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wouldn’t take his help to learn and improve, then something had to give. He’d decided that he could get the country moving on the right track again – if he got the chance. He couldn’t do it through election and campaigning, but there were other ways.
    No, the answer was seizing control and solving difficult problems, even if those solutions required some extreme measures – restricted freedom, mass surveillance, a compliant media. Only then would the attacks stop. If he achieved that, then history would look upon him kinder than the parade of squatters and incompetents who’d occupied positions of power in recent years. His legacy as a man of supreme integrity and enormous public service would be secure.
    He shifted his gaze. The other wall of board featured columns filled with the steps he was taking in clear stages. It had started with months of research into the power he had at his disposal as the Administrator of FEMA, along with the power the position potentially held in the right circumstances. All he’d needed was a catalyst, in the form of the deadly attacks sweeping across the country. He sat on the sofa and stared at the board.
    Now events were moving him toward the middle of the board, which featured the steps he’d take to bring order and stability to the governance of America. He’d tried serving incompetents, waiting for the right leader. When that had failed, he’d proactively made himself available to those same incompetents, to steer and guide, but they’d not listened. Now the opportunity had arrived. He’d take more control. He’d solve problems. He’d reshape America. He’d secure his legacy.
    He woke with a start and realized that he must have dozed off. He reached up and massaged his temples with his index fingers. He was tired and pushing himself too hard, but saw no choice but to continue on the current path. He’d told nobody else about his plan, trusting others with only enough information to play the role he’d assigned them. With a shake of his head to remove the cobwebs, he rose and made his way into the kitchen.
    A glance at the clock made him wince at how late it was. He opened his fridge and took the assigned meal – planned and prepared a week in advance – and heated it up in the microwave, then sat at the table to eat. The food wasn’t spectacular, but it was nutritious. He didn’t take pleasure from much other than his work, so had no qualms with the bland pumpkin soup. There was nothing wrong with it that some fresh pepper couldn’t fix. He ate slowly, taking pleasure in the music playing.
    After another glance at the clock, he placed his dishes in the dishwasher and then opened his briefcase. He removed a single news clipping, walked to his board and pinned it to the wall. Satisfied, he started up the stairs to bed. He undressed, hung his suit and placed his dirty laundry in the basket. As he climbed into bed, he reached over to press the button that would turn off all of the lights in the house. He smiled as he closed his eyes.

CHAPTER 5
    In the three months since the executive orders were enacted, the diligence of my staff and the cooperation of the American people have allowed these new powers to be introduced with a minimum of fuss. It is my hope that, for however long they’re necessary to ensure security, the restrictions have the minimum possible impact on everyday people going about their lives and make the maximum contribution to our security and wellbeing.
    Richard Hall, FEMA Administrator
    Media statement
    Jack’s phone buzzed on the table. Unknown caller. He answered as he rushed to finish his bagel and wash it down with the dregs of his coffee. “Jack Emery.”
    “My name is Omega.” The voice on the other end was being scrambled into an electronic mess. Jack swallowed hard and checked nobody was in earshot.
    Captain Dan “Omega” Ortiz had been the commander of the squad of Marines that Jack had been embedded with in Afghanistan. Ortiz had