THE 13: STAND BOOK TWO (28 page)

“Mr. President, for four months now, you have abdicated your responsibility and your sworn oath to our Constitution. We have seen a foreign enemy land on our shores, destroy our West Coast with nuclear weapons, occupy sovereign territory, and force American citizens to either run for their lives to this side of the Appalachian Mountains, or denounce their allegiance to this country and adopt the Chinese way of life. And what is your excuse for allowing this to happen? Some man who claims to be a prophet of God!”

Again, the crowd rallied.

“I say if the American people want to believe in some antiquated religious practice, fine. They are guaranteed that freedom under our First Amendment. But honestly, Mr. President, haven’t we, as a nation, gotten past such ideological fantasies? To suggest that a sitting president would base his national security policies on the ramblings of a religious zealot—a lunatic—why, I submit to you that it’s borderline treason!” He pumped his fist at the crowd.

Walker had gone completely red faced. Nolan believed if the TV cameras weren’t there, Walker would punch him in the nose. Some agents from the Secret Service started to move
in—probably to usher either me or Walker out of here
, he thought. But Walker had held up a hand to call them off. Nolan shot a snide smile at Walker and turned back to the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are the United States of America. Not some third-world country! We have sat by long enough while the Chinese steal our resources and persecute our citizens. We are the greatest nation in the world. It’s time we showed them who they’ve messed with!”

At that, the crowd became unruly. People began to throw water bottles, paper, trash, anything they could find at the guards who were standing between them and the steps to the Capitol, as an energy began to permeate throughout the crowd. Walker pushed Nolan out of the way and tried to get the people’s attention again. Again the agents began to move toward Walker, but he gave a swift slashing of his hand, telling them to stay back.

“Friends…ladies and gentlemen…please…calm down,” Walker pleaded. “Hear what I have to say. This man is trying to bring dissension among us. This is what our enemy, the evil one, would have us do. We must not succumb to such naive ideals. Please, folks.”

But it was too late. Nolan had already stirred the people to the point of near riot. And he was enjoying the effect he’d had. Finally, two Secret Service agents grabbed Walker by the arms and carried him back into the rotunda—apparently no longer caring if Walker objected or not—leaving Nolan alone on the steps in front of the crowd. He pumped his fist a couple more times to incite them again. It was all the guards could do to keep the people from plowing them over.

Finally, when he’d seen enough, and knew he had them where he wanted them, he held his hands up to quiet them down. After a few seconds, he had their attention again.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am saddened by the state of our nation. Not too long ago, we were the most feared superpower on the planet. But then a few traitors and an administration that turned its back on this country’s security brought this to pass on our nation. Not some god.” A few cheers started rising up. But he quickly squelched them. “Now, listen. I don’t hold anything against anyone for his personal beliefs. Personally, I have never seen any evidence that science can’t refute to suggest there even is a God. So I’m sure not going to put the welfare of my country at stake just because some idiot crackpot comes on the scene and says that this God we can’t even prove exists has brought judgment upon us. Who does he think he is? This is America! If there is a God, America is His gift to the world, not His enemy!” Again the crowd erupted.

“Friends, listen to me. President Walker is right. We have a long road ahead of us. It’s going to take time to rebuild this nation to the state of greatness she once enjoyed. But you have to believe me. I and others believe that what President Walker would have us do—or not do, I should say—will ruin the very fabric of our country. Yes, we need to rebuild. Yes, we need to help our fellow citizens as they struggle through this crisis. And yes, we can be the great nation we once were. But we cannot get there by letting the Chinese occupy our lands. They must be dealt with.

“Now, listen. The infrastructure of this country is in shambles right now.” He looked at the congressmen and congresswomen who sat and stood on either side of him. “And many of you are also responsible. Shame on you!”

This time, it took a full two minutes before he could quiet the crowd.

“The bottom line is this: President Walker would have you believe some higher power has, for whatever reason, taken out His frustration on our country. He would have you believe the only way to see this country flourish again is to remain in the state we are now. I disagree. I believe we have been shown we are—have been—vulnerable. That we have enemies, both foreign and domestic. And if we don’t pull our heads out of our rear ends, we’re never going to see greatness again.

“Folks, I want to see America returned to greatness. I want to be able to take my family on a vacation to Colorado to go skiing again. I want to take my family to the beaches of Gulf Shores again. I want to be able to cross that mountain range and not fear that I’m going to get shot by someone pretending to have ownership rights over the land my forefathers bled and died to secure! We can be that nation again. But we cannot be that nation under this administration.

“I have been the governor of North Carolina for going on seven years now. I have the executive knowledge it takes to run this country. And I know this is somewhat unprecedented, but I think we’re a little past normalcy at this stage in the game. Therefore, in front of all of you…” He turned to face the cameras. “And to all of you watching or listening across these thirteen states that we now call a country…I want you all to hear what I’m about to say.

“Mr. President, the Constitution provides for you the opportunity to nominate a new vice president—yet another charge you have neglected. Given my experience as an executive and my desire to see this country back on the world stage—in its rightful place—I am officially demanding that you do so. And I submit to you that I am the right person for that position.”

The crowd exploded with applause. It was as if he had been on the campaign trail for months and his opponent had been ousted for having an affair. The people were practically worshiping him. He didn’t even bother to quiet them this time. He wanted them roused. He wanted the people watching on television to feel the energy in that place. He turned his head toward the rotunda entrance, as if Walker were still standing there listening.

“Look at these people, Mr. President. Listen to them as they applaud my courage to stand up to our enemies. Listen to them as they show their support for someone who desires to lead them!” Turning back to the cameras, he said, “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your country. You have the right to demand that President Walker listen to you. That he do as we ask him now and nominate me as vice president. And I make you this promise. As soon as he bows his ego and narcissism to the will of the people, I will see to it that he pays for his neglect of this country. My first order of business, as your new vice president, will be to oversee the process of having him removed from office and tried for crimes of treason against this nation! Then, by the power granted to me by the Constitution, I will assume the rank of your commander in chief. And unlike my counterpart, I promise to act like one! Thank you!”

With that, Nolan stepped back from the bank of microphones and raised his fists in the air. By tomorrow morning, the entire country would be calling for Walker’s head on a plate. And he had just served it up.

G
avin Pemberton didn’t dance. He’d never liked it. Never thought it held any value. What was the point in bouncing around, jostling your insides, and looking like a fool in front of others. Even at his own weddings, he had to be forced to participate in the couple’s first slow dance. It just wasn’t something he did.

Until just now.

He sat on the edge of his seat, watching Joe give it to Walker. And, boy, did he! Joe had just taken the world’s biggest sledgehammer and bashed Walker’s skull with it—metaphorically, of course. Though he did enjoy, for a second, the thought of that actually happening. But Joe…good ol’ Joe! He couldn’t remember when he had ever been that proud of someone in his whole life. It took everything he had just to sit still and listen. Joe had him so fired up halfway through his speech, he couldn’t sit still. And when he delivered that last line—the one about how Joe promised to
act
like a president—he was so excited, he shot up out of his chair and began to dance a jig. Right there, in the middle of the floor, smacking his palm against his leg and bouncing around the room, whooping and hollering. He was so excited, he almost forgot he had just had his best friend killed.

The thought jarred him and brought back the anger and bitterness he’d been dealing with all day. He sat back down in his chair, turned the television off, and threw the remote across the room. He was wrought up with contempt—how had Milton allowed himself to be found and manipulated by those agents?

Earlier the local news had reported that Hayes had been found dead in his home. The report said that they believed it was a home invasion. That gunfire had been exchanged and the home had been damaged, showing signs of a struggle.

Pemberton knew what the struggle was. Alex Smith was the struggle. Obviously, Milton had fought with the woman, trying to escape and save his life. He was disappointed that Smith hadn’t been more tactful. But what did he know? He wasn’t a professional assassin. Perhaps the struggle was staged to look like a home invasion. Perhaps that was how she worked. And obviously it did work. The police had said they were looking for more than one suspect, given the amount of damage and gunfire at the scene.

But as old and mean and set in his ways as he was, Pemberton still felt some sadness for his friend. In some respects, Milton had been closer to him than any of his wives. He and Milton had shared secrets he had told no one else.

In the end, he decided that Milton was a hero. The man died promoting the sovereignty of the country. He was just an unfortunate casualty of war. And it was better this way. Eventually, Milton would have become a liability. His flippancy about the social order and his extremely liberal ideals would have caused problems. Not to mention Milton was really a coward when push came to shove. Pemberton knew that eventually those agents or someone else would’ve gotten to him. And then who knows what kind of bad could’ve happened? No, it was better this way.

He walked over to the wet bar, poured himself a glass, and held it up. “Milton, my friend, may you rest in peace. I promise I won’t let your death be in vain.” He tipped the glass back and drained it.

He grabbed his car keys and his jacket. The weather was finally starting to turn cooler. He pulled the collar up over his neck and stepped outside. He had thought about calling, but he knew the old coot would be home. Besides, he didn’t feel like messing with trying to get a landline call placed. It was still a crapshoot half the time. The idea had just come to him as he had watched Joe’s speech. And he didn’t want to explain over the phone.

He fired up the old pickup and pulled the lever in gear. He was going to see Jake Irving.

K
eene woke up with a headache. He went to the bathroom, grabbed some ibuprofen, and chased it with a glass of water from the sink. He reached behind him and turned the shower on as hot as it would go and got undressed.

Last night had been the first night in almost a half a year that he had spent in his own bed. After the debacle at the Capitol, he and Boz had gotten President Walker out of there before a full-on riot could break out.

Walker had been furious and dumbfounded, all at the same time. He couldn’t understand how this had happened—how what was supposed to be a defining point in the nation’s history had turned into a series of attacks on his character, the nation’s weakness, and the outright sovereignty of God. Keene, of course, didn’t have any answers. They both had looked to Boz for his take.

“Guys, I don’t know what to tell you,” Boz had said. “All I know is that Quinn warned us this was happening. I guess we should’ve expected it.”

“I expected
some
criticism,” Walker had admitted. “But nothing like what I just saw. I mean, it was like getting picked off by a sniper. Who knows what the fallout of this will be!”

Keene had a pretty good idea. And he wasn’t all that excited about it. But he wasn’t going to debate it right then with the president in the car. He would wait until he, Jennings, and Boz could huddle up privately.

“Go home, Jon. Get some sleep,” Jennings had said. “You need it.” Then, “You, too, Boz. We’ll meet up tomorrow morning.”

As much as Keene had wanted to go back to the hospital and check on Megan and Eli, he knew Jennings was right. He desperately needed a good night’s sleep. He hadn’t caught more than four hours at any given time since he’d gotten back to Washington.

The sleep had been good; he had pretty much drifted off as soon as his head hit the pillow. He didn’t even have time to enjoy—even for a couple of minutes—the fact that he was home and in his own bed. But when he woke the next morning, he just lay there, enjoying the feel of his mattress. Wrapped himself around his comforter, jostled the pillow around to get it just right. He’d almost, for a second, thought he was going to drift back off. But then his thoughts went to Megan. Last night. The Prophet. Chin and the Chinese. And the next thing he knew, his head was pounding with a headache.

He turned the water off and got out. Heading downstairs, he almost lost his footing and fell as he was startled to see Boz in his kitchen. His foot slipped and bounced to the next step, but he caught himself on the rail.

Boz turned around to see what the commotion was. “Hey, glad you’re up. I’m making breakfast.”