The Wall, page 23
“Have the post-mission preparations been made?”
“I’ve written a paper titled ‘What’s Next for Cordova’,” answered Professor Kowalchuk. “First, we’ll ask the United Nations for assistance and implement food and medical aid. That shouldn’t be an issue. Next, as soon as Professor Escárcega enters the Presidential Residence, we’ll announce five hundred million dollars in financial assistance. One of my former students is a high-ranking United Nations official. I consulted with said student and there’s no issue there either. After that, we’ll request each country’s financial support, and lure in mutually beneficial business partnerships. I’ve already prepared some proposals and materials on the matter. I could use your help on that front.”
“Do you think Professor Escárcega will accept our proposals?”
“I’ve met the man numerous times at academic conferences. He’s an idealist but he’s not inflexible, and he is extremely judicious,” said Eugene, both his voice and his expression brimming with confidence. “Our plan lays out the best revitalization strategy that could possibly be conceived for Cordova through the latest AI advancements. Professor Escárcega holds a PhD in economics, in addition to his political science PhD. He’ll accept our proposals with open arms.”
The central screen displayed what Cordova’s three-year economic forecast would be if the plan were put into effect. Cordova had the potential for a bright future; all the index numbers were soaring.
“And we’ve made sure that these foreign countries and corporations won’t be exploiting Cordova from a position of superiority?”
“We’ve taken that into consideration. The way we set it up, the scales are either totally balanced or tipped in Cordova’s favor. Cordova reserves the right to be the ultimate deciding factor, just as you wished.”
“So long as Cordova uses its resources to the fullest, there’s no reason it has to be a poor country. Investing countries and businesses should obtain tidy profits within a short span of time. Until now, Cortázar’s oppressive regime and Moreno’s cartel had Cordova on its knees. Professor Escárcega tried to stand up to them, but he didn’t have a leg to stand on, and the circumstances weren’t on his side. But that’s going to change. We will rebuild the country in a rational and science-based way.”
“In a handful of years, the country’s GDP will double. By that time, it will be recognized by the international community and be able to receive even more assistance. Then it’s just a matter of how egalitarian the distribution of that wealth will be. And a man like Professor Escárcega surely won’t tolerate corruption.”
“Economics is one of the most important issues to grapple with, along with education and medical care. Until now, Cordova’s metrics were among the lowest in the world. The country needs urgent help enacting improvements in these areas.”
This meeting’s minutes would be delivered to the new Cordovan administration to serve as a handy reference.
“Can your AI devise our soldiers’ battle plan?” Nick asked Billy sarcastically.
Billy looked at Professor Kowalchuk, who nodded. In the past few days, Billy and Eugene had been spending their free time together. Nick had overheard them swapping words like battle, weapons, terrain, troops, etc.
“It’s possible. Would you like to know more?”
“Wait, you’re already using AI for that? Show me.”
“It’s the same as with chess simulations. You set up the two groups and the battle conditions. Then you simulate the two groups fighting over and over again. But you need to input as much data as possible for the parameters—troop strength, weapons quality, skill level, battle experience, location . . . you get the idea.”
“But war in the real world is different from some computer game. The weather, the terrain, the motivations of the soldiers, and various factors that can’t be quantified because they all play a role.”
“A computer simulation is no different from real life, as long as you have all the necessary data.”
“And what are the results?”
“Victory is decided a few hours after the battle starts—and Nueva Cordova is always left in a state of near ruin,” said Eugene, before heaving a sigh.
“Does that simulation have Professor Watson’s psych analysis plugged in?”
“Yes,” said Eugene. “Only . . . the inner minds of the people haven’t been factored in. There’s not enough data, or rather, there’s next to no data at all. And we’re not able to sufficiently quantify Professor Escárcega’s charisma level either. In order to simulate reality as closely as possible, we need more data.”
“So our hope lies in the data gap. And in Jadon.”
Eugene didn’t reply. Billy smiled and winked.
Following the meeting, John paid Stewart’s room a visit. “You’re a professional military man. What do you think of this plan?”
“It’s not bad. But you can’t rely too much on good luck. If luck doesn’t go your way, the losses can get out of hand.”
“So you think the Revolutionary Army has been relying on luck?”
“Cordova may be small, but it’s still a military dictatorship. Fighting a military-obsessed government’s forces isn’t easy, so Jadon is doing a stand-up job, as are the mercs and the revolutionaries. But now that the cartel is destroyed and Moreno is dead, Cortázar has one enemy left to focus on. And the Cordovan military’s weapon and troop numbers are still leagues above the revolutionaries’.”
“Do you think they will lose?”
“We do have one advantage,” said Stewart, sighing. “Morale. As Professor Watson said, morale is important. The Revolutionary Army’s soldiers desperately want to win. Possibly enough to risk dying for the cause. Just how hard they’ll fight depends on the strength of Professor Escárcega’s charisma,” said Stewart warily, sensing John’s dismay.
John brooded. “Is there anything we can do?”
“We’re doing enough as it is. What you can do is sleep. You haven’t slept a wink in days.”
“It’s raining in Cordova. The jungles are hot and humid. And Jadon’s men are fighting through that.”
“There’s nothing that we can do to affect the battlefield directly. The best we can do is send them information. This was always a fight we can’t take part in.”
“Of course. We can’t operate in the open,” John muttered, his wheelchair shifting course.
“The members of the War Room are doing their best to find ways to assist Jadon and the revolution,” said Stewart. But John already had his back turned.
■ ■ ■
The camp was a crowded mess of soldiers and transport vehicles; everyone was preparing to leave.
It was still dark out, but despite that, they had twice the number of soldiers gathered compared to the day before. Luis had called out to the soldiers who had returned to the surrounding villages.
By that early afternoon, they were setting up camp in the village right on the border of La Caridad and preparing to attack.
Penelope went up to Jadon. “You have to stop him. My father is preparing to advance alongside the soldiers. The battle is tomorrow, right? His body can’t withstand the march or the combat. And he’ll only be getting in the way. He needs to stay here.”
“Can’t you appeal to him as his daughter, as opposed to his doctor?”
“He just won’t listen. That’s why I’m asking you. He trusts you. He might listen.”
Jadon went to Luis, who was sitting on the ground and tying his laces. He noticed Jadon and smiled. But it was a forlorn smile, tinged with exhaustion. Jadon crouched in front of him and tied his laces for him.
“There’s a trick to it. It’s the first thing they teach you when you join the military.”
“I am grateful to you. You’ve given me and the people of Cordova a reason to hope.”
“I didn’t give them hope. They grabbed it with their own hands.” Jadon looked up at him. “But hope isn’t enough. You’ll just wear yourself out. The end goal is to realize the future we envision.”
“We’re approaching La Caridad. The end goal of the people is starting to loom on the horizon.”
“You have an important role to fulfill—rebuilding the country after the war. That’s the end goal of the people. That’s the reason we rescued you.”
“That’s why I have to go with them. Without victory, there will be no rebuilding. If I don’t stand at the front, do you think the people will follow?”
“Cortázar’s forces are waiting for us. It’ll be nothing but a series of battles from here on out—extremely fierce battles, at that. It won’t be like those skirmishes. You’re just going to get in our way.”
Luis stood up and took a gun off a young soldier nearby. He lifted it up and down a few times to feel its weight, then returned it.
“Fighting won’t be easy for me. Like you said, continuous battle awaits us. But fighting isn’t restricted to shooting guns. Do you remember what the War Room psychologist said? There are many who will unite under us upon seeing me or hearing my voice. You even said it yourself. I want to be shoulder to shoulder with them,” said Luis, staring at Jadon.
Jadon could sense the fire in his words. He had no rebuttal. Of the political dissidents who had escaped from the detention center, Luis alone exhibited the power to draw hearts and minds. Jadon recalled how confidently John had declared the revolution could not succeed without him.
“Wear this,” said Jadon, taking off his bulletproof vest to give to Luis.
“None of the other soldiers have the luxury of wearing one. I want to be with them in spirit too.”
Penelope and Jadon exchanged looks. Once he says something aloud, he never goes back on his word.
“Please promise me you’ll follow my orders and you won’t leave our side. You are indispensable for the post-war rebuilding of the country.”
“I’ll make you that promise. However, you must understand that to Cordova, everyone here is indispensable.”
Jadon sighed lightly.
“I’m coming too,” declared Penelope. “And I’m not taking no for an answer.” Just like her father, she wasn’t the type to go back on her word.
Arsenio approached. “We’re ready for departure,” he reported.
“At sunrise, we exit the jungle and take the main road, where we’ll board the trucks. The march into town will be easy, but the military will see us coming, so we have to move quickly.”
When Jadon’s group left the tent, the clearing was full of the ragtag soldiers of Nueva Cordova. The eyes of more than a thousand men were on Jadon.
“Now is the time. We’re heading for the capital. We’re going to build a new Cordova. A Cordova your children can take pride in. A Cordova of peace and prosperity!”
The soldiers listened wordlessly.
“Those of you who want to help shape Cordova into a country no one has to run from, let me hear you!” cut in Tsutomu, raising his fist. This was a first, coming from him. “A country of peace! A new Cordova!”
Cheers erupted from the crowd.
“I can’t hear you,” said Sebastian. “Do you really want to save Cordova?”
The numbers cheering multiplied several times over.
Penelope helped Luis to Jadon. Luis was short, but his voice was towering with zeal. “Let’s create a nation for a people reborn. For us! For the Cordova we will build is one where the children can live and laugh with full bellies and sparks in their souls. Let’s fight for the next generation!”
At Luis’s exhortation, the soldiers raised their fists and clamored. Yet more of the men were lending their voices to the cheering.
“Imagine the faces of your children, your wives, your parents. The faces of your loved ones. Let’s make this a country where they can be safe and happy. Stake your lives for their smiles.”
At first, Arsenio had been looking on dispassionately, but then he yelled, “For your children, and for your loved ones!”
Their voices resounded through the early-morning rainforest. Then, they began their march toward La Caridad.
Doug, Vanessa, and Adán took a helicopter to Reagan National, where they boarded an FBI plane.
“Wow,” said Adán. “Never been on a private jet before.”
“Me neither,” said Vanessa. “You should count your lucky stars. You’re technically still in training, but you got to work on a high-level investigation. And as the main agent on the case too.”
“It’s only because my superiors are so awesome and talented that I’m on this ride.”
“Let’s not pop the champagne just yet,” said Doug. “If you screw this up, you might be catching a bus home. Do you know the names and backgrounds of everyone at that desert hotel?”
Adán took a file out of his bag and read it aloud, “The leader is most likely the former CEO of PathNet, John Olson. He is a friend of President Copeland, and his largest donor. Colonel Stewart Gobel is Captain Jadon Green’s former superior. His late daughter, Catrina, was John’s wife, making Stewart John’s father-in-law. Catrina Olson and her daughter, Rose, died in the Nice terror attack, where John Olson and Stewart sustained serious injuries. John Olson lost his lower legs and is in a wheelchair. Professor Eugene Kowalchuk won the Nobel Prize in economics two years ago for marrying AI and economics. He is a pioneer in a new field called optimal national economics. Other notable people include a psychologist and the head of a mercenary training company, plus William ‘Billy’ Ganaway, a genius hacker. He is serving a term in prison but is on parole for community service. In addi—”
“So we’ve got a businessman, a man of war, scholars, and even a convict. The hell are they all doing in a hotel in the middle of the desert?” murmured Doug. “And where’s the main attraction, Captain Green?”
“If he’s not in the hotel, then . . .” Adán hesitated to say it. All three of them were of the same mind, but they had no real proof.
The jet flew from east to west, as if chasing the sun. With the file on top of his lap, Adán thought back on the past ten days. He could hear Vanessa’s soft sleep-breathing from across the aisle. Ever since they’d seen the video of the Tragedy at The Wall, neither one of them had gotten much sleep. Adán pondered about the people at the desert hotel. What was the common denominator between, as Doug put it, a businessman, a man of war, some scholars, and a convict? Jadon was likely to be in Cordova.
What if the common thread is the Tragedy at The Wall? It’s like I’ve got all the pieces of the puzzle, but I can’t figure out how they connect . . .
Adán slept until a bright shaft of light snapped him awake. Looking out the window, he saw a clear and cloudless sky. White sands and green foliage dotted the land.
“We’ll reach Nevada in an hour,” said Vanessa, sipping her coffee. “I never took you for the type that can sleep anywhere. I wish I could.”
The jet landed in the Nevada airport. Three CH-47 choppers were on standby at the airport’s edge. The three of them boarded the first. Four fully armed FBI special agents were sitting there.
“Four special agents to each chopper!” Doug shouted over the sound of the propeller blades as he fastened his seat belt. “We’ve got ten agents to help with the tech too!”
“But why? Are we going to war?”
“They’re with the FBI Tactics Team,” said Vanessa into Adán’s ear. “You’re the one who said the hotel’s got a man of war and a convicted criminal.”
Doug held the radio. “This is not a battle,” he told all three copters. “When we land, we’ll have been spotted already. We’re dealing with the guy behind the company that gave us and the military a lot of their high-tech gadgets. None of them are threats. Your Tactics guys are here to show them we mean business. I want you following my orders. Do not act without my say-so.”
Thirty minutes later, the choppers were hovering above the hotel. If the people inside the hotel were who the agents thought they were, then they’d already noticed their presence and were taking whatever countermeasures they’d laid out beforehand. The copters landed on the stretch of desert in front of the hotel. Doug, Vanessa, and Adán strode toward the entrance, the twelve FBI Tactics Team agents following behind.
Upon entering, the deputy director stopped in his tracks. At the front of the empty hallway was a check-in counter, and there stood around ten men and women. The man in the wheelchair at the center of the crowd was John Olson, who was flanked by Stewart Gobel and Eugene Kowalchuk. The rest of them were also familiar faces from Adán’s files.
Doug took a step forward and flashed his FBI badge.
“What business does the FBI have out here in the desert?” asked John.
“Mr. Olson. We’ve come here today because of some suspicious activity we spotted with our satellite images.”
“Aren’t you going a little overboard with the fully armed agents? It’s like a scene out of a movie.”
“You’re one to talk. A secret cabal in the middle of the desert is something you only see in fiction.”
“Do you have a search warrant?”
“We came to investigate the situation in the vicinity. This is part of that investigation. Please cooperate.”
“Then why so many armed agents?”
“Because I heard the area’s unsafe. We may be FBI, but we need protection too.”
“Protection from what? Coyotes? Rattlesnakes?”
“We heard the place is infested with something more dangerous than a coyote or two. That’s why we’re running a search.” Doug scanned the hall. “Is that the banquet hall all the way down there? Could you show me?”
John beckoned him over. Beyond the doors lay a wide and spacious room, with a U-shaped table at the center and large screens lined up at the front. It looked like the exhibition hall of an IT company, but that wasn’t what they were looking at. The tension in the room was excruciating. Dozens of men and women were busy working. They did take note of Doug and his agents, but they were engrossed in their own tasks. The place had an almost sacrosanct vibe to it, such was their devotion.
In his gut, Doug felt something halfway to apprehension. He almost wondered whether he was making a big mistake. Perhaps these people’s mission was righteous—was the FBI hindering a noble undertaking? But his sense of responsibility to his own mission and to the FBI won out.
