Nation of Enemies (7 page)

 

Chapter 13

Memorial Day, Boston

T
EN
MINUTES
TO
go until Kate's introduction speech. She stands at the podium on the Boston State House steps that lead down to Beacon Street, a narrow road that's been blocked off to traffic. Across the street is the Boston Common, a sprawling park created for the commoners of the city two centuries ago. National Tourism spent a year and a hefty budget to restore the neglected land. For years no one tended the lawns or gardens since it was no longer safe to lounge or picnic in a public place. Kate plans to change all that, and the first step is reminding ­people how good it feels to enjoy fresh air and outdoor activities together, as a community. Lush oaks and maples provide shade to the thousands who stand in anticipation on the freshly cut grass that runs several city blocks long. A respectable turnout. They've come from all over New England to see the candidates and to celebrate the ruined but much-­loved Boston. Everyone is here to resurrect it, to honor it.

Kate left Lily two hours ago in the labor room with Cole. She checks her phone. No text, no news. This is a career-­making moment as she prepares to host the future President of the United States, yet all she can do is chew her cuticles and smile nervously. Lily had looked so pale and scared. What if she loses the baby? She swallows hard. What if
she
loses Lily?

The phone vibrates. Her heart drops when she sees it's not from Lily or Cole. Instead, it's a message informing her Richard Hensley will arrive a few minutes late. Mentally she goes over the agenda and adjusts by five minutes, texts her team the update. After she introduces Gardiner and Hensley, Gardiner speaks for ten minutes. Hensley tags on to the end for a quick address. Then restaurants will open booths, and at one o'clock the band will take the stage.

The hope—­the plan—­is to create a sense of yesteryear. The snipers on the rooftops and strategically placed in buildings have orders to remain unseen. Every entrance to the Common contains a full body scan for weapons, and the newly installed electronic fence around the perimeter forces the crowd to proper entrances. Police and Secret Ser­vice, along with the National Guard, are a major presence. It's striking a delicate balance to ensure safety without using overt measures that will cast a shadow on the event.

Luckily, it's a cloudless, seventy-­eight-­degree day. It's heartening to see so many families here, mulling around within the protective layers of security. Teams of reporters and camera operators are capturing the event, waiting for a glimpse of the candidates. Kids play on the jungle gym and splash in the shallow Frog Pond.

For one sun-­splashed moment Kate soaks it all in. The happy chaos, ­people simply enjoying one another in the heart of the city. She wishes Lily were here to see this. If Kate didn't know better she'd think it was 2015. There should be more days like this.

P
RESIDENTIAL
CAN
DIDATE
J
AMES
G
ARDINER'S
speech is predictably charming, engaging and bipartisan. Behind him, with a winning smile, stands vice presidential candidate Richard Hensley, the country's most famous senator. Kate has caught him looking at her breasts on the few occasions they've met. The world would be a different place without him in it, without his precious MedID. Still, she admits that the MedID has the potential to help their country. If only Lily and Cole saw it that way.

A text startles her. Subtly, she checks her phone and sees the photo ID for Sebastian:
Sorry I'm late! Mtg ran long. Be there in 5. xo.

Three minutes remain in Gardiner's speech. Out of the corner of her eye Kate sees movement. From the crowd in the street and behind, in the Common, ­people randomly begin jumping up and down. One on the left. One in the back. One on the right. The front. The middle. They're all wearing masks. She squints to make out details. The masks are all different. Wait, she recognizes them. They're masks of past Presidents. There must be forty-­eight of them. James Gardiner, who is rarely caught off guard, stumbles on his words.

Secret Ser­vice and uniformed police speak into the e-­COM bands on their wrists, debating a plan of action. Kate watches several of them move toward the performers. But they're going upstream, struggling against the thousands of onlookers who also turn to see the action, equally curious. Please don't let them pull guns, she thinks. It'll all go to hell in a hot second.

As if hearing her thoughts, the men and women guarding the candidates unlatch their weapons and move in closer to Gardiner and Hensley, crowding around them. From somewhere in the Common music begins to play. The volume is turned up until it competes with the speech. The masked performers continue to jump, adding dance moves. Kate wonders if this is a planned protest of some kind. Gardiner stops speaking. Sweat forms on his brow and his mouth twitches between smile and frown. He looks at her. She shrugs, shakes her head. Damn it. She watches the reaction from the crowd. Everyone is mesmerized.

The words are clear now. It's the national anthem with a hip-­hop beat. The performers are getting close, moving up the slope of the Boston Common. Clapping along with the music, the crowd makes way for them, creating a path to the State House steps. They think it's all part of today's event, she realizes. They're wearing long-­sleeved T-­shirts with an American flag on the chest and carry what look like a child's magic wand in varying colors. They toss the sparkling props skillfully into the air.

The crowd has become a blockade for law enforcement. Police officers shout at them but no one seems to notice. Farther away in the Common, Secret Ser­vice moves in on a few of the masked ­people. Kate overhears an e-­COM exchange. “Closing in on three of them. They're carrying something. Unclear if it's a weapon. I have a clear shot.” The Secret Ser­vice and police surrounding the podium grip their holstered guns.

As the performers near the end of the song—­“And the star-­spangled banner in triumph shall wave”
—­
they cross Beacon Street and begin to ascend the State House steps. They're too close now. The Secret Ser­vice agents who flank Gardiner and Hensley grab the candidates' arms, readying for evacuation. All the other officers pull their weapons.

“O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!” The audience erupts in applause. A text buzzes Kate. It's Sebastian.
Here now. Only 5k ­people stand btw us. Coming!
She begins to text him back, her fingers working furiously.

A shot pierces the air. Screams. More shots. Kate drops her phone, searches the crowd. Several hundred feet away in the Common ­people scramble and sprint toward the exits.

“Sebastian,” she whispers.

The masked performers charge up the steps. Everyone with a gun aims at them. Secret Ser­vice walls off the candidates and rushes them toward the State House entrance. Kate takes a step in their direction. Shots ring in her ear. A wet mist lands on her arm. Then more—­on her dress, in her hair.
What's happening?
The performers aim their wands, pumping one end as a clear aerosol sprays out the other end. She glances up the stairs, finds the senators and their guards just as three performers pump the wands, sending a mist over the group. Richard Hensley ducks, pulls an agent on top of him to block the liquid. Officers shoot the attackers, who hesitate but don't fall. They must be wearing ballistics skins. Finally, someone shoots all three of them in the head and they collapse.

But it's too late. The agents grip their throats, crumble onto the stairs. Kate watches James Gardiner pressing his hands to his chest. Wheezing sounds all around make her heart pound. Her nose begins to run and she wipes it with the back of her hand. The last few masked performers empty their wands and walk away.

The scream of thousands is piercing. ­People run, push, crash against one another. Kate's legs give way and her body slams into the cement stairs. In her vision, a blur of sandals, flip-­flops, sneakers, dress shoes. A sharp pain in her stomach seizes her and she vomits violently. With great effort she opens her eyes. There are no clear shapes, only a haze of colors. She lies splayed across the sharp edges of the steps, unable to move her arms and legs. The drumming of soles finally stops. She blinks, focuses. Everyone left on the stairs is like her, fallen, unmoving.

Help!
In her head her voice is thunderous. Her eyes close and with the darkness comes quiet. Her throat burns. She opens her mouth wide to take in air, but there's only a desperate rasping sound.
Is that me?
Help! Sebastian
. . . She opens her eyes and gazes past the bodies to the park. Everyone is running. Lying a ­couple feet away, her phone vibrates with a text. She strains to grab it but it's just out of reach. With her final ounce of energy she lifts her head and squints to see clearly. She can't read the words, but there's a picture of a beautiful baby girl.

 

Chapter 14

F
ROM
THE
FAR
end of the Common, Sebastian slams against panicked bodies, fighting his way to the State House and Kate. There must've been an attempted assassination for Secret Ser­vice and the police to pull their weapons, let alone shoot into a crowd of families. Even news crews are fleeing.

Up ahead, the flow of ­people parts to avoid something on the ground. In seconds he's there. On a stretch of grass lie four dead or dying agents and officers. Their bodies are rigid, faces strained, weapons drawn but discarded. He studies the men and women: vomit, hands on throats, mouths gaping. Across from them, three bodies are unmoving, faces hidden by masks now ruined by bullets. Beside them lies what looks like a child's magic wand.
My God.
His attention snaps back to the State House steps. From here he can see several bodies collapsed around the podium. Right where Kate's supposed to be.

He breaks into a full run, pushing through anyone in his path. He touches his smartwatch. “Call Renner!”

After a brief pause, Renner's face appears on the tiny screen.

“Send backup to the State House,” Sebastian shouts. “There's been a chemical attack!”

“BPD just called it in. We're mobilizing—­”

“Alert Mass General, all area hospitals.”

“How many casualties?”

“I don't know.” Sebastian squints at the State House stairs. “Twenty? Thirty? But the crowd is jammed at the exits, physical contact on all sides. There's mass exposure here.”

“I'm locating you.” Renner looks away from the camera. “Okay. You're almost at Beacon. Too close. Stop right there.”

“Not a chance.”

“Whatever they used is probably still in the air. You're no good to us dead. I'll be there in five minutes.”

Finally, the grounds are clear, the crowd now at the opposite end of the Common. Sunlight gleams off the gold dome of the State House. At the top of the hill, Sebastian steps into the street. It's eerily quiet. What was Kate wearing this morning? Her blue summer dress. He moves slowly, studying the discarded magic wands. Black and navy suited bodies litter the pavement, all wearing the telltale earpieces of the Secret Ser­vice. Some weapons are drawn, but many are untouched in holsters. These ­people had no idea what hit them.

Kate. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he scans the podium area where she should have been standing. The steps are thick with legs and arms, twisted faces, bodily fluids. His eyes tear and his nose runs.
Shit
. He rips off his suit coat and throws it on the ground along with his tie. Unbuttoning his shirt, he fastens it around the back of his head so that it covers his nose and mouth. Sweat soaks through his T-­shirt and drips down his brow. Focus. Blue dress.

There—­maybe twenty stairs up, to the right of the podium. The wind lifts her blond hair. Carefully, he steps over hands and thighs and heads. Some of the wounded are still moving, still breathing. There's still hope. A chance.

Finally, Kate. His hand covers his mouth, pain hits his chest. He falls to his knees. There's no question, she's gone. “No! Goddammit no!” His voice sounds like a stranger's. It takes everything he has not to touch her. Crossing his arms, he buries his tight fists against his body. Whatever toxin this is has ruined her, turned her body into a contaminated weapon. She looks nothing like his Kate. His tears splash onto her gray and unmoving face. Her mouth is stretched wide by some unknowable pain.

He rocks back and forth. The shirt over his face is suddenly suffocating, claustrophobic. Standing, he pivots and almost slips on vomit. When he looks down, he sees her phone. Without thinking, he picks it up and types in her code. First he sees the image of Lily's new baby girl. He shakes his head, blinks it away and swipes to find their last communication. He sees a text she never sent to him:
Protestor flash mob ruining my day. Love y

He drops the phone and leans over, hands on his knees. It's hard to tell if he can't take a full breath because of Kate or because of whatever shit they sprayed in the air. Closing his eyes, his heart throbs. Sirens scream as they surround Beacon Hill from all sides, swallowing his cries.

A
PERIMETER
SURROUN
DING
the State House is cordoned off, as dozens of emergency personnel in Hazmat suits and gas masks set up a decontamination area and attend to casualties. Vehicles—­fire, medical, police, FBI, along with Homeland Security and the CDC—­are parked along the narrow streets, leaving barely enough room for ambulances to pass.

In the decontamination area, a man in a Hazmat suit cuts off Sebastian's clothes and disposes of them, inspects his body for sarin exposure and wipes him down with a neutralizing solution. The man directs him to bend at the waist. When he does, the person wets Sebastian's hair and washes it, careful to avoid spilling water on his body.

Renner walks into the tented area just as Sebastian is handed a pair of scrubs. His partner wears a gas mask and a Hazmat suit.

“What do we know?” Sebastian asks, pulling on the scrubs.

“I saw . . .” Renner stumbles on his words. “I'm so sorry about Kate.”

He nods. “What do we know?”

“Well, you know by now they used sarin.” Renner slides the bulky mask off his face. “The wand devices are thin tubes that were rigged into an aerosol spray so it would vaporize quickly. Hard to execute. Hard to trace.”

He goes on, saying something about James Gardiner being the primary target, with Richard Hensley a secondary target. The words meld, it seems like a foreign language. With effort Sebastian refocuses on the conversation.

“Hensley got lucky,” Renner says.

“He's alive?”

“Yeah. Wait till you see the footage. As soon as they sprayed the devices, Hensley ducked behind a Secret Ser­vice agent and used him as a shield.”

“Classic.”

“They just took him to Mass General. Word is he'll be fine.”

“What else?”

“The event was publicized nationally. Everyone knew Gardiner would be here. Could be BASIA, the Sons of the Revolution, Army of God. The wands have prints but we don't expect to find anything. It's doubtful they're in the MedID system. We've pulled all video, including news footage, but the masks are going to make this a challenge. Maybe we'll get lucky and someone will ID one of the three bodies. Someone may still claim credit.”

“You hear from your informant today?”

Renner shakes his head. “I sent a message.”

A sudden wave of nausea hits him as he grips the edge of the gurney. A vision of Kate, the sound of her laugh. He breathes through it.

“You've gotta get checked out. Chances are you were exposed to sarin vapor. It could still be in the air.”

Sebastian slides his feet into disposable slippers. There's so much to do. So many angles to consider. Hell, it's possible one of the terrorists is in a hospital bed next to Richard Hensley.

“First we need to canvass medical facilities for anyone with signs of exposure,” he says.

Renner shakes his head. “A group like this will have underground resources.”

“Probably. But we can't rule anything out.”

The door to the tented area opens and someone in a Hazmat suit and gas mask joins them. “Agent Diaz, I'm Dr. Karen Riley. I'm with the emergency response unit from Mass General. I'd like to do a few routine tests to gauge your level of exposure.”

Renner shuffles out of the way. From her medical kit, Dr. Riley takes out several instruments. Sebastian sits on a gurney and she moves a penlight back and forth in front of his eyes, takes his pulse and listens with a stethoscope to his heart and lungs. After a few other cursory tests, she takes out a pill and a bottle of water.

“Take this,” Dr. Riley says. “Diazepam. It'll lower the risk of convulsions and relax your muscles, reduce any anxiety you might have.”

He does as he's told, swallowing the pill and gulping down the entire water bottle.

“You need an IV drip right away.” She takes an IV kit from her bag. “Atropine sulfate will increase oxygen to your blood. You'll feel better almost immediately.”

“I need to work,” he says.

The petite doctor connects a capped needle to the IV tubing. “You need to lie down. You're sweating profusely and your pulse is rapid. You won't be working at all if you don't get treated for this.”

“Go,” Renner says as he heads for the door. “I'll call you with updates.”

“Shit,” he mutters. Lying down amidst all the chaos feels unnatural. But he does as he's told, watches as the doctor hooks the bag to a stand and deftly guides the needle into his arm.

“Let's go.” Dr. Riley slips a gas mask over his head, motions to two medical attendants, also in Hazmat suits. They wheel the gurney out of the tent as she explains, “Sarin exposure lasts two to eighteen hours. You shouldn't have to be in the hospital for more than a day.”

Back outside, the nightmare is glaringly real. His stomach turns. As they wheel the gurney through the scene, he can't help himself. He looks one last time. Kate's hair still dances on the wind. He's not close enough to see the pain in her face, but the memory will never leave him. Next to Kate, someone in a Hazmat suit bags and labels her personal belongings. He or she places a number by her body: 4.

The ambulance is parked to the side of the State House, at the edge of the mayhem. Dr. Riley gives instructions to the EMTs as they lift him on board. One of the EMTs takes Sebastian's arm and uses an MRS to scan his MedID.

“You're gonna be fine, Agent Diaz,” Dr. Riley says. “I'll check on you back at the hospital.”

The ambulance doors close and the siren wails as they speed down the hill. Sebastian shivers as sweat from his torso soaks the thin shirt he was given. He closes his eyes but there's no rest, no calm that awaits him.
Fine, she'd said. No, Dr. Riley, fine is something I'll never be again
.