State of Emergency Read Online Free PDF

else is there?'
    'I was just coming to that. You'll have a further programme
tailored to each of you. Those who've not had
military training will be put through a course based on one
used by the Green Berets. Those without medical training
will be given a crash course in essential procedures.' Mark
paused for a moment and looked into each of their faces.
    'I won't pretend. It's going to be tough, very tough. Any
questions?'
    'Yeah, just one,' Tom said. 'I take it I'll be exempt from the
hundred-yard sprint through mud and horseshit?'

9
    The four men met in the flesh only rarely. Most of the time
they merely shared pixels. Today's encounter was another of
those virtual meetings.
    At first glance, there was little that linked them. Granted,
they were all overachievers. Two were politicians of
significance, one was a resources billionaire, and the last a
media mogul. All were aged between 50 and 70. One was
very tall, six-foot-five; another very short, just five-foot-four.
Two were fitness freaks and buff. One, the 70-year-old,
weighed in at over 25 stone, with barely an ounce of muscle
on him. The fourth was broad-shouldered with a paunch.
Outward appearances, then, were entirely deceptive. Only
one thing drew these four men together – money. They
had met at a World Bank dinner for insiders, adjourned for
brandy and cigars in a side room at Gleneagles one warm
summer evening, and bingo – they had bonded.
    At their next meeting, they decided what it was that
they would do together. And at the same gathering they
had shared a little black humour. They dubbed themselves
Death, Conquest, War and Pestilence – the Four Horsemen
of the Apocalypse.
    Between them, these men were worth more than $100
billion. They controlled three of the most important
sectors of 21st-century life – finance, the lifeblood of
the world; the media, the neural net of the age; and the
politics of the world's only superpower. At their meetings
they each donned a tie with the colour of their attribute
– pale green for Death, white for Conquest, red for War
and black for Pestilence. It was probably a little OTT, but
what the hell?
    The Four Horsemen had a very simple agenda. Money
was not just power, it was everything . Ergo, anyone who
threatened their ability to make money was an enemy and
must be stopped. At their third meeting in Cincinnati, soon
after 9/11, they had joked about the old Wall Street war
cry that it was not enough to win, you had to destroy your
enemy. For them, the aphorism didn't go nearly far enough.
The enemy must be utterly annihilated, their families
destroyed, eviscerated, their corpses pissed on.
    'So, what's the latest?' Death asked, his face large on three
wall-screens, in Berlin, Shanghai and Dallas.
    'We have to make a decision. Our friend the senator is
growing more powerful by the day,' Pestilence responded.
    'Very well,' Death replied.
    'Is your plan really the only option?' Conquest adjusted
his white tie as he spoke.
    'You seem nervous.' Pestilence smirked. 'Most unlike you,
my friend.'
    'I'm not nervous – I just want assurances.'
    'Oh, come now, Conquest. When is that ever possible?
Nothing in life comes with assurances, does it? But at least
we know we work for a noble cause. Human existence has
shown there is no greater God than the greenback.'
    'Yes,' chuckled War, his chins wobbling. 'Just take an L
from gold and what do you have?'
    The others stared at him stonily. They had heard it
before.
    'So, the plan,' Death said. 'You intend using the Dragon,
I take it?'
    'Who else?' Pestilence said. 'Actually, he's sorting out a
minor irritation as we speak – that little shit, Gordon Smith.
But after that, he could begin preparations. Disposing of the
senator will be an altogether trickier proposition.'
    'So. When, exactly?' Conquest asked, and adjusted his tie
again.
    'Soon. Do I have unanimous approval?'
    The others nodded in turn.

10
Museum of Modern Art, West 53rd Street, New York
    'Champagne?'
    Josh Thompson