James Patterson - Kill Alex Cross

“What is it now?” the president asked, standing up as they came in.

“Sir, please come with us,” the shift supervisor said. He and a second agent crossed behind the office’s famous Resolute desk and did something neither had ever done before. They laid their hands on the commander in chief to move him forcibly from the room.

The president’s secretary rose to her feet as they passed through reception. “What’s going on? What’s happened now?”

“Stay where you are,” a third agent told her, then ran ahead to clear the way. Word had already begun to circulate through the West Wing. The building was going into lockdown. Nobody was allowed in or out. Except, of course, for the president and First Lady.

“Command, Torchwood is on the move,” the agent radioed ahead.

“Tucson as well,” a voice came back. A separate protective detail was simultaneously escorting Mrs. Coyle down from the residence. “We’re proceeding to the South Lawn.”

“Would somebody please tell me what’s happening!” the president ordered anyone who would listen.

“There’s been an incident, sir. I don’t know the details. You’ll be briefed on Marine One ” was all the lead agent would — or maybe could — tell him.

The tight scrum moved without stopping, back down to ground level, where they crossed into the White House and then out again, through the door obscured under the South Portico stairs.

Outside, it was obvious that the entire White House Complex had been shut down. Armed Capitol Police officers were lined up along Executive Avenue on either side, and there was no dress blue marine to meet them as the Sea King white-top helicopter descended onto the lawn.

As soon as it touched down, the chopper’s front hatchway opened. The stairs were lowered to the ground.

Only then was the president escorted the rest of the way across the grass, at the center of a fast-moving ten-man human shield.

Two passengers were already waiting on board — another breach of protocol. FBI Director Burns and the president’s counterterrorism adviser, Norma Tiefel, stood up as Coyle came into the main cabin.

Mrs. Coyle boarded with her escort just a few seconds behind the president, and they all took their seats.

Four of the Secret Service detail stayed with them. Once the hatch had closed and Marine One was on its way, they continued to the rear cabin, leaving the president with his advisers.

“Tell me what’s happened, Ron,” the president commanded Director Burns. “Tell me everything, right now.” Regina sat next to him, clutching his hand. How much were they capable of taking at this point?

“Sir, I’m sorry to tell you that Secretary Cho and three of his staff were just killed in an explosion.”

“Oh my God. Martin Cho.”

“An attack on his motorcade, to be precise,” Burns went on. “Presumably Al Ayla, but we can’t say for sure. However, it is consistent with one particular stream of intelligence we’ve received.”

“What do you mean? What kind of intelligence?” the president asked.

“An inside informant, sir. We don’t know if she’s an operative with the organization, or somewhere on the sidelines, but her intel is good, as it turns out.”

“Her?” the president asked.

Burns nodded. “Up until now, it’s been one of a thousand possibilities. We’ve had claims from Al Qaeda, Hezbollah, and everything on down.”

“What about the children?” Mrs. Coyle asked. “Did this woman — this informant — say anything about Ethan and Zoe?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but no,” Burns told her. “What we received was a list of targets. Something that, quite honestly, sounded improbable until about fifteen minutes ago.”

“Go on,” Coyle told him. “What kind of targets are we talking about here?”

“All human, sir,” Burns said. “It’s a list of eighteen names. Vice President Flynn is at the top, with Secretary Ribillini from Homeland Security at number eighteen.”

“Oh, Jesus.” Coyle had heard everything he needed to know. “Tell me Martin Cho wasn’t on that list.”

“I’m afraid so. Right below the Speaker of the House and the president pro tempore of the Senate.”

“So in other words...,” the president said slowly.

“That’s right, sir,” Burns affirmed. “We’re talking about the entire line of succession to the presidency.”

Norma Tiefel, the Counterterrorism Adviser, spoke next. “Everyone on that list will be receiving a full protective detail in addition to whatever security service they already have. That means dedicated intelligence agents, CAT teams on standby, also advance and transportation. Although we’re hoping to keep travel to a minimum.”

“They can’t shut down our goddamn government!” the president shouted at Tiefel. “That’s exactly what they want! And exactly why I came back to Washington. Do you know what kind of flak they gave Bush for being in the air on Nine/Eleven?”

“That wasn’t his call, sir. I’m aware it wasn’t his fault,” Tiefel said as diplomatically as she could.

“Yes, exactly. I’m sure it wasn’t his fault,” Coyle said. It was all this programmed movement he hated. The sense of traveling through the world not as one person, but as five, six, ten, and twenty at a time. That was the real weight of the presidency.

“For the time being, sir,” Tiefel said, “it is best for you to keep out of sight.”

“ Again ,” the president grumbled, and turned in his seat, away from all the unwanted advice. “Archie, where are we going?” he called back.

Agent Walsh, the head of the president’s protective detail, stood up in the small passageway between them and the pilot.

“Andrews, sir. Air Force One is on standby.”

“And then?”

Walsh stayed where he was but was mute, awkwardly not answering the question. It wasn’t for Burns’s or Tiefel’s ears at this point.

“ Never mind, goddamnit ,” the president barked. He could feel Regina’s hand on his own, gentle and firm at the same time. When he looked at her, she seemed to be holding it all together by a sheer act of will. He owed her the same self-control. Actually he owed it to his advisers as well. They were in danger now, too.

“What about Cho’s family?” he asked.

“We’ve got agents on the ground in Bethesda and Oakland,” Burns told him. “They’ll have a full security detail within the hour — Mrs. Cho, both of their sons, and Secretary Cho’s mother.”

“I’ll want to speak with Lottie directly.”

“Of course, sir. We’ll also have the Joint Chiefs in a video conference once we’re away,” Tiefel said. “And after that, the same CIA work group as before, if you care to sit in. It might be a good idea.”

“Of course it’s a good idea,” said the president.

“That’s the group with Alex Cross, isn’t it?” Mrs. Coyle asked.

“Yes, ma’am.” Burns anticipated her next question. “He won’t be asked to change focus.”

“Good,” she said. “Thank you.” It was no secret by now that the First Lady had handpicked the well-known police detective for the kidnap investigation. Nobody was going to tell her no on that one.

“The world’s watching us, Ron,” the president said. “Especially our country’s enemies. We need to get this in hand, once and for all. I want hourly reports, and I want a briefing on a full range of options. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mr. President. Completely. We all do.”

“I mean a full range.”

“Of course, sir.”

“I’m not going to fuck around with this anymore.”

“Ed—” The First Lady slid a hand up her husband’s arm.