Empire

Verus and he is that smart. He practically owns the whole Progressive movement himself, it can’t be anybody else because nobody does anything on the Left without his fingers in it. He’s like Hitler with Mein Kampf, he announced it all right up front, only nobody believes he’s serious, nobody believes it can be done. But look at what these rebels have accomplished. They’ve got New York, not only our largest city and probably the most Progressive, but the home of most of the news networks including Fox—which, by the way, he’s smart enough not to censor yet. And with New York they have the U.N. And they conducted this invasion in such a way that the city council endorsed it after the fact. These people are now the legally constituted police force of New York City so that technically they aren’t even occupying the city, they’re part of it. You think some committee of really sincere progressives brought this off?”

“I don’t know, we’re a committee,” said Cole. “We’re pretty smart.”

“And we’re thirty feet from the President’s office,” said Torrent. “Smart people don’t form committees and send out mailings. They gravitate toward power so their ideas can be implemented.”

“Brains and money,” said Drew.

Torrent smiled. “One man with brains and money and ruthless ambition, all in service of a cause, so he feels completely justified in killing all kinds of people along the way, from Presidents to doormen. Doesn’t all this sound like the same mind that played us all the way he did with Friday the Thirteenth and Major Malich’s clandestine operations and… everything?”

He didn’t need to mention General Alton’s nearly successful attempt to involve Nielson in declaring martial law. He only had to look at Cole.

“I’m buying it,” said Cole. “At least as a possibility. I assume you’ve already identified all the new dams and new lakes in Washington.”

“Only two candidates for the job,” said Torrent. “Right next to each other, part of the same power and water project. Lakes Chin-nereth and Genesseret.”

“Aren’t those based on the Greek and Hebrew names for the Sea of Galilee?” said Cat.

They looked at him as if they’d never met him before.

“What, a black man can’t study Hebrew?” said Cat. “Army taught me Arabic, Hebrew is the next language over. And I’m a lay minister.”

“The lakes were named for a religious colony that was in the little valley just below where the dams are,” said Torrent. “Nowadays nobody lives anywhere near there. All the surrounding land is national forest, leased by a bunch of lumber companies. I have no idea which of the two lakes was used for dumping dirt. Maybe both. The main thing is, they had no trouble getting their permits. Two lawsuits from environmental groups, but they were dropped.”

“If it’s really where the rebel garrison is, what can we do against two hundred mechs and eight hundred hovercycles?”

“Remember,” said Torrent, “my guesses about what he’s got could be in the wrong proportions. Maybe he’s got twice as much equipment and half as many people. Every person they trained was a possible leak. Maybe Verus never had more than a couple of hundred soldiers. Now they might be scrambling to train volunteer soldiers from New York City. They might have hundreds of mechs lined up against walls with nobody to run them.”

“Or maybe they have weapons we haven’t seen yet,” said Mingo.

“Or an army of thousands armed with standard weapons in addition to the troops that run their new machines,” said Babe.

“I don’t want you guys to make a frontal assault,” said Torrent. “We need surgery here. We need proof.”

“What constitutes proof?” said Cecily. “Half the people in the world don’t even believe we landed on the moon back in ’69. Why would they believe a bunch of pictures of mechs lined up in a cave when Hollywood CGI can create footage of racks of robots or crowds of soldiers?”

“But your video will be grainy and crappy-looking,” said Torrent. “So people will believe it. Besides, what we really want is Aldo Verus and his top people, ready to confess to everything.”

“Why would they talk?” said Cole.

“Are you kidding?” said Torrent. “Verus is a talker. It’s killing him that he’s had to keep this a secret. But he knows that if he’s captured, it’s all over for his particular campaign. No doubt he has visions of the Progressive Movement Worldwide going on without him. But this little war of his, beginning with Friday the Thirteenth, is over. At that point, what’s to hide? He’ll want to brag because he’s a bragger. He doesn’t just love his movement, he loves that it’s his movement. He’ll be eager to sign a book deal with Knopf and believe me, he’ll write every word himself. Verus is the Unabomber—with money.”

“You make it sound so easy,” said Cecily. “But my husband couldn’t even get out of the Pentagon alive. How are these guys supposed to go into an unscouted location and bring back a living prisoner with hundreds of troops shooting at them?”

“That won’t be the situation,” said Torrent. “If I’m right, then when we have possession of either Verus himself or Verus’s dead body, right there in their fortress, the other guys will stop because what’s the point?”

“They’re true believers, that’s why,” said Cecily. “They’re fanatics. They’ll keep shooting.”

“Some of them might,” said Torrent. “But at the point you have possession of Verus and, I hope, his top people, then you call in the Army. You just have to hold out till they finish mopping up resistance and secure the rest of the prisoners.”

“What if we can’t find the installation at all?” said Cole.

“That’s the thing,” said Torrent. “It’s all guesswork. And I certainly have no idea where in the area around the lake this place will be, if it exists. Or where, inside it, we’ll find Aldo Verus.”

“Why do you even think he’s there?”

“Because on this one,” said Torrent, “he’s not going to let anybody else control it. He’s micromanaging it, and he’ll be right at the center of power. Trust me, if the place exists, and it’s his, then he’s there.”

It dawned on Cecily. “You know him, don’t you? You know him personally. You know him well.”

Torrent looked surprised. “Of course. I assumed you all knew that. He’s been to several of my seminars. He hates me, but he learns from me.”

“Why does he hate you?” said Cecily. “You’re no more a Republican than I am.”

“Your example contains your answer,” said Torrent with a smile. “You’re no Republican, yet here you are. When I started consulting for the NSA, Verus accused me of being a whore and we stopped talking. Too bad, because he got it completely backward. Whores give out sex for money. Me, I’d give my advice for free. A chance to play with history? A chance to make a difference?”

Cecily had never seen Torrent be so candid about himself. And it fascinated her. “Good heavens, Dr. Torrent. You think you’re Hari Selden.”

“Who’s that?” asked Drew.

Load and Babe both snorted as if Drew had revealed himself to be a complete idiot. “Asimov’s Foundation trilogy,” said Load.

“Guy who thinks he can shape a thousand years of human history,” said Babe.

“Oh,” said Drew disdainfully. “Science fiction. All those futures, with lots of little green men but no black people.”

“That’s Hollywood,” said Babe. “Because they think black stars won’t open sci-fi movies. The books are —”

“Please, boys,” said Cecily. “You’re preparing for an incredibly dangerous mission and you’re arguing about movies?”

“You brought it up,” said Load.

“Hari Selden,” muttered Babe.

But after the meeting broke up, Cecily could not help but wonder how right or wrong she might be. It wasn’t a bad thing to be Hari Selden, really. A man who manipulated history in order to save the human race from many