Without Warning Part 51

Most of the delegates at the convention had succ.u.mbed to the lack of air-conditioning and removed their jackets, loosened ties, and in some case even removed them altogether. The atmosphere in the auditorium was sour, hot and rank, although partly that had to do with the split on the floor that was threatening to tear the whole process apart. Kipper pressed his lips together and tried to maintain his calm as some a.s.shole from Spokane attempted to tell him how to do his job.

"This isn't how we would run things, let me tell you, Kipper. We'd have had this show wrapped up days ago, and there wouldn't have been any of this school camp bulls.h.i.t with lights out and no air, either. How the h.e.l.l do you expect people to make decisions under these conditions? It is impossible."

Kipper's jaw moved like he was chewing gum, which he wasn't. It was simply an old habit. He folded his arms and resisted the urge tell this ... Malcolm Vusevic, according to his name tag ... that he was full of s.h.i.t because Spokane, lying behind the Wave, wouldn't be organizing anything ever again.

He kept his mouth shut though, because in his experience, people who'd hailed from the dead zone tended to be a little sensitive about it, which was only reasonable. What wasn't reasonable was the delegates demanding that they get special treatment over and above what the rest of the city could expect.

"Not gonna happen, sir," said Kipper, resolutely shaking his head. "Redmond, Finn Hill, and North Creek are all on their allotted power-ups at the moment. If you want to turn up the air-con here, it means diverting grid power from those folks. I'm not going to do it. Not on your say-so."

"Well, on whose, then?" Vusevic demanded to know. "Would an order from General Blackstone do it for you?"

"Nope." Kipper shook his head equably. "I work for the city, not the military. Leastways not yet."

He instantly regretted the indiscretion. Vusevic's eyes lit up in triumph.

"Oh I see, one of those anarchists, eh? You're just doing this to delay the inevitable. What's a matter, buddy? Don't like losing a vote? Can't handle democracy?"

Kipper's shoulders and arms ached with the tension building up in them as he restrained a violent urge to beat this idiot into a pulp.

"None of my business, sir. City utilities are my business. And you're not getting any extra power."

With that he turned and walked away from the delegate from Spokane, wondering how the f.u.c.k anyone from Spokane got a ticket here in the first place. All Vusevic represented was a burned-out ruin of urban wasteland.

"Whoa there, Nelly. You're gonna throw a shoe, stomping off like that."

Kipper pulled up at the sight of Jed Culver, who'd just emerged from the crush around the refreshment table. He seemed to live there, and it was taking its toll. The guy looked like he hadn't slept. His face was puffy, and dark bags hung under his eyes.

"Sorry, Jed. Not today, man. I've got a world of f.u.c.king hurt on my shoulders."

"Who doesn't, Kip? Who doesn't? Just a word in your sh.e.l.l-like. Won't take a minute."

Kipper frowned at the odd phrasing, until he remembered that Culver had worked in London for a couple of years. Or he said he had. Sometimes with Jed you were never quite sure when he was feeding you a line. He sighed, exhausted. He really was buried by work, and being called down to the conference floor to get reamed out over the air-conditioning hadn't improved his mood. He hadn't slept last night, after the Gestapo, as Barb called them, had left. Partly because Barney had stayed for another three hours, attempting to win him over to the cause. His friend had left just before dawn, in a police cruiser of all things.

"Not everyone in uniform wants to be the Fuhrer," Barney explained, winking, before he disappeared.

Kipper shook off Jed's guiding hand and continued on his way to the exit.

The lawyer fell in beside him, not saying anything. Grinning and waving at the other delegates as he pa.s.sed them, even those Kip knew for a fact he hated. How the h.e.l.l he did that was a mystery for the ages. When James Kipper didn't like someone they didn't die wondering.

"You going back to your office?" asked Jed, as they left the auditorium behind.

"Yes, I am, but..."

"Great. I'll come with you. Come on."

"Don't you want to be here for the vote? It's on soon, isn't it?"

"Already lost that one, Kip. So no, I have other plans, my friend, come on."

He reluctantly allowed Culver to tag along with him, mostly because he knew the man was congenitally incapable of taking no for an answer. He could blow him off, but by the time he reached his office many floors above, this expensively suited fixer would be waiting in his chair with a big, dumb grin on his face.

"That doesn't sound like you, Jed, giving up because you can't win."

"Who says I'm giving up?"

Kipper spared him a glance and was disturbed by the wolfish smile he found there.

"What's happening, Jed? This really isn't the morning for it."

"No. That's where you're wrong, Kip. This is very much the morning for it. This is the morning the American people, what's left of 'em, G.o.d help us, take back their government."

They entered the elevator, which Kipper had tried to shut down without success-the city councillors had balked at that power-saving measure-and Jed punched in the number for his floor, smiling graciously and using his arm to bar the way of a young woman who'd rushed up behind them to share the ride."

"Sorry, darlin'. Do you mind?"

She did, but there was nothing to be done about it as the doors slid shut.

Kipper bristled at the impoliteness.

"That wasn't very nice, Jed. And it was wasteful. And what are you c.r.a.pping on about anyway? You already said you were going down in that vote this morning. Blackstone is gonna get his congressmen, whether the rest of the army wants them or not."

Jed put a finger to his lips before gesturing around the elevator. Kip sighed with exasperation, but after last night he wasn't so quick to dismiss paranoid speculation about surveillance.

The lawyer nodded.

"Well, you're right about one thing. Not all of the military wants this situation. Ritchie and Franks are dead against it."

Culver looked around as if addressing an unseen audience.

"And n.o.body in uniform is arguing in favor of it, of course. But in the end they'll accede to the wishes of the people."

"But people don't want this," Kipper said without thinking. "Some people maybe. But not everyone. This is just fear and craziness."

"Well, fear whispers loudly downstairs, my friend. Come on."

A bell dinged as the elevator came to a stop at his floor. Kip made to step out and head for his office, but Culver grabbed his arm and directed him toward another.

"I had this one swept fifteen minutes ago," he said quietly, pulling the door closed behind him.

"You what!"

"Found this," he said, pulling a small electronic device from his breast pocket. "Don't worry, it's been disabled."

Kip stared at the tiny piece of technology as hackles rose on his back.

"Sons of b.i.t.c.hes."

Culver shook his head.

"Nah. Amateurs, Kip. Rank f.u.c.king amateurs playing at big boys' games. Now, come to the window. I want you to see the sort of view you miss when you work indoors all the time."

The chief engineer followed Culver to the window and looked down on his city. It was a relatively clear morning, the first in a while. A few gray clouds scudded out near the mountains to the east, but otherwise the sky was clear, save for two army helicopters holding position over the bridges across Lake Washington. And then he saw them, a sea of color, a teeming, seething ma.s.s of humanity streaming onto the bridges and heading for the city center.

"What the h.e.l.l?"

The crowd had already swept past a small army roadblock at the eastern end of the crossing and was beginning to string out in a long procession that took up every available lane.

"The wishes of the people, Kip. I didn't think they were being heard downstairs either. So I invited them all here to have their say."

"I don't... you what?"

"You're a local? How long do you think it will take to walk that distance, Kip? To get them here, I mean, beating on the doors of the convention?"

Kipper shook his head.

"Not long, I guess. If they're allowed."

Jed Culver snorted.

"If they're allowed! What, did I wake up in Soviet Russia this morning? They're American citizens down there, Kip. Your neighbors and friends. n.o.body tells them what they can and can't do, and for sure as s.h.i.t n.o.body tells them how they're gonna govern themselves."

Kipper pressed his head to the gla.s.s, which felt cool against his sweating brow.

"How did you do this, Jed? Without anyone knowing?"

"Without Blackstone knowing, you mean? Or his stalking horses? I had some friends. Some of them friends of yours actually."

"Hey buddy, sorry to keep dropping in like this."

"h.e.l.lo, sweetie."

He spun around to find Barney standing by the office door. And next to him was Barb, holding Suzie on one hip.

"Holy c.r.a.p, Barn, they'll f.u.c.king lock you up, man! And Barbara ..."

"Daddy said the rude word!" squealed his daughter.

He pulled up, realizing he had just dropped an F-bomb in front of his six-year-old child.

d.a.m.n.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Daddy shouldn't have done that, darlin'. It's just that he was a little ... surprised. And kind of upset. What's going on here?"

Barney peered out back along the corridor, where his former coworkers were beginning to gather and point at the slow-moving crowd snaking across the bridges. One or two saw him and waved. He smiled back.

"I told you last night there were a lot of people involved in the Resistance, Kip. Some wack jobs for sure. You know, commies and anarchists, just like you hear all the time, but a s.h.i.tload more decent folk. Guys who used to work for the media. The telecoms companies. The government. Moms and dads."

Barbara nodded as she carefully lowered Suzie to the ground.

"You run along, princess," she said. "Find some paper to draw on. One of Daddy's work friends will help you. See if you can find Ronnie."

"I like Ronnie!" she cried before dashing out of the office.

Kip stared at his wife. It was as though he didn't recognize her.

"You too, Barb. You were part of this?"

"I'm sorry, Kip, yes. Well, I'm not sorry for being part of it, but I am sorry I had to keep it from you."

"But why?" he asked plaintively. "Couldn't you trust me?"

She smiled sadly.

"It wasn't safe, Kip. If you knew I was helping Barney and the others, how could you have come in here every day and faced Blackstone? You're a lot of things, Kip. But you're not a liar. You couldn't have done it."

Kipper turned on the lawyer. His head was an angry swirling mess of emotions.

"You knew about this? About my family being involved?"

Culver nodded. For once he wasn't smiling.

"I've had contact with a number of opposition cells. Your wife's was one."

"You had a cell?" he asked Barbara. His voice rose with incredulity.

Barbara sniffed. "You make it sound like a spy movie, Kip. It was just me and some of the moms from school. Some of our friends. People I could trust."

"Jesus Christ..."

"They're down there, Kip," she said, pointing out the window. "They're coming. Because they have to."

Barney walked over to the window and looked down on the ma.s.sing crowd.

"We've been waiting for this, Kip," he said. "Waiting for the right moment when those a.s.sholes downstairs would go just a bit too far. I thought they'd done it when they locked up the councillors, but people were still frightened out of their minds back then, willing to give up anything just to feel safe. That just isn't so, now. They've had enough, and they want their country back. The little bit they have left anyway."

Kipper was stunned.

Never would he have imagined the day turning out like this. He kept his opinions private, but he was expecting a bleak and wretched day.

"We need your help, Kip," said Barney.

"Mine? What do you need me for?" He waved a hand at the window. "You look like you have it all locked down."

Culver answered his question. "We need you to shut off power to the city, and to Fort Lewis. And we need it done now. We have to knock the legs out from under these idiots before they have a chance to get to their feet."

"But they'll have their own backup plans," he protested.

"Everyone has backup plans." Culver smiled silkily.