Chapter 12: Reckoning

The Capitol was packed for the Biennial celebration. But not everyone was there to celebrate. Numerous groups had registered their cause and were determined to protest the policies and ‘criminal conduct’ of the new administration. The SBI was on high alert as reports of several militant organizations were making static about showing up to express their misgivings in their own signature ways. To mitigate the risk, the entire Capitol building was cordoned off by Jersey barriers and a small army of uniformed officers from every corner of the state. Even as the festivities drew down with the gathering darkness, the crowds grew.

Most of the people who gathered were peaceful and simply marched back and forth in front of the building, waving their banners and chanting their slogans, capturing a few seconds of prime-time coverage. Others didn’t even have to try. They gained attention just by their very presence. The 500 bikers that descended upon the venue — were a prime example, clogging the roads and creating chaos with their loud motors and wild indifference to the authorities who were helpless to do anything but try and control the situation as peacefully as possible. The Neo Nazis showed up with their white hoods and swastika banners and they were joined by the West Baptists who had to put their dirty paws into any public appearance.

Trinity opted to forego her usual subterfuge (or lack thereof) and snuck her way into the mix by the simplest of means. She stole a motorcycle and rode up to the political epicenter by joining the trailing end of the other riders. She slipped away and ditched the bike once she had determined where the SOC was most likely to attempt their infiltration. The Biker’s route circumnavigated the capitol building and she followed them past the rear of the compound where a fortified gate blocked any direct approach to the building. She continued for another quarter mile, noting the intense energy and uncharacteristic calm amongst the gathered protestors. The police presence in this section appeared to be thin and more spread out. There was also a notable lack of media coverage. Yet ironically, she spotted a darkened and empty news van parked just down the hill from the gate. It sat across the median that separated the public access route from the restricted road, where several police cruisers were staged.

‘Not very imaginative,’ she thought to herself as she strode confidently through the crowd of gathered protestors. She retained her black full-face helmet on her head and slipped the ebony rod from inside her leather jacket. With practiced ease she felt the brass lock, assuring its locked position. She did not want to deploy Musashi except as a last resort. She wore a compact black bag over her shoulders. As she wove through the crowd, approaching the news van, she felt a sense of uncertainty as if the majority of those gathered, had no idea why they were there. It was child’s play to identify those who were present by design. Their energy was more intense, expectant of something. A signal perhaps. As she moved, she noted and memorized several individuals who were likely to become players in the next stages of the plan. It was her job to disrupt that plan and try to protect the innocent players in the process.

“I got an empty news van parked across from the back gate,” she muttered inside her helmet.

“Copy that,” Gil replied in her ear, “There is another box van a block down the street.”

“The best-laid plans of mice and men,” she mused, “Let’s cut off the tail.” She dashed across the median and onto the empty sidewalk that fronted a string of distressed businesses. The news van was parked in front of a 24/7-coin laundromat that was, ironically, closed up. There were no street lights overhead and the moon was hidden behind a layer of clouds. Her silhouette was darker than the shadows that surrounded her as she crept silently up to the vehicle and touched a gloved hand to the side. After a few seconds, she felt the vehicle shift slightly as something within moved. Other than the front driver and passenger doors the only other way in or out was through the rear split door. There were no windows along the side, just the embossed decal representing a local news station. She took a moment to scatter a handful of razor-sharp four-sided jacks called calthrops on the ground below both front doors then crouched down and moved to the back of the van where she saw a darkened window over each split door. She crouched below the latch and reached into her bag to remove one of her special toys. It was a bi-metal disc with an adhesive strip on the thinner layer of powdered magnesium. She peeled it away from the thicker patch of thermite and stuck the adhesive directly over the split between the door latches. After resecuring her bag, she poised for rapid egress and then slapped the thermite directly onto the magnesium with a bang that surely startled the occupants within. She quickly ducked around the van as the two opposing metals reacted violently in a loud hissing thermite reaction. The affected area was instantly heated to over 2000 degrees Fahrenheit for approximately 3 seconds, effectively melting the door mechanism and welding the two panels together. Musashi hissed from its scabbard and effortlessly pierced the front driver’s tire as she swept past, darting back across the narrow road and mingling once more with the crowd of protestors.

“News van is neutralized,” she muttered.

She heard the puffs of two suppressed shots, in her ear buds before Gil reported the box van similarly neutralized.

“Randy you are a go for the box van.”

She heard no reply but turned to see the Red Reaper roll past the News Van and down the street. The specialized tow truck was designed for quick snatch-and-grab repos and allowed the driver to quickly grab and lift a vehicle by its rear wheels and pull it away before anyone knew what happened. It was no coincidence that the entire cab was bulletproof. By the time the kidnappers in the van figured out what was happening they would be well on their way to the police impound lot where a small task force was waiting for them.

The disruption became apparent soon after because she noticed a change in the atmosphere of the gathered crowd. Several people she mentally tagged as conspirators were looking around anxiously and speaking into hidden comms for situation reports.

There were only four uniforms positioned between the right side of the gate and the mob of antagonists that were congealing together. ‘This is not good,’ she thought to herself as she strode forward, elbowing her way past the congregation until she found herself facing the empty street across from the police. Nobody paid her any mind as she appeared to be one of them with her sleek black body-forming suit and leather coat. Her helmet remained firmly atop her head concealing her features for the time being.

“The time to take back our government is at hand!” someone shouted through a megaphone behind her. ‘Oh fuck!’

The crowd froze for a moment as the words faded away. “Let not the false powers that be try to sway us from taking back what was ours to begin with!” She turned and spotted the speaker standing on a fountain base well back from the mob. ‘Wouldn’t want to break a nail, would we?’

“Gil?” she spoke low into her com piece.

“Send it,” he muttered back.

“That dandy with the bullhorn back on the median?”

“Yeah, I got him.”

“Please be a dear and shut him up!”

“Citizens of the Free Country!” he bellowed, “Now is the time for your voice to be heard! — your will to be known! “Storm the...” His electronically enhanced voice cut off with a loud pop and squeal of staticky feedback, as the megaphone disintegrated in his hands. With a startled cry, he fell backwards off the fountain rim and into the wet basin with a splash.

“Thank you,” she purred happily. The disruption only served to agitate the mob further and several alternates began chanting, “Storm the gates!” loudly, encouraging others to take up the cry.

“Ah goddammit! Fuck! Shit!” Trinity cursed as she mulled through the crazy limited options in her head. With a new resolve, she swung her sling bag around to the front and strode arrogantly across the street towards the four police. All of them were decked out in riot gear with plexiglass shields and Kevlar helmets. They carried long batons and gripped them nervously as they turned their attention upon her. There were two taller men; one black, the other white, a stockier white guy, and a slender Latino female who looked like she was about to meet her savior. Her name tag read ‘Vega’.

Like a lunatic she began striking her own helmet with the baton as she stepped forward, causing a scene that captivated the crowd behind her, causing them to pause and watch her antics. She flipped up her visor when she was two yards from them and began yelling in a loud clear voice, “HEY PIGS!” she waved her baton around like she was anointing each of them. “How does it feel to be on the receiving end of ‘excessive force?” She was making it up as she went but she heard the crowd rumble with approval. She took several more steps and looked directly at the female officer. “Vega, you got comms? Just nod,” she muttered under the growing noise behind her.

Vega nodded nervously.

“Contact your command post and tell them to reach out to Sergeant Mercurio. Tell her ‘The party’s in the back! Do it now!”

“You know what separates cops like you from people like me?” she demanded loudly as she reached into a small pocket in her bag. “You have to show restraint! You have to avoid hurting us or else you look bad!” she screamed waving the rod with each ‘you’. “Well, I don’t have constraints,” she added with a grin and a wink. “I got your back!”

She suddenly nodded her head flicking the visor back down and whirled back towards the astonished crowd. She swung her free arms widely and tossed a handful of round black balls into the front row of onlookers. Dozens of loud reports sounded as they detonated on contact creating a bright flash and a cloud of noxious burning fumes that stung the eyes and burned the lungs when inhaled. So sudden was her attack that the resulting screams were compounded by the terror of the unknown as well as the agony from the lachrymating cloud. She cast another handful of the balls over the heads of the vanguard, causing chaos and distress to the people confined in the middle. She recognized one of the instigators she had tagged earlier and charged him. The last thing the crowd was expecting was a full-on frontal assault by a single person. ‘Fuck it!’ she reflected angrily as she struck viciously. “Yo-fucking-lo!”

I was decked out in a borrowed suit from Kevin and had already met with the Governor, the honorable Christine Williams. She stood exactly 5 foot 10 and had an athletic figure from years of competitive track and field sports. She was also gorgeous and flaunted the beauty and charm of a supermodel in her slender but classy evening gown. She was briefly apprised of the situation and flatly refused to cancel her moment of glory and go into hiding. This was expected so Kevin, Mercurio, and her superiors insisted that I be her chaperone during the gala. She saw this as a brilliant opportunity to earn more cred from the amnesty groups who rallied in support of her campaign. So, she readily hooked her arm into mine and prepared to lead me out among the throngs of well-wishers and potential kidnappers as if nothing at all were amiss.

“Don’t you have a gun?” she whispered with a dashing smile as she acknowledged a patron of the arts who waved at her.

“Nah, I’ve been told I would probably just shoot my dick off, so they won’t let me have one,” I replied under my breath.

“I feel so much better knowing I have an unarmed bodyguard to protect me!” she commented darkly causing Kevin to snort.

Rachel stood beside him looking like a fashion model herself in her elegant yet sultry dress. “Trust me, Christine,” she said smiling big and radiantly to everyone around her, “you couldn’t be in better hands just now.” Her familiarity with the Governor didn’t go unnoticed among those of us within hearing distance.

Allison was wearing civvies but with an eye for functional utilitarian rather than showy elegance. Other undercover agents were mingling about the crowd. She picked them from outlying jurisdictions where they were less likely to be recognized by any of the perpetrators. She suddenly looked distant as she received a message in her ear. “Lt. Governor Adams has arrived and is entering the lobby.”

“Fucking snake,” the Governor muttered quietly so that only I could hear.

“He will try and get close to you so that, when it goes down, he can play the victim card to its fullest,” I said softly into her ear as I studied the faces around us. There was no sign at all of the disgraced ex-senator Albright but I didn’t expect him to appear at this part of the plan. I was wearing a wire under my jacket and everything I said was heard by several nearby agents including Allison. “Crew-cut to the Governor’s three-o-clock, wearing sleek silver shades backwards.” We stopped and were greeted warmly by a Reverand and his wife who benefited from a recently signed jurisdictional zoning permit for their church upgrade. I noticed another nondescript fellow trying hard to appear unimportant next to the hors d’oeuvres table. A dark-complexioned man in a high-collar waiter’s uniform stood apart from the crowd and gave himself away with his sour expression. I reported each as a possible target and kept my head on a swivel as we continued to mingle. My expanded awareness was tested by numerous distractions but I remained focused on everything and everyone in the immediate area. My phone buzzed in my pocket and I glanced briefly at the text message from Sam,

Albright just sent a coded message to someone in the crowd outside. He wants to know why the drivers haven’t checked in. He is inside the mansion with you.

I turned and met Kevin’s gaze. I nodded at him and his eyes got wide as he glanced around. Another buzz,

The tail is severed. The head will likely resort to plan B, Gil wrote. That meant that the Governor was no longer marked for kidnapping but assassination. I cursed under my breath and reached over to grab her warm hand.

“Excuse me Governor but it’s time to...”

“Ah! Madam Governor!” Lt Governor Adams called out warmly as he stepped through the crowd with his arms wide. His stark white teeth contrasted loudly with his dark skin. I took half a step closer so that she could interact with him but always with my body at least partially between them. He recognized me and had a brief look of confusion in his eye before he beamed at me too. “And Mr. Davis! What a wonderful surprise.”

I intercepted his hand and shook it against all protocol. “Indeed sir,” I replied as I pulled him closer and smiled back. “Game is up fuckhead!” I growled under my breath, “Your outside support has been cut off and both the vehicles you planned to take her away in have been neutralized. You have ten seconds to call off Albright before I do to you what I did to his kid.”

The shock that clouded his face was epic. He tried to pull his hand free but couldn’t break my grip.

“Take a look around you,” I muttered, “There are a dozen cops in here and all of them are watching your every move.” I squeezed his shoulder and discreetly patted him down, checking for any weapons. I pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “Where is he?” I growled. I got no response from him and felt the presence of two undercover agents approaching from behind me.