William Bernhardt - Capitol Betrayal

“Big? You looked like Cromwell.”

“I did not.”

He wiped his eyes. “No, you did not. You looked gorgeous. You always do.”

“But the hair is better. Now that my hairdresser has it under control.”

He smiled. “Maybe a little better.”

She smiled back. “Why are we reminiscing like old people?”

He shrugged.

“It’s because you don’t think you’ll ever see me again, isn’t it?”

He glanced at the countdown.

“Hey,” Ben said, changing the subject, “I’ve got big news.”

“Really? So do I.”

“You are not going to do that to me again.”

“Perish the thought. What’s your news?”

“Well,” he said, his eyebrows dancing, “I’ve ferreted out the president’s deep, dark secret.”

“And?” she said.

“He’s been sneaking cigarettes when his wife isn’t looking.”

“Smoking in the boys’ room?”

“Exactly. In the White House.”

“Shame on him.”

“Well, it will probably be easier to quit once he’s not being dosed with LSD.”

“Whaaaat?”

“Long story. What’s your news? Not that there’s the slightest hope that you’re going to top mine.”

She grinned from ear to ear. “I decided to change my name. Already filed the paperwork.”

He stared at her uncomprehendingly. “But I like the name Christina.”

“Not my first name, you dunderhead. My last. I thought I’d take your name.”

“What? But I thought you said-”

“I know what I said. Keeping my professional reputation, blah, blah, blah. But you know what? We’re a team. We’re partners. We’re husband and wife. We’re a family.” She laid her hand on his. “I think it’s time we had the same last name.”

“Are you just saying this because-”

“No. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time.”

Ben looked back at her, his head bobbing. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say, ‘You’re right, Christina. Your news is better.’”

He sighed. “Okay. You win. Again.”

She squeezed his hand, then looked at the clock. Six minutes and counting. “Ben, I want you to go now.”

“But-”

“I know what you’re trying to do. I know what a-a noble soul you have. But you don’t have to die just because… you know. You’ve done so much with the time you’ve been given. You’ve helped so many people. It would be a shame to throw all that away. I want you to go.”

“But-”

“Don’t argue with me. I’m your wife. And you know I’m smarter than you are, at least when it comes to practical matters. So go.”

“But-”

“If you love me, you’ll go.”

Ben pressed his lips together, then slowly pushed himself to his feet. Eyes closed, he kissed her on the cheek, then turned and walked away.

“Hurry!”

He walked even faster, made his way across the monument floor, started toward the steps…

And stopped.

He came back to Christina, running all the way.

“I’m sorry. I won’t leave you here alone. I won’t. I can’t.”

She wrapped her free arm around him and sighed. “You are such an idiot.” She squeezed with all her might. “And I love you so much.”

“You know,” Rybicki said, “I will not tell you the password. No matter what you do to me.”

“I know,” Seamus grunted, rolling up his sleeves. He could see Agent Beldon watching him closely from a short distance. “But it would still be fun.”

“You would destroy your chances of convicting me.”

“Do I look like a cop? I could care less about convicting you.”

“The president might feel otherwise.”

“Well, he’s not here.”

“Fine. Amuse yourself with your violent games. Reveal the beast that you truly are. It will soon be over.”

“No, you will soon be over.”

“What?”

“You’re staying. After the last shuttle has left the station.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Who’s gonna stop me? It’s your damn bomb. Only right that you should be one of the first victims.” He leaned backward. “Have you read anything about what it’s like to die of radiation poisoning? A slow, painful death. Your body just melts, starting with the internal organs. Your skin peels away from the bone. It’s protracted agony.”

Rybicki smiled defiantly. “You think that if you scare me I’ll give you the password so you can stop the bomb. You are wrong.”

Seamus squinted. “You’re wrong, pal. You’ve been wrong all along. And your big master plan was stupid.”

Rybicki scoffed. “As if you know anything about it.”

“I’ve devoted years to knowing what people are like in the Middle Eastern region. And you know what I’ve learned? Whatever else they may be, they’re tough. Resilient. They’ve been through a lot. They live in the harshest environment outside of the Antarctic, but they’ve survived. I don’t think your little bomb would’ve changed that. If they couldn’t use the strait, they’d find another way to get the oil out. Without raising their prices so high they killed the market.”

“That would be impossible.”

“Those guys do the impossible six times before breakfast.”

“I understand that people like Colonel Zuko can be tough!” Rybicki shouted. “That’s why we can’t hold back! That’s why we can’t use half measures. Scorched earth! That’s the only thing that works with these people. That’s how the ancient Scythians took them out. We should do the same. Scorched earth!”

Seamus looked at the man’s face.

Rybicki looked back at him.

The corners of Seamus’s mouth turned up.

Fifty-five seconds left. “Ben! Are you there?”

Ben picked up his phone. “I’m still here, Seamus. Shouldn’t you have taken the last train out of town?”

“You should talk. Listen to me. Do you know anything about the scorched-earth policy?”

“My wife complains that I read too much history.”

“Just answer!”

“It’s a military strategy that involves destroying anything that might be of use to the enemy.”

“Just the sort of thing a secretary of defense might know about? And bring to modern use?”

“I suppose.”

Forty-five seconds.

Ben typed in first scorched and then earth . Neither was the password.

“He said something about the ancient Scythians.”

Ben typed in Scythians . No good.

Thirty-five seconds.

“That’s not it.”

“He said something about the Scythians using it to take these guys out. Like it was a history lesson.”

“That’s right,” Ben said, trying to retrieve the information from the far corners of his brain. “They were the first to use the scorched-earth technique and they did it in the ancient Middle East to battle a horrible dictator. They were nomads, and… and they had to retreat into the steppes, but before they left they burned all the food and poisoned the wells. The invading king moved in, but his troops started dying of starvation and dehydration.”

Twenty seconds.

“What was the king’s name, Ben? He’s the Colonel Zuko of his time. He’s the one Rybicki would obsess on. What was his name?”

Ben was thinking so hard it brought sweat to his temples. “I think it was… Darius. Darius the Great of Persia.”

“Type it in!”

Ben typed. D-A-R-I-A-S .

Not the password.

Ten seconds left.

“That wasn’t it.”

“Damn,” Seamus shouted. “I thought we had it.”

“You spelled it wrong!” Christina shouted. “You just can’t function at all without spell-check, can you? It’s D-A-R-I-U-S!”