Free Deadline Y2K by Mark Joseph

but he had no doubt Ed Garcia would put him away. It was hard to bullshit guys he’d known since he was three years old, but he’d been doing it for five years. What the hell, it would all be over in the morning.
    â€œIt’s going to hit Siberia in about forty-five minutes,” the doctor went on, “and two hours later, Japan.”
    â€œFuck the Russians and the Japanese,” Copeland said. “They’ll get what they deserve. How are things at the hospital?”
    â€œI’m worried. Damn near every piece of equipment in the place has embedded chips, and none of them has been checked out.”
    â€œThat’s crazy,” Copeland said.
    â€œI know. I gotta meet with the manager of misinformation services. These fucking bureaucrats don’t understand that this thing is serious.”
    â€œDo you need help?”
    â€œHell, yes, but the powers that be say it isn’t in the damned budget, so I can’t even bring in help on my own. It sucks.”
    â€œDid you sell your stocks?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œTake your money out of the bank?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œStockpile food and water?”
    â€œYes, and batteries, too. What is this, an inspection?”
    â€œDon’t forget candles,” Copeland said. “You can’t run the hospital, but you can look out for number one, right?”
    â€œI suppose so,” the doctor said. “See you tonight?”
    â€œI don’t think so,” Copeland said. “I’ll be in the office until well after midnight.”
    â€œWell, stop by if you can. See ya.”
    As soon as he hung up, the phone rang again.
    â€œCopeland.”
    â€œDoc here. You see the news?”
    â€œSure did.”
    â€œIt’s happening all over New Zealand. The refinery, traffic lights, rural power. The water mains shut down in Auckland. You coming in this morning?”
    â€œJust like every other day, Doc. Jody and I have a press conference at nine-thirty with the bank.”
    â€œI think the media people are going to be pretty busy this morning,” Doc said. “Don’t be surprised if they bail.”
    â€œNothing is going to surprise me today,” Copeland said.
    â€œI wouldn’t be quite so cocksure, Donald. Everyone will be surprised today, even you.”
    â€œI’m sure you’re right,” Copeland agreed, sipping coffee. “Look, these air crashes and blackouts might have some of our people upset, but I don’t care. Everyone comes in today and works through midnight. This will be our busiest day ever.”
    â€œThat’s my Donnie boy, the slave driver. Don’t worry, boss. Everyone has been briefed.”
    Copeland turned on his e-mail and recognized the first address as that of his ex-wife, Marie, a born-again Christian who sent an occasional message urging him to seek Jesus and read the Book of Revelation. He hesitated before opening the message. The old Chambers Brothers tune, “Time Has Come Today” was running through his head for no reason except that it often did. Tick tock, tick tock. Acutely time-conscious, Copeland wore a $12,000 Rolex to supplement the kitchen’s three digitals. Tempus fugit, yeah Jack, you got that right. Feeling his life ticking away as though it were running on an infernal Julian clock, he’d driven himself to succeed at every enterprise he’d attempted. You only get so many hours, he frequently told himself, and if you don’t impose order and discipline on every one, all was chaos. After two decades of this hard regimen, the result was a forty-three-year-old man drawn as tight as piano wire.
    Copeland had become so obsessed with the delusional heist of Chase’s millions that anything that got in his way disappeared from his life. Over time, the list included his wife and son. Both had grown to despise his devotion to his business, his computers, and the companies he’d created. It had been three