Chapter 514

The President of the United States carried a very different kind of influence from the Vice President.

Ask some random person on the street who the President was, and chances were they’d know.

Ask them who the Vice President was, and you’d probably get a blank stare followed by, "Give me a second. I’ll look it up."

If the Eredar Twins could secure the President’s protection, especially with the enthusiastic support of Ross, the political newcomer currently campaigning for mayor of New York, then their competitors wouldn’t be much of a concern.

Even if someone with the Vice President’s backing tried to interfere, it wouldn’t matter.

And if acquiring Killian’s organization proved politically inconvenient, they could always use a different word.

Merger.

The more Evenson thought about it, the more he wondered about one thing.

Did meeting the President really require isolation and security screening?

He had no idea.

It wasn’t as though he’d ever met the President of the United States.

Hell, he’d never even met the President of Zimbabwe.

That thought made Evenson pause.

Wait.

When you put it that way...

Was he actually the least successful person among everyone around him?

He vigorously shook his head, banishing that depressing revelation before it could do permanent damage.

Then he pulled over and stopped the car.

Only after the vehicle was safely parked did he pull out his phone and search for the previous night’s news.

Safety first.

Never use your phone while driving.

He had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that there were surveillance cameras covering practically every inch of the road, nor did he care in the slightest about receiving a ticket and losing points on his license.

He simply believed in responsible driving.

Yesterday’s news hadn’t exactly been on his radar.

Based on what he’d heard, though, the major story should have been the aftermath of that bloody little disaster starring Taylor, with the Scorpion gang and the police providing supporting roles.

Had the situation really escalated enough for the President to get involved?

Apparently, yes.

Or at least, something had.

Evenson opened the news app.

The first thing he saw was a video.

"Some people call me a terrorist. I consider myself a teacher."

The footage had supposedly been broadcast after someone hacked into television networks across the United States.

Evenson hadn’t been watching television, and he’d been in Russia at the time, so he’d missed the original broadcast.

The video’s central figure was a bearded man wearing sunglasses, his appearance unmistakably Middle Eastern.

Behind him, a line of hooded hostages knelt on the ground.

One by one, they were executed.

The bearded man barely reacted.

Then he looked directly into the camera.

"America. Are you ready for another lesson?"

The video continued.

"In 1864, at Sand Creek in Colorado, the U.S. military waited for the peaceful Cheyenne warriors to leave their camp to hunt. Then they attacked and massacred the families left behind, taking their land."

His voice was low and grim as he recounted the history of American violence against Native Americans.

Then he shifted to something much more recent.

"Thirty-nine hours ago, the Ali Al-Salim Air Base was attacked."

He paused.

"I did it."

No fear.

No excitement.

No attempt to whip his audience into a frenzy.

He said it with the detached calm of someone admitting he’d forgotten to buy milk.

"A military settlement filled with women and children. The soldiers were away on exercises. The warriors were absent."

He deliberately drew a connection between the two events, presenting the attack as retribution for America’s crimes against Native Americans.

Then he went even further.

A crude effigy of the American President had been tied to a stake.

The man set it ablaze.

"President Ellis, you have repeatedly refused to accept my lessons."

His expression remained cold behind the flames.

"But now you have no choice but to listen."

Finally, he removed his sunglasses.

The camera zoomed in for an unmistakable close-up, as though the man wanted to make absolutely certain no one would ever forget his face.

"You know who I am."

A pause.

"But you don’t know where I am."

His eyes stared directly into the camera.

"You will never know when I will come."

The video ended.

Evenson stared at the screen.

"Mandarin..."

The headlines that followed were predictable.

THE MANDARIN CLAIMS RESPONSIBILITY FOR ATTACK ON U.S. MILITARY BASE

NATIONWIDE SEARCH FOR THE MANDARIN FAILS

WHO IS THE MANDARIN?

Evenson scrolled through them, then found himself nodding appreciatively.

He had to admit it.

The Mandarin had style.

The delivery. The voice. The eyes. The dim lighting. The carefully chosen imagery.

The whole thing radiated menace.

There was a lot to learn from that.

Even the camera angles and editing were excellent.

Honestly, the production quality was almost Hollywood-level.

Evenson put his phone away and started driving again.

An unknown terrorist had attacked a U.S. military installation and openly threatened the President.

As far as the Eredar Twins were concerned, that man had done them a favor.

Without the Mandarin forcing the government’s hand, they probably wouldn’t have been meeting the President this soon.

Because what was a President supposed to do when a terrorist openly threatened both him and the country he represented?

Hide in a bunker?

Curl up and wait for it to pass?

That might keep him alive, but what would it do to the country’s image?

What would voters think?

Apparently, we elected a coward.

No.

The President had to do the exact opposite.

He had to be visible.

Work publicly. Make appearances. Show absolutely no fear.

And if there were any scheduled meetings?

Move them up.

The message needed to be unmistakable.

America wasn’t afraid.

The President wasn’t afraid.

And the United States would never bow to a terrorist.

Naturally, the security measures behind the scenes would be tightened considerably.

Which explained why the twins needed to undergo isolation and screening before meeting the President.

Still, Evenson wasn’t particularly worried about them passing.

If criminal organizations could manufacture social security cards convincing enough to collect government benefits, then the identities Ross had helped construct for the twins should be more than adequate.

Nearly an hour later, Evenson finally arrived at Tony’s house.

He hadn’t even finished parking when he saw it.

A rabbit.

A gigantic rabbit.

The thing was a two-story-tall rabbit decoration standing proudly outside the mansion.

Around its neck was a bow tie with a message written across it:

Merry Christmas, Pepper.

Evenson stared.

Then he slowly shook his head.

Rich people really did live in another universe.

He reached the front door.

He hadn’t even knocked when it opened by itself.

Evenson stepped inside.

He made it three steps.

A blue scanning beam swept over him from head to toe.

"Mr. Stark, Ms. Potts’s psychological consultant has arrived."

Down in the basement, Tony Stark was hunched over a workbench, surrounded by armor components.

He didn’t even look up.

"Send him home. I don’t need a therapist."

"Sir, he is already at the door."

The moment JARVIS finished speaking, Evenson’s voice thundered down from upstairs.

"Tony! It’s me! Your old friend is here! The least you can do is open the door!"

Tony finally looked up.

He rolled his eyes.

Then he glanced toward the security monitor.

Sure enough.

It was Evenson.

Tony stared at the screen in disbelief.

Pepper had actually brought this guy here?

"You’re an Avenger," Tony muttered. "How do you even have time to moonlight?"

He shook his head.

"Honestly, I’m embarrassed to be associated with you."

Tony leaned back.

"If you’ve got something to say, say it from the doorway. Every time you show up, I get the feeling my company’s stock is about to take a nosedive."

He smirked.

"And Pepper will kill me."

He was clearly hoping that would be enough to make Evenson leave.

Unfortunately, Tony had severely underestimated both Evenson’s shamelessness and his devotion to getting paid.

"I am offended, Tony!"

Evenson shouted through the door.

"If you don’t open this thing right now, I’m blowing it up!"

As if to prove he was serious, Evenson conjured a large fireball above his palm.

Tony glanced at the security feed.

Then he smiled.

"Hmph."

He folded his arms.

"Two-million-dollar security door."

His smile widened.

"Go ahead."

Evenson stared at the door.

The fireball vanished.

His entire demeanor changed instantly.

"Sir. Sir. Please. I apologize. I can’t afford that."

He clasped his hands above his head and bowed repeatedly toward the camera.

"Please open the door."

Tony laughed.

For once, he was enjoying himself.