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in the seat of privilege, you might not realize that it is indeed possible for an industrious farmer to saddle and mount another horse in order to safely rein in the one that got away. America’s working farmers would never give up on a good horse. I think neither should we.”
“Also I find it interesting that you should tie your pet project, this nuclear reactor, that you have been trying to ram through regulatory procedures, into your proposal. I’m not at all convinced this is a good time to be rushing such a plant into production. And I would like to know how exactly it will help, when the problem, as I understand it, is not energy deficiency but interruptions in delivery.”
Palmer responded, “Representative Frone, two critical power plants servicing New York State are currently offline, due to voltage overload and power-line failure caused by widespread surges in the system. This starts a chain reaction of adverse effects. It decreases the water supply, due to a lack of pressure in the lines, which will lead to contamination if it is not immediately addressed. It has impacted rail transportation up and down the northeast corridor, the safe screening of passengers for air transportation, and even road travel, with the unavailability of electric gasoline pumps. It has disrupted mobile telephone communication, which impacts statewide emergency services, such as 911 response, placing citizens directly at risk.”
Palmer continued, “Now, as to nuclear power, this plant, located in your district, is ready to come online. It has passed every preliminary regulation without flaw, and yet bureaucratic procedures demand more waiting. You have a fully capable power plant—one that you yourself campaigned against and resisted every step of the way—that could power much of the city if activated. A hundred and four such plants supply twenty percent of this country’s electricity, and yet this is the first nuclear power plant to have been commissioned in the United States since the Three Mile Island incident in 1978. The word ‘nuclear’ dredges up negative connotations, but, in fact, it is a sustainable energy source that reduces carbon emissions. It is our only honest large-scale alternative to fossil fuels.”
Representative Frone said, “Let me interrupt your commercial message here, Mr. Palmer. With all due respect, isn’t this crisis nothing more than a fire sale for the superrich such as yourself? Pure ‘Shock Doctrine,’ is it not? I, for one, am very curious to know what you plan to do with New York City once you own it.”
“As I made clear previously, this would be an interest-free, twenty-year revolving line of credit…”
Eph dumped the FBI credentials in a wastebasket and continued with Barnes through the Emergency Operations Center that was the heart of the facility. The attention of everyone present was focused on Palmer, pictured on the many monitors overhead.
Eph saw dark-suited Stoneheart men clustered around a side hall leading to a pair of glass doors. The sign with the arrow read: SECURE CONFERENCE ROOM.
A chill washed over Eph, as he realized he was almost certain to die here. Certainly if he succeeded. Indeed, his worst fear was that he might be cut down without successfully assassinating Eldritch Palmer.
Eph guessed the direction of the parking lot exit. He turned to Barnes and whispered, “Act sick.”
“What?”
“Act sick. Shouldn’t be too much of a stretch for you.”
Eph continued with him past the conference-room hall toward the rear. Another Stoneheart man stood near a pair of doors. Before him hung a glowing sign for the men’s restroom.
“Here it is, sir,” said Eph, opening the door for Barnes. Barnes entered holding his belly, clearing his throat into his wrist. Eph rolled his eyes at the Stoneheart, whose facial expression did not change at all.
Inside the restroom, they were alone. Palmer’s words carried over speakers. Eph pulled out the gun. He walked Barnes into the farthest stall and sat him on the covered toilet.
“Get comfortable,” he said.
“Ephraim,” said Barnes. “They are certain to kill you.”
“I know,” Eph said, pistol-whipping Barnes before closing the door. “That’s what I came here for.”
Representative Frone continued, “Now, there were reports in the media, before all this began, that you and your minions had been undertaking a raid on the world silver market, trying to corner it. Frankly, there have been many wild stories regarding this outbreak. Some of them—true or not—have struck a chord. Plenty of people believe it. Are you, in fact, preying on people’s fears and superstitions? Or is this, as I hope, the lesser of two evils—a simple case of greed?”
Palmer picked up the piece of paper before him. He folded it once lengthwise, then once again across, and carefully slid the page into his inside breast pocket. He did so slowly, his eyes never leaving the camera connecting him to Washington, DC.
“Representative Frone, I believe that this is exactly the kind of pettiness and moral gridlock that has led us to this dark time. It is a matter of record that I have donated the maximum amount allowable by law to your opponent in each of your previous campaigns, and this is how you take—”
Frone yelled over him, “That’s an outrageous charge!”
“Gentlemen,” said Palmer, “you see before you an old man. A frail man, with very little time left on this earth. A man who wants to give back to the nation that has given him so very much in his life. Now I find myself in a unique position to do just that. Within the boundaries of the law—never above it. No one is above the law. Which is why I wanted to make a full accounting before you today. Please allow a patriot’s final act to be a noble one. That is all. Thank you.
Mr. Fitzwilliam pulled out his chair, and Palmer got to his feet amid the hubbub and gavel-banging from the chamber on the video wall before him.
Eph stood by the door, listening. Movement outside, but not enough hubbub yet. He was tempted to open the door just a bit, but it opened inward, and he would certainly have been seen.
He tugged on the pistol’s handle, keeping it loose and ready in his waistband.
A man walked past, saying, as though into a radio, “Get the car.”
That was Eph’s cue. He took a deep breath and reached for the door handle, walking out of the restroom and into murder.
Two Stonehearts in dark suits were moving to the far end of the hall, the doors leading outside. Eph turned the other way, seeing two more rounding the corner, advance men, eyeing him immediately.
Eph’s timing had been less than perfect. He stepped to the side, as though deferring to the men, trying to appear uninterested.
