Дэвид Балдаччи - King and Maxwell

Sean said, “Well, I used to practice law. You guys might have a shot at taking them straight to Gitmo.”

“I’m an American citizen,” yelled one of the men.

“Doesn’t matter,” said McKinney. “If you were planning to attack this country, there’s precedent.” He smiled at Sean. “This might get really fun.”

“Maybe,” said Sean. “But he’s still out there.”

“But we got the kids back,” pointed out Littlefield.

“I know. And that’s the most important thing.”

“But?” said McKinney.

“But kidnapping wasn’t the real plan, was it?”

Alan Grant stared at the computer screen for what would surely be one of the last times. He was inside the vault at the old radio station. The frenetic activity in the other part of the station had ceased. It was empty. He was the only one left. His team had done what they came to do.

He looked at the itinerary one last time and confirmed the schedule. He checked his watch. Soon it would all be over. His decades-long nightmare finally laid to rest. He had not escaped unscathed. And he wasn’t sure he would be able to avoid a jail cell. But in the end, it would be worth it. His kids would still have their mother. She had plenty of money. They would be okay. Scandalized by what he’d done, but only he could understand truly the justice in all of it. But he felt fortunate in a way. Fortunate that the current president had made the same blunder as his predecessor all those years ago. But for that, this moment might never have come.

He called the cabin to check in. There was no answer. He called again. No answer. Slightly panicked now, he downloaded what he needed to his laptop, grabbed his keys, and ran to his car. A semi and accompanying crew would arrive in twenty minutes to undo everything that had been done here, leaving the place scrubbed.

He drove to a prearranged spot in D.C. near the Virginia side. He would do what he needed to do from this spot using a remote feature he had built into his plan. From here he had a nice view of the capital city. Soon it would be a capital city in chaos.

He readied his optics and checked his watch. Nearly there.

Edgar had just finished clicking keys and now he sat back stunned at what he was seeing. It was an electronic back door the likes of which he had never encountered before. He had to marvel at the ingenuity of the people who had done this. They had taken what amounted to electronic DNA fragments from a satellite once leased by the government and used that to disguise themselves, almost like a virus or cancer cell, in order to infiltrate another satellite, a very special satellite, that was relegated to one user, and one user only. And for a very good reason. Otherwise something catastrophic could happen.

It might already have.

“I’M SORRY TO KEEP YOU waiting, Ms. Maxwell.”

President Cole looked harried and distracted as he entered the Oval Office.

“No problem, sir,” Michelle said, quickly rising to her feet.

“And Mr. King?”

“Not here. We split up. You just get me today.”

Cole nodded, but said nothing. He looked deeply preoccupied.

“Bad day, sir?” she said, trying to bring his thoughts back around to this meeting.

He started, turned to her, and attempted a smile. “You could say that. But in this job, it’s all relative. A really bad day is sending off brave young men and women to die for their country.”

“So I guess a garden-variety scandal isn’t so bad.”

“No, but it is distracting. And it gives my political enemies powder for their guns. Not that they seem to need any to fire away at me.”

“What can I do for you, sir? I know every minute of your day is planned out.”

“Well, I’m afraid that we’re going to have to make this meeting a mobile one.”

It was then that Michelle fully focused on the fact that Cole was wearing a tuxedo.

“Sir?”

“Formal event in Virginia tonight at Mount Vernon. I’m the keynote speaker. You up for a ride in the Beast?” He smiled. “My people will give you a lift back.”

“Yes, sir.”

As she walked out to the waiting motorcade she slipped her phone out, powered it up, and quickly thumbed in a group text to Sean and Edgar. She hit send, smiled, and put the phone back in her pocket.

A Secret Service agent she knew held open the limo door for her. The president always got in last. When his butt hit the seat the motorcade would leave. Michelle couldn’t hide her smile as she climbed inside and took the seat opposite the president, facing backward.

As soon as he climbed in the door thunked closed and all outside noise vanished. It would not reappear until the doors opened once more, because the phone-book-thick windows did not roll down. The motorcade started off.

The Beast looked like the Caddy DTS it was on the outside, but it was unique in all other respects. Three hundred thousand bucks allowed some interesting optional features. It weighed more than eight tons and was completely sealed in case someone tried to hit it with biochemical weapons. The fuel tank was foam-sealed. Even if it got struck, it wouldn’t explode. It had an oxygen supply and fire extinguishers in the trunk along with a supply of the president’s blood type. Built into the front bumper were night-vision cameras and tear gas cannons. The vehicle’s shell was a combination of ceramic, titanium, and the old reliable steel. The tires had a Kevlar skin and were run-flat. The doors were as heavy as a large jet’s cabin portal because of their eight-inch armor plating. The windows’ first few layers were bulletproof to absorb a round while the inner layers were a special type of plastic that would catch any bullet like a fly in a web.

Two drawbacks were speed and fuel consumption. The Beast topped out at sixty miles an hour and got only eight miles to the gallon because of all the weight.

Michelle noted the driver and other agent in the front seat. She then gazed out the window, taking in the thirty-vehicle motorcade. Then she looked over the plush interior of the rear compartment.

Cole looked at her in slight amusement. “First time in the Beast?” he asked.

She nodded. “I left the Service before I could rotate to protection detail at the White House.”

“I remember my first time. I thought I was in a dream.”

“Must feel pretty old hat by now.”

“Not a chance. It’s an honor and a privilege and it’s pretty damn cool.” He settled back in his seat and gazed out the window. “I can never go anywhere on the sly. I’m not even allowed to drive on a public street.”

Michelle sat back, too. “Probably a good idea. You don’t want to have to talk your way out of a speeding ticket.”

He smiled and then gazed at the agent in the front.

“Window up, Frank,” said Cole.

The partition glass separating the two sections of the Beast slid up.

Cole waited for it to finish its glide and then focused on Michelle. “I’m going to speak frankly, Ms. Maxwell.”

“Yes, sir.”

“My administration is in a world of trouble.”

“I sort of got that impression.”

“The thing is we were trying to do something positive, something that would help another country become free.”

“The best of intentions, the worst of outcomes.”

“My opponents are always screaming at me to send in troops, use America’s massive military. But when we actually do something, the effect of which would be the same at far less cost to us, they threaten impeachment.”

“I think it’s called politics, sir.”

“Only this time I think I went too far out on a limb. And it’s about to snap.” He eyed her with desperation. “Have you and your partner been able to find out anything?”