Danger Close by James Sumner (classic novels for teens txt) 📕

caught herself looking forward to blowing off some steam. She couldn’t imagine a group of people more deserving.

“Hey, what did you do to Bobby?” asked one of them.

Julie shrugged. “He slipped.”

One of the other men frowned. “Hey, don’t I know you?”

She rolled her eyes. “We apparently went to high school together.”

“Julie Fisher!” said the third man.

She nodded. “And you three must be Curly, Larry, and Moe, right?”

The first man stepped forward. “What? No, it’s me, Freddy Caulfield. And I don’t care if we went to high school. You just messed up our buddy, which means you gotta pay. One way or the other.”

As Freddy stepped forward, a loud noise erupted from the TV, followed by screaming and the voice of a panicked news anchor. Julie snapped her gaze toward it, staring intently.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” shrugged the barman. “I think there was a gunshot.”

She paced toward the bar, her eyes transfixed on the screen. The president appeared to be down. So were some GlobaTech personnel.

All eyes turned to the screen as more information came through. The barman turned it up even louder.

“…just chaos here right now,” said the male reporter, who was live at the scene in Paluga. “We’re getting early reports that President Herrera has been killed. He was surrounded by GlobaTech operatives, who were acting independently at the president’s request to help maintain peace here today, following recent protests. We think at least three GlobaTech personnel who were standing with the president are also injured. Possibly dead. The crowd here is in a state of panic. These are incredibly shocking and disturbing scenes here…”

“Oh, no…” she muttered.

She could see Jericho on the screen, kneeling to the side of the group surrounding the president’s body.

“Um, hello?” said Freddy. “What the hell, Fisher? We’re talking here!”

Julie ignored them and hastily gulped her beer. “I need to go.”

As she turned, the doors opened, and two police officers walked in. They quickly surveyed the layout, then marched toward the bar.

One of them pushed past the three men and stopped beside Julie. He looked down at Greaves, then addressed the barman. “We got a report of a disturbance at these premises. Is everything okay?”

The barman shook his head absently, also staring at the screen. “I don’t think so.”

One of the officers stepped in front of Julie as she went to leave. “Wait a second there, miss. We need to speak with you about whatever happened here.”

Just as Freddy and the others were about to chime in with their version of events, Julie reached into her pocket and flashed her GlobaTech ID at the police officers.

“My name’s Julie Fisher. I run a specialist taskforce for GlobaTech Industries.” She gestured over her shoulder at the TV. “One of my men is standing on that stage right now. I’m leaving.”

The officers exchanged a glance, then stepped aside, allowing her through. She walked past Greaves’s friends, who all stood staring with loose jaws and wide eyes. Julie ignored them. She was already dialing Buchanan’s number on her cell phone.

She needed a flight.

8

May 4, 2020

Santa Clarita was pure bedlam.

Since yesterday afternoon, the GlobaTech compound had been a flurry of activity. Personnel from all over the country had been recalled to the California headquarters urgently. Offices were filled with important people having important meetings with zero notice.

The city was gridlocked. Every major news outlet in the world was trying to get a glimpse of the GlobaTech compound and snatch a quote from anyone who worked there.

Even now, as the pink and orange streaks of dawn still painted the sky, the I-5 was backed up from San Fernando to Castaic.

Buchanan hadn’t slept. He was approaching his second thirty-six hour stretch of uninterrupted consciousness of the week, and it was beginning to take its toll. He paced in front of the window in his office, occasionally glancing down at the never-ending sea of humanity below as he tried to get through his seventh phone call of the hour.

He sighed impatiently. “Yes, I understand that, but… Of course, I… No, obviously. I’m trying to—”

He looked around his office, eyes bulging with frustration. He searched for somewhere he could throw his phone.

The door to his office opened, distracting him from his ire. Kim appeared. She made the phone sign with her hand, then held up three fingers, signaling which line had another call waiting.

Buchanan rolled his eyes and nodded a silent thank you. She closed the door again, and he turned his attention back to the window and the phone call.

“Look, you need to give me some time to find out what exactly happened,” he said. “And I can’t do that while I’m on the phone listening to you talk to me like a goddamn child. Just… let me work, okay? I’ll call you later.”

He ended the call and tossed the phone onto the sofa that rested against the far wall, beneath the TV mounted there. He moved behind his desk and sat down heavily in his chair. He stared for a moment at the blinking light on the desk phone. Every line, along with his cell, had been ringing almost constantly all morning. He rested his elbow on the arm and placed his head in his hand, massaging the bridge of his nose to alleviate the tension in his forehead.

As he was about to answer the waiting call, the door opened. He looked up to see Collins standing there.

“I got here as fast as I could,” he said, slightly out of breath. “Is Jerry okay? Is he on his way back here?”

“Shut the door,” said Buchanan.

Collins did, then paced into the middle of the office, anxiously rocking his weight between his legs in front of the desk.

Buchanan rolled his eyes. “Do you need to pee or something? Sit down, would you? You’re making me nervous.”

“Heh… sorry, boss.” He sat opposite. “Where’s Jerry?”

Buchanan sat upright. “Jericho’s in Paluga, and that’s where he’ll be staying until this is over.”

“Are ya kidding me?” shouted Collins, momentarily forgetting himself. “Ya can’t