“Goddammit.”
He emptied the glass in one deep mouthful, and then filled it again. He put the bottle away before opening another drawer on his left and taking out a file. He rested it in front of him and opened the cover, revealing a structural diagram of the Cerberus satellite, accompanied by a detailed, Eyes Only briefing on the next stage of the president’s plans, which outlined how he intended to reshape the world in the aftermath of 4/17.
SANTA CLARITA, CALIFORNIA, USA
April 20th, 2017
The day had passed by quickly. Jericho and Julie had gone to a local bar that was a half mile east of the base, just before the gas station they’d both stopped at the day before, during their staged escape. She’d told him the place was a regular haunt of many GlobaTech employees, given it was the only option for miles if they lived on base and wanted a drink.
They drank, ate, and drank some more. They had spent the first few hours discussing the 4/17 terrorist attack, before moving on to slightly more light-hearted topics of conversation.
Jericho had just returned to his seat, having gone to the bar for two more beers. He slid across the seat opposite Julie, in the booth they’d occupied since arriving there several hours earlier, and passed her a beer across the table, which she took with a gracious nod.
He regarded Julie silently for a moment, then asked, “So why GlobaTech?”
“What d’you mean?” she asked, taking a long pull on the bottle.
“I’ve seen you in action — I’m guessing you were military before this? What made you go private?”
Julie shrugged. “Better money, better benefits… I know it ain’t exactly patriotic, but whether people like to admit it or not, money makes the world go round. Back home, my mom got sick, and we had medical bills that needed paying. Even with all the special allowances, military pay isn’t the greatest. Plus, I had to leave her for weeks, sometimes months, at a time and risk my life… and for what? Here, I earn five times what I used to.”
Jericho nodded, understanding completely where she was coming from. Back when he was military, before he joined the CIA, he knew plenty of men and women in similar situations. “What happened?” he asked, delicately. “With your mom…”
Julie gave a taut smile. “She passed away a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” said Jericho, genuinely.
“Don’t be — you didn’t give her cancer.” She smiled, warmer this time, to lighten the mood. “So, come on, what’s your story?”
Jericho shrugged. “Not much of a story… I was a Captain in the army, and then I was recruited by a guy called Julius Jones to join the D.E.A.D. unit over seven years ago. If it wasn’t for the last couple of weeks, I’d still be there, probably.”
“Takes a bit of getting used to, doesn’t it — this whole not having to salute thing.”
Jericho smiled. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“Still, forgetting the financial benefits for a second, we’re in an incredible position to help people here. We’re more than just a private army and a bunch of glorified guns-for-hire.”
He smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I know I had my doubts — and maybe I still do, to an extent — but I’m inclined to agree that GlobaTech are as close as you can get to the good guys at the moment.”
Julie smiled again, and then stood and stretched at the side of their table. She was wearing a tight-fitting black vest top and cargo pants. Her brown hair was in a ponytail. She cracked her knuckles and looked at him. “Wanna shoot some pool?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Sure. As long as you don’t mind getting your ass kicked…”
She grabbed her drink and walked backward away from him, pointing her finger. “Oh, it’s on, big guy!” she said, before turning and strolling over to the vacant table, situated in the back corner of the bar. She racked up while Jericho chose his cue from the selection resting against the near wall.
“My break,” she said, standing and taking the cue off him.
Jericho stared at his empty hand, and then up at her. “Are you always such a pain in the ass?”
She leaned forward, bending over the table and lining up her shot. Jericho stared at her toned legs and hips. She turned and winked at him, seemingly oblivious to his gaze, and then hit the white ball into the pack, scattering them and sinking three. “Yeah… get use to it.”
Jericho shook his head and looked on as she continued clearing the table.
He took another pull on his beer and glanced around the bar, letting out a heavy sigh and allowing himself to relax. He was feeling almost human again, after everything that had happened to him recently. It felt good to unwind for once, and not worry about being in charge; being responsible for anyone.
“Head’s up,” said Julie, appearing next to him and distracting him from his thoughts.
“What?” he asked.
Julie gestured over to the bar with the neck of her bottle, at three guys who had just walked in and congregated there. One of them distracted the barmaid, while the other two shared a joke.
“These three assholes work for our internal security,” she explained. “Everywhere they go, they cause trouble — either hitting on women, starting fights… they give our company a bad name.”
Jericho looked over as three surly-looking men in tight-fitting T-shirts and combat pants walked in, quickly surveying the place before moving over to the bar. They were talking loudly and laughing.
Despite the last day or so being evidence to the contrary, Jericho still prided himself on being a good judge of character, based on first impressions. And he had no doubt about the three security guys.
“Pricks,” he replied, with a shake of his head. “This is supposed to be like a regular job, right? Can they not just discipline them, or sack them or something?”
Julie shrugged. “No one will rat them out — too afraid. The internal security team is a close group. You get your schoolyard bullies everywhere, I guess. But they could make your life hell, given half a chance.”
“Huh, and here’s me thinking I’d signed up to help protect the world. Turns out we are just like everyone else.”
“Come on, ignore those douchebags,” she said, leaning over to take her shot and potting the black ball to win the game. “Rack ‘em up, bitch!”
He shook his head and smiled, moving back over to the table and setting it up for another round. He looked over as he heard the doors open again, and another man walked in. He was wearing an impossibly bad Hawaiian shirt and Aviator sunglasses. He headed over to the bar, standing next to the three security guys. He gestured to the barmaid, and Jericho could see quite clearly, even from where he was standing, how her eyes lit up as she saw the man. The place wasn’t too busy, and there was no music playing, so he could just about hear the conversation.
“Hey, sweetheart,” the man said, in a gravelly, Irish accent. “Can I grab a beer from ya?”
“Sure you can,” replied the barmaid, excitedly. “First one’s on me.”
“Ah, you’re somethin’ else, darlin’, ya really are.”
Jericho rolled his eyes at the man’s transparent charm.
“Hey, you shooting pool or checking out the customers?” asked Julie, distracting him.
Jericho leaned forward to line up his shot. He looked down the table at the triangle of balls. Julie was standing in his eye line, one hand on her hip. He smiled to himself, determined not to be put off by her. He took aim and slammed the cue into the white ball, scattering the triangle and sinking five balls.
“Can’t I do both?” he asked as he stood up and smiled at her.