She noticed the remote control for the television on the nightstand. She grabbed it and clicked the power button. The television blinked to life on the Weather Channel. A meteorologist was waving her hands above the northeast, showing a high-pressure system moving in from the Great Lakes. It was a window of normalcy viewed from inside a loony bin.
She clicked the channel button and cable news came up. Video of a burning office building, windows blackened and blasted out. The chyron scrolling on the bottom read, “. . . attack in D.C. Six dead. Twelve injured . . .”
McKinney felt it almost personally.
The anchorwoman spoke over the video: “. . . time in the heart of America’s defense sector close by the Pentagon. The bomb claimed the lives of Alerion Aerospace CEO Brad Oliphant Jr. along with several board members and executives. As a parts supplier for several Pentagon drone aircraft programs, security analysts speculate that Alerion was targeted by extremists intent on exacting revenge for the recent Karbala shrine attack, despite new evidence supporting an American denial of responsibility. Although al-Qaeda and other terror organizations have voiced support for today’s attack, authorities confirm that no credible group has yet to claim responsibility for—”
Click.
Another cable news station. An inset photo of the same burning office building next to the anchorman, who was in midstory. “. . . explosion could be heard throughout the capital city and, for some, brought back awful memories of 9/11. It is a city under siege this hour, as residents cope with the realization that they now live in a combat zone.”
Click.
Another news channel. Images of the injured being rolled on gurneys to waiting ambulances. Fire trucks. The anchorman’s voice authoritative: “Parts of D.C. are in lockdown as investigators comb through the scene, reviewing surveillance videos for some clue as to how the bombers were able to bypass security.”
McKinney nodded to herself. A smart bomb doesn’t go through security. She wondered if this was a planted story or whether most government officials really didn’t know the truth either.
Click.
More news. Same story.
Click.
News again. Was that the only thing on this damned system? Weather and news?
Click.
News commentary. Several pundits sitting across from each other at a desk that would look at home on the Starship Enterprise, weighing in on recent events. A bald man with a crooked tie was talking fast. “. . . ourselves is why, after over a decade in the War on Terror, literally trillions of dollars and thousands of American dead and tens of thousands of injured—after all that blood and treasure—and literally hundreds of thousands of civilian dead overseas, why are we now as helpless against these terrorists as we were on 9/11?”
Another pundit: “That’s not the big issue here, Howard. I mean, given all the privacy and civil liberties that we’ve given up, we now effectively live in a surveillance state—cameras on every street corner, in every place of business and office building, mass wiretapping—and yet the government is no closer to finding these terrorists. You look at the Spanish train bombings, the London Underground bombings—they had surveillance video in a matter of hours that led to the perpetrators. Yet here it’s been months and nearly two dozen attacks—”
The host interjected, “Well, there have been arrests.”
“But the bombings continue, and we’ve had no convictions. We’ve had several suspects released, in fact.”
The host changed direction. “Instead, word on Capitol Hill is that House and Senate intelligence committees are examining an emergency defense appropriation reported to be in the tens of billions of dollars to create a drone air defense system, which makes me wonder how much more we could possibly spend on security that isn’t—”
Click.
The Weather Channel again. McKinney tossed the remote onto the nightstand and collapsed onto the bed, listening to the soothing voice of the weatherwoman. . . .
“. . . scattered showers across much of southeast Asia and the Indonesian archipelago. While a high-pressure system eases down over the Kamchatka Peninsula . . .”
CHAPTER 13
Close Hold
Linda McKinney exited her room to the sound of arguing. As she rounded the corner, she came upon Foxy and Singleton squared off again, while two large ravens squabbled over the wreckage of Singleton’s hunter vehicle on the floor in the middle of the hallway. The birds were using their thick black beaks to tear wires out of the autonomous vehicle’s central circuit board. Pieces of plastic littered the floor.
“When is Odin going to get these flying rats under control?”