Дэвид Балдаччи - King and Maxwell

“We have, sir.” She took him through all that they had learned, including the kidnapping of Tyler Wingo and his friend Kathy.

“My God, I knew nothing about that. And you think Sam Wingo was set up and that this Alan Grant is behind it all? For a political scandal that led to his parents’ deaths over two decades ago?”

“That’s what we believe.”

“And he’s the source of the leaks to that blogger?”

“We believe that too.”

“And your proof?”

“We’re collecting it. In fact, if you let me make a call to my partner he may have an update.”

“Please.”

Michelle dialed Sean. He answered on the second ring.

“I got your text,” he said. “The Beast, huh? With the president?”

“Yes I am,” she said happily.

“Well, we have great news too. We got Tyler and Kathy. They’re both okay. They’re at Fairfax Hospital. Kathy was wounded in the arm, but she’ll be okay. They’ve got heavy FBI security. Her parents were notified and are at the hospital with her.”

“Sean, that is fantastic news.”

“And we got two of Grant’s thugs. Littlefield and McKinney are going to put the screws to them. If they talk, we may have a direct line back to Grant.”

“Better and better.” She turned to Cole. “Sir, they got the kids back. They’re safe. And they got the kidnappers. The FBI has them in custody. It may lead us directly to Grant.”

“Thank God,” said Cole. “That’s a miracle.”

Michelle glanced out the window. They were just heading over Memorial Bridge into Virginia. There were no cars on the road other than the motorcade, because the Beast did not share the road with mere mortal cars and drivers. It was a beautiful evening now that the rains had passed and the descending sun shimmered off the frosty surface of the Potomac.

“So why are you meeting with the president?” asked Sean.

On Michelle’s screen a text from Edgar popped up. Her eyes widened and her gut clenched.

“Michelle?” said Sean.

“Oh, shit!” exclaimed Michelle.

“What is it?” said Cole.

“Michelle, are you okay?” said Sean.

Michelle turned to the president. “We have to get–”

She never got a chance to finish.

THE STEERING WHEEL OF THE Beast was ripped out of the driver’s hands and cut a sharp turn to the left. At the same time the gas pedal hit the floor and the sixteen-thousand-pound vehicle accelerated and hit the bridge’s stone balustrade at close to its maximum speed. The stone railings were strong, but they were never designed to stop a car that heavy going that fast. The front end of the Beast burst through the stone and its front wheels cleared the pavement. The rear wheels kept spinning, retained their traction, and with another burst of power the Beast cleared the bridge entirely and was suspended in midair for a moment. Then its nose pointed downward, and that was the direction it headed. It hit the water a few seconds later. The rear end came down and the car settled on the surface of the Potomac.

The Beast could do many impressive things. Floating was not among them. It quickly sank.

“Michelle!” Sean yelled into the phone. There was no response.

He turned to Wingo. “Something is very wrong. She’s with the president and– ” His phone buzzed. It was another call coming in. It was Edgar.

“Edgar, what is going on?”

“I just texted Michelle,” he said. “She’s with the president.”

“I know that. She called me. But then something happened. I can’t get through to her.” Edgar said nothing. “Edgar, are you there?”

When Edgar next spoke, his voice was strained. “Sean, I just got a news break on my screen.”

“What is it?” Sean said, his heart pounding.

“The presidential limo just ran off the Memorial Bridge and plunged into the Potomac.”

“What? How?”

“That’s what I just texted her about.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The satellite, Sean. They hacked the satellite that the presidential limo uses for navigation and communication. It’s too complicated to explain how they did it.”

“Okay, they hacked it, so what?”

“The limo has over thirty million lines of code, Sean. The computers run everything on that vehicle. You hack the brain–”

Sean finished for him. “You control the car,” he said dully.

“Yes. Speed. Steering. Brakes. Everything.”

“Grant,” said Sean looking at Wingo. “That son of a bitch just got his revenge on a president who had absolutely nothing to do with his parents’ deaths.” He added in a shaky voice, “And Michelle is with him.”

Edgar said, “What are you going to do?”

Sean dropped the phone, punched the gas, and the car flew forward.

Wingo had turned the radio on and they listened to the just-breaking news story. It sounded grim. Rescue operations were quickly being assembled, but they would need heavy equipment to get the car off the bottom of the river. The good news was that the limo had its own oxygen supply and was completely sealed so no water could get in.

Wingo said, “The Feds will be doing everything they can. And you heard the radio. The vehicle is sealed, and they have oxygen down there.”

Sean stared straight ahead. “First, crashing through the barrier might have ‘unsealed’ the Beast. It’s a tank, but even tanks can be damaged.”

“And second?”

“The computer controls everything in the Beast, Sam. You own the computer, you own the Beast. And Alan Grant is way too smart to have missed something like that.”

As the limo hit the bottom of the river Michelle undid her shoulder harness and checked the president. He was unconscious. She checked his pulse. It was strong, though his face was pale. She cupped her hands around his neck, feeling for fractures or bulges, but found none. She next did something she could hardly believe she could even think about.

She slapped him in the face, not once but twice.

He came around on the second strike. He looked dully at her.

“What the hell just happened?” he gasped.

“Are you hurt, Mr. President? Does anything feel broken, bruised, sore?”

He gingerly moved his arms and legs. “Sore but everything feels intact,” he replied. “What happened?”

Michelle drew a short breath. “We went off the bridge. We’re in the Potomac.” She glanced out the windows and saw nothing but black. “The bottom of the Potomac, actually,” she amended.

“In the Potomac?” he said incredulously.

Michelle found the control in the console for the window partition. Miraculously it still worked. The Beast still had power, but down here that probably wouldn’t last. The motor had cut off, though, and she doubted it would restart underwater. Besides, where would they drive?

The glass slid down and she crawled through to check on the agents in the front. The air bags had deployed, she immediately noticed, which gave her hope.

The hope faded when she saw the blood and open eyes.

She checked their pulses but already knew the answer. The bags had deployed when they’d struck the railings. They had probably survived that. What they hadn’t survived was the impact with the water. There were no more air bags left to save them from that. She looked at the side windows and the steel frame around them. They were bloody. Impact had probably been there. Death had probably been immediate.

She and the president were alone at the bottom of the river.

She slid feet-first back out and returned to the rear compartment.

“How are they?” Cole asked anxiously.

Michelle shook her head. “They didn’t make it, sir.”

“Oh my God.”

Michelle looked around at the comfy leather with the thick cushions and padding. This little cocoon had saved their lives while the agents up front had taken the full brunt of the collision.