***
The map spread across the desk of Gordon’s conference room seemed to be shrinking. The cluster of dots that had once stretched from Mississippi to Wyoming had relocated to surround the city of Topeka, Kansas. Everything Gordon had left to his name was stationed just outside the city, surrounding him in a ring of guns, men, and artillery.
Dean had lost all sense of composure and had devolved back into whatever gorilla ancestry his family came from, beating his chest, grunting, howling that they were all going to die. Every other top-level sentry was in the same boat. Trying to figure out the best way to save themselves without having Gordon finding out and putting a bullet in their heads.
All of their voices and all of their shouts and screams and fears were nothing more than just white noise. It was a slow and steady constant in the background of Gordon’s mind, almost Zen-like, allowing him to concentrate on just how many lives he was willing to sacrifice to ensure his own safety.
Any Class 3s who still remained were stationed in the building with Gordon at all times. It was part of their agreement that wherever Gordon went they would as well, and receive whatever amnesty from whatever country decided to take him in.
Gordon’s eyes flickered over to his laptop on his desk. He wondered how many countries were now scrambling for offers. How many would be willing to risk the lives of their own military personnel to ensure that their country receives the biggest scientific breakthrough in over a century?
He’d sold it as best he could, telling the marvels of the product in the persuasive tone that only a former lobbyist could. It was odd for him, being back in that role, but he was amazed at how easy it was for him to slide back in. Even after three years, he was able to put it back on like an old coat. The collar may have been slightly frayed and the cuffs a little looser than he remembered, but it still fit. It seemed no matter how hard he tried to bury who he was, it always returned to the surface.
“Gordon!”
It was Jake who broke through the white noise. Gordon became aware of the entire room looking at him, all of them hunched over and eagerly awaiting what he thought of their plan—their desperate, plan.
“Did you hear them? The city is being surrounded. We need an exit strategy,” Jake said.
So this is what all the squabbling was for. They all wanted out, to make sure their own skins would remain on their bones.
“There is no exit strategy. We fight, or we die. There is no other choice for us,” Gordon said.
Gordon could already see the tide shifting toward betrayal and cowardice. They wanted to run, and since Gordon hadn’t built his empire on a foundation of loyalty and trust, he reverted to what had always worked for him in the first place: fear.
“And if any of you or any of the men under your command think surrendering or running is a viable option, you tell them this: they have been a part of this Coalition since the beginning. If we lose, they will not be pardoned. They will be put to trial and convicted of treason, crimes against humanity, and whatever other bullshit the court system will throw at them. And once they are convicted, which they will be, they’ll be sentenced to rot in a jail cell instead of the box in the ground where they’ll end up if they try and run.”
The white noise stopped. With Gordon’s message clear, the rest of the room emptied, and when the door closed, there was only Gordon and Jake, alone.
“You have something, right?” Jake asked. “You know that no matter how bad you think you’ve scared them, it won’t be enough for them to stay when the bullets start flying.”
Gordon rose from his seat at the conference room table and walked out the door. Jake rushed after him, scrambling down the hallway, leaning into his ear and whispering so anyone they passed couldn’t hear him.
“You don’t actually think you can win this, do you?” Jake asked. “Christ, Gordon, the sentries won’t be able to handle the amount of firepower coming their way. Not even the Class 3s.”
It was like an incessant bug, buzzing around Gordon’s ear, and no matter what, he just couldn’t swat it away. He entered his office and opened the laptop on his desk. Jake continued his circling, asking Gordon what he was doing, if he was crazy, if he understood that he would die if something wasn’t done.
“Enough!” Gordon snapped.
The buzzing ceased, and Gordon powered on the laptop, praying he would have any type of notification from the countries he petitioned. Russia, Brazil, Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan, Turkey, Greece, India, all with handsome offers of money and amnesty in their country in return for the soil data. But all of them were overlooked and ignored once Gordon saw the one name that surpassed the rest: China.
Sheng had finally opted to throw his hat in the ring, and while his offer was less substantial than some of the others, Gordon knew Sheng would actually be able to deliver.
“You still have those Class 3s on standby?” Gordon asked.
“Yeah, they’re over in the hangar, just like you asked,” Jake answered.
“And Sydney is still working on the soil data?”
“Yeah, but he’s still not done.”
“Tell the sentries I want to be ready to take off within the hour, and make sure Sydney has whatever he needs to finish his work packed in the same amount of time.”