A Better World (40 page)

“You’re a hump, you know that?” VanMeter grimaced. “We flew here on a
military
jet. That pilot was a sleeper, an asset, and John burned him to get us here. Hell, can you even imagine the amount of influence he’s had to use to find this guy, with the DAR looking for him?” The soldier shook his head. “I don’t know how he did it, and I don’t know why John wants the guy dead. All I know is that he needs this done, so we’re going to do it right, we’re going to do it clean, and we’re going to do it completely. You get me?”

“Completely? You mean—”

“Orders are to eliminate everybody there. Wife and baby too.”

“Baby?” Donovan sucked air through his teeth. “Shit.”

“Makes you feel better, they’re normals, all three.” VanMeter turned to Soren. “Sir?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“We’re less than a minute out. Anything you want to add?”

The trees had grown denser, the driveways between them fewer and farther between. He could see the one where Dr. Ethan Park and his family waited.

Soren said, “You’re weak.”

Soon, this tiresome walk through the world would end, and he could return to his nothing.

“I’ll kill the child.”

CHAPTER 41

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine . . .”

Late afternoon, and already the sky was starting to fade, cold clouds going fat and dim. They had a fire burning and news on the TV, an actual old-school television, not a tri-d. Ethan was splitting his attention between the horror show in Wyoming and the sight of his wife crooning lullabies to their daughter. It was a jarring juxtaposition, footage of soldiers and tanks and jets, of missiles being fueled and politicians thumping the podium, set against the two loves of his life, his daughter safe and warm and drifting off on a tide of song.

“You make me happy, ev-er-y day.”

They did a lot of singing to Violet. Sang the “Naked Baby” song as they got her into her bath (to the tune of “Alouette”: “Naked baby, naked naked baby, naked baby, naked baby time”). Sang free-form about toys and breakfast and pooping. And early on, Amy had declared that they would have their own version of “You Are My Sunshine,” one that addressed certain thematic difficulties.

Now the news was showing footage of Cleveland. If it hadn’t been identified, he wouldn’t have recognized it. Fire had swept through most of downtown, and what was left was all gray people in gray clothes digging through rubble, ragged families on street corners, and squads of riot police locking shields.

“You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you.”

Ethan’s eyes wandered from screen to family, family to screen, but a part of him, the part he would have pointed to as his real self if anyone had asked, wasn’t really taking either in. It was thinking about what Amy had said earlier.

The fact that she was right was so obvious it didn’t bear thinking about. He and Abe had rushed foolishly into places angels feared to tread, and while they had found answers there, they had also made enemies. Funny that the idea had never occurred to him before. Even when the DAR had shown up at his house about their research, he’d asked Bobby Quinn to leave like the agent was a census-taker. In hindsight, it was all so clear: the DAR must have been watching them, watching from before Abe disappeared. And they would never stop looking for him, never. Not with what he knew.

“No one can take my sunshine away.”

And what if the DAR wasn’t the only group who wanted the serum? Another thing he’d never thought of until Amy laid him out. The value of their discovery was literally incalculable. Controlling it would be like holding a patent on the wheel. No wonder Abe had been so rigid about his nondisclosures, his loose-lips-sink-ships policy. The problem was that Abe hadn’t gone nearly far enough. They should have been operating in perfect secrecy on some remote Pacific island.

If the DAR knew about their work, maybe the Children of Darwin would too. Plus their mysterious backer, whose deep pockets had financed the lab in the first place. Ethan had always suspected that might be Erik Epstein—who else would benefit so highly?—which meant he and Abe had been working for a rogue state currently surrounded by American troops.

All those forces arrayed against him, and here he was huddling in a cabin, waiting for the sky to fall and crush him. Not to mention his wife and daughter. Because of what Ethan had done.

No, that was imprecise. It wasn’t because of what he’d
done
. It was because of what he
knew
. The difference was important. The
former was about punishment for a sin already committed. Nothing to be done about that.

But if people were after him for what he knew . . . well. That made things clearer.

Ethan focused on his wife and daughter. Amy was gazing down at Violet, a faint smile on her lips. A knit blanket draped her shoulders, and the fire wrapped them both in soft flickering light. His daughter’s tiny hand clenched his wife’s index finger. What wouldn’t he do to protect them?

“No one can take my sunshine away.”

He’d have to act soon. Every moment he stayed with them, he put them at risk.

If he was going to leave them, maybe forever, he’d have to act soon. Now.

Ethan was trying to make himself stand up and walk away from everything he loved when he heard a sound that didn’t belong. It wasn’t menacing in its own right, not something he would have noticed under other circumstances. But now it meant the world. Meant, in fact, that the world was ending.

It was the sound of a car door closing.

They were here.

CHAPTER 42

“I’m not convinced.”

Secretary of Defense Owen Leahy stared across the coffee table at the president of the United States and thought,
This can’t be happening again.

“I understand,” Clay continued, “that a military response may be necessary. But I’m not convinced I need to take that step now. Epstein and I are still in discussion.”

“Sir, the situation in Cleveland—”

“I know what’s happening in Cleveland. People are hungry and scared and angry, and they want a quick fix, want to know that payback has been doled out.”

“It’s more than that—”

“Luckily, we live in a republic, which means that they elect us for the exact reason that in a time of crisis, it probably shouldn’t be the victims calling the shots.” Clay stroked his chin. “Attacking the New Canaan Holdfast won’t get blankets or food into Cleveland.”

“It’s not about food and blankets. It’s about the fact that terrorists are operating with impunity on American soil.”

“An attack on the NCH won’t disrupt the Children of Darwin. Intelligence suggests that it’s unlikely they report directly to anyone in the Holdfast.”

All right, enough.
Leahy said, “Sir, that’s not the point, and I need you to stop acting like this is a graduate seminar and we’re debating.”

Clay’s eyes flashed. “Excuse me?”

“This isn’t the time for a lecture on the benefits of living in a republic. Do I need to lay it all out for you?”

“What you need to do is watch that tone.”

Leahy almost laughed. For years, simply microchipping the gifted had seemed a difficult enough goal. Now there was the opportunity to do so much more. He had no intention of letting Clay’s soft sensibilities get in the way of that.

And every normal in America should hit their knees and thank us for it. Because our work, unsavory as it may be, is all that is protecting their children.

“Now, if that’s all . . .”

“It’s not.” Leahy leaned forward, enumerating on his fingers. “Here are the facts. Three cities are under terrorist control. Casualties are in the thousands, property destruction in the hundreds of millions. Faith in the government is the lowest in history. All over the country, people are stockpiling food, hiding in their basements.” That was five, and he switched to his left hand, kept counting. “John Smith is at large in the New Canaan Holdfast. Erik Epstein is a puppet, and we’re not certain for whom. Our intelligence shows that Holdfast technology already outstrips our own. We know they’re manufacturing weapons and funding research labs developing God knows what. And now the American ambassador to the Holdfast has been murdered in public, in front of his family.” He held up all ten fingers. “Do I need to go on?”

“Owen—”

“No, sir. No more discussion, no more thinking it over. For the good of the country, it’s time to act. You have to give the order to attack. You have to do it right—”

“I don’t have to do a goddamn thing.” Clay leaned forward. “I’m the president of the United States. I decide when we attack. If you can’t deal with that, I’ll accept your resignation right now. Do you get me?”

The grandfather clock in the corner ticked off the seconds. Leahy shrugged, said, “I get you.”

“Good.” Clay rose. He turned his back and went to his desk, the dismissal evident.

Ah well. You knew it might come to this.
Leahy said, “But you’re only half right.”

The man spun. “Owen, I swear to—”

“You are the president.” Leahy flashed a thin smile. “But you’re not the only one who can order an attack.”

CHAPTER 43

Ethan leapt to his feet. In the opposite chair, Amy startled, joggling Violet. His wife read his face, said, “What is it?”

“Someone’s here. Take Violet into the kitchen.”

She didn’t hesitate, and he loved her for that, for not wasting precious time. His wife was stronger and better than he was. She’d manage without him. He wished he could have told her he loved her, that he could have apologized for bringing this all down on them. But they’d survive, and that was the most important thing.

The revolver was on the side table. The weight that only a week ago had felt so strange in his hands was now comforting. He made sure all six chambers were loaded.

You keep telling yourself you’ll do anything to protect them. Time to prove it.

He slipped to the front door and flattened himself against the wall beside it. The door had a small window with a dusty curtain. Through it the front yard looked as he remembered, dotted with thin trees and carpeted with pine needles. Their stolen truck was parked facing out, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. No sign of another vehicle. Had he been hearing—

Something moved behind the truck bed. Ethan’s chest felt like there wasn’t room for air, and his hands went sweaty. Best to do this fast. If he stalled, he might lose his nerve.

A sharp, short inhale through his nostrils, and then he yanked open the door and came out with the gun up. Cold air and the smell of pine sap, needles crunching underfoot, the gun shaking.
Two steps, three, and then he caught another flash of movement, from the other side of the truck; the guy had circled around. Ethan whirled and lined up the sights and pulled the trigger.

The gun jumped in his hand like it was alive, and the roar startled him. A flock of birds leapt from a nearby tree, cawing. The man was still on his feet and coming, just feet away, Ethan had just this one chance, and he leveled the gun and didn’t flinch as he pulled the trigger again, only somehow the man wasn’t where he was supposed to be. He’d stepped aside as if pulled by invisible strings, and his left hand flashed out to knock the pistol aside while at the same time he lunged forward, Ethan’s world suddenly filled with the man’s head, a crack and a whirl and an explosion of pain between his eyes, and the sensation of falling.

He landed on his back, the breath whistling out of him, and stared, coughing and squinting at the figure above him.

“Hi, Ethan,” the man said. “I’m Nick Cooper.”

The ground screamed beneath Holly Roge. She took the F-27 into a smooth pitch turn, the horizon falling fifteen degrees and spinning as she banked around the east edge of Tesla. From her altitude she had a clear view of the rest of the military presence, the ground troops and armored column just miles away. Domed prefab buildings and the glint of metal, helicopters buzzing like dragonflies. Her brothers- and sisters-in-arms, the coiled might of the United States military. A force that would have looked at home in a desert far away, ready to rock and roll.

Idly, she generated the alpha wave patterns to change the heads-up display to quarter-thermal. No specific reason, but Holly liked information, was constantly swapping displays to screen the ground and sky around her. Her baby made it so easy, this marvel of machinery, a chair strapped to a rocket managed by a computer she controlled with her brain.

With the partial thermal overlay, the city seemed to glow in gauzy yellows and oranges, heat sources marked out against the cold air. Squinting, it made it look like Tesla was on fire.

That’s enough of that.
She swapped the HUD back to standard, then did a reflexive positioning check. Her Wyvern was in perfect formation with the other two, five hundred meters apart and level. Just as they had been ten seconds before, and ten seconds before, and ten seconds before, and she took more than a little pride in knowing that the same would be true ten seconds hence.

Out the cockpit glass, the city slid by. Holly had spent a fair number of hours flying over it in the last few days, and she knew its topography, the shift and shape of buildings and boulevards. It wasn’t a bad-looking little town, despite the lousy location; plazas dotted the landscape, and gene-modified gardens grew atop the buildings. The beating heart was a complex of more than twenty blocky cubes of mirrored glass that reflected the Wyverns’ passage. The tallest buildings bristled with gear, satellite dishes and climatology equipment as well as surface-to-air missiles, the antiaircraft weapons they’d all laughed about earlier. All of it would be utterly ineffectual against her Wyvern.