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

with defeat. He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face, massaging his forehead. He had failed. The guilt and the shame devoured him. He had let Jericho down. He had let the company down. He had let Josh Winters down—the man who had put his faith in him to manage the global juggernaut he had helped build. The defeat was total, and it would likely cost people their lives.

Goddammit, he thought, screaming with anger inside his own head. This couldn’t have gone any worse if it had been—

He stopped rubbing his head and opened his eyes.

Planned.

His gaze darted back and forth along the surface of the desk as his mind set to work. The inadvertent revelation suddenly gave everything that had happened in the last week a fresh perspective. Everything that had happened… it wasn’t just bad for GlobaTech. It was catastrophic. It was every possible worst-case scenario at once. What if it was orchestrated in some way?

He sat straight, staring blankly ahead as he mentally arranged all the pieces together. He thought about what Stackhouse had just said to him, about GlobaTech being in the headlines he was looking for.

When the big picture finally revealed itself, he leapt to his feet.

“Sonofabitch!” he yelled out, forgetting himself.

The members of the committee, who were all standing and preparing to leave, turned to look at him.

“Mr. Buchanan,” said Stackhouse firmly, “I would ask that you refrain from—”

Buchanan held up a hand. “No, not you.” He looked over at Secretary Phillips. “When you checked the news just then, what site did you look at?”

Phillips shrugged. “WBM. Why?”

“World Broadcast Media, right? Who owns them?”

“Orion International,” said Stackhouse. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Sonofabitch…” muttered Buchanan. He looked at Stackhouse. “Check the news again for any mention of Paluga, but this time, look on the biggest news network not owned by Orion.”

Stackhouse exchanged looks with the people on either side of him, seemingly confused by the request. “Mr. Buchanan, I don’t see what use that would be. For a start, any news network that Orion International doesn’t own is unlikely to have the reach to cover global news.”

Buchanan rolled his eyes. “Yes… and yet, somehow, they’re not standing here on anti-monopoly charges. Go figure. Someone please just… look for me.”

Stackhouse glanced over at Secretary Phillips, who nodded. He then set his briefcase down at his feet and took out his phone. “Fine, I’ll humor you.” He began scrolling. “Honestly, Mr. Buchanan, I don’t know what you’re hoping to… my God…”

“What is it?” asked President Rutherford.

“Reports of civilians being arrested and beaten in the streets of Paluga by the military as nationwide martial law is invoked by General Guerrero. Details are vague at best but…” He looked up and stared at Buchanan. “It says there’s a siege at the presidential palace.”

Buchanan slammed his fist down on the desk. “Let my men do what they’re paid to do, please! If they don’t make a stand and defend themselves, they’re dead. Not to mention any potential civilian loss of life.”

General McFadden shook his head. “I don’t see how this changes anything. It’s one report on a piss-ant news website. Why wouldn’t any of the bigger networks be covering this? Answer me that, Mr. Buchanan.”

Buchanan took a deep breath. “Oh, you’re not ready for me to answer that, General.” He reached for his phone. “Give me two minutes to make a call. If you feel the same way after I do, I’ll drop this, I promise.”

He turned his back on the bench and dialed a number. He introduced himself when a woman answered and was immediately put on hold and transferred. A few moments later, the line was picked up again.

“Moses,” said a strong, Texan drawl.

“President Schultz, good afternoon,” said Buchanan. “I’m sorry to call, but—”

“I’ve been expecting it, son. And I want you to know if I could help you in any way, I would. Hell, Winters and I made that company what it is. It’s a goddamn tragedy those sonsofbitches are lynching you for what happened over there, but I can’t get involved. This is a U.N. matter, and I—”

“Sir, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m not calling you for that.”

“Oh. Well, what do you need, son?”

“It’s about Orion International, sir. I think we’ve finally got them.”

“You have my attention…”

Buchanan spent five valuable minutes catching the president up. Schultz listened quietly.

“That’s all a bit of a stretch…” said the president finally.

“Given the last couple of years, I honestly don’t think it is, sir,” countered Buchanan. “After my meeting with Quincy Hall a couple of days ago, and with the Palugan army using weapons made by Tristar, I think this whole thing could be Orion’s doing. Think about it, sir. From the moment President Herrera was killed, our biggest enemy in all this has been the media. Orion could easily have used their influence over the news to change the narrative of this story and make us look bad. I would say they’ve done an exceptional job, given I’ve just been told GlobaTech Industries has to close its doors indefinitely.”

“What do you need from me, son?”

“Sir, Jericho has about fifteen minutes before he’s in the center of a military skirmish on foreign soil. If he orders GlobaTech to intervene without the backing of the U.N., anyone who survives will be prosecuted under international law, and GlobaTech will be shut down by this absurd committee. If he doesn’t, he’ll be executed by the rogue general of a foreign nation who has pledged to attack the United States right after. I need you to buy me some time, sir. Let us defend Paluga without fear of reprimand. The rest of the team will investigate Orion and look for the link we need. We already have a bead on the shooter.”

There was a moment’s silence. “Put me on speaker and pass me to Secretary Phillips.”

All eyes followed Buchanan as he approached the bench. He placed the phone down in front of the secretary of state, near