Choose Freedom: A Post-Apocalyptic Fiction Series (The Boston Brahmin Book 6) Read online

  “Let’s sit and talk,” said Sarge, ignoring the attack. He gestured for everyone to pick a spot.

  “I’ll leave you folks alone,” said Father Dave as he began to back out of the room.

  “Father Dave, actually, would you mind staying?” asked Sarge. “This conversation might be difficult at times for Governor Borden. I believe he might appreciate your presence.”

  Father Dave stopped and looked down to Borden, who shrugged, indicating his approval. The two sat on a sofa across from the Queen Anne chairs occupied by Abbie and Sarge.

  By prearrangement, Abbie and Sarge would play good cop, bad cop. Abbie, who had a personal relationship with Borden’s father, would handle the first part of the conversation in which she would soften up Borden. Then, once Borden had an open mind, Sarge would make the sales pitch.

  “Hunter,” started Abbie, using Borden’s first name to establish a personal connection. “My father and I admired the Vice President very much. As you know, the Morgans and the Bordens have frequently seen eye to eye on many political issues. As a result, my father has been a frequent donor to your dad’s political campaigns.”

  “I know, Abbie,” said Borden. “I’ve always known you to be a stand-up professional during your legal career and as an influential senator. Of course, you know my dad was extremely disappointed that he was denied the opportunity to run in the democratic primary against your running mate. He felt like he was cheated out of the opportunity that he’d earned over the last eight years.”

  Sarge listened as he studied his adversary. Borden seemed like a reasonable person and Abbie’s invoking memories of his dad appeared to be working. Borden was warming to their conversation and became more relaxed under the circumstances.

  “Hunter, we have a couple of difficult topics to discuss with you,” said Abbie. “The first deals with the day your dad died.”

  Borden sat up in his chair and looked toward Father Dave. “What about my father’s death?”

  Abbie took a deep breath and looked into the fire for dramatic effect. She shook her head and then spoke. “Hunter, we have positive evidence that your dad was assassinated.”

  “Abbie, what?” asked Borden. “It was an accident. How would you know this?”

  “Hunter, you and I are both lawyers,” replied Abbie. “Let me take a moment to explain what happened and why. Then, if you still doubt what I’m about to tell you, there are four eyewitnesses to this event staying in the guest rooms here at Kirby House who—”

  Borden interrupted Abbie and looked to Father Dave. “Is this true? Are there other people here besides my family?”

  “Yes, my son,” replied Father Dave. “As a condition of participating in this meeting, I insisted in talking to the individuals myself. I believe their hearts to be true.”

  Borden slumped in his chair and stared into the fire as he became emotional. He looked around the room and finally spoke. “Tell me what you know.”

  Abbie spent the next thirty minutes detailing the attack upon the Vice President’s motorcade during the campaign stop in Pennsylvania. The eyewitnesses she was prepared to produce were ready to relay the specifics of the events. Borden was shocked to learn that the Secret Service detail assigned to his dad was ordered to stand down at the ambush of the motorcade. He was incredulous when he learned the order came from the President’s staff.

  “And all of this can be verified with the witnesses located in this building?” asked Borden.

  “Yes, Hunter. I’m sorry.”

  Borden stood up and picked up an iron poker next to the fire. Sarge instinctively reached into his suit jacket and felt for his ever-present handgun tucked into a shoulder holster. But Borden appeared calm as he stoked the fire. Sparks flew out of the fireplace onto the hearth as the flames danced once again. He carefully replaced the poker as he turned back to the group.

  “I don’t know what to think about this,” said Borden. “My dad’s relationship with the President was somewhat strained during the eight to ten months prior to the cyber attack. After my brother died, Dad had resigned himself to mundane duties in support of your ticket and went on several international vacations with my mom. I don’t understand why the President would go to this extreme.”

  It was time for Sarge to speak up. “I can help you there, Governor Borden. Your dad was an honorable man and would not have stood idly by as this President instituted martial law in such a radical manner.”

  “I know one thing for certain,” interrupted Borden. “Dad would have lost his mind over the cancellation of elections. He may not have always agreed with his political opponents. But he was a firm believer in democracies and the right to vote.”

  “He was highly respected by his peers on both sides of the aisle,” added Sarge.

  Borden managed a smile, apparently thinking of his dad’s likeability. “Abbie, you and I have known each other for years. I trust what you’re telling me, and as much as I want to deny the facts, it all makes sense now.”

  “I promise, Hunter,” said Abbie. “You needed to know.”

  “Okay, that said,” started Borden, turning his attention to Sarge. “What do you want from me?”

  Abbie looked to Sarge and nodded. “You know as much as anyone, Governor, that your dad could be rather inarticulate, at times.” Everyone laughed, easing the stress levels in the room.

  “Without a doubt,” added Borden.

  “But one thing he said that we can all agree upon,” started Sarge. “He said the American people, given half a chance, have never, ever, ever let their country down.”

  Borden burst out laughing, even shedding a couple of tears, which he wiped off his cheeks. “That’s true, Sarge, but you’re being kind in omitting the next line after that statement, which was even after the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor.” All four of them laughed so hard that it caused Drew to enter the room unannounced to make sure everyone was safe.

  After the group calmed down, Sarge made the pitch. “Governor Borden, our country is in a tough spot. It requires real leadership. There are no easy answers, but there are options. We must have the courage to do what we know is morally right. Your dad knew this, and I think you do as well.”

  Borden nodded his head as he composed himself. “I like you, Sarge. I believe we can work together to set the nation on the right path. There are a lot of hurdles in the way. The President is one of those, obviously. But there is a fellow in our backyard who will be just as difficult to dislodge.”

  Sarge stood to shake Borden’s hand. “New York will be experiencing a different kind of conversation today. Unfortunately, if you can’t make people see the light, you have to make them feel the heat.”

  Chapter 30

  Tuesday, February 28, 2017

  1:00 p.m.

  1PP War Room

  Quabbin Reservoir, Massachusetts

  Brad returned to the war room, grinning from ear to ear. The rest of the group, which included Sarge, Julia, Donald, and John Morgan, were talking among themselves when Brad interrupted them.

  “Well, we gave him the option.” Brad laughed. “It was a fair choice. Banishment to Campobello Island as Mr. Morgan suggested or the firing squad, which was my choice, of course.”

  “Yeah, but O’Brien didn’t know that he’d never actually face the firing squad.” Julia laughed.

  “That’s true,” said Donald. “It was a classic lesser of two evils choice.” It was a no-win situation for O’Brien, who chose banishment to the Canadian island as opposed to facing the certain death of a firing squad.”

  The high temperatures during this time of year were around nineteen degrees. O’Brien might find a local resident who would take him in, or he might freeze to death. At least he’d have a chance in his new country of Canada.

  “Now, let’s talk about Mr. Lau,” said Sarge. “I know we’ve debated this ad nauseam, but I have several potential uses for this man’s talent. Plus, despite maintaining his silence thus far, he could potentially cause us probl
ems if he talked to the wrong people.”

  Donald spoke up first. “You know how I feel,” said Donald. “The man survived the horrific explosion, and my conversations with him indicate he’d be happy to return to Korea with the bitcoins he earned last summer. We’d never hear from him again.”

  “Sarge, suppose we could set up a secure location for Lau to operate,” began Brad. “What’s the likelihood of his success?”

  “I’ve spent a lot of time with him over the past week or so,” replied Sarge. “I believe I can trust him, and just as importantly, I think Lau’s capable of doing what I need.”

  “Which is?” asked Morgan, speaking for the first time. As his health improved, he was playing a more active role in mentoring Sarge and advising him during this critical time.

  “Sir, I believe, and Lau agrees, that the President’s communications systems are vulnerable while he is maintaining the administration’s primary functions in Hawaii. Washington is an absolute disaster, and with our gaining control of Regions II and III, the President doesn’t have the ability to restore order in D.C.”

  Donald added, “The President seems content to maintain control over the western states anyway.”

  “Exactly,” said Sarge. “If we could access his communiques, we could anticipate his next move. This will help us as we take the choose freedom message into the Midwest and FEMA Regions V, VII and VIII.”

  “Okay, knowledge is power,” said Brad. “Our NSA has provided the military intel for years, which gave us the upper hand in overseas operations. I suppose Lau could be our version of the NSA.”

  “I can get him set up in a room below,” said Donald. “Or would you rather him have a location in the city, heavily guarded of course.”

  “Lau claims that he can’t do it alone,” said Sarge. “He needs his top assistants—the Zero Day Gamers.”

  “They’re a formidable team,” added Morgan. “We will buy their loyalty, and silence. Mr. Quinn, you will make the proposal for Henry’s review.”

  Donald nodded. “I will.”

  “There is a large computer information systems facility at Fisher College,” said Julia. “They could be watched closely.”

  Morgan stood and said, “No. I have a place which will be familiar to them. It’s state of the art. Donald, have some men see if the Framingham warehouse has been compromised. If not, it will be an ideal location. The building will need temporary power, however.”

  “Okay,” replied Donald. “Sarge, what will you have them do first?”

  “Brad’s contacts tell him that the President and his staff have been using older Blackberry devices. The President has established a communications network through the old PacTel phone system along the West Coast. We’re going to listen in.”

  PART FOUR

  March 2017

  Chapter 31

  Friday, March 3, 2017

  8:00 p.m.

  1PP

  Quabbin Reservoir, Massachusetts

  Spring was showing signs of life throughout much of the country, and for those who survived the harsh winters in the northern states, a new direction was forming for their lives. They were the silent majority—freedom-loving Americans who’d worked hard to provide for their families. While others protested one grievance or another, the silent majority lamented the overreach of government but typically stood idly by until Election Day came.

  The survivors, after six months of a post-collapse struggle, were ready, like spring, to grow again. The period of holding on had passed. It was time to plant the seeds of liberty and grow the harvest of freedom.

  Sarge’s message in his Friday night broadcasts was resonating across the nation.

  “Fellow patriots, if we are going to ask the decent, law-abiding silent majority among us to have the courage to face down this tyrannical usurping of our Constitution, we’ll have to exhibit the bravery to stand shoulder to shoulder with them when doing it.

  “County by county, state by state, the American people are restoring their local governments. Your neighbors, who were duly elected into office, are returning to public service. There are still regions of the country that are held under the thumb of an administration desperate to remain in office. Hear my words.

  “The president does not have the power to create or rewrite legislation—that is Congress’s job. He is not authorized to dispense with or suspend the law. British kings made this practice familiar to the Framers of the Constitution, who deliberately chose to deny such a power to the president.

  “The President openly flouts his duty to faithfully enforce the law with the justification that the nation faces a catastrophe. Well, Mr. President, the winter is over. Our nation is ready to come together as one, yet you play favorites in restoring power to a chosen few.

  “My message of hope and renewal comes with stories of our successes. We have driven the foreign troops from our soils in Texas, across the Sun Belt states, and up the Atlantic Seaboard. Power is being restored throughout these regions by public and private partnerships. Families are not only surviving, they’re beginning to thrive again.

  “For those of you in the Midwest and across the Rockies from New Mexico to Montana, there is hope for you as well. I call on you to unify. Seek out your neighbors and join them in restoring your governments—one by one, brick by brick.

  “But know this, you will not rebuild alone. Rebuilding America requires partnerships to be formed. All Americans stand with the citizens of the great states of Illinois and Iowa, Michigan and Missouri, Ohio and Idaho, in their quest for freedom.

  “Restoring America to its former glory is a process that doesn’t always produce clear, quick results. The process requires problem-solving, and under the circumstances, the public trust in our government must be reestablished.

  “My friends, rebuilding America is about people. Large groups do not move history, people move history. We started small in Boston. Then our movement grew. Our desire for freedom is contagious. What we have accomplished in New England, a small beginning, must serve a larger purpose nationwide.

  “Tonight, my friends, I am prepared to reveal who I am. Stand shoulder to shoulder with me as we plant the seeds of liberty.

  “My name is Henry Sargent. I am only one man. I am a proud American. And I choose freedom!”

  Chapter 32

  Tuesday, March 7, 2017

  2:00 p.m.

  Near Birch Pond

  Saugus, Massachusetts

  “Okay, Professor, what’s the next stop,” said Corporal Morrell to Lau, who was handcuffed to the backseat. Drew didn’t want to take any chances in losing the head of the Zero Day Gamers. Morrell and Drew were canvassing the Cambridge neighborhoods from Harvard to MIT, searching a variety of locations that Lau considered possible hideouts for his associates.

  Lau hoped to find Leo Malvalaha and Anna Fakhri—Lau’s MIT graduate assistants who’d helped him in his initial hacking endeavors. The Zero Day Gamers had become notorious for utilizing their considerable hacking talents for personal financial gain. Their motto—one man’s gain is another man’s loss, who gains and who loses is determined by who pays—became a hacker’s cult classic, especially for those engaged in ransomware activity.

  Drew continued driving north on US 1 toward Lau’s last possibility, a small home owned by Malvalaha’s brother across from Birch Pond in Saugus. Drew eased the Humvee through a blocked intersection. Morrell held his AR-15 at the ready in the event of an ambush. It was a sunny day as spring began to arrive in Massachusetts.

  “Oh man, what a waste,” exclaimed Morrell, pointing to their left.

  “What?” asked Drew.

  “Hooters. Looks like there was a fire inside.”

  “Yeah,” replied Drew. He hadn’t been in a Hooters restaurant in five or six years.

  “I miss Hooters,” squalled Morrell.

  Drew kept driving, frequently checking on their passenger. This entire trip could have been orchestrated by Lau to provide himself a means to escape.
Lau squirmed against his restraints. Drew had cuffed his ankles and his wrists. He’d then strapped Lau into the seatbelt harness, which Drew had also cuffed closed using zip-ties. Even Harry Houdini would find it impossible to escape.

  “Turn right just ahead on Walnut Street,” said Lau. The Humvee maneuvered through the intersection past Applebee’s and picked up speed on the open two-lane street. As Drew saw the lake come into view, he began to slow his progress. “Keep going, about a quarter mile until you see a bus stop sign. Then you might want to slow down.”

  Drew continued to watch the road, and Lau, for any indication or sign of trouble. The bus stop bench appeared and Drew stopped just past it.

  “How much further?”

  Lau nodded with his head. “It’s the bluish-gray house on the other side of that utility pole. You’ll be looking for Leo and Anna.”

  “What’s the brother’s name?” asked Morrell.

  “I don’t know, but his last name is Malvalaha,” replied Lau.

  “Ma-la-la-la-ha?” asked Drew. Morrell starting laughing.

  “You Tennesseans have trouble speaking English, don’t you?”

  “Aren’t you Canadian or something?” asked Drew.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “That’s not English.” Drew laughed. “You say the guy’s name.”

  “Sure. Mavla-hala-hala.”

  Drew turned in the Humvee and double-checked Lau’s restraints. He pulled his knife out of its leg sheath, causing Lau’s eyes to grow wide. Drew gave Lau a stern admonishment. “Do not try to get away. I will chase you down, cut your Achilles, and make you walk behind the truck sixty miles to Prescott Peninsula. That is if you don’t bleed to death in the process. Fair enough?”

  Lau, now sweating profusely, nodded his agreement.

  “Let’s go, Corporal,” said Drew.

  The two men exited the Humvee and Drew locked the doors. With their weapons at low ready, they ran in a crouch along a row of pine trees that shielded their view of the saltbox home just ahead. A four-foot-tall stone wall retained the front yard from eroding onto the sidewalk in front of the house. This would provide cover. At the mailbox, a circle driveway cut through the trees to the back of the house and came out on the other side.