Panic

“Why don’t you spell it out for me?” replied Logan, his impatience almost tangible.

“It’s the nature of politics, I’m afraid,” the second suit chimed in. “We have to see some kind of commitment from you before we can do the same. You know how it is.”

“If you mean financial commitment, I am working on a package right now. I had aimed to have a proposal for you by today, but I’m afraid we’ve run into an unforeseen roadblock. Nothing to worry about, I assure you. I’ll have something solid for you by tomorrow.”

“Good, good,” said suit number three, slapping his palm across the senator’s shoulder. “I’m glad we can stay friends.”

The colonel watched the old politician recoil as though something disgusting had brushed up against him, but the three suits didn’t seem to notice. Stark would have broken the man’s wrist. They would have noticed that.

“So, to confirm: When I provide the initial capital, your organization will provide the rest of the sum required?” asked the senator.

“As we discussed, yes,” said suit number one. “My organization can provide up to two hundred million, provided you can meet your side of the deal,” he added.

“You’ll have the details soon,” said Logan.

“Good. Now, on to the good part,” said suit number three, relaxing into the chair and putting his hands behind his head. “We need to start thinking about your campaign. It’s election year, so concentrate on keeping your place in the senate for now. Once you’re confirmed for another term, we’ll start putting the wheels in motion.”

“And what will that involve?” asked the senator.

“The key to any successful run for office is to get the swing voters on your side early. We can start looking at that now. By the time the election results are in this year, we’ll already know our plan of attack. We can take care of mapping out the next six years in their entirety and get everything in place early. We just need your commitment.”

“I’ve already said you’ll have it. I’d like to hear some specifics of what your organization can guarantee.”

“There are never guarantees in politics, Senator,” said suit number two, leaning forward. “You of all people should know that. What we can provide, in exchange for certain… shall we say, policy concessions, is a shot at the title. And that’s more than anyone else can count on, so we need to be sure we’re backing the right man.”

“You have my word,” said the senator, briskly. “And that’s all I can give for now. You’ll hear from my assistant this afternoon. Now, gentlemen, is there anything else you would like to discuss?”

“We’ll speak again this afternoon, I think,” said suit number one, getting up and holding out his hand. “We’ll say goodbye for now.”

Logan remained seated and shook suit number one’s hand. The other two nodded politely, and the three men left the room and walked into the hallway, where Viktor was waiting to show them out. Stark wanted to make sure their guests weren’t left alone during their visit, not even for a second. Viktor shut the door softly behind them.

“Make sure that the telephone systems are operational by lunch time,” said the senator. “Your encryption software is wreaking havoc with the lines, and I need to speak to the insurance company and my bank in Zurich urgently.”

“Yes, sir,” said Stark.

The senator left the room. The colonel stood alone in the plush study and noted with disgust that the value of the furniture alone would be enough to feed a large family for several months, at least. Stark understood that power and money went hand in hand. He understood that the link between politics and wealth was as old as time itself, and he knew that his country’s fate was decided by the privileged few. But he didn’t have to like it.

Today’s America was different. In earlier times the country had fought itself free of tyra

The battle-worn soldier recalled the days when distinguishing between good and evil was a lot simpler. During his combat days, Stark would simply follow orders and trust that his superiors were on the right side. Now, in his civilian life, he found those lines had become blurred, and evil was no longer wearing armor and carrying a rifle, it was dressed in an expensive suit, armed with a bright smile, and carrying a Mont Blanc pen.

Stark made his way back to the entrance hall, pausing as he passed the photograph of the senator and the president shaking hands at the birthday party. Two men, smiling and laughing in the knowledge they were safe and secure, unaware of the people who had suffered and died to protect their way of life.

The tiny earpiece nestled in Stark’s ear canal crackled, and Dolph’s voice came on the line. The colonel listened to the report with growing concern and adjusted his orders accordingly. It wouldn’t be long before Blake and his friends discovered what the senator had done. The next phase of the plan would need to be moved up a little.

Chapter 16

Leopold, Mary, and Jerome stood outside the Columbia halls of residence, fumbling with a folded paper map of Manhattan and trying to look like tourists. A heaving crowd pushed past them, largely uninterested. Every now and then the towering bodyguard would catch the attention of the more curious passers-by, but his cold stare ensured they didn’t linger. Most of the people on the streets were dressed in business suits, many carrying briefcases and wearing thin overcoats. Despite the unseasonal warmth, the threat of sudden rain showers kept the summer wardrobes at bay. One particular figure, dressed unusually in a long coat and brimmed hat, passed close by, but kept his eyes down and his hands in his pockets. A few students passed by carrying stacks of heavy text books, chatting animatedly.

Though this was an upmarket part of town, there was still no shortage of hustle and the smell of warm bodies mingled with the whoosh of musty metal-tinged air rising up from the subway. The unseasonal heat and the thick humidity of the city were begi

Leopold dabbed at his brow with a handkerchief and wished they were indoors taking advantage of the air conditioning.

“Looks like we’ve got our chance,” said Jerome, pointing at the small group of students heading toward the locked doors that led into the halls.

The three of them slipped through the doors as they swung closed and crossed the lobby to the elevators where they rode to the thirteenth floor. The corridors were busy as dozens of students returned to their dorm rooms to grab their books for the afternoon classes before going for lunch. Many were standing in the hallway, curiously eyeing the strangers as they walked down the corridor to room 1340, which nestled at the farthest end of one of the lesser-populated areas.

When they reached the room, Jerome tapped lightly on the door, which opened quickly to reveal the gri