Michael Palmer - A Heartbeat Away

Her proximity to him was distracting, even more so when she shared that not long after she left him on the Keys, she had finally accepted that she wasn’t in love with her fiancé and had broken off their engagement.

“So, what’s happened since then?”

“Not that much. I’ve become a paragon of serial monogamy. But I remain eternally optimistic, just like always.”

Griff’s pulse accelerated as they neared Statuary Hall. He became determined to share his feelings with her … as soon as the time was right.

Along the wall to their left, racks of comfortable clothing, probably from local department stores, were being sorted by Capitol police in preparation for distribution.

“Angie, it’s not going to be a pretty sight in there. People are very anxious. Some of them are already getting ill. Earlier a group of them charged at me and tore one of my protectors’ suits. Just stay focused and move ahead steadily. If people try and get near you, we’ll stop them.”

If she heard him, she did not respond. The moment they came through the archway bordered by the statues of Jefferson and Washington, she fell off the pace and stopped just inside the expansive room.

“Angie, don’t get distracted now!” Griff whispered urgently. “Keep moving. Dammit, keep moving!”

But Angie remained where she was, surveying the frightening, pathetic scene. She took in the people sprawled out upon the floor, and those slumped over with their backs leaning up against the wall. Then she knelt down beside one particularly distressed woman. The woman, in her forties and probably quite pretty, was wearing a black evening dress that had been torn in places against the oppressive body heat in the hall. Her hair was disheveled, and makeup was smeared across her face. The large amethyst brooch that had held her neckline together had come open. Her back was pressed to the wall, and she was sobbing uncontrollably.

Seemingly without thought for herself, Angie knelt down, wiped the woman’s makeup and perspiration away with a piece of cloth, smoothed her hair, and then, to Griff’s horror, dexterously refastened the brooch.

“We’re here to do what we can to help,” Angie said softly.

The woman regained an ort of composure.

“I’m frightened,” she sobbed.

“I know. I know. You’re going to be okay. What’s your name?”

“Emily. Emily Wells. My husband’s a congressman from Utah. First term. He was ill tonight and gave me his ticket.”

“Well, why not try and do what you can to help some of the others, Emily. It will make the time pass more quickly. I’m Angela Fletcher, from The Post . This man behind me is a world-famous virologist. He’s here to help figure this whole thing out.” Angie took the woman’s hand. “Be strong. There are a lot of people working to get you out of here.”

“Th … thanks.”

Angie helped Emily Wells to her feet and guided her over to where several others were dispensing rations.

Griff saw that some of those approaching them from the left were among the group who had come at him earlier. Quickly he led Angie away, but not before she could reassuringly pat several people on the shoulder and help one older, disoriented man find a bottle of water. The soldier whose biosuit had been torn moved in and helped control the angry, frustrated crowd.

“You’re doing fine, ma’am,” he said to Angie, in response to her unasked question about him.

“Remember what I said,” Griff implored her as they retreated from the hall. “Don’t get distracted.”

“There are so many of them.”

“That’s only one of three rooms. We’re going to do everything we can to help them, Ange, but you won’t be able to help anybody if they tear your suit like they did to that poor soldier back there. Now, let’s go see Allaire.”

“What did you tell him that got him to bring me in?”

They were led into the waiting area by the Hard Room.

“I told him that you were here as a neutral party to document my movements. Our deal is that even if I don’t come up with anything, he’ll pardon me provided you report that I tried my best.”

“I’m not exactly a neutral party, Dr. Rhodes. Does he know about us? Our past, I mean.”

“No. I just told him that our paths had crossed before and that you have the knowledge and awareness I need, in addition to a public approval rating that is probably higher than his.”

“So he doesn’t know a thing?”

Griff glanced over at the soldiers and felt confident they were too far away to overhear them.

“Nope. Believe me, he’s got more important things to worry about.”

At that moment the Hard Room wall glided open and President Allaire stepped out. He looked worn.

“Miss Fletcher, my pleasure,” he said, extending his hand and then introducing her to Gary Salitas. “I’ve very much enjoyed your work over the years—especially as an M.D. and something of a science nerd.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Are you still seeing that insurance lobbyist? Collins, right? Bill Collins?”

Angie paled at the notion that the president would know such personal details of her life.

“We stopped—um—dating several months ago. How did you—?”

“Your friend Dr. Rhodes, there, became a person of interest to our government when he started working on a top-secret virology project. Then, nine months ago, when he was videotaped stealing canisters of the virus that was eventually to get us into this mess, he became a person of what we call extreme interest. We know more about him than he probably knows about himself, and as you are a well-known media person associated with Dr. Rhodes, we made it a point of getting to know you, too.”

“Well, now,” Angie said, realizing that Allaire was issuing a thinly veiled warning to both her and Griff. “I find that just a little unsettling.”

“Please don’t worry, Ms. Fletcher. Knowledge about the people we’re dealing with is what keeps our government strong. The professionals who are paid to do this for us are very good at their jobs. If we had to, we could probably pull up what Dr. Rhodes had for breakfast on the day of your last birthday, which happens to be—” Allaire checked a sheet of notes on the table in front of him “—May twenty-ninth. We also know about your time together in Africa, as well as your visit a few years ago to see him on his boat in Key Largo. You were researching a story and stayed the night.”

“I don’t like this,” Griff said, feeling his face hot and flushed beneath his hood.

Allaire leveled a steely gaze at him.

“Rhodes, I frankly don’t care what you like or don’t like. To me, until you prove otherwise, you’re a terrorist who, for whatever reason, has placed your interests above your country’s. Do you think you could have just picked someone to report to us and we would blithely invite her in here? We know enough about Ms. Fletcher to trust that unlike you, she is likely to place the needs and security of her country above her own. Am I wrong about that, Ms. Fletcher?”

“No, sir,” Angie said, with firm conviction. “No, you’re not. What I report back to you will be what is happening. But I want to say again how unpleasant it feels to learn my life has been investigated to such an extent by my own government.”

“Objection noted,” Allaire said dismissively. “Okay, then, Dr. Rhodes, I hope I’ve made my point about the measures I am willing to take in the interests of national security. With that in mind, I am giving you one warning and one warning only: If you want to stay away from the inside of that cell at Florence, then don’t fuck with me again.”

The only virus poisoning the Capitol, Ursula Ellis believed, stood on two legs with his hands resting on the House of Representatives lectern. She glared down at Jim Allaire from her perch atop the tribune and felt her hatred for the man shift into overdrive. Looking away, she made eye contact with Leland Gladstone, who was already in position on the House Chamber floor. Her aide gave her a discreet thumbs-up sign. She tried to suppress her smile. A nod to Gladstone was the signal that his message had been received.