Jericho Iteration

government of Cascadia.‹

The diagrams disappeared; they were replaced by a map of the Pacific Northwest, with the new borders of Cascadia traced in blue above the Washington and Oregon state lines. Tiny red markers were placed just within the borders.

›When this occurs, Sentinel 1 will be used to neutralize strategic forces belonging to the Cascadian militia. At this time, ERA forces will be deployed to major American cities. The stated intent will be to prevent uprisings from civilians sympathetic to the Cascadian cause. Various state and municipal officials who are aligned with the conspiracy will demand that martial law be imposed in their localities to preserve public order.‹

“Like here in St. Louis …” I began.

A map of the city appeared on the screen. ›Affirmative. Because of the New Madrid earthquake, St. Louis was the first city to be placed under paramilitary control by ERA. The conspirators consider St. Louis to have been a successful test of their ability to control a large civil population. Two principal members of the conspiracy have already taken measures to assert political control of the local government.‹

The pictures of two men appeared on the screen. I stared at them, realizing that it all made sense, yet still not quite believing what I was seeing.

“I’ll be goddamned,” I whispered.

The photos were of Steve Estes and George Barris.

As much as I needed a breather, Ruby didn’t give me time to contemplate all that it had already divulged to me. The photos of Estes and Barris were promptly replaced by photos of the Ruby Fulcrum team.

›Dr. Payson-Smith, Dr. Hinckley, Dr. Morgan, and Dr. Kim became aware of these facts when they accessed my memory. They decided to denounce the conspiracy, with the first step to be their public disclosure of the secret agenda behind Sentinel 1. This would have necessitated publicly acknowledging my own existence, which they considered to be as important as the facts behind Sentinel 1 itself.‹

“And this was why my paper was contacted,” I said.

John’s face was added to the screen. ›As the first step, affirmative. Because they believed it was important that the local press be made aware of ERA’s true mission in St. Louis, they contacted John Tiernan, senior reporter for the Big Muddy Inquirer. However, they were unaware that their workplace was under electronic surveillance by their employer. This, in turn, led to counterintelligence operations by federal operatives.‹

“You mean ERA,” I said.

›There is a strong probability [79.2 %] that ERA was involved in the covert operation.‹

“So Barris decided to rub ’em out.”

›Yes. Kim Po and Beryl Hinckley were liquidated by a government-trained assassin employed by ERA. A portable laser rifle was chosen as the instrument of assassination in order to frame Dr. Payson-Smith with the murders.‹

Po’s and Hinckley’s pictures disappeared from the screen. ›As part of the coverup, John Tiernan was also killed in order to prevent him from disclosing this information.‹

John’s face vanished, to be replaced by my own. I had joined Payson-Smith and Jeff Morgan on this unholy shit list.

›You are now wanted by federal authorities on formal charges of treason with intent to cause civil insurrection. ERA forces have been told that you and the others are considered to be armed and dangerous. They have been instructed to use lethal force if you do not surrender yourselves on first warning.‹

I took a long, deep breath as I stared at the screen. All at once the scattered pieces of the puzzle were beginning to come together. The subtle relationship between the Tiptree Corporation and Steve Estes, the alliance of Barris and McLaughlin, the continued presence of ERA troopers in St. Louis eleven months after the New Madrid earthquake, the murders of three people-all were part of a deadly mosaic that only a freak accident, the release of the a-life-form called Ruby Fulcrum, had exposed.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “You said you wanted me to help you. What do I have to do with all this?”

›You do not understand this? Do you wish me to reiterate?‹

I rubbed at my eyelids. “No, no, don’t do that,” I said. “I just … I dunno. I’m just a bystander, y’know? I’m stuck in the middle, that’s all.”

›Dr. Payson-Smith and Dr. Morgan will explain this further when you meet them.‹

A city map appeared on the screen; a small red circle was traced over a tiny green spot on the map, then the circle expanded as the computer zoomed in.

›Do you recognize this location?‹

I peered closer at the screen. The red circle surrounded the Compton Hill Reservoir, a small municipal park not far from downtown. It was located a couple of miles from my hideout. “Sure, I know it. Are they holed up there?”

›Yes. You will proceed to the reservoir water tower immediately. Dr. Payson-Smith and Dr. Morgan are expecting your arrival within the next thirty minutes.‹

“What?” I shook my head, almost laughing out loud. “Hey, wait a minute …”

›Waiting.‹

“I don’t know if you know this,” I went on, “but I’m in one of the worst areas of the city right now. If I try hiking over there, I’m probably going to get a knife stuck between my ribs.”

The map was replaced by Ruby’s genderless face. ›I am aware of your location and of the hazards of traveling on foot. While we have been discussing the situation, I have arranged for safe transportation to the reservoir.‹

At that instant, there came the short bleat of a car horn from outside the house.

I jerked, almost dropping Joker to the floor; the stray dog awoke from its slumber and, leaping to its feet, ran to the window, growling and barking loudly at something out in the darkness.

›That is all for now. We will speak again soon.‹

Then the screen went blank.

I waited for another moment, half expecting the toneless voice to return. When it didn’t, I folded up Joker and shoved it into my jacket pocket, then got up off the floor and tiptoed cautiously to the window. The dog was barking at a car that had pulled into the driveway; its headlights were out, but I vaguely recognized its shape from the amber brake lights.

“It’s okay, boy,” I murmured, giving the dog a scratch behind the ears as the car horn sounded again. “C’mon, it’s time to go …”

I opened the front door and let the dog out; he followed me across the tiny front lawn to the end of the driveway where a black ’92 Corvette was parked, its V-8 engine idling. The passenger window slid down as I approached, and there was the soft click of a gun’s hammer being pulled back.

“Chevy?” I called softly, freezing in midstep. “Chevy, is that you, dude?”

The dome light came on, revealing one of Chevy Dick’s garage buddies riding shotgun in the front passenger seat. The Glock automatic in his hand was pointed straight at me. “That him?” he asked the driver, never taking his eyes off me.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Chevy Dick replied. “C’mon, Gerry, get in already! It’s fucking dangerous ’round here! Jeez!”

I looked down at the dog; he was squatting on his haunches, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. The tongue disappeared as the mutt frowned, catching the expression on my face: hey, Ger, don’t leave me here …

“Can I bring the dog?” I asked.

“Aw, man, he’ll just tear up the upholstery-”

“No, he won’t,” I said. “He’s cool.”

“I’ve got genuine leather in here. He’ll drool all over it-”

“C’mon, Chevy … he saved my life. Honest.”

Chevy Dick looked away and muttered under his breath, then he reluctantly nodded his head. “Okay, okay,”