The Gambit (62 page)

I walked over to my desk and wiped the tears from my eyes. I grabbed the picture frame and stared at the photo. It only crushed my heart further. To this day, it was my favorite. It was of our families’ picture at one of the Christmas parties here at work. My wife held Stefan, with her poufy brown curls and a brilliant white smile. My two oldest sons clung to my legs, being camera shy as always. Emilio and Marta held Rachel in their arms. She was just a year old in the picture. I had lost my best friend, but my goddaughter had now lost it all.

“Why?!” I screamed, sobbing harder. I needed to compose myself. My entire staff was just beyond the door, and I couldn’t stay in here forever. I had to remind myself that the anguish I felt was only a fraction of what Rachel was going through. I wished I could have just given her a hug and told her that I loved her.
Deep breaths,
I told myself.
Deep breaths
.

Marta was a good woman. She would have never done something like the news suggested she did. Rachel was her only child. The fact that they were even allowing such lies on the air was abhorrent. I was absolutely certain the same people who took down Owen were the ones who killed Marta.
They
were also the ones who staged the bombs at the final debate and outside of Wall Street on Black Monday. They were the same people who arrested my son for conducting research and framed Viktor Ivankov for letting the radioactive material through the Port of New York.

Like my son proved, the isotopes came from here. Russia was never involved. It was all one monstrous lie. It seemed like it consumed anyone that tried to uncover the truth, and now, my greatest fear was that Rachel would end up like Owen.
That
, was a possibility I couldn’t let come true.

I turned around, glancing at all the papers strewn about my desk. I had
so
much information that could take them down, but something was missing. If we had everything we needed, why did this happen? What if I had made Rachel write her article sooner?

Maybe then, Owen would have still been alive. I felt so lost, and I didn’t know where to turn next. I only hoped that the magic piece of the puzzle fell into place soon because we were running out of time. The election was two weeks away, and if we didn’t find a way to reveal the truth to the rest of the country,
all
of our time would be up.
They
would win.

This was the happiest I had been in over two years. I could barely recall when that was—it must have been back when we came up with the idea. I still remembered the dimly lit boardroom where it all began. It was a big deal. The President was there in secret. A few volunteered to lead the pack, but I think I was chosen because of my fervor. The President knew I had a cutthroat attitude, and that was exactly the kind of person he wanted. Time had been slipping by far too fast for my liking, and yet I had reaped just a tiny portion of what I sewed. Years of time and effort…for what? Was I better off than when I was just starting off as a paralegal for some chauvinist lawyer here in Washington? No. Men still ran this country, and I was determined to absorb as much power as I possibly could.

When I began my job as the assistant director of finances for the Democratic Party, I was still Ms. Goody two-shoes. I was trying to climb the ladder just like everyone else was, the right way, but it wasn’t getting me anywhere. I dressed nice, was poised, and kept myself knowledgeable in the areas I needed to be, but it was never enough. Sometimes, I watched how the chairman would talk to some of his right-hand men, the ones just beneath him. When they didn’t do what he wanted, he would get rid of them, replacing them with people who did. He talked down to me many times, but his public image was quite the opposite of how he acted in the office. He was kind, charming, and a social butterfly. I studied him for years. All while I was rubbing elbows with the
right
people.

One day, he stepped down. Ironically enough, it was just shy of a month before the plan began. Sometimes I wondered if he was a kinder person than he made himself out to be, because I would never forget the look on his face when he came back from that half-day meeting. His color was gone, and he immediately stepped down. We never heard of him in Washington again.

I was nominated for the title by a few of my well-connected colleagues. My predecessor must have had a cleaner conscience than me because when I was briefed on the plan, I was all for it. The amount of wealth would be unimaginable. I had few friends. I was a widow with no children. Life had sucked the happiness out of me. If there
were
people I wanted to include in our safety net, I was sure that I’d be able to.

Being a doormat gets old. I was fast approaching fifty, and that opportunity was the chance I always dreamed of. Why should I be forced to live in the shadows of my counterparts’ successes? I was
done
being the nice girl because in forty-something odd years it had gotten me nowhere. It was my turn to call the shots.

It became the drug I was still addicted to, and there wasn’t a sweeter high than what I felt right now.

Owen was dead. The chase was finally over. I knew from the very beginning we would win, and I was overjoyed to know that I had succeeded. I had carried out the duties I was given—to eliminate the threat the Convergence Party posed to our plan. It was supposed to have been much easier than this, but I am one to know, there were always bumps in the road. If Cole
and
Owen would have died at the debate, we would have had no struggle. The public would have just accepted that their favorite political hero was actually a terrorist, and the polls would plummet like we predicted. That happened naturally, even when Owen made it out of the debate alive. Now, we would have to clean up the mess he made. We would have to wipe that video clean off the internet, and the news could never replay it. CNN would regret their decision of not pulling the plug in time just to keep their ratings high. It was embarrassing to be called out like that on national TV, but I would have the last laugh. When the election was behind us, we could finally proceed. This time the Supreme Court would be useless. Our legislative branch would dissolve in a matter of days. The American People would be powerless to change the future we envisioned so long ago. We knew how it needed to be done. Quick and sharp. So fast that they wouldn’t know what happened to them.

Our vision would come true—a totalitarian society. Half of our armed forces could possibly rebel, but the other half were just dumb grunts. They would do whatever they were told. We would quadruple their pay if we had to, to keep them on our side. Once the people were in the Camps again, there would be no getting out. Eventually, we would convert the holding camps into their own little cities. Everyone would be assigned a role. They would have to work if they wanted to be fed.

See, the thing was, we wouldn’t have been hurting ourselves compared to any other countries. They would have followed suit in time. We would pave the way for the others. That was the reason all of this came to be—
knowledge
. The people were finally waking up and realizing what was
really
going on in government. The internet was the main contributor to that awakening. With that endless wealth of information, a citizen could essentially find out whatever he or she would like to find. Or rather, they could share it with the world in a single click. That was why the video of Owen spilling the truth had to vanish quickly. With such a global connection, it could be seen around the planet in a matter of hours. Luckily, we had the best of the best working for us. In just a few months, the internet, free and open, would be a thing of the past. We would determine what people could read, watch, and learn. Ten years ago I would have been appalled at the idea, but now it was quite alluring. I had power, but I wanted
more
.

A few years prior, once I became the chairwoman of the party, I finally saw what went on behind closed doors. The exchanges of large amounts of money, the ridiculous bills written late at night, and the shady deals made in five-star hotels paid by our tax dollars. The longer I was involved, the more I realized the people that surrounded me were hypocrites. They would cut funding to this or that, and yet give themselves pay raises, all while convincing the voters to give them their support.

It made me sick. Hard to believe, I know…but it did. Our government was both a plutocracy and an oligarchy. A small group of individuals with an exorbitant amount of money controlled almost everything that went on in the government. Many in the country, like Owen and Cole, recognized this and grew their following from people who understood what was really going on.

I knew it was going on long before they did. Their vision was noble, in all honestly, but sometimes the good people in this world got suffocated by the ones who played dirty. I was just like Owen at one point, when I was his age, and then this world made me bitter. Everything I saw going on in Washington made me want to strangle the people committing these heinous acts.

No. I was patient. I took the time needed to climb the ladder, and once I learned how to play their game, I played it better. I played it so well that when I took this position, and when I was briefed on the beginnings of the Confinement, I realized I couldn’t turn back. Fuck doing what was right. I would have ended up just like them—dead.

I couldn’t beat them, so I joined them. Not only did I join them, I led them. To be given temporary control over the CIA was entirely unheard of. It wasn’t like I was going to contest. I will never forget the day the parked van blew up outside of Wall Street. It happened exactly as we had planned, few casualties, and a lot of contamination. FEMA and the EPA started the cleanup, but a few people in both agencies knew what to do with the information that was recorded. It was taken and false evidence was produced instead. It worked seamlessly. All I had to do was wait. Then, the riots began. First it was Los Angeles, then Miami, Chicago, Atlanta, Philadelphia. The list went on and on. Lines of people trying to withdraw their money. When they couldn’t, they set buildings afire, torched cars—it was like an all-out war.

Then, Obama stepped in and signed an executive order to initiate the Confinement. None of it was televised. The citizens were blindsided, but that was exactly what we wanted. January 15
th
when the clock struck midnight, it began. The people living within a twenty-mile radius of the two-hundred cities with the greatest populations were rounded up like animals and put into the makeshift camps. Then, the fences were erected. The National Guard and the Army helped facilitate the process, and amazingly, it was all done within twenty-four hours. Everything was going as planned until the third party resistance groups began to show up in thousands at their state and local government buildings. Although, many times those cities were smaller, it didn’t matter. The nine Supreme Court justices took notice, and Ruth Bader Ginsburg, along with a few others heard the voices of the people on the outside of the boundaries. Unfortunately for us, the Supreme Court was the one entity that wasn’t in on the plan. They were the law of the land, and many of them couldn’t be bribed. After three months from the date, they overturned Obama’s order. Everyone was released. It was a blow to our morale.

Our country was stagnant. No one had been in their homes, went to work, driven in their cars. Bills weren’t sent out. People didn’t even know what to do when they were taken back home. They were lost. The government who imprisoned them, suddenly released them, and were things just going to go back to normal overnight?