none. But it’s not enough to shut them down. It’s not enough to force real change. Besides,” Jen reasoned, “if you’re going to sell us out, you might as well have the whole enchilada.”
“That the game plan?”
“What? Shut them down? Force real change? That would be the hope. But the idea is to get as much as we can and put it out there and let the people decide. Give ‘American Idol’ a run for its money next month during sweeps.”
“Jane and I did not pick this fight,” John said.
“No doubt. I could remind you that Jane’s a big girl and, unlike poor geeky me, a tier-one professional. But if you feel the need to run to her rescue, Nick can ride shotgun with me. This isn’t a job for Superman. And the medals are going to go to the people who try and stop us,” Jen admitted.
John clutched his head in frustration. “This is bullshit! I don’t want to get political; I just want Jane back and I wanna find some way to get paid!”
Jen was standing on the top step as he said that. She paused and said thoughtfully, “Well now, that last thing? I may be able to help you with.” And giving John one last meaningful look, she hit a button to open the sliding wall, pushed back the shelves and stepped into the light. John waited. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi.
“Oh fuck me,” he groaned. And bounded up the stairs after her.
On the floor of the kitchen lay two inert forms, two middle-aged heavy-set men in nothing but their socks and skivvies. Nick was wrapping duct tape around their hands and feet. Then one by one he hauled them over to a laundry hamper on wheels, stood them up, and tipped them in. “Sweet dreams.”
Jen pulled on a discarded company jacket and a gimme cap, both of which bore a corporate logo – a sort of iron gate - and the words ‘Chertoxx Group.’ John picked up the other jacket and cap and they walked quickly out to an idling van. White, with the Chertoxx Group logo on all sides. Jen had a hard time exiting the parking lot. Traffic was bumper to bumper. Finally they got a break.
“Who the hell gets up at this hour?” John marveled.
“Welcome to the resistance,” Jen said, with mock pity. “You do know what today is?”
“I’m unemployed. Things tend to run together.”
“Well, we picked today for a reason. All eyes will be directed elsewhere. And since low people in high places will be biting their nails until the work we – or rather they – were supposed to be doing gets done, we should be able to breeze right on through without anybody giving us a second thought.”
“The work they were supposed to be doing. As opposed to the work we will actually be doing.” John closed his eyes and leaned back for one exhausted moment.
“Roger that,” Jen confirmed. “They were supposed to be upgrading a small but highly hush-hush computer system to comply with new encryption standards, thereby placing its legally questionable, taxpayer-funded software and data outside the public domain forever. Instead – “ she fished in her chest pocket and held up a thumb drive. He opened one eye. He could see that what she was holding was a) miniscule and b) embellished with a piratical skull and cross-bones. She clipped it onto the key ring securing the van keys, “- we will be liberating a shitload of incriminating evidence.”
“No shoot ‘em up bang-bang?” John wondered, both eyes closed again, beginning to relax a little.
“Not if things go according to plan. If they go south, I’m betting you’ll be the one to make it out. By any means necessary. Otherwise, you’re mostly window-dressing and moral support.”
“As long as I don’t have to wear heels,” John said drowsily. “Sounds easy enough.”
“Uh-huh,” Jen agreed grimly, turning into the Pentagon parking lot and fumbling on the dashboard for the parking permit the MPs would ask to see. “Piece of cake.”
25 High and Dry
“When’s the meeting start?”
“Any minute now.”
“Aren’t we headed the wrong way?” Jane asked brightly, as James led her away from all the action toward the house elevator.
“Orientation,” James said. “Forms, policies, updated background check, blah blah blah. You’re not missing anything. The rev doesn’t handle the big fish any more. Today he’s the consolation prize for a bunch of small fry with outsize egos who don’t qualify for the main event. Elites from less developed countries. Cape Verde, Moldova, Panama.” The inside of the elevator was paneled with dark walnut. Like a church pew. Or a coffin.
Jane displayed no fear when the motion was distinctly downward. “Ever get that sinking feeling?” she said, pretending to ignore the fact that James was standing far too close.
“They have pills for just about everything nowadays,” James said as the elevator stopped.
“Better non-living through chemistry,” Jane said. The doors parted and two armed goons reached in. “Hey!”
“Well waddaya know,” James threw up his hands. “Conventional wisdom craps out again.” He continued to talk as Jane was dragged to a cell, placed in manacles, and hoisted into a stress position. “Turns out you can fool all of the people all of the time. It’s the big lie – they never see it coming.”
“Nice,” Jane snarled. “Family values?”
“Now I’d like to point out that, despite my personal feelings to the contrary, I really have been doing my best to get you and John Boy back together.”
“We’re such a cute couple. Hey!” Jane said, as one of the guards did a pat down. An NFL ref would have flagged him for unnecessary roughness.
“But so ill-fated. Romeo and Juliet, Anthony and Cleopatra – “
“Smith and Wesson?” Jane interjected. She eyed her surroundings. The arched ceiling, concrete walls, chaste cot. “I see you went traditional down here too. Good choice. Prison-industrial chic really only works in a gritty urban setting. Or a concentration camp.”
James was pacing back and forth. “And all because you could not leave well enough alone. What on earth were you thinking? That material was marked ‘Burn BEFORE Reading.”
“And if I say I have no idea what on earth you’re talking about?” Jane said in absolute honesty.
James weighed her denial. “Mmmm. Not the most likely scenario. Doesn’t even make the top five. But hang in there sweetheart, we’ll sort it out.” He waved good-bye and was almost out of the cell when he snapped his fingers. Returned to pick up the handbag Jane had dropped in the tussle. “Almost forgot.” He rummaged in the bag. “Ah.” Withdrew her wallet and extracted the miniature cell phone hidden there. “Don’t you just love Spygadgets.com?”
“Amazing what you can get online these days,” Jane concurred. “Plastic flamingoes, vintage Gucci, pre-owned guillotines.”
James grunted. He was concentrating on tapping out a message. “I wonder if you really do know what John’s been up to? For instance, what would you say if I told you we just located him in the very last place on earth he should visit if he’s pure as driven snow? Ah well. I’m on my way to the Pentagon to pick him up. We should be back shortly. Shall I send him your love? One heart or two?”
26 The Kids Don’t Stand a Chance
The true nature of their undertaking began to dawn on John.
“Are you out of your freakin’ mind?” His voice may have risen an octave or two.
“Easy, Farinelli.” Jen twisted in her seat to see what exactly was in the back of the van – cables, connecters, 3-ring binders, testers, analyzers. She twisted back. “Thought for the day: 70% of the people in that building are private contractors. They don’t work for you and me; they work for the multi-nationals. This ain’t your daddy’s Oldsmobile.”
“OK. This is me minus the Little Mary Sunshine act. I have been playing along just in case this was some kind of FUBARed re-employment test, but it is clearly time for cooler heads to prevail.”
Jen glanced at him and hopped out to open up the back of the van, where she pulled a manife
st, checked out some disks and documentation, picked up a roll of cable and put it over her shoulder. “Grab that toolkit, how ‘bout it? We probably won’t need it, but you’ll look a little more official and it’s got lots of pointy things. Oh – and unpack the heat? That could be a showstopper.”
One after another, John took out two guns, his own, then Vinnie’s, and dropped them into a box in the back of the van. Then he slammed out of the vehicle and confronted Jen. “You can’t just waltz into the Pentagon.”
“We’d need a few more for a conga line. This your first time, Captain Doe?” She grinned and slipped him the fake ID. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”
“Hilarious. You know very well I am NOT popping my cherry here, which is how I know you cannot be serious. If you go in there and you do this-“ he lowered his voice and spoke through clenched teeth, “- it’s treason.”
Jen answered him with the clarity of a kindergarten teacher. “So it was just OK for them to put a hit on you simply because they thought you were on to them? And it’s OK for them to throw people out of their jobs and out of their homes simply because they have managed to hi-jack the economic machinery? Is it treason to expose treason? I submit to you that everything, literally everything is fucked up. And somebody somewhere has to unfuck it. From where I’m standing, it looks like somebody somewhere has to do something a little bit wrong to prove that a whole lot of other