Infringement Read online

  “I don’t think you should be sitting up yet,” Megan said.

  “Will you help put a couple of those pillows under me?”

  “Of course.”

  Once he was better positioned, Declan said, “This doesn’t make any sense. Bleeker wasn’t there, Megan. There was nobody but me and Stanton. Stanton wasn’t even under investigation by anyone but me, and Bleeker called me off of him.”

  “I know. It sounds to me like he’s trying to take the credit to cover himself or something. The whole thing is weird. Even the way I found out about you being here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I got a call on my cell from someone who knew my name that night, after everything went down at the church. I was with your mom and Evan and we were all worried because we hadn’t heard anything from you. The caller said he worked with you and said you were here and to get down here right away and not to leave you alone.”

  “Did he say who he was?”

  “Nope, he told me to get down here and then hung up.”

  “Has anyone been in to see me?”

  “No, just the doctors and nurses. I’ve been in touch with your mom and Evan, but I told them not to come down yet. Something just feels off. Bleeker’s been all over the news, but there hasn’t been any mention of your name on the news at all. They’ve just reported that an agent was shot and that he’s in critical condition, but no name and no hospital location. There’s not even a name on your room outside. If I hadn’t gotten that phone call, I wouldn’t have had any idea where you were or what had happened to you.”

  “You’re right, something isn’t right. You said there was a shooting in Alabama on Christmas Eve?”

  “Yes, in Birmingham. The guy down there targeted a Christmas concert. The news is reporting that he shot over 300 people and killed at least 100 or something, at least as of an hour or so ago. The story keeps changing, but Homeland’s initial records show 48 confirmed fatalities.”

  “I wonder if he was connected to Stanton somehow.”

  “I don’t know, but between the Birmingham shooting and Stanton’s attempt, it was enough to get a confiscation bill passed through the House and the Senate last night.”

  “What?”

  “Congress passed gun confiscation legislation last night, the Firearms Protection Act, which was signed by the president shortly before midnight. They called a special session on Christmas Day, and rushed it through the House and Senate. It gives all registered and non-registered gun owners ten days to turn in their guns or face criminal prosecution.”

  “Holy crap, I don’t believe it. How’d it pass so quickly?”

  “Someone obviously already had a bill drafted and they pushed it through a special session that wasn’t fully attended, kind of like when the Federal Reserve law was passed back in 1913.”

  There was a light knock on the room door, and one of Declan’s doctors entered slowly. “Good morning. It looks like our patient is finally awake.”

  “Hello doctor,” Megan replied. “Declan, this is Dr. Kincaid. He performed your surgery and removed the bullet.”

  “Hi, doctor.”

  “Good to see you’re awake, but I’m not sure I like you sitting up yet. How do you feel?”

  “Tired and a bit groggy.”

  “That’s the pain meds and the lingering impact of the concussion. How’s your pain level?”

  “Sore all over, like a truck hit me, but otherwise okay, I think.”

  “Well, I’ll keep you at current levels for the time being. You need to make sure to rest and keep your fluid intake up.”

  “Will do. I’m getting kind of tired again already.”

  “That’s normal,” the doctor replied. “Frankly, you’re lucky to be alive. The bullet itself wasn’t the worst. The impact caused you to hit the ground pretty hard, causing head trauma and a concussion. I’m still concerned about the potential for head related issues, so we’re going to be monitoring that for the next few days, but, otherwise, you should be back to about 80% in a couple weeks. It certainly helps that we were able to get that 9mm slug out of you without any additional complications. I’ll send one of the nurses in shortly to get your IV changed out and administer your pain meds. I think Nurse Foster is still on duty for another thirty or forty minutes.”

  “Wait,” Declan said. “Did you say it was a 9mm slug?”

  “Yep.”

  “Are you positive about that?”

  “Of course. Why do you ask?

  Declan looked puzzled and was silent for a few seconds, then replied, “No reason.”

  “Alright, well then, I’ll send Nurse Foster, or whoever’s out there, in shortly,” Dr. Kincaid replied and left the room.

  Megan could see that something wasn’t right in Declan’s expression. “What is it?”

  “Megan, Stanton had one of his AR-15’s in his hand, and it wasn’t a 9mm AR. That’s what he raised at me right after the explosion, just before I fired my round.”

  “So…”

  “So, if they took out a 9mm slug, it means Stanton didn’t shoot me. Someone else did.”

  Chapter 35

  December 26th

  Declan woke up from a heavy sleep in the early afternoon. He rubbed his eyes to clear out the sleep and looked groggily over to the fold-out sofa expecting to see Megan, but instead found John Bleeker sitting patiently and quietly across from him.

  “Sleep well?”

  Taken off guard, Declan merely undertook the painful process of sitting upright.

  “Getting plenty of rest is the key to a quick and complete recovery,” Bleeker said. “Did your doctor tell you that?”

  “A few times.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I’ve been better.”

  “That’s a bit of an understatement. You still don’t look at all well, Parker, and that’s quite a change for you.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate your concern.”

  Bleeker sat silently, looking Declan over then scanning the generally taupe hospital room. “Your girlfriend went down to the cafeteria with Cameron to grab a bite to eat. She looked famished and I thought it would be a good time for her to get out of here for a bit.”

  “She’s been here twenty-four seven since Christmas Eve,” Declan replied uneasily, as he tried to gauge Bleeker’s purpose in bringing up Megan.

  “She’s quite dedicated. Of course, in light of the media lockdown I’m still curious as to how she found out you were here.”

  “I didn’t know it was a secret.”

  “That’s one of the funny things about secrets, Parker; we don’t always realize we’ve encountered one until it’s too late.”

  “So my being here was a secret?”

  “Not a crucial one.”

  “I see. So what about me being shot by someone other than David Stanton on Christmas Eve, is that a crucial one?”

  “I always liked that you get right down to the point, Parker. It can be disarming to some, but I quite like it. It’s clear that the Bureau is in your blood. In response to your rather pointed question, the answer, very simply, is it depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On you of course,” Bleeker replied with a broad smile. “See, you stumbled upon a secret or two, extremely crucial secrets to highly-significant people. You failed to heed advice, follow directives, or otherwise be dissuaded, and you put yourself in the dead center, the cross hairs if you will, of those secrets. As we all know from our high school science classes, every action has an equal and opposite reaction. In other words, consequences.”

  “And my being in this hospital bed is the consequence of getting involved in your secrets?”

  “No, you being in here is a consequence of getting in the midst of something you had no business getting into. As is often the case when we make decisions and undertake actions, there are generally numerous consequences, some foreseen and some unforeseen, which tend to vary in degree and intensity. Some consequences are relatively
trivial and limited to the individual who acted, while other consequences are more broad, possibly affecting the individual’s family and loved ones; more permanent; more painful. The key is to try and limit the consequences to the less painful and less permanent type.”

  “How does one do that?”

  “In the same manner he initiated the consequence in the first place, by making a decision and taking action. Only, when the goal is to limit the adverse consequences of a poor decision, he needs to decide and act wisely.”

  “I see,” Declan replied.

  “Do you, Parker? Do you really see?”

  “I do. So, what type of decision would eliminate further consequences?”

  “That’s actually fairly simple. You can decide to be the hero who stopped David Stanton from killing hundreds of innocent people on Christmas Eve.”

  “I already am the one who stopped Stanton.”

  “Maybe you are, and maybe you aren’t. That’s one of the things about the world we live in today. For better or worse, it’s all about perception. Lives, careers, you name it, nine times out of ten, they are made or broken in large part on perceptions. As things stand right now, only you, me, and possibly your girlfriend know that you shot David Stanton. However, unfortunately, that story doesn’t yet fit into the official narrative, the perception if you will, everyone else has at this point.”

  “Which is?”

  “Which is, through our hard work, data gathering and tireless investigation, the Bureau sniffed out and stopped Stanton’s heinous and appalling plan just in the nick of time. So far, it’s an intentionally vague narrative, and this is where perception comes into play. You can fit into the narrative as the perceived hero, or, I should correctly say, one of the heroes.”

  “And if I were to decide not to be the hero, but to…”

  Bleeker cut Declan off, “That would be an extremely unwise decision to make, Parker.”

  “For argument’s sake.”

  “If you’re not one of the heroes, you can always be perceived as one of the bad guys. Every good story needs a bad guy or two.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning you were also under investigation with Stanton and were seen on Christmas Eve acting in concert with him. When you refused to surrender and threatened to fire on me, Special Agent Costello took you down and, despite the doctors’ best efforts, you died in the hospital of complications relating to your gunshot wound. Or, I suppose a third option, because I’m a big fan of options, could be that you don’t fit into the story at all. Your and Ms. Neary’s scenes, though well played, just end up on the cutting room floor, victims of the final cut.”

  “Hmmm,” Declan replied. “The hero, the villain, or nothing.”

  “It’s really a no-brainer, Parker. The hero can protect his girlfriend. He can protect his family. The other two options can’t protect anyone from the grave. Frankly, if we’d had more time at the church, or if Costello was as good a shot as you are, you’d likely already be dead. Alas, no situation ever plays out perfectly, so here you are with a reprieve.”

  “You make a compelling argument.”

  “Like I said, it’s a no-brainer,” Bleeker said as he stood up. “I’ll be back tomorrow. We’ll have you familiarize yourself with, and sign off on, your official report, get you very briefly in front of the press, and you can officially join the hero club.”

  “Great, do I get a green jacket or something?”

  “Nice one, Parker. I like the way you think.”

  “Bleeker, I do have one question I need answered.”

  “Let me put my extensive Bureau training to the test and take a guess: you want to know why.”

  “I do.”

  “Turn on the news and you’ll see why. The vast majority of people in the world are lazy, stupid, or worse. They want someone to direct them, to do their thinking for them when it comes to anything more than which crappy fast-food place to grab dinner at. The masses aren’t smart enough to know what’s good for them and what’s not. They need the small percentage of us who are, in a manner of speaking, better equipped, to make the big important decisions about the course of the world for them. That’s really what the populace wants. They want to be led and protected and, frankly, they need to be protected from themselves most of the time. This is nothing more than that. The more enlightened among us want guns off the streets and out of the public’s hands. We didn’t create David Stanton, or that other nut job down in Birmingham, or any of the multiple nut jobs before them. We didn’t need to. We simply sat back and let them do their thing, which is to create chaos and fear. Once we have chaos and fear, the people naturally beg for order and protection. They willingly, gratefully even, ask the government to do something to make sure this type of thing never happens again, and the government gives them a solution.”

  “In other words,” Declan replied, “you create a crisis and let the people ask you to find a solution, to do what you wanted to do anyway.”

  “You catch on quickly. This is merely a means to an end, Parker. It’s giving the masses what they didn’t realize they needed, for the good of all. An economist would describe it as creating demand. It’s an admittedly nasty, but necessary, step toward a better world; a new world which has been a long time coming, but is finally here. Welcome to the new world order, Parker,” Bleeker responded as he walked out of the room.

  _______________________

  Kevin Cameron sat across a small table from Megan in the hospital cafeteria, silently watching the steam from their coffee cups swirl and fade into the atmosphere between them. Megan looked nervously at Cameron, who had, at Bleeker’s insistence, escorted her from Declan’s room to the cafeteria for “a well-deserved break.” Cameron’s silence and stiff demeanor did nothing to reassure her, but she finally forced herself to ask him, “Are you the one who called me?”

  “I am.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

  “Don’t thank me,” he responded flatly. “I don’t deserve any thanks.”

  The two sat silently again for a minute or so. Megan asked, “Do you think they’ll be much longer?”

  “Not sure. I’ll know when they’re ready for you to go back up.”

  “Okay.”

  Cameron could see the tension in Megan’s face, the uncertainty in her eyes. He felt sorry for her, sorry for Declan and the perilous situation which, at that moment, neither fully understood they were in the midst of. Kevin Cameron reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a pen. He took one of the napkins on the table and wrote down one sentence, then slid the napkin under his hand to Megan.

  Megan looked down at Cameron’s hand and the white napkin with the blue writing on it which read, “Get him out of here today ASAP and out of the country or you are both dead.”

  _______________________

  Bleeker met Special Agent Costello in the hall and they made their way toward the elevator. As they stood waiting for the elevator, Costello asked, “Is the kid going to play ball?”

  “In Parker’s case, there’s no ball to play. He’s too much of an idealist, or whatever. He’s ultimately ill-suited for our purposes.”

  “So, should I give Foster the go ahead?”

  “Yes. Make sure she’s back on with this afternoon’s shift change. It should merely be a matter of changing out his IV bag, and I don’t want Parker to see another sunrise.”

  “And the girlfriend?”

  “Let’s wait until she gets back to D.C. With Parker gone, her situation should take care of itself for the time being. It will just look like Parker’s suffering from complications stemming from the head trauma. That shouldn’t raise any eyebrows and Ms. Neary can find her way into a fatal accident when she gets back home.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “Something creative with a subtle touch of tragic irony. Call Cameron and have him meet us outside, I’m ready to get out of here. I hate hospitals.”

  “Why’s that?”

  �
�Sick people, blood, I don’t know. Does anyone really enjoy them?”

  Chapter 36

  December 26th

  With a sharp pain pulsing through his head, Declan reached for the telephone on the end table next to the bed and dialed Evan’s cell number.

  “Hello.”

  “Evan, it’s Declan.”

  “Hey, how are you feeling? Megan called earlier and said you’d woken up.”

  “I’ve been better, but I’m okay.”

  “Just take it easy. You need to rest. I’m going to come see you later today, but I won’t stay long.”

  “Good. Can you stop by my apartment first to bring me some things?”

  “Sure, what do you need?”

  “Just grab some clothes, jeans, a few sweaters, some shoes. I’m sick of this hospital gown and I want to get some air. Also, my toothbrush and other toiletries. I also want you to bring up the Lone Ranger. It’s under the left side of my bed, up toward the headboard.”

  “You need The Lone Ranger?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Is everything alright?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

  “Don’t take too long.”

  Declan turned on the television to see what Bleeker had meant. He was conflicted and had little intention of sticking to the script Bleeker had laid out for him. What Declan needed was a few days to come up with an alternative plan. He figured playing along with Bleeker would buy him the time he needed.

  He flipped from channel to channel until he came across one of the news stations, which was showing video of rocket fire, explosions, and what appeared to be fighter jets streaking through the night sky. He turned up the volume a bit to hear the reporter’s voiceover:

  “The crisis in the Middle East is escalating as Israel continues to face retaliation on essentially all of its borders. We’ve received reports that the IDF has been engaged by Palestinian militia groups and ISIS forces on the Israeli – Jordanian border. At this point, the IDF is still going it alone as the United States, along with the rest of the world, has strongly condemned Israel’s unilateral action against Iran and its nuclear and military facilities. The hostilities only appear to be gaining momentum, with no immediate end in sight.”