Empire

check. Besides, they’d be transporting troops northward. The toll road would be blocked up for miles.

“It probably isn’t right to take Charlie O’Brien’s car all the way to West Windsor,” said Cole. “But I don’t see us riding a bus back, either.”

“It’s wartime,” said Reuben. “We’ll mail him the keys and tell him where to pick up his car.”

“I keep running my head into a brick wall here,” said Cole. “How could weapons like this be developed without any intelligence service knowing about it?”

“Easier than you think,” said Reuben. “Defense Intelligence is mostly looking abroad for weapons development and manufacture. If they have a key guy in the FBI who knows what not to pass upward to his superiors, or who can steer agents away from the right direction, you could probably do it in some out of the way place in this country.”

“They had to transport those mechs to New York.”

“On trucks painted with the ABF logo so nobody looks twice at them.”

“There are inspection stations.”

“It’s all about money and true believers,” said Reuben. “Most of the people in the know are true believers in the cause. They don’t talk. And those who aren’t true believers are paid a lot of money, and they don’t know much anyway.”

Cole pushed seek on the radio to find a broadcast station running news.

They were all running the news. But it was still scattered. Some kind of disturbance in New York. Two downed jets. Firing reported. All landlines and cellphones silent. Rumors of aliens, of military convoys heading north through New Jersey, warships sailing toward New York, Marines getting ready to land, National Guard troops called out in New Jersey, New York, and Connecticut.

And, oh yes, preparations for the funerals of those who died on Friday the Thirteenth.

“Great. That’s how they’re going to refer to the assassination of those good men,” said Reuben. “Friday the Thirteenth. As if their deaths were simply a stroke of bad luck.”

“This is what you were doing, isn’t it,” said Cole. “Working with weapons sales and development. You know how weapons systems are hidden and how they’re found.”

“I think I was their patsy all along,” said Reuben. “I’ve been going over shipments and contracts. I was tracking some, I was carrying out others. Bidding, buying, selling, passing money to third parties to pass along to fourth parties. They told me I was fighting terrorism, helping penetrate organizations. But I think I may have shipped some of this stuff to the staging areas.”

“They did this using government budgets?”

“I don’t know whose money I was using. I was a middle man. An errand boy. I had to be smart because sometimes the assignments were dangerous. Guys who’d rather take what you delivered and keep the money, which meant killing me. Sending me helped assure that things didn’t get ugly.”

“How did you prevent it?”

“I recognized the problems going in. If it looked bad, I aborted the mission. Phillips joked that that’s why I was getting the big bucks—for knowing when to walk away from the deal.”

“Big bucks?”

“It was a joke,” said Reuben. “I drew my salary, period.”

“I bet you were a good boy and didn’t keep any records.”

“I wasn’t that good. Encrypted files on my PDA.”

“What’s your password?”

Reuben couldn’t believe he asked. Then he realized Cole was right. “I guess we’ve got a new system of classification now. Top Secret. Eyes Only. Coleman Only.”

“You could have died today,” said Cole. “They could arrest you or kill you at any time. You need that PDA out of your possession and someone else needs to know the password. If you think it has evidence.”

“I never even told Cessy my passwords,” said Reuben. “To protect her.”

“It only protects her against a rational enemy,” said Cole. “An irrational one won’t believe she doesn’t know it till she’s dead.”

“I think these guys are trying to play by some version of American rules.”

“Those bullets pouring into the Chinese restaurant at us didn’t know who was behind those walls.”

“Maybe they had software that recognized our faces. Maybe getting us was worth some collateral damage.”

“Password,” said Cole.

“And maybe you’ve been my shadow the past few days just so you could get that password before you kill me,” said Reuben. “Maybe you’re working for these clowns. They accepted that you might have to kill a few of their guys to earn my trust. You get my password, then you take my PDA and kill me. I don’t know you, Cole.”

“No, you don’t,” said Cole. “For a minute there you trusted me, though.”

“I did.”

“How’s it working out so far?” asked Cole.

“I asked for you to be assigned to me,” said Reuben. “Then again, I chose from a list. They provided the list.”

“We don’t know who they are,” said Cole. “But hang on to the PDA for a while yet. I’m not going to try to force the issue. It’s foolish. But I understand the paranoia.”

“Thank you,” said Reuben. “I still trust you, Cole. I’m taking you home to my family.”

“I know,” said Cole.

“They didn’t know where we were, but they’ll figure it out,” said Reuben. “Where else would I have gone on the Jersey side of New York City? A little research and they’ll be at Aunt Margaret’s. Maybe before we even get there.”

“So let me out before we get too close,” said Cole. “So they don’t get us both.”

“I keep the PDA at home, or I’d give it to you right now.”

“But not the password.”

“No, not the password. You’d be my off-site storage.”

“Who’s trying to arrest us?” said Cole. “Is it the guys who just invaded New York—the ones who are working inside the government to subvert it? Or is it the good guys, who figure it can’t just be coincidence that we keep showing up right where the crisis is?”

“All that planted evidence,” said Reuben. “They can’t ignore it.”

“Is it just coincidence we keep showing up?”

“It’s only happened twice,” said Reuben. “First time, they watched us. Not coincidence. Part of their effort to pin it on me. On an American soldier. But today—no, they had no way of knowing we’d decide to take a five a.m. drive to Ground Zero. They certainly weren’t going to time this invasion to fit our whims. The second day after the assassinations. Still within the time of maximum chaos. Who’s in charge? Nobody’s established the chain of command again. What will this President want? How long will he wrestle with the problems before he acts? Ideal time. Nothing to do with us.”

“Except that I don’t care who did this,” said Cole. “They were killing cops. They were killing uniforms. They may think they’re saving the Constitution, but they’re saving nothing. It’s all about imposing their will on unwilling people.”

“But Cole,” said Reuben. “Don’t you understand? When you have the Truth, then anybody who opposes you is either ignorant or evil. You rule over the ignorant and you kill or lock up the evil. Then you can make the world run according to your perfect Truth.”

“On the Left and the Right,” said Cole. “Same thing.”

“The English Civil War,” said Reuben. “On one side, Divine Right of Kings, patriotism, the status quo, the cool long-haired Cavaliers. Oh the other side, the Puritans, guardians of God’s word, short-haired, Bible-carrying perfectionists. Most people couldn’t care a rat’s ass either way.”

“The Puritans had Cromwell.”

“So they won. For a while,” said Reuben. “But as soon as they had power, they started trying to enact their program. No Christmas, no sports, can’t twitch on Sunday, lives of unrelenting work and prayer. No playing, no plays even. No bear-baiting. No heresy tolerated, and that includes the familiar trappings of religion. Ten years of that and the people were ready to bring back the kings—even if they might have Catholic