Shadow Knight's Mate (23 page)

The interviewer frowned.
What happened to those students?

Nothing. They went back to the normal world. While the rest of us started being taught the Real History.
Jack quite carefully refrained from making air quotes with his fingers.

The “real” history. Such as?

He looked at his interviewer, obviously considering how much to say. Even now, with everything smashed and destroyed, the Real History was the Circle's greatest secret. Their legacy. It was all he had left of his friends. To give it away would be the last betrayal.

He and the interviewer stared at each other. Something in her gaze seemed to break him down, much more effectively than the back-and-forth slaps an earlier interviewer had administered. Jack's eyes filled with tears again.

Such as that Alexander Hamilton was one of our first heroes. Mrs. Stein didn't tell us about the Circle then, you had to begin to figure it out on your own. But she explained that Alexander Hamilton belonged to a group that was very committed to democracy but didn't quite believe in it.

Like the Federalists.

Jack smiled but didn't let himself be distracted.
And Aaron Burr found out about this group. He wanted to be part of it. But the group wanted no part of him. They thought he wanted to use them for his own purposes. Normally in such a situation the person who was confronted by Burr—in this case Hamilton—would have distracted him, gotten someone else to lead him down a different path. But our techniques weren't as refined then, and there wasn't time. All Hamilton could do was maneuver Burr into a duel.

You have to remember, Aaron Burr was vice president of the United States when this happened, in 1804. He was headed for great things. And he couldn't take the secret with him. So Hamilton goaded Burr into challenging him to a duel.

Intending to kill him?
the interviewer asked, leaning forward with an uncharacteristic light of curiosity in her eyes.

Maybe. No one knows for sure. But Hamilton accomplished his purpose anyway. Burr killed him, which disgraced Burr for all time. And others arranged for letters to be planted that raised dark questions about Burr's true motive. He became known as the great traitor, always trying to found his own country or otherwise gain power. He also talked for the rest of his life about a cabal that actually ran America behind the scenes, but no one believed him. He was disgraced, you see. Alexander Hamilton planned that and arranged it.

Getting killed in the process.

Jack was silent for a moment. His eyes were dry again.
Part of the point of that story was that sacrifices are required. In every generation.

The interviewer scribbled something on the pad. Jack responded immediately. Then the interviewer frowned.
But you said some kids were eased out of this course. Was that the end of their training?

Jack nodded.
You had to have the capacity to accept an alternate reality. Most people can't. Unfortunately, one can't know that about the candidates until they are taken partly inside. Most candidates wash out, and then they have to be dealt with. They are soothed back into the world they know.

Brainwashed,
said the interviewer knowingly.

Not really. They're just told, “We were only kidding. Things are just the way you think they are.” It's a great relief to them.

And the Real History?

Jack shrugged.
I think maybe they were told that Mrs. Stein's seminar was a combination history and fiction class. Designed to stimulate their imaginations, and they'd been stimulated enough after only a couple of weeks.

Some candidates don't make it, Jack was thinking. Some of those failed candidates are children of Circle members, which is sad for everyone. But the failed candidates might have children who have the capacity. Sometimes it skips a generation. Those grandchildren are watched closely.

He looked at Arden. She was gazing down at the sea. He had no idea what she was thinking.

Jack leaned back in the cushioned seat and tried to relax.
Be carefree,
Rachel had told him. Not careful; care-free. Because that was when Jack was at his best, when he turned his cap backward and let his thoughts roam free of restraint.

Be care-free.
That was hard to do with every important person in the world out to get him and the responsibility for saving humanity on his shoulders. He shrugged, beginning to slip free. He, too, stared out to sea, seeing patterns there, faces. A supersonic aircraft that was actually several planes. And the Circle's own
treasury. Who kept track of that? he wondered.

He and Arden had crossed the Mediterranean again, and it wasn't yet dusk. They were set down in the bottom of the boot of Italy and their pilot, who hadn't spoken during the entire trip, lifted off immediately, whipping them with sand and sudden loneliness.

“I assume we're heading for Salzburg?” Arden said.

“You are. I have something else to do, then I'll meet you there.”

“I'm not leaving you here.”

“Arden, something's going to happen there. Something very bad, and I don't have a clue what. Even worse, Rachel doesn't know, and she has the
Mossad
working for her. The best intelligence service in the world.”

“Maybe nothing's—”

“She also has a feeling,” Jack continued. “And Rachel's feelings are not to be ignored. I don't even know what to look for. But I need your eyes there, and I still have another stop to make. There's no time to argue.”

She glared at him, but she could see that he wasn't going to move until she did. Finally she turned and started to jog. Arden still wore the small backpack Jack had given her, and she had credit cards and cash from Granny. She could hear traffic, and knew she could get away quickly. Just over the hill was a highway, she felt sure.

At the top of the rise she turned and looked back. Jack just stood there. She didn't wave, nor did he. After a moment she just turned and walked down the rise toward the highway.

Jack watched her go. Suddenly he felt very lonely. Seeing Rachel for only a few minutes was like having surgery performed on him without anaesthesia. Now his companion of the last few days was gone too. He'd never trusted her, which was one reason he'd sent her away, and she knew that. But Arden had also saved his ass at least twice. That was another reason he wanted her gone. He didn't know whether she'd really been protecting him or shepherding him, guiding his steps even while giving the illusion
that Jack was in charge. Now he'd see how he did on his own.

He didn't want to be protected any more.

The first riot broke out, prematurely, while Jack was in Italy. The riot happened in, of all places, South Korea. America had kept bases there for sixty years. The strip between the Koreas was still known as the demilitarized zone, which meant it was heavily militarized on both sides. A peace treaty had never been signed to end the Korean War, which hadn't officially been a war. Tell that to all the Americans who had died there.

There was probably nowhere else on earth where neighbors were more suspicious of each other. Korea was not one country divided, not any more. On the South Korean side, the suspicion was accompanied by fear. South Koreans had actually cheered when President George W. Bush had included North Korea in his “axis of evil.” North Korea was ruled by one of the most ruthless and ambitious tyrants on earth. He had nuclear aspirations, and maybe nuclear power by this time. But aside from that, he had an army millions strong. Kim Jong Un didn't have to bomb the south into submission. He just had to set his army marching. They would overrun their weaker neighbor in days.

Only one thing kept that from happening. The United States Army. America had kept thousands of troops posted near that border for decades.

When the bases began emptying some soldiers balked, as had some of their counterparts in Afghanistan. Many of them had families there, Korean wives, homes in town. They weren't going home. They
were
home.

More than that, many of them had a sense of mission. They knew they were actually protecting people, and they knew those people personally.

The riot began with a small group of South Koreans attempting to block the gates of the base, to stop the convoys taking soldiers to the airfield. At first the armored personnel carriers tried to ease through them, but when the first Korean was injured that stopped. Then they hunkered down while the commanding officer sent another convoy to another gate. Hundreds of soldiers were
evacuated before the South Koreans caught on to that one. It didn't take long. The base was full of Koreans working in various capacities, and they had cell phones. The commanding officer tried to empty the base of civilians, which worked about as well as trying to sweep the ocean.

Soon the base was surrounded by civilians, hundreds deep. The demonstration made Tiananmen Square look like a couple of picketers. But this was a demonstration of affection. Of need. Even desperation. News sources soon gathered. Pictures went across the world of thousands of civilians asking American troops not to leave. It was the strangest sight many people around the globe had ever seen. Some signs read “Yankees Stay Here.”

The base was immobilized.

“This would be a hell of a good time for the North to invade,” the General of the Joint Chiefs said to the President during his briefing. The President glanced across at his National Security Advisor. The NSA shrugged.

“Tell General Jackson to stand down for now,” the President said. “Halt the evacuation—temporarily. We'll figure out another way.”

The President and NSA exchanged a glance.
But we're working against a deadline,
Dennis Wilkerson thought, and knew he didn't have to say it. The communication the night the planes had crossed America had been very explicit. This is only a warning. If you don't pull out of everywhere, the next time would be worse.

And the intelligence services had made zero headway in finding the source of that threat. It was almost as if the services had been infiltrated themselves.

“Dennis?” the President said after they were alone.

“I know, sir. I'll try to come up with something. But I could use some help.” Dennis Wilkerson was feeling lonely. No one seemed to talk to him these days. At least, no one talked to him more than once.

He excused himself and returned to his office. He glared around the room, realizing he had no expertise at anything that would help resolve this crisis. Not military experience, diplomatic, strategic. He only employed strategic planning on one field.

Maybe that would help. Sometimes he felt that he drew inspiration from his one relaxation. Without any more hesitation, he opened a desk drawer, took out his PSP2, connected to the Internet, and looked to see if his most frequent opponent was online.

Jack was on the train heading west when he realized he'd forgotten to ask Rachel if she'd heard of his being seen anywhere in her area. She would probably have mentioned it if she had, since she had mentioned his being in France.