Page 28 of Circle of Death
Burbank adjusts his glasses and checks off the devices, shelf by shelf. “Alarm system. Comms panel. Video decks. Police channel. International tap. Network interface…”
“You’ve gotinternetup here?” asks Jericho, incredulous.
“Rudimentary,” says Burbank. “I can probably hack into the few networks that are still functioning, depending on signal strength and bandwidth.” He rattles on with a bunch of terms that are just gibberish to me.Transmission protocols. Packet-switching. Asynchronous transfer mode.But Moe and Jericho know exactly what he’s talking about, and I can see they’re amazed.
“And check this out,” says Burbank.
He taps a few buttons and a panel of video monitors lights up with rotating views of my whole property—from the front entrance to the back garden. On a monitor covering the rear lawn, we can see two figures clearly. One is Jessica, leaning on a stone railing. The other is Bando, forcefully relieving himself.
“You better not have a tap in mybathroom,” says Jericho.
From what I can see, this has to be one of the most sophisticated comms setups in the city. Definitely the best I’ve ever seen.
“Nice work, Burbank.” I pat him on the shoulder. He flinches slightly.
Suddenly another monitor sounds a chirping alert. Our heads swivel to a screen on the top shelf. It’s showing a bird’s-eye view of the front driveway. As we watch, three armored vehicles pull in around the paved circle, leaving a wide space in front of the door.
A squad of men in dark uniforms jump out of the vehicles, guns in their hands. But they don’t move toward the house. They just scan the area and wait. Two seconds later, we see what they’re waiting for.
A fourth vehicle—an even heavier one—swoops up the driveway and slides into the empty space. A couple of the gunmen fall back to guard the new arrival’s rear door.
Jericho turns for the hallway. “I’ll get the shotgun!”
“Wait! Hold on.” My eyes are fixed on the screen. “Nobody move. I’m going down alone.” I nod to Burbank as I back out of the room. “No matter what happens, recordeverything.”
If I’m about to get shot or dismembered, at least they’ll have something to remember me by.
CHAPTER 30
AS SOON AS I open the door, I’m confronted by a wall of armed men. Then the wall parts, and I’m staring at a face I never expected to see in person. I do my best not to appear stunned. But I am.
The man standing in front of me is Lucian Diaz, president of the Americas, now the most powerful politician in the Western Hemisphere. What the hell does he want with me?
Before I can ask, two of the bodyguards pull my arms out to my sides and pat me down, shoulders to ankles, under and over my robe. Diaz stands politely at the threshold, smoothing his bespoke suit. When the guards finish, they step to the side.
“I apologize for the indignity, Mr. Cranston,” says Diaz. “May I come in?”
For most citizens, a visit from Lucian Diaz would be the next best thing to having Abraham Lincoln himself show up on your doorstep. But I have an instinctive distrust of politicians, even one who’s as popular and beloved as this one.
I give the president a nod and wave him in. “No sense wasting a good body search.”
Diaz moves into the center of the foyer. The guards take up a protective formation around him.
“I’m aware this is a surprise, Mr. Cranston.”
“Yes, Mr. President, it is. Which is why you caught me in my bathrobe.”
Diaz has a light brown complexion and an accent so suave and worldly it almost sounds fake. Born in Ecuador, raised in Texas, educated in Boston. I guess he has a right to sound eclectic.
“I’m here because of your reputation, Mr. Cranston. I know that you were instrumental in eliminating the prior regime. In a way, I owe my office to you.”
Diaz is one of the many global politicians who stayed low during the Khan years, hoping for an opening while they tried to avoid being assassinated. With the dictator gone, strongmen of various stripes emerged to consolidate their power. The West was hungry for Diaz’s mix of purpose and principle. And his movie-star charisma didn’t hurt. After uniting a mix of constituencies, he now governs almost half of the planet, from Alaska to the tip of Cape Horn. As rulers go, Diaz is pretty high-minded. And very popular.
“You won the election in a landslide, Mr. President. The people are behind you. What do you need from me?” I doubt that he’s here to offer me a cabinet post.
Diaz clasps his hands in front of his chest. “I’ll come to the point, Mr. Cranston. You’ve heard of the Command?”
I’m not sure how much I should reveal, or how much he already knows. So I hold my cards close. “I’ve seen their work.”
