Free 6th Horseman, Extremist Edge Series: Part 1 by Anderson Atlas Page B

our
government?”
    “That’s what we need to know!” Zilla blurted
out. “There is an Achilles’ heel to America’s power. The media is
still private, and always looking to take someone down. So we need
to find the corruption wherever it hides. We become the computer
worm and spy on the pawns. Then we follow the money and see who the
knights and bishops are. They will eventually lead us to the Kings
and Queens.”
    Zilla continued, “We need to know how far
down the feed trough goes. This is where you come in. I’ve got bugs
on the President, the Vice President, and in many offices in
Washington. But there are police, National Guard, and defense
contractors that need to be bugged.”
    His request hit me like a sledgehammer to the
groin. “You want me to bug all those organizations?” I asked.
    “Yes. With undetectable cameras and Wi-Fi
data interceptors, we can tie down the conspirators, who they
employ, and how they communicate. The corrupt are in control. So we
need to take them down in order to destroy capitalism.”
    I loved the idea. It was a “gotcha” move that
wouldn’t hurt anyone, only reveal hidden pyramids. So I signed up.
The package was left for me in the dive bar stall. Inside were very
specific instructions on how to get the cameras into the air
conditioning ductwork for all the targets. I began the work in
earnest. A dozen different ID’s and logos passed over my coveralls.
It got easier and easier.
     
    #
    Now, as I stare at the camera mounted to the
corner ceiling of a little room, all I can think about is spending
the next ten to twenty years in a federal prison. This job is
different than all the other jobs I’ve done. This one messes with
the FEDs. I think about running. That’s a bad idea. They’d plaster
my face over the six o’clock news and my life will be over. What
the fuck am I doing?
    The far door opens and a security officer
enters. He’s in all-black fatigues and has a machine gun slung
around his shoulder. He moves to the corner and instantly morphs
into a statue. His rich, square eyes look at me, and they are cold
as ice. I’m a rabbit among wolves. My eyes start watering. Blink, Damn it!
    Just before I start screaming, the door opens
again and a portly man steps through it. He hands my ID back. I
take a deep breath.
    “New with the company?” he asks. His face is
wrinkled from decades of stress.
    “Yes, sir.” I respond. “I’ve taken over
Central.”
    He finally smiles, drawing his lips off his
whitened teeth. “Good. Redmond was always late.”
    Redmond is the tech I replaced. I wonder for
a moment where he is. Is it his day off? How did Zilla get me into
this company anyway?
    The portly pug man waves to the security guy.
He steps up to me and reaches out for my toolbox. My heart thumps
loudly in my chest. I hand over the tools. He rifles through the
box then sets it aside. He then pats me down, thoroughly.
    The portly man hands me a paper. “Now then.
You’ve got some serious duct cleaning ahead of you. Here’s where
our system shuts down the intake. Get in, clean out the stink, then
get this paper back to Muriel. You are familiar with our ACL
response ventilation system?”
    I nod, but I am not. I have no clue what he
is talking about.
    “Good. Muriel’s the older woman at the desk
on level 10. She’ll call an escort to lead you out of the building
when you’re finished.” The man turns without another word and
leaves.
    The security guy hands me my toolbox and
takes me to the elevators. He escorts me up to the tenth floor
where I get a whiff of the nasty smell wafting from the vents. The
guard leaves and I start to pull bolt after bolt off the duct vent.
I unclip a sensor panel attached by wires to the metal grate. There
is some serious tech here. I’d memorized how to open the grate,
white clip first. That is the power. Then the colored clip is next.
I type in a code on the control box situated inside the duct, then
crawl inside. There is a lot of