The Voting Machine

Truth or Power

The sunset cast a hot pink sheet against the sky with cotton puffs of clouds spread out like pillows. Colors, light and shadow changed in slow and subtle patterns, like a painting in motion. In the center of this vibrant mosaic, a pale blotch appeared. It was indistinguishable at first, then barely noticeable. Finally it crept closer, revealing its definition, becoming impossible to ignore.

It was as if something in the horizon had become distorted, like a bug in the virtual fabric of Second World that defies the laws of time and space and breaks our suspension of disbelief. A fragment of the sky had splintered off, hurtling towards us, closing in.

"You're not the only one with a drone," I told Chet.

Brenda's white bird lurched above the bluff, humming over the veranda by the window and once again leaping out of sight. We could hear it buzzing over the roof of the compound, its propellers slicing through the air. Then a projectile whistled and an explosion rocked the veranda, smashing the window glass under the curtain and burning a hole in the outer corner of the wall.

I felt the GPS chip tied against my ankle, the one that Brenda had provided at the Consulate General to help her trace my movements. Our exchange had been very brief, during the time that Chen, Teresa and the others had been distracted by Chet's news conference. I told her I was headed into enemy territory and she didn't ask any questions. That's what I always liked about Brenda. She was a team player, a grunt in the trenches like me. Once she decided she trusted you, she trusted you unequivocally.

Another explosion boomed overhead and Chet scrambled under the table. Alistair and his fellow bodyguard had taken defensive positions with their weapons drawn. They stood in the doorways, studying the skies outside for a view of the assailant. Alistair barked commands into his radio phone and we could hear his men shouting as they took positions throughout the mansion.

The blasts had set off a series of security alarms and we could hear the police sirens growing louder. It wouldn't be long before they arrived at the gates of the compound. The only questions that remained were how many reinforcements they would have and how many different law enforcement agencies would get involved. Chet and his men were caught between a rock and a hard place.

Chet still had his gun pointed at me from his position under the table, the vial and needle lay crushed on the carpet under a fallen chair. Brown and Sanchez were still sitting upright at the table, typing into their laptops with that feverish, determined look that coders get when they are in the middle of solving a problem.

"What's taking so long," Chet growled.

"Something's all wrong," Brown muttered.

"What do you mean?"

"There's a cp loop that keeps copying the files and clogging the ports. It's scattering them to dozens of different IP destinations."

"Not our IP address?"

"No."

"Where the hell is it sending them?"

"Public sites. Wikileaks. News organizations. FBI servers."

"What?" His voice was a frightened squeak.

"Gina set a trip wire," I said. "She made sure that if you ever found the files she was going to guarantee that everyone else had them too. That's how you avoid being a single point of failure. She saw through you in the end, just like I did. You think I didn't realize you were trying to play me? You made such a generous, selfless sacrifice, risking your safety and reputation to help my family slip out of the country. You think I wasn't going to kick the tires to check how that promise would hold up? Please. Guys like you fire a hundred thousand people in a heartbeat to make the stock move a few points, never mind what happens to the families. All your life you've surrounded yourself with the best and brightest. People like us outside the bubble, we're all nobodies to you. But that's your weakness, Chet, you've never walked in the shoes of a nobody. We can see right through you. Gina wasn't sure whether she should choose truth or power. You never had any doubt."

Flames from blast hole licked at the walls and floorboards. The room grew thick with fumes and that made Brown and Sanchez start to cough into their keyboards. A voice on a loudspeaker rose above the sirens at the entrance gate. It was Emmanuel Stevens, demanding entrance into the property.

"You should turn yourself in before it's too late," I said.

"They don't have a warrant," Chet replied.

"They don't need one. Your estate is under attack. They'll use that as a reason. Then when they come in they will find whatever they can find. Stevens isn't stupid. He'll see the files that just hit the Internet and figure out you played him for a fool, using Secure Strategies to plant your moles right under his nose in Las Vegas."

"Then why should I turn myself in?"

"Because then I can help you. I can corroborate your version of events. We can say you were set up by Chen and Marcus. We say they were the ones who hired Los Empresarios and created the fake Articles of Incorporation to smear you. Who knows. Maybe this whole thing could start a war with Mexico and China. Shiro will make a fortune."

"Why would you help me?"

"Because you'll give me back my daughter, you son of a bitch. You told them to take her. It's like you said, Los Empresarios is taking orders. But they're taking orders from you."

Chet's mouth was hanging open. He seemed uncertain of how to respond.

"Your plan won't work," he said finally.

The flames suddenly crept up the wall and engulfed the curtains still dangling above the shattered window. A strip of burning cloth fell from the rod onto Brown and Sanchez, wrapping both men in a blanket of flames. Their computers sparked as the men sat screaming in their seats. They fell onto the floor and twisted, fanning the flames and igniting furniture with their flailing limbs. Finally, the bodyguard shot them both until they stopped moving.

The gunfire seemed to have a sort of domino effect. As soon as he finished, more shots could be heard from inside the estate. They in turn were met with a thundering response. Chet's security men and the incoming law enforcement crews were drawn into a fire fight. Within a few minutes, the whole mansion was echoing with the rounds and screams and the sounds of gates and doors being forcibly broken down from the outside.

Alistair and the other guard stepped over the charred corpses and dashed out one of the doorways towards the sounds of battle in the front of the mansion. Chet followed them out, turning toward the rear exit to the lawn, making sure to lock me in the burning room before he left.

The smoke was so thick now that I couldn't see the far window anymore. The flames had spread across the chairs and walls surrounding Brown and Sanchez. I flipped the oak table on its side, creating a barrier between me and the fire. The hole in the wall from the initial blast was completely burned out now so I charged right through it, diving over a mound of ashes and landing in the lawn on the outer side of the veranda.

Chet was sprinting north, away from the mansion, past the guest house to the edge of the bluff overlooking the ocean. He scrambled behind a boulder at a crest on the cliff, disappearing from sight. The shooting continued behind me as more sections of the main house blazed from the explosions. Between the screams and crackling fire, I was aware that Chet's surviving security men were starting to surrender, overwhelmed by the teams of cops and Federal agents now flooding into the estate.

I stopped in front of the guest house, where Suzy and Larry were walking slowly out the front door. Larry's chest was soaked with blood and he wouldn't have been able to stand if Suzy hadn't been holding him by the shoulders, propping him up with both hands.

"What happened?" I asked as I helped her carry him across the lawn.

"We heard the blast and Larry jumped at Dean. He tried to take his gun."

"I wasn't quick enough," Larry muttered. "But I did wrestle him down to the floor." He was panting. "Then your wife finished him off with a steak knife from the kitchen."

The puncture was on the right side of his chest and it seemed like it had missed the heart and major blood vessels. He might have a chance if he was able to get medical attention in the next half hour I turned back and pointed toward two of Stevens' agents who had arrived on the rear lawn by the veranda.

"Surrender to them," I said. "Stevens will take care of you."

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"I have to get Chet," I said. "He's the only one who knows where to find Reina."