Chapter Forty-Seven: Hostage
Toby was still up at five in the morning on Wednesday as they approached Maryland. He stared out the window at the entourage of security floaters that had surrounded them on all their flights for weeks. After five years of it with Dubois, he was used to it. The Gray Guard once tried to convince them to fly in a more advanced vehicle than the Rocinante, and they probably should have. However, they’d grown attached to it, and more important, their followers around the world had romanticized it. To change now would seem to many a sellout, even a betrayal. Instead, they quietly had the shielding upgraded and put in a new, faster engine.
His TC made a light ping, as he’d instructed it to do when election results were out. Earlier in the race, he’d relied on Bruce to bring him the election results, but as he rose in the polls, he had become more anxious about it. There was a standing agreement that the person to get results during the night should wake the others, which Toby did.
Most of the results were ready, but not all. They were jubilant at the initial results, which showed Toby up 121-87, with 39 electoral votes too close to call. They knew they had been gaining on Dubois in the polls before voting began, and hoped for a sizeable African victory. They may have gotten their wish.
However, four countries were listed as 50%-50%: Ethiopia, Mozambique, Zimbabwe, and Congo. The big prize was Ethiopia, with its 28 votes. They watched as the recount was tabulated.
After a few minutes, they groaned as Zimbabwe and its three votes flashed for Dubois. Bruce pumped his fist and yelled, “Yes!” as Congo’s two votes flashed for Toby. Then they groaned again as Mozambique and its six votes went for Dubois. Toby still led, 123-96, as they awaited Ethiopia.
“No!” Bruce yelled, slamming a ping-pong ball against the wall, as Ethiopia went for Dubois. Like Indonesia last week, they kept losing the close ones. The final results had Dubois just edging Toby out, 124-123. Even with the ten points Toby had gained from Ajala added in, Dubois led 493-290. Dubois would only need 174 of the 550 electoral votes still to be awarded—less than 32%. It was a somber crew as they headed into Germantown.
| Africa | ElectoralVotes | Dubois | Platt |
|---|---|---|---|
| Angola | 8 | 54% | 46% |
| Benin | 5 | 45% | 55% |
| Botswana | 1 | 47% | 53% |
| Burundi | 7 | 55% | 45% |
| Cameroon | 6 | 44% | 56% |
| Cape Verde | 1 | 48% | 52% |
| Central Afr. Rep. | 1 | 51% | 49% |
| Comoros | 1 | 52% | 48% |
| Congo | 2 | 50% | 50% |
| Equatorial Guinea | 1 | 55% | 45% |
| Eritrea | 3 | 53% | 47% |
| Ethiopia | 28 | 50% | 50% |
| Gabon | 1 | 44% | 56% |
| Ghana | 10 | 48% | 52% |
| Guinea-Bissau | 2 | 51% | 49% |
| Ivory Coast | 6 | 48% | 52% |
| Kenya | 11 | 52% | 48% |
| Lesotho | 1 | 53% | 47% |
| Liberia | 3 | 46% | 54% |
| Madagascar | 8 | 48% | 52% |
| Malawi | 6 | 51% | 49% |
| Mauritius | 1 | 49% | 51% |
| Mozambique | 6 | 50% | 50% |
| Namibia | 1 | 52% | 48% |
| New Ghana | 1 | 49% | 51% |
| Niger | 9 | 39% | 61% |
| Nigeria | 48 | 37% | 63% |
| Rwanda | 4 | 54% | 46% |
| Sierra Leone | 2 | 45% | 55% |
| South Africa | 6 | 53% | 47% |
| Sudan | 13 | 51% | 49% |
| Tanzania | 15 | 12% | 88% |
| Togo | 3 | 46% | 54% |
| Uganda | 19 | 52% | 48% |
| Western Sahara | 1 | 48% | 52% |
| Zambia | 3 | 51% | 49% |
| Zimbabwe | 3 | 50% | 50% |
| TOTAL | 247 | 124 | 123 |
* * *
Tuesday night and Wednesday early morning were a busy time for Reese. He brought the needed supplies to Germantown Middle School in a stolen blue floater. He parked it on the fake grass a short distance down the street from the front gate. He wore his cheap prosthetic arm. He looked forward to junking it for his special made version. Plan C.
He made sure no one was watching. Then he awkwardly climbed the fence. His fake arm was useless for climbing.
There were guards next to every door into the school. There were proximity scanners that would prevent him from breaking in or bringing weapons anywhere near. But in the darkness he could move about the grounds. As long as he didn’t get too close to the school. He took a long walk around the walls, placing infowave scramblers at each corner. He had a remote control to turn them on. At the right time.
He laid a regular phone set near the front gate by the blue floater. He hid it in the grass. From that he ran regular old-fashioned phone wire under the gate and into the school grounds. He’d stolen the two thousand yards of wire. To match the artificial grass he’d painted the phone set and wire green. He took the wire as close as he dared to the school. He hammered a clasp into the ground over it to hold it in position. Then he ran the wire away from the school. To an out-of-the-way part of the fence that nobody would notice. He drilled a hole in the fence with a small hand laser. He ran the wire through it.
Outside he ran the wire to the street. Earlier he’d located a sewer running underneath it. He’d dealt with bad odors during his years in the army and Special Forces. But nothing like the foul-smelling stench he now faced. He held his breath as he crawled across on hands and knees in two inches of cold water, dragging the phone wire. When he emerged, water and sewage dripped from his clothing. He reeked like a flooded outhouse. He felt like one.
On the other side, he ran the wire to the back yard of a house. Then through several more back yards until he reached the house directly across from the school’s front gate. He ran the wire inside. He attached it to a second phone set. The old man and old woman who lived in the house were upstairs. They wouldn’t mind. He’d killed them that afternoon and stuffed their bodies in a closet.
Plan B was ready.
He went back and buried several small bombs on the school grounds. They, too, were operated by remote control. He smiled. He was so organized.
He pulled out the paper map of the Washington D.C. and the Germantown area. Once again he examined the line he’d drawn between Moderate Headquarters and Germantown Middle School. He’d placed an “X” at the midpoint between the two. North Potomac. Plan A. He’d use a second stolen floater he’d parked down the street to get there. He’d leave the blue floater behind. Inside the second floater he retrieved the change of clothing he’d left there. And the special-made prosthetic. With a surprise he didn’t expect to use. Plan C. The first rule of covert operations is always have backup plans. He was a professional.
His work was done. When the time came he’d send messages to the principal and the police. He’d set off the bombs and turn on the scramblers.
He went back to the house across from the school and took a long, luxurious shower. Then he put on his faded blue American uniform.
* * *
Toby spent the morning at The Ranch, going over election plans with Bruce and the rest of the staff. It seemed entire epochs had gone by since they’d rented the place as their headquarters. Toby still remembered that first night after they moved in and how surreal it all felt. And then Twenty-two had walked in the door.
Now the place was surrounded by the Gray Guard, with the inside jammed with staffers and more Gray Guard. The walls and roof had been shielded. It was a good thing they had rented a rather large space, though they’d never dreamed back then that their quixotic quest would turn into a real campaign.
He missed Olivia and Tyler. He’d rather spend the entire day with them, but Bruce thought that this was a good time for the staff to meet for a few hours about upcoming plans, and he wanted Toby there. They normally did this via TC, but it wasn’t quite the same. So he’d meet Olivia and Tyler for lunch, and have the rest of the day and night to themselves. No force in the universe would stop that.
Tyler had begged to get the entire day off, but could come up with no excuse to miss his morning classes, and so he was doing a half day.
The morning dragged on as Bruce and the others debated strategy. Sometimes he wanted to yell out, “I’m right here!” as they discussed his various liabilities.
At eleven Toby received a TC call from Stuart Chandler, director of the Gray Guard. Other than exchanging pleasantries, they’d never really met. A longtime military man who still wore a crew cut, Chandler looked as if every muscle in his body stood at attention.
“From the look of your face, there’s something really wrong,” Toby said. If the man’s face were any redder he’d be hospitalized for sunstroke.
“Sir, there’s a problem at your son’s school. Ten minutes ago all contact with the school was lost—someone’s put up an infowave scrambler, so we can’t reach the Gray Guard protecting your son or anyone else there. There are reports of explosions. Just before communication went down, we received a message from someone calling himself ‘Windmill.’ He said he’s taken your son hostage at the school.”