Free The Foundation: Jack Emery 1 by Steve P. Vincent Page B

filed and we were going to get a drink when it went off. I felt the shockwave. It knocked me over and stunned me. But once my head cleared, I realized what had happened. The front of the hotel was just gone. The rest was on fire.”
    Jack felt empty. He wanted more. “That’s it? She didn’t say anything? Do anything?”
    “Most of the rest is a blur. Erin was still alive, barely. I did some first aid, but there was a lot of blood and she didn’t last long. Then they bundled me into an ambulance.”
    Jack exhaled heavily. “I saw you on the news and hoped she might be okay. But when you called me in Tokyo...”
    “I’m so sorry, Jack. I don’t know what to say.” She smiled sadly. “I was just lucky.”
    He felt his head cloud over, and he suddenly felt sick. He continued to stare at her, and finally she looked at him. They locked eyes, and Jack could see the strain etched on her face. “There’s something else, Celeste. Something you’re not telling me.”
    She smiled sadly, and a tear splashed down her cheek. “The last thing she said before she died was to tell you that she loved you and was sorry.”
    ***
    Michelle held her breath as she eased the door to her apartment open. The light from inside the apartment peeked out like a small, curious child as she crouched and probed her finger slowly inside the crack. When her finger grazed a thin steel wire, she exhaled with relief, reached inside and unhooked it.
    She stood up, pushed the door open and hauled her case through, careful not to trip over the limp wire. It would be ironic to be blown up by her own trap, when she’d just organized to have a chunk of Shanghai destroyed, and she enjoyed a small chuckle as she closed the door behind her and locked it. She turned on the lights.
    Evidently, nobody had disturbed her apartment. On the other hand, she also knew that while her defensive tripwires and a few other surprises would keep casual interest away, it wouldn’t deter a pro. She’d half expected to return from China to a room full of gunmen, but things seemed safe, though it was ironic that the training she’d been provided by the Foundation was now being used to defend against its leader.
    She shook her head as she wound up the wire and separated it from the grenade, but stopped short of putting the trap away. There was a fairly good chance she’d need to set it again soon. While Anton had clearly decided to end her, she’d escaped that situation and Chen and his family were safe. There was a chance Anton wouldn’t try anything too ambitious on home soil, given she had her own support network within the Foundation.
    But if he did decide to make a move, the clock was ticking. With the Congressional midterm elections drawing closer, if Anton had decided to remove her from play, he’d have a much harder time of it once she was elected. That put him on a timetable that was dangerous to her ongoing health.
    She made her way to the kitchen, threw her keys on the kitchen counter and took a beer from the fridge. In the living room she found her pistol in a drawer and felt safer for it. After the close call in China, she’d vowed to never be so helpless again. She found her way to the couch, put the gun on the cushion beside her and took a long pull of the beer.
    Anton wanted her out of the picture, but that knowledge meant nothing without proof. Her supporters would only move on him with proof or provocation. For now, she had no mechanism to bring the matter to a head. She opened her eyes and placed her beer on the coffee table. It was time to test a theory. She picked up her cell phone and dialed.
    The call was answered in less than a second. “Foundation for a New America, you’re speaking with Grace, how may I help you?”
    “Hi Grace, it’s Michelle.” She paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “I’m back in the country and I need to speak to Anton.”
    There was a delay, which did not surprise Michelle one bit. “Just hold on for a