Liaison.”
“Sir, I have no authority to initiate offensives. My orders are to hold this position.”
“Do you have orders to protect the safety of Liaisons?”
“Yes.”
“Then you better follow me,” John said, “because I’m about to go shoot some people.” He didn’t wait to see if he was being obeyed. The Pepsi kid was at his side, like a puppy. “Give me your keys.”
“What?”
“Your keys,” John said. “I’m driving.”
The kid was right: the Barchetta was an animal. They blew through downtown London while the kid scrambled for his seat belt and shouted, “Ohhhhh fuck!” when they got too close to other cars.
“Are they following?”
The kid craned his neck. “There’s an NRA truck about three blocks back! But you’re losing them!”
The lights ahead turned red, and John gunned the engine. It was a typical narrow London street, just a single lane of cars in each direction, so he jumped the curb, scraped between a pylon and a storefront, and bounced back onto the road. The street ahead was clear. He put his foot down.
“John! This car has no clearance! You can’t drive on the sidewalk, man!”
“How much further?”
The kid had gotten directions from his cellphone; it was an AT&T service. “Right there! Eight-ninety-nine!”
He saw the logo. It was a tall, cream-color building with a lobby encased in plate glass. That suited John nicely.
“NRA still with us?”
“They’re pretty far back, man. Better wait or they’ll miss us.”
“They won’t miss us. Hang on.”
“Oh, no, no—”
John dropped the handbrake long enough to spin the car ninety degrees, then nudged the accelerator. The Ferrari leapt towards the ExxonMobil entrance.
“Ahhhhhh!” the kid yelled.
The car hit the curb and bounced, so they were slightly airborne when they plowed into the plate glass. The kid was right again: they had no clearance at all. He caught a glimpse of people running and diving, then they hit something large and un-movable and he was drowning in an airbag.
He couldn’t see, but he got a hand onto the kid’s chest and found his gun. He unlatched the door and tumbled out.
“Are you all right?” a woman said. “Mister?”
“I’m fine,” John said, and pointed the gun at her. She screamed. It echoed in the lobby. “Where are the top executives in this building? Which floor?”
He heard the passenger door open and the kid get out, coughing.
“The thirty-eighth, they’re all on the thirty-eighth!”
“Thank you.” He walked to the elevators. The kid trailed him silently. John had finally found a way to shut him up. He pushed for an elevator and waited.
The Ferrari was embedded in a huge reception desk, so far in it was hard to tell where one stopped and the other one began. John wondered if anyone had been sitting there.
NRA soldiers entered the lobby, picking their way through the glass. John spotted the Lieutenant he’d spoken to earlier. “Hey!” he called. “Security cameras!”
“What?”
“Go find where they operate the security cameras. I don’t want to leave evidence.”
“Yes, sir!” the Lieutenant said. He was giving John some respect now, all right. The elevator arrived and John entered it. As they rose toward floor thirty-eight, the car tinkled Muzak at them.
The kid held out for another few seconds. “You just assumed there was a passenger-side airbag.”
“Too much planning gets in the way of execution,” John said.
“It could have been my execution.”
“You’re fine.”
“And you took my gun.”
“You said you’d loan it to me.”
“Yeah, well,” the kid muttered.
John said, “You know what makes a successful executive?”
“Dude, I am a successful executive.”
“Decisiveness,” he said. The doors slid open. A man in a briefcase was standing there; he raised his eyebrows. John pointed the gun at the man’s leg and squeezed the trigger. It was louder than he’d expected.
“Holy shit!” the kid said.
“Also implementation skills,” John said, and left the elevator.
The board room was directly ahead, guarded by a single P.A. at a desk. She rose as John and the Pepsi kid approached. “What was that? Was that a shot?”
John pointed the gun at her. “Sit down.”
She sat. The Pepsi kid took the initiative and pushed open the board room doors. Inside, amongst muted lighting and tasteful paintings, were five men and a girl. They were in such enormous, bloated chairs that it was like they were waiting for John to plug them.
“All right,” he said. “Who’s the big cheese here?” Silence.
“Speak up!” the kid shouted.
“Okay,” John said, and cocked his gun at the girl. She screamed and crammed her fist into her mouth. There was something familiar about her, something that tugged at his memory. “Do I know you?”
“No! No.”
He thought she was probably lying, but didn’t have time to pursue it. “Who’s the CEO?”
“I am,” a man said. “I’m Nathaniel ExxonMobil. Let’s talk about compensation.”
“I thought you might be in town, Mr. CEO. I had a feeling.”
“Why don’t you let these people go? You and I, we’ll discuss it like businessmen.”
“Here’s a question for you,” John said. “Did you or did you not commission an assault on the computer network of Shell, a US Alliance company?”
Nathaniel’s eyes didn’t waver. “Yes.”
John shot him. The force rolled Nathaniel and his executive chair back two feet, like a display. The girl started crying.
“Okay,” John said. “Now you fuckers will cease hostile action toward US Alliance. You will acknowledge that your company and your Team Advantage has no ability and no right to compete with us.
This is the new economy, and in it you can’t hope to fuck with us and get away with it. Do you shitheads understand that?”
One of the men closed his eyes and began mouthing a prayer. John almost clocked him just for that.
“Good,” he said. The Pepsi kid held the door open for him.
46 Resumption
Jennifer slipped out of Buy’s bed at five, trying to sneak out. When she came out of the bathroom, his eyes were peeking over a pillow, reflecting the light.
“Jennifer?”
“Hey.” She sat on the bed. “I gotta go.”
“Oh.”
He looked cute: all disheveled and disoriented. On impulse, she stroked his hair. “So you want to see me again, or what?”
“Hmm…” he said. “You know, I think I do.”
“You sure?”
“You want me to prove it?” He threw back the covers.
She looked at her watch. She looked at Buy.
“You know you want to,” he said, and she couldn’t argue with that.
The house was spotless when she returned, and the babysitter was curled up on the sofa. She really was good value, Jennifer thought. She would have to start tipping her more.
She tiptoed down the hall and peeked in Kate’s bedroom. Kate was asleep, snuggled up to a giant frog. Jennifer crouched down and kissed her. “Morning, sweetheart.”
Kate’s eyes opened, then squeezed closed. “I’m tired…”
“It’s time to get ready for school.”
“I don’t want to.”
“And yet,” she said.
Kate screwed up her face. “Mommy, I hate it when you say, ‘And yet.’”
“Come on, sleepy. Today’s the big day, remember? We hit the kennels tonight.”
Kate’s eyes opened. “Really?”
“Yep. I promised, didn’t I?” She kissed her cheek.
At work, she spent half an hour trying to find someone to talk to in the L.A. office before she checked her e-mail and found a message. It read:
From:
[email protected] To:
[email protected] John. London. Don’t know where.
She hit the top of her desk, then kicked the table. That didn’t help, so she grabbed the monitor and shook it.
“Whoa,” Calvin said, entering. “Bad time?”
“He’s gone to London!”
“Who? John?” He sat beside her and read the e-mail. “Ah, crap.”
“How are we going to get to London?”
“I don’t know. I wonder…” He looked at his watch. “The brass called a briefing this morning. Something happened in the British Territories, some kind of corporate dispute. Maybe it’s related.”
“A dispute?”
“Let’s walk and talk. Oh, and I called you in to attend this, okay? That’s why you’re here, not because you’re too pigheaded to stay home.”
“Mmm,” Jennifer said. “Okay.”
They entered the canteen, which was already full of agents, and took a couple of seats at the back. Elise was up front with more top management than Jennifer had ever seen in one place. Their uniforms gleamed.
“Maybe John was involved,” she said. “Maybe he got hurt.”
“I have to say, you’re looking much perkier,” Calvin said. “One day of rest, you’re a new woman.”
“I guess you were right about me needing time off,” she said. “I guess you really nailed the source of all my problems.”
He looked at her.
“Or,” Jennifer said, “maybe I got lucky.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Jen! Good work. Anyone I know?”
Elise said, “Let’s get this moving, please. First, let me introduce our guests from Head Office…”
“A lady never tells,” she said. “But it was Buy Mitsui.” “Well done.”
Elise said, “If we can have everyone’s attention.”
People turned to look at them. “Sorry,” Calvin said.
A man had taken the podium; he had slides. “Thank you. The thing we want to get across here is that this was a measured, blatant violation of law. They knew what they were doing, both T.A. and US Alliance. They decided they could get away with it. We’re going to prove them wrong.
“Team Advantage has already admitted it sent a strike team into Shell. They say it was ordered by Nathaniel ExxonMobil, who is now deceased, without the company’s knowledge or approval. The Government doesn’t consider this explanation acceptable.
“US Alliance, for its part, denies any involvement in the subsequent death of Nathaniel ExxonMobil. The Government also considers this unsatisfactory.
“We are now going to exact compensation. We’re going to demand unheard-of penalties. Our most senior people, including the President, are now en route to London to conduct a negotiation.”
London! Jennifer raised her hand. The man pointed to her. “Yes?”
“The corporates won’t roll over just because we tell them to. I hope you guys have a better plan than asking nicely.”
Elise whispered in his ear; another woman touched his shoulder. He convened with them, then nodded. “Jennifer? You’re right. If we can’t hit these guys with anything more than harsh words, they’ll continue to break the law when it suits them.
“Therefore, the Government is reassigning twenty thousand agents, effective immediately. In two days, we will conduct simultaneous raids against every company involved. We’ll arrest every executive we can. We will, if necessary, incarcerate every member of senior management, pending trial, until they concede to our demands.”
Agents were murmuring. “Holy shit,” Calvin said. “Is that even legal?”
Jennifer kept her hand up. “Who gets to do the raids? Excuse me? Who gets to go?”
Some of the agents around her snickered. “The raiding parties will be comprised of every field agent we can spare in London. And we’ll be flying in agents who have particular expertise.”
“I have particular expertise,” she said. “Even before the Nike Town killings, I—”
“Yes, Jennifer,” he said. “We know. You’re going to London. Tonight.”
47 NRA (NZ)
When Billy woke, there was a man with a chestful of ribbons sitting beside him.
“Ah, good,” the man said. He was short, crisp, and compact, with gray temples and sharp eyes. “Billy, I’m General Li. Do you mind if we talk?”
“Uh, sure,” Billy said. He tried to sit up and discovered his wrists were tied to the bed. “What the—”
“Good! Then let’s start with this. Can you tell me what it is?”
The evening sun was streaming through the window, and Billy had to squint. The General was holding his cigarette packet, his bug. Billy suddenly felt more alert. “That’s…hey, that’s what that Bill guy had. And, man, I think he was talking into it.”
“Mmm,” General Li said. He pondered. “Let me put this another way. Billy, I know you’re a spy.”
“Oh.” He tugged at the restraints.
“The shame of it is, we killed a good soldier. I understand how it occurred, but it really is a pity. Ironic, how he survived a mission against the Government only to be killed by us. I have to explain that to his family somehow.” General Li was wearing a beret; now he took it off and scratched his skull. “Such things happen in the friction of war.”
“Now—I never wanted to carry that thing,” Billy said. “The Government made me. I can explain!”
“Ah,” General Li said. “Please do.”
Billy started talking. He told his whole sorry tale from Abilene, Texas, to New Zealand and active NRA missions he didn’t know anything about to Government espionage. The General seemed vaguely sympathetic.
“Well,” he said finally. “That is a story. That is a story indeed.”
Billy waited.
“There’s some debate about what to do with you. There are officers who believe you should spend the foreseeable future in a military prison. That?
??s the field-book solution.”
“No, you can’t put me in prison!” He felt his throat constricting. “I just wanted to go skiing, that’s all I wanted! Please!”
“Other officers, however, would prefer to have you shot.”
“Ag,” Billy said.
“But there’s something that interests me, Billy. Before this debacle, you were being recruited by us. You had been selected because you demonstrated exemplary skills.”
Billy blinked.
“Marksmanship,” Li said helpfully.
“Right! Yeah, I can shoot real well. Better than anybody.” He felt his wrists growing slippery with sweat where the restraints held them.
“If that’s true, I may have a special need for you.”
“Sure, let me show you—”
“I assume you know what kind of job I have in mind.”
“Sure, sure.” He thought. “Like, sniper stuff?”
“Would you have a problem with that?”
He contemplated this. Yes, Billy would have a problem with that, but his most pressing problem was getting shot for treason by NRA soldiers. “No way! Give me a gun and I’ll blow away whoever you—”
“Yes, all right,” General Li said. “In good time. If things work out, we’ll have assignments for you. Away from the Australian Territories and the local Government.”
“And if—if things don’t work out…”
“I was leaning toward the prison option,” General Li said. “Probably.” He stood. “Rest up. Tomorrow morning we’ll see what you can do.”
“Thanks, man. Thanks.” Just before the General left, Billy said: “This place where I’d go—the place where I’ll do assignments…are there mountains? Snow?”
General Li smiled. “No.”
48 n/a
“Okay,” Buy said, when Jennifer walked in the door. “I decided on casserole. I was thinking tuna bake, but that box of bread crumbs of yours expired six months ago.” He looked at her reprovingly.
“Oh,” Jennifer said. “You’re cooking?”
“I got restless.” Buy had arranged to meet at Jennifer’s house after work, but when he arrived she was on the way out to pick up Kate. So she let him in and told him to amuse himself. He now had three pots bubbling on the stove top and a dish in the oven. “I hope you don’t mind. I thought…”