Empire

previous actions and statements were made under duress. They would welcome liberation by United States forces. They ask us to be careful to avoid bloodshed.”

“I’d like to arrest their asses,” said one of the cops. “Nobody minded them killing us.”

“I believe,” said Cole, “that one of the sacrifices you’re being asked to make is to pretend that you weren’t stabbed in the back. Just remember that the cameras will show you coming back into the city as the lawful police force—what’s left of it. It’s your show. I know you’ll do it with class.”

That was Cole’s own decision—that the cops would lead the way. Torrent had tried to persuade him that he and Charlie O’Brien should be the point men, but Cole refused. “This isn’t the U.S. Army or the New Jersey National Guard entering New York, it’s New York’s own. New York’s finest.”

Torrent conceded the point.

So they got into Humvees and headed on through the tunnel until they were thirty yards from the entrance. An advance team had already ascertained that there was no ambush waiting for them.

O’Brien and Cole followed the uniformed policemen up to the tunnel mouth, where the news cameras from inside the city were waiting for them.

Cole couldn’t hear what was being said—but he knew the message well enough. Because the police force had been nearly destroyed during the invasion by the traitors, they had deputized members of the New Jersey National Guard and U.S. Army as auxiliaries to the New York City police. They were there to help arrest those traitors who laid down their weapons and surrendered, and to kill any who resisted.

The moment was carried live on all the networks and news channels. It was not known how many of the Progressive Restoration would refuse to surrender. In the end, only one mech operator fired at them and was immediately killed. A few of the rebel soldiers were apprehended trying to escape. No doubt some did escape.

Everyone else surrendered.

The Second American Civil War was over. By far the largest group of casualties were New York City policemen and firemen. The second largest group consisted of rebel soldiers killed by Cole and his comrades in Washington, D.C., and, later, at Lake Chin-nereth.

The only U.S. military personnel killed or injured in the war were Major Reuben Malich and one of the military police who protected Cole’s escape in the Pentagon on the sixteenth of June, and then the men who died in their vehicles on MacArthur Boulevard.

Every one of them, on both sides, an American.

After Cole and O’Brien were photographed with the policemen they had helped to save, they were piled into a car and taken back through the Holland Tunnel.

“You ever get your car back?” asked Cole.

“Oh, yes,” said O’Brien. “You owe me a tank of gas.”

“I owe you more than that,” said Cole.

“Hey, how many guys actually got to blow up one of those mechs during this little war?”

“Damn few,” said Cole, “and thank God for that.”

The car dropped O’Brien off in his unit’s staging area, where the same car was parked. Then Cole was driven on to Gettysburg, where the rest of Rube’s jeesh had already been brought. Again, partly for the cameras. But also to be debriefed by Torrent.

During the debriefing, President Nielson came in to Torrent’s office, waving his hand downward for them to stay seated and continue. He listened as Torrent asked his questions. Soon after Nielson, several others came in. Including Cecily Malich.

It was Mingo who interrupted Torrent in the midst of thanking them and bringing the debriefing to a close. “Excuse me, sir, but there’s a member of our jeesh who didn’t live to make this fight. His wife just came in.”

Torrent turned around, noticing Cecily for the first time.

All the members of the jeesh stood up and saluted her.

She rose slowly to her feet, crying a little, and saluted them back.

There weren’t any cameras in the room. So the picture the world saw was the eight of them, still dressed for combat, lined up behind President Nielson and Vice President Torrent at the press conference.

When it was thrown open for questions, Cole tried to get Babe, who was, after all, a public relations professional, to serve as spokesman. But Babe refused. “I didn’t go inside, man,” he said.

So Cole and Cat stood at the podium, with the President and Vice President looking on. The questions were what you’d expect. Sure, they were heroes. But the press was still the press.

“How many Americans did you kill on this mission?”

“As many as necessary to protect myself and my men, and to accomplish our mission,” said Cole. “And not one more.”

“Why did you obey an order to enter a state that had closed its borders to military operations?”

“With all due respect, sir,” said Cat, “all our operations took place inside the United States of America, under orders from the President of the United States. We did not cross any international boundaries.”

“Weren’t you afraid that your attack would lead to more bloodshed within the United States?”

Cole took that one, forcing himself to stay completely calm. “I was in New York City when this rebellion began. I saw the dead bodies of policemen and firemen and one uniformed doorman on the streets of that city, before I fired a single shot in this war. I believe our actions today put an end to the bloodshed that the rebels started.”

“Do you feel you have avenged the deaths of the President and Vice President on Friday the Thirteenth?”

“We’re not in the vengeance business,” said Cat. “We’re in the business of defeating those who wage war against America.”

Cole added, “We know these people were behind the attack on New York, because that secret factory in Washington State was where the weapons they used were manufactured. But whether they had anything to do with the prior assassinations remains to be seen.” Cole could see the President’s staff visibly relax. They didn’t want anything that could be used by Verus’s lawyers to claim he had already been tried in the media.

“Some reports say that you shot Aldo Verus after he was arrested.”

Cole smiled at the reporter. “After I told Mr. Verus that he was under arrest, he attempted to flee. We overtook him. He then drew a weapon. I did not shoot when he pointed it at me. I shot Mr. Verus in the hand only when he pointed the pistol at his own head. I wanted him alive for his treason trial. Since I was fifteen feet away, a bullet to the hand was the only way I could prevent him from taking irrevocable action.”

Cat added, “We didn’t believe we had time to negotiate the surrender of his handgun.”

A lot of people laughed. A lot of them were reporters.

After the press conference, Cecily came up to Cole. “I can’t get over the questions they asked you. Like you were criminals.”

“It was a game,” said Cole. “Didn’t you notice? The guy who asked me about shooting Verus after he was arrested—he was from Fox. He was setting me up for the answer I gave. Bet you that’ll be the sound bite that runs everywhere tonight on the evening news.”

“And not a headline saying, ‘Soldier accuses Verus of assassinations.’ Okay, I see.” She took his hand in both of hers. “Cole, have you called your mother yet?”

“No, ma’am,” said Cole.

“So she’s going to learn about all this by watching the news?”

“Probably not,” said Cole. “She doesn’t watch the news.”

“So you can still call her.”

He nodded.

“You can use my phone.” She led him out of the room.

Her office—which she shared with four other staffers—was empty. She led him to the desk and he sat down to make the call.

“Before you dial,” she said. “And before I leave you alone to talk to her, I just want to ask you. Will you come see me—soon? There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“What is it?” She looked worried. What could be wrong now? They had the rebel arsenal. They had New York City back.