A Better World (10 page)

“So the virus wasn’t a hundred percent effective,” Archer said. “It’s a small comfort, but it’s something.”

Cooper leaned forward, staring at the maps. There was a pattern, he was—

Two areas in Fresno, three in Tulsa, two in Cleveland.

What connects them? Some are on major highways, some nowhere near. Some downtown, some not.

And yet this doesn’t look random. The virus was too successful everywhere else to have failed completely in these spots.

These areas were left powered on purpose. Which means that they hold some value.

So what unites these seven areas?

—certain. “Hospitals,” Cooper said.

Archer looked at the screens, then back at him. “What?”

“Those regions all contain major hospitals.”

“Why would terrorists take out the power to three cities but leave hospitals functioning?”

“Because they need them,” Leahy said. He turned to the president. “Sir, I’ve spoken to the director of the FBI and the DAR, as well as the head of the National Institutes of Health. They all believe, and I concur, that this may be the precursor to a biological attack.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Archer said. “Why leave the hospitals running if they’re trying to release a biological weapon?”

“Because,” Leahy retorted, “hospitals are the best way to spread one. People get sick, and they go to the hospital. While there they infect others. Doctors and nurses and receptionists and janitors and patients and families. With a really infectious biological agent, the number of cases can expand massively even under normal circumstances. But because these three cities are lacking food, and now power, the situation is far worse. Instead of resting at home, people will flee. They’ll go to stay with relatives, or to second homes. And in the process, they’ll swiftly vector the disease across the entire country. Sir, we believe the COD created this chaotic situation to mask their real attack.”

“That’s a huge stretch,” Cooper said. “Abnorms would be just as vulnerable to infection. What good would a biological attack do the COD?”

“I don’t know,” Leahy said, with a hard look at Cooper. “But the COD are terrorists. We don’t know what their endgame is.”

“Of course we do. They’re upset over the treatment of abnorms, and they want change.”

“What are you basing that on, Mr. Cooper? Abnorm intuition?” Leahy smiled coldly. “I understand your sympathy for their situation, but that can’t be allowed to color our response.”

Would you count my response colored if I called you a close-minded bigot mired in old-world thinking?
Instead, Cooper said, “Response to what? You’re wasting time on a hypothetical situation when we have actual disasters in these cities. People are starving. With the power out, they’ll be freezing, getting desperate, violent. Instead of worrying about phantom attacks, why don’t we start getting them some goddamn food and blankets?”

On the screen, Marla Keevers coughed. Press Secretary Archer made an elaborate show of looking at his watch. Leahy fixed Cooper with an icy stare. “Mr. Cooper, your passion is quite touching, but you’re a bit above your pay grade here. And you’re not qualified to speak to what is or is not hypothetical.”

“Maybe not,” Cooper said. “But I can speak to what’s right.” He glanced around the room.
You guys don’t get me, do you? I don’t even want this job, so I’ve got nothing to lose by telling the truth.
“The people need food. They need medicine. They need electricity. That’s what we should focus on. That’s our job.”

“It’s also our job to protect them from attack,” Leahy fired back. “Food and blankets in Cleveland don’t protect people dying in Los Angeles.”

Before Cooper could respond, the president said, “Owen, what exactly do you suggest?”

“Immediate quarantine of all three cities, sir. The National Guard has already been called up. Assume federal command, back them up with army troops, and shut these cities down completely. No one in or out.”

For a moment Cooper thought the plane was banking wildly, until he realized that was just his head. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I don’t find anything about this funny.”

Cooper turned to Clay, expecting to see the same thought, the belief that this was beyond preposterous. Instead, he saw that the president was nervous.

Nervous.

“Sir, you can’t possibly consider this. You’d be ordering military action on domestic soil. Turning three cities into police states, revoking people’s basic rights. It will cause unimaginable chaos. These cities are already on the brink. Instead of helping, we’re locking them up.”

“No,” Leahy said. “We’re temporarily suspending freedom of movement for fewer than a million people. In order to protect three hundred million more.”

“Panic. Hate crimes. Riots. Plus, if soldiers are busy quarantining the city, they can’t distribute food. All based on nothing but a wild theory.”

“Based,” Leahy said, “on the collective analysis of the best minds in the intelligence and health services. A group that includes plenty of abnorms. Mr. Cooper, I know you’re used to doing things your own way, but this isn’t your personal crusade. We’re trying to save the country, not play some moralistic game.”

Cooper ignored the barb. “Mr. President, when you asked me to join you, you said that we were on the edge of a precipice.”
You’re an intellectual, a historian. You know how these things start. World War I was kicked off when a radical killed an obscure archduke. And nine
million
people died.
“If you do this, we step toward that precipice. Maybe over it.”

“And if you’re wrong?” Leahy asked. “You say the COD is interested in abnorm rights, but they’ve made no effort at dialogue. What if what they really want is to kill as many Americans as possible? There are a hundred biological weapons against which we have no ready defense—except quarantine.”

The president looked back and forth between them. His hands were on the table, the fingers knit. His knuckles were pale.

Come on, Clay. I know you’re scared. We’re all scared. But be the leader we need you to be.

The president cleared his throat.

CHAPTER 10

In DC, where scrabbling up greasy ladders was in everyone’s job description, there were a lot of ways to gauge power. Budgets and staff were obvious ones, but Owen Leahy found it more telling to look at the trappings, the secondary signifiers. Office size, and which building it was in. If there was a window, or a private bathroom. How close that office was to the boss, senator, or president.

The ability to summon others to a meeting at ten o’clock in the evening.

As the secretary of defense, there were very few people who rated highly enough that
he
went to
their
office. And only one who could summon him straight from Air Force One in the middle of a crisis.

Terence Mitchum had moved from the CIA to the NSA, but Leahy would always remember him as the deputy director he’d approached twenty-five years ago. Every time he saw the man, Leahy remembered the nervous wait outside his office, the taste of salt and dirt from licking his fingers to clean off his shoes. Mitchum had made him, and Mitchum could break him, and they both knew it.

Technically, he was the number-three man in the National Security Agency, but org charts lied. If Mitchum wanted the top job, he would have had it two decades ago. Instead, he’d stayed in power while the men and women above him came and went with presidential administrations. From that position, he had directed the careers of countless people, cherry-picking those loyal to him
and destroying those who resisted. Forty years of intelligence work, the latter half in an agency so secretive that not only its budget but even its size was classified. Forty years of collecting blackmail and withholding information and burying bodies.

Including 1,143 in Manhattan
. The March 12th explosion at the stock exchange in Manhattan had been blamed on John Smith, but though he had planted the explosives, he’d intended for the building to be empty. Smith had even provided media outlets with advance notice of his intent. Leahy couldn’t prove it, but he was certain it had been Mitchum who had squashed the advance warning, muzzling seven news organizations and ordering the detonation of the explosives when it became clear Smith wouldn’t. A brutal, calculated move, like sacrificing a queen in chess. The attack had galvanized the country, and it resulted in the passage of a law that might save it.

“Hello, sir.” Leahy took in the rest of the office, wasn’t surprised to see the third occupant of the room. “Senator.”

“I told you, call me Richard.” The senator flashed one of his camera-ready smiles. “We’re all friends here.”

Mitchum pressed a series of buttons on his desk. The DC night outside the windows shimmered and disappeared as the glass turned black. A mechanical bolt on the door snapped shut, and there was a faint hum, some sort of anti-bugging technology, Leahy supposed. Then Mitchum steepled his fingers, looked over the desk, and said, “We’re losing control of the situation.”

“Sir, I advised the president exactly the way we discussed—”

“What I want to know,” the senator interrupted, “is how the Children of Darwin attacks happened in the first place.”

Richard was an ally, and useful. But sometimes Leahy wanted to strangle him. “That’s complicated.”

“Really? Because it seems simple to me.” The senator shook his head. “I did everything you boys asked after the stock exchange fell. You have no idea how many favors I pulled to get the MOI not
only passed, but in a landslide. Walker signed it. So what are you dawdling for?”

“Things have changed since the Monitoring Oversight Initiative passed.” Leahy pulled out a chair. “You may have noticed.”

“I have. Since we provided the legal grounds to microchip every gifted in America, abnorm terrorists have taken three cities hostage. Do I need to point out that if we had
implemented
that law, instead of just passing it, we’d know who was responsible?”

“You don’t have to tell me how useful the MOI would be. I’m the one who suggested it in the first place. Everything we’ve done to date was building toward it.”

“So why aren’t you making it happen?”

“Clay isn’t President Walker. It’s going to take some time.”

“Time,” Mitchum said. The man said little, and yet those words were always carefully chosen, spoken softly and yet always heard.

“Yes, sir. President Walker was one of us from the beginning. He understood that protecting America would require unconventional means. Clay . . . he’s a professor. His experience is theoretical. He’s uncomfortable with this kind of reality.”

“So, what,” the senator asked, “he’s going to put the MOI in a drawer?”

“That would be his preference. He knows he doesn’t have the votes to repeal it, but he can stall it indefinitely.”

“So how do we jump-start it?”

“We’ll have our moment.” Leahy turned to Mitchum. “Sir, can I ask you something?”

The director raised an eyebrow.

“The Children of Darwin. Are they by any chance a false flag operation?”

Before the director could respond, the senator interrupted. “False flag? What’s that?”

Leahy fought a sigh.
Richard, you are going to find that the heights you’ve attained make for a long fall if you don’t understand
the mountain.
“A covert operation designed to look like its instigated by someone else in order to provide grounds for action.”

“You mean like the bombing in the exch—”

“Senator.” Mitchum spoke softly, but the word was a lash. Richard looked away. The director turned back to Leahy. “No.”

“We’re certain?”

“Yes. The COD are exactly what they appear to be, a group of abnorm terrorists.”

“Good.”

“Good?” The senator bristled. “Good? Terrorists have taken three of our cities, people are starving, and it’s good?”

“Yes,” Leahy said. “These terrorists may be brilliants, but I’m not sure how smart they are. They’ve got tunnel vision. They don’t realize that every move they make is serving our ends.”

“How?”

Leahy ignored the senator. Mitchum said, “Do we know what their next action will be?”

“The leading theory is a biological attack. But it doesn’t matter. Even if they don’t have anything else planned, what they’ve set in motion is enough. With every passing day, the public is howling for action. The president’s hand is being forced.”

“That doesn’t mean it will play our way.”

“Even an intellectual like Clay is going to have to make a decision at some point.” Leahy shrugged. “When he does, it will be through me.”

The senator cut in. “And you’ll make the MOI a cornerstone of that response. I see the method in your madness, but there’s too much madness in your method. We ought to go through channels. Bring it up on the Senate floor, hold Clay accountable in the media.”

You mean make more headlines for yourself.
“Too risky. It leaves the door open for people to claim that the MOI justifies the Children of Darwin’s actions.”

“Who would claim that?”

Jesus. Really?
“The COD.”