Ameristocracy (6 page)

“Okay, fine.
It’s
circumstantial right now, but the pieces are there.
I’ve
seen evidence that links someone in the White House to a radical group. I know there is a target date. I know that the intelligence community was investigating the truth, and now the CIA director is dead.”

Spencer looks at Jack, sees that
there’s
more.
“And?”

Jack stares at him. “And you’re involved. This guy Thomas Miller is involved, and now... so am I.”

“So you’ve got a volatile group with a penchant for violence, a desire for power, and blood on their hands.
Not exactly circumstantial.”

“I guess not.”

“Sounds like only half the case.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean, you know something’s coming, right?
That’s
what you’ve found out so far. Now you need to figure out what it is, exactly, so that you can put a stop to it.”

Suddenly, a door creaks open. Spencer grabs Jack by wrist. “Come with me!”

Spencer leads Jack around a corner to the basement staircase, leaving the .38 from William’s house on the table.

Maggie sits in her
spartan
apartment, using the computer she took from Jack’s house, working the mouse furiously as she navigates the web. Soon, she finds what
she’s
looking for. She stares at the screen, seeing the American flag glowing red, white and blue.
But then
it goes animated, the bars curling up to connect with the stars and form the crown. A banner headline fades over top of the image, reading:
 
The Truth
About The
Ameristocracy.

Maggie leans closer as she reads all about the secret society, devouring the information until… Bing! An instant message pops up. It
reads:
Now you know the truth. The help of all
in the know
is needed. Are you in?
Y/N...

Maggie stares at the message for a long moment, hand hovering over the keyboard, unsure whether or not to respond. Then, after what seems an eternity, she reaches forward and presses a button.

The wine cellar of the Virginian estate is medium sized. There are rows and rows of expensive wine. A single bulb dangles from the ceiling.

Jack and Spencer rush through. Jack looks back, Spencer
doesn’t
.
“Dad!
Where are we going?”

“There’s a tunnel leading to the edge of the estate. It was an escape route for slaves.”

“What? Is this whole part of the country filled with underground tunnels?”

Spencer grimly smiles. “You’d be surprised.”

Slam! Jack and Spencer spin around to see the door shutting, the single overhead bulb revealing Frederick Phelps marching toward them, gun in hand.

“Don’t move!” shouts out Frederick.

Spencer makes a move toward Frederick, but Jack grabs his elbow to steady him. “Don’t do anything stupid, Dad.”

“I was a cop, too, you know,” answers Spencer.

“Shut up!” shouts Frederick.

Jack looks at Frederick, recognizing him.
“Son of a bitch.
How’s that Medal of Honor treating you?”

Frederick smirks as Spencer looks at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Your kid’s getting into some trouble, Spencer.
He’s got
no discipline.
No sense of boundaries.
No wonder he never got recruited.”

Jack looks at Spencer. “What’s he talking about? How do you know him?”

Frederick
smiles.
“Your old man’s on our payroll. You think a cop’s salary could afford this place?”

“Nobody was supposed to get hurt,” answers Spencer. He looks at his son. “I never agreed to that, Jack.”

Frederick shrugs his shoulders.
“Collateral damage.
Unavoidable in any war.
Now, Mr. Mitchell, on your knees.”

Jack and Spencer share a look. Then Spencer glances at Frederick.
“Which Mr. Mitchell?”

“Let’s go with both.”

Neither move.
F
rederick steps forward and pistol-whips Spencer across the mouth. “On your knees!” he shouts, grimly smiling.

Hesitantly, Jack and Spencer kneel down. Frederick positions himself in an executioner’s stance behind Jack’s head.

Jack scans the room. The bottles, the bulb, the gunman right behind him. A brief standoffish glare shared between Jack and Frederick. Then, Jack turns back to the bottles. “Jeez, Dad, spend enough on booze?”

He glances at his father, who smirks through bloody teeth.
But
Jack holds the look and Spencer catches on. Two cops signaling each other.

“Only the best,” answers Spencer.

Jack pulls a bottle from the rack. “What about this one? Cost a lot?”

“A fortune.
It’d be a shame to see it break.”

“Shut up, the both of you,” yells out Frederick, as he prepares to fire.

Suddenly, Jack spins around and flings the bottle.
Perfect shot!
It smashes against the dangling bulb above.
Crash!
The room goes dark.

Frederick swears before yelling out. “Don’t move!”

Smash! Smash! Smash!
A barrage of wine bottles hit the wall in the dark and shatter
.

“Stop it!” yells Frederick.

More bottles crash.
And then
…
Blam
!
Blam
!
Two gunshots ring out. Muzzle flares briefly illuminate the room.

“Leave it to a couple of donut-
munchers
to bring a wine bottle to a gunfight,” calls out Frederick.

Meanwhile, outside the estate, police cars surround the house while a helicopter hovers overhead. Officers take up strategic positions all around the property.

Back in the cellar, a light comes on. It’s Jack’s flashlight. It shines on a panting, aggressive Spencer standing in one corner, spoiling for a fight. One more turn and the flashlight finds Frederick, emerging from cover, cocking his gun.

He starts to squeeze the trigger... Crack! A bottle shatters and Frederick drops to the ground in a pool of wine and blood.

Spencer stumbles on top of him, still clinging to the neck of a broken bottle. He raises the bottle and prepares to hit him with it.

But
Jack calls out.
“Stop!
You hit him and you’ll be like him.”

Spencer glares at Jack. “You have no idea what this man is capable of. He is responsible for everything that has happened to me. And now I am going to see that he can harm no one else.”

Jack rushes forward and stands in front of his dad. “When I was a kid, I looked up to you.
Until you ran away.
This is your one chance to save face.
But
if you get blood on your hands, I will lose the last bit of respect that I have for you.
And
once that is gone, there is no way I can ever look up to you.
Ever again.”

Spencer stares back at Jack.
A tense moment.
And then
… Spencer drops the
bottle and makes his way over to one of the rows of wine
and reaches towards one specific bottle. He pulls it out then puts it into a conspicuously open space on the other side. The wall behind Jack opens.

Thump! Thump! The upstairs doors shake as the police enter the house. Footsteps grow louder.

“No time to waste, son.
More coming.”
Spencer practically pushes Jack through the opening and then follows, the wall closing behind him.

Jack and Spencer run full speed through the ever-tightening space. “You know, this is how this whole thing got started. Hidden tunnel, I mean.”

“No, Jack. It started way before either of us
were
around.”

Jack looks at his dad. “How’d you get involved?”

“Got recruited straight out of the academy.
They treated it like an elite, undercover job. Turns out they had bigger plans.”

“The Ameristocracy?”

Spencer nods.
“Heavy-hitters, son.
Power brokers from every sector.
Regulating trade across the globe and wiping out national leaders that challenge their control. I
didn’t
know who I was dealing with until I was in too deep. Then...”

“Then what?”

“I had to disappear.”

Jack stops. “No! You could have stayed.
Exposed their operation.
Fought them!”

Spencer also stops.
He’s
anxious to defend himself. “The day I left, you and your mother went for a walk on the National Mall. Remember?”

A memory registers in Jack’s mind as Spencer jabs a finger into Jack’s forehead. “And they had a sniper rifle on each of your heads. They gave me a choice. And I gladly took it.” He lingers to let the point sink in. “Now, come on.” He takes off, leaving Jack stunned in his wake.

Back in the wine cellar, Frederick stirs. Even in grogginess, his face displays his focus and calculation. He opens the secret passage and resumes his pursuit.

A few moments later, the door breaks down and police officers swarm inside, finding only an empty room.

The deputy glances around and mutters to himself. He turns and races back outside where he comes face to face with the sheriff. “The house is empty, sir.”

“They must have slipped out,” answers the sheriff. "Begin a search of the surrounding woods.”

Nearby, next to a shed, a wall of foliage opens up as Jack and Spencer emerge from within.

“Who’s calling the shots?” asks Jack. “Who’s in charge of the Ameristocracy?”

Spencer shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“Why not?”

“I wasn’t on the inside.
Never wanted to be.
So many lies and secrets, you can never…” He pauses as he hears the sound of a gun cocking.

They spin around to find Frederick emerging from the same bushes, hot on their trail. He wastes no time in taking aim straight at Jack.

Bang! Spencer shoves Jack through a tree line. They tumble down over the crest of a hill and come to a stop. Jack rises, unharmed. Spencer rolls over, a patch of blood quickly spreading all over his side.

“Dad!”
Jack gazes at his father’s wound, recognizing its severity.

Spencer’s voice comes out as a raspy whisper. “Know who to trust.”

With a terrible grimace, Spencer reaches into his pocket. His shaking hand clutches the picture from Jack’s graduation. He hands the photo to Jack, leaving his own smeared blood on the image.

Spencer struggles to speak, but lets out his last breath. Jack grips Spencer’s hand tightly and tears brim in his eyes as he watches his father’s head slump to the ground.

Frederick emerges over the hill, reloading his gun.

Jack gnashes his teeth. He hates himself for leaving his father, but knows his life depends on it. He takes cover behind a tree.

“That was supposed to be you, you know,” calls out Frederick. He edges closer to Jack’s cover spot, checking other trees, not
quite sure
where to pounce on. “Your dad would still be alive if you knew enough to mind your business.
But
the people I work for don’t like you snooping, and have ordered me to put an end to it. So that is what I’m going to do.”

Jack tries to steady his nerves. He waits for Frederick to get just close enough to make a final attack.

Frederick steps over Spencer’s body.
He’s
now mere paces away.

Suddenly, footsteps rustle around them. Muffled voices
can be heard
.
It’s
the police!

Frederick stops. Cursing, he darts off to avoid capture.

Jack takes the opportunity and slips into the nearby stable. As the first police officers become visible, he
comes
riding out on horseback. He and the horse jump over two deputies, who dive out of the way. By the
time
they’re back on their feet, Jack and the horse are long gone.

Jack hangs on for dear life
as the horse thunders through the trees towards the hedge in the distance
. He
doesn't
even look up when a police helicopter flies over. That is how much he is concentrating. He only has one chance.

He tightens his grip on the reins and urges the horse to go faster, as he glances back and sees officers running after them.

Suddenly, a clap of thunder booms overhead and drenching rain begins to pour down as he nears the hedge.

Jack rides full-speed toward the jump but, as the helicopter lowers down in front of them, the horse cuts right and barrels through a line of startled sheriff’s deputies.

They dive out of the way and scramble for safety as the horse spins in a complete circle and bounds toward the hedge again. It runs faster, faster, faster...