Nation of Enemies (26 page)

 

Chapter 54

I
N
THEIR
EYES
, Charles sees salvation. From the podium at BASIA HQ he soaks in the enormity of his efforts. In this building and via monitors around the country, God's Army of thousands stand at ease awaiting instructions at their final training session. Glory be. They will pave the way for the Second Coming.

“On your way out tonight, each of you will pick up your mission pack,” he says. They hang on his every word. “Each pack has the necessities on which to live for three days. All you'll need to get in and back out to a safe location.”

Out
is open to interpretation. These fine men and women have been trained thoroughly and believe in their mission, in the word of God. No need for his meaning to be overt.

“In the coming days you will be measured and fitted for clothing appropriate to your mission,” he continues. “You will complete your training. And finally, you'll receive your assignment and specific instructions. Flights and hotels will be arranged and paid for. There's to be no contact with your families once you leave home. You don't want to put them at risk.”

Heads nod throughout the crowd and on the monitors. He says, “We have over five hundred targets. Clearly they're outnumbered.”

Laughter erupts. The joyous sound lifts him, his eyes fill. These ­people are his beloved family. He moves his hand to his heart, then opens his palm in the air. In unison, his soldiers do the same.

“Armed with His blessing and strength, you will deliver us from the present evil age, according to the will of our God and Father. Go with God.”

The screens go black. The soldiers in the room stand and a hum of voices begins, indecipherable words, a fusion of vowels and consonants. Henry follows closely behind him as they exit the stage.

“I need to see Anderson,” Charles says. Henry veers into the mass of ­people gathering near the door.

In the Command Center at the control panel, Charles relaxes, rests his head on the soft leather of his chair. His fingers press into his right palm, his nail tracing the cross. What a beautiful, perfect plan God has revealed. Years of work finally coming to fruition. There's a knock at the door. He sits up straight.

“Come in.”

Henry enters with Will Anderson, who salutes and stands at attention.

“At ease, Sergeant. Thank you, Henry.”

Henry closes the door behind him.

“Please, sit.” He motions to a chair and Anderson sits.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Your sharpshooting skills have been brought to my attention.”

“My father took me hunting from a young age.”

“He would be proud, then.” Charles appraises him. A good find indeed. “You've proven your commitment to God and our cause with the earlier matter you brought to my attention.”

“Yes, sir.”

“There's a special, sensitive matter I'd like you to handle.”

“I'm ready, sir.”

“A member of our brethren needs protection. I believe the two of you have become close recently.”

Anderson cocks his head. “I'm not sure who you mean.”

“Taylor Hensley.”

The light dawns. Anderson's his eyes widen. Clearly, he's surprised to find their relationship is not secret.

“I'm afraid she's in danger. You must know, her very existence threatens her father's political aspirations. She's part of her family here and she needs us now. So, continue your . . . friendship with her. In fact, I encourage you to become entrenched in her life. For the safety of her and her daughter.”

“Of course,” Anderson says. “Is there anything in particular I should be watching out for when I'm with her?”

The senator's money should be coming through any time now. “As it happens, Richard Hensley is about to make a considerable donation to the church. He's trying to buy back his daughter. For a smart man, he should know love can't be bought. So as we wait for the transaction to go through, we need to ensure that Taylor and her daughter remain here, in their hometown. Not taken by Hensley's men in the middle of the night.”

“Is Taylor aware of any of this?”

“No. We shouldn't worry her. She should lead her normal, day-­to-­day life, utterly unaware of our protection. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“This won't be a challenge for you. The trust between you and Taylor is already there. It should be more of a reward than an assignment, really.”

Behind the beard, Anderson grins. “Thank you.”

“You've met my chief technology officer, Huan Chao? He'll provide you access to video feeds into Taylor's home. You need to get in deeper, faster. Figure out what she wants, and give it to her. Enjoy yourself, but don't forget this isn't a dating ser­vice, it's your job.”

“I appreciate your trust,” Anderson says. “If I may ask, is this my role in our mission? To protect Taylor Hensley?”

“No. This is like extra credit, Sergeant. Play before work. Yours will be a key role in our Holy War.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You're dismissed, Sergeant.”

Anderson stands and leaves. Once again Charles rests his head on his chair, kneads his palm. Anderson's a good man. He couldn't ask for more in a soldier. But should he be placed in the center of the action, where he can handle himself deftly? Or assign him an easy target, one with little risk that will ensure he returns home? Either way, God wins.

 

Chapter 55

“H
OLD
HER
STILL
,” Dr. Westin says. She positions the MedID injector over the translucent skin of Talia's forearm. “Just a pinch. It'll all be over in a second.”

A burn, Lily remembers. It's more of a burn than a pinch. Five-­month-­old Talia squirms, never happy when her body is restrained. Well who would be? Lily holds down her arms, kisses her forehead. Cole stands opposite, his hands gripping Talia's legs firmly but gently. The pediatrician injects the MedID into her arm. Talia's high-­pitched screams tear at Lily's insides and she blinks back tears. It's hard to know if it's empathy for Talia's pain or the disappointment of knowing the end result.

“You're okay, little one.” Dr. Westin deposits the injector on the counter and takes the MRS. With a wave over the site, the MedID is activated. The doctor calls up the chart and the smartwall illuminates a screen with details from Talia's DNA. In seconds Talia's MedID number, 74, appears in red next to her name. Her pediatrician says, “All done.”

Lily picks up the sobbing Talia and holds her close. The three of them stare at the screen. To be one number away is cruel.

“I'm sorry,” Dr. Westin says. “Do you have any questions?”

“If I'd done the in-­utero screening—­” Her cheeks are hot, her shirt suddenly damp under her armpits. She buries her head in Talia's neck. “This is my fault.”

“There's no way to know, Lily.” The doctor stands and disposes of the injection needle, stores the MRS.

“Her whole life is on a different track because I was too stubborn.”

“You did what you thought was best for your child,” Dr. Westin says.

“She's perfect.” Cole stands abruptly, pulling on his jacket. “Talia's exactly who she's supposed to be.”

“Of course she is.” Dr. Westin gives a conciliatory smile. “Call me if you have questions.”

“Thank you.” Lily's fingertips caress the soft folds of Talia's legs, she inhales her scent. Cole swoops over and takes their baby, buckles her into the car seat and they leave the pediatrician's office.

They haven't spoken for weeks. After all these years, he's like a stranger to her. This movement of theirs, this Project Swap, is treason. Her momentary relief that he's not having an affair with Dr. Riley has been replaced by anger at his willingness to put his family in danger. They could be torn apart by this, the children taken away. He could be imprisoned, and God knows what would happen to her.

Back in the car, she slams shut her passenger door as Cole powers the ignition and shuts off automated drive. Shifting gears, he tears out of the medical practice parking lot, down the street. Not in the direction of home. Holding her tongue is the last thing she has control of, but she can't do it any longer.

“Where are you going?” she demands.

“It's time. You need to see what we're doing.”

“I've heard and seen enough.”

“Please Lily, I need you to trust me.”

“Forgive me if I don't trust you after watching you burn a crime scene. You've put your entire family on the line. You could destroy us all, Cole. And all we have is us.”

“I understand. But I want you to see it for yourself. And then make up your mind.”

Soon they're in Cambridge. The once quaint neighborhood is just like the rest of them, ruined, unrecognizable. “I want to go home.”

“We're almost there.”

One hundred, ninety-­nine, ninety-­eight, ninety-­seven . . . Counting backward helps her to calm down. When she hits sixty-­two the car stops. Before her is a slightly off-­kilter Victorian painted a bright lilac color with shutters that hang off the windows. Long curls of paint give the building a shaggy look. Cole retrieves Talia, who now sleeps soundly after her MedID ordeal. Reluctantly, Lily gets out. An oak tree shades the front yard and rains a steady stream of leaves in the breeze, acorns hitting the pavement with an infrequent, dull beat.

“What is this place?” she asks.

“Our headquarters.”

She follows him inside. The air is musty, mixed with a strong antiseptic scent. There are holes in the wall and patches of rotting floorboards. It's quiet, no one in sight. Then a door down the hall opens and closes. A man wearing a surgical mask passes them on his way out. He doesn't make eye contact or acknowledge them in any way.

“Next,” a male voice calls from the same doorway.

From an adjacent room—­what used to be a living room—­two women also wearing surgical masks emerge, quickly disappearing into the room down the hall. Lily notices Dr. Riley—­Karen—­sitting at a desk in the living room. She's talking in hushed tones to what looks like a teenage boy, also with a mask.

“Why is everyone wearing masks?” she asks.

“Anonymity. The process is quick and we ensure privacy to anyone who comes.”

With Talia's car seat in hand, Cole leads her through the house as he talks in depth about Project Swap. It's a lot to take in. Slowly her animosity—­for his lies, his secrets—­dissipates. He's helping these ­people. They're all desperate with diminishing hope, just like they were when they were turned away in London. She watches him talk to his team members and her chest aches for him, for her.

In Sean Cushing's room, she wears a mask and watches as he wipes a MedID clean. Just like that, a life is changed, restored. A family is whole again, they can move around in the world without predisposed physical barriers to employment, home, medical access. With both hands, the person envelopes Sean's hand, shaking it with pure gratitude. Lily imagines that behind all these masks there are smiles. Perhaps determined looks of hope.

Cole sets the car seat on the floor and rocks it with his foot. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you from the beginning, Lily. But what we're doing is dangerous. I guess I just wanted to keep you and the kids safe in the district, as long as I could.”

“No more secrets.”

“No more secrets.” He wraps his arms around her.

“Will all these ­people leave the country?”

“Some will.” He looks around. “But many will stay and try to make a better life here. We're building an underground network. Eventually this group will make a difference. We'll take positions of power in the government. We'll have a say in our own lives again.”

“A new political party?”

Cole nods.

“How many ­people are you talking about?”

“We're growing quickly. Sean's brought in associates with his skill set and they're planning to expand our reach. In the Northeast alone we've helped hundreds in only a few weeks.”

“The government will kill you, Cole.” She squeezes his arm. “They'll either kill everyone here or put you all in prison for life.”

“We're being careful. It's a calculated risk.”

“I don't like any risk. Especially when it might affect Ian and Talia.”

“I'm trying to give them options. To give them a future.”

“But what if you're arrested?” she asks. “What if we're arrested? The state takes the kids? They go into foster care?”

“I won't let that happen.”

“We could lose everything.”

“Family is everything,” he says. “If I woke up tomorrow and our house was gone, the hospital was gone, all of this.” He gestures to the Project Swap headquarters. “If I was with you, Ian, and Talia, I would still have everything.”

“There are no guarantees.” That's what she wants. It's why she stays at home most days, where she makes decisions that are confined to the life inside the four main walls of that house.

“Let's give ourselves a guarantee,” he says.

Lily and Talia slide into the schedule, between Sean Cushing's appointments. Still, she can't shake the uneasy feeling. Sean takes the MRS and punches in a few keys on the computer. A red light emanates from the scanner and in one fluid movement he brushes it over Talia's MedID site. Instantly, her medical record appears on the screen.

“What number do you want?” Sean asks, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.

“Safe but not obvious,” Cole says.

“Eighty-­two,” she says. Safe, clean.

“Eighty-­two. Keys to the kingdom.” Sean types away and in minutes Talia's medical record is rescanned, her MedID updated to reflect the change.

“Your turn, Lil,” Cole says.

“Me?”

“Sixty-­seven doesn't cut it,” Cole says. “Imagine how well you'll sleep at night with, say, a seventy-­eight.”

She'd been so focused on Talia, on all of this, that it hadn't occurred to her that she might want to have her own MedID cleaned. Since stepping through the threshold of this place, her entire world has been challenged, and changed. In this room, as everyone stares expectantly at her and Sean dangles the MRS in wait. She realizes she's been fighting alone. It's time to join the others.