by David Archer
Neil had pulled out a large video camera and tripod, and was setting up so that it would be aimed at the security guard. He got it all assembled and turned on, then looked up at the overhead lights.
“Hey, Yolanda,” he said. “This lighting is terrible.”
Jenny looked around for a moment and then pointed at a couch that was in another part of the lobby, facing away from the doors. “Hey, could you come sit over there? These florescent lights right over your desk, they really mess with our video quality. Would you mind?”
The guard glanced at the video monitors on his desk, then slowly got up out of his chair. “Yeah, that’s okay,” he said. “I just can’t be away from the desk for too long.”
Jenny nodded. “I understand, this won’t take long at all,” she said. “And besides, you’ll only be right there, so you’ll hear if anybody comes in or something, right?”
The guard nodded again, this time taking the opportunity to look Jenny over thoroughly. “Yeah, it should be all right. Where do you want me, right there?”
They walked over to the couch with him and Jenny got him situated, facing away from the desk and the front door. She kept up a running chatter the whole time, and then Neil took out a lapel microphone and joined her as he clipped it onto the guard’s shirt.
“Could you say something, please, so I can get a sound check?” Neil asked.
The guard chuckled. “What would you like me to say? Want me to say how pretty Ms. Rivers is?”
Neil grinned at him. “She is, isn’t she? You gotta be careful with her, though, flattery goes right to her head.”
“Well, then, I should add that she’s got the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen,” the guard said. “You really are absolutely beautiful, you know that?”
Jenny pretended to blush, smiling at him the whole time. “Oh, come on, don’t do that,” she said. “I get all embarrassed, but thank you anyway. And may I say that you really look good in that uniform?”
The guard seemed to sit up a little straighter all of a sudden. “Yeah? Do you think so?”
Jenny leaned down close and whispered in his ear. “I don’t admit this very often,” she said, “but men in uniform make me hot.” She pulled back quickly, giggling.
Behind the security guard, the front door opened slowly and quietly, and Noah stepped through it. The soft-soled sneakers he was wearing made no sound as he walked quickly across the marble floor toward the entrance to the stairs. He stopped beside the door and looked toward Jenny and Neil, then quickly opened the door when he saw Jenny lean close to whisper again.
“Mmm,” Jenny said in the security guard’s ear, “I also have a thing for older men. You’re not married, are you?”
The guard’s smile started to slip, but then he brightened up. “I am,” he said, “but we’re talking about getting divorced. Would that matter?”
Jenny giggled again. “Not a bit,” she said. “Maybe after the interview, we can talk about getting together after you get off work tonight.”
“Yolanda,” Neil said, “you know you’re not supposed to date your interview subjects. You keep it up, the producers are going to get mad.”
Jenny winked at the guard. “So don’t tell them,” she said.
Noah made his way quickly up the stairs, carrying the case with the Paratus tucked inside. He got up to the roof door, then had to stop and pick the lock. Luckily, there were no alarms on the door, and he was able to step out onto the roof a moment later.
The wind was blowing, but it wasn’t terribly hard. He made his way to the edge of the roof and looked over the parapet down toward the top of the Lincoln Club, and saw that the patio was already set up for the festivities. He set down the case and took out the rifle, quickly assembling it. When it was all put together, he slapped a magazine into it and leaned it against the parapet, then settled in to wait.
He didn’t have to wait that long. People begin appearing on the roof of the building next door about forty minutes later, and he looked through the scope to help him identify his targets. He saw Bob Majors, the Congressman, speaking with the man he identified as Tom Lewiston. Lewiston wasn’t on the list that was supposed to be attending that evening, but he was definitely on Noah’s target list. He decided to watch closely and see if any other conspiracy members happened to show up.
At six o’clock, the party started in earnest. There were several tables set up, and Noah took notice that Majors and Lewiston had taken one early, and all of the others Noah was watching for slowly came and joined them. Lisa Vincenzo was first, followed a moment later by James Lindemann. Robert Dennison appeared a few minutes after that, and finally Solomon Perkowski arrived at about ten after six.
That was everyone, Noah thought. Lewiston would be a bonus. He scanned the patio once more, just making sure he wasn’t missing any other potential targets, then brought the scope back toward the table and moved it quickly from one target to the other, setting their positions in his mind.
And then he fired. The first shot took Majors through his forehead, the second did the same for Lewiston. Lisa Vincenzo reacted before anyone else, turning her head and staring at Lewiston, so the next bullet went through her right ear. Lindemann tried to get to his feet and fell over backwards, so Noah passed him and moved to Denison, putting a bullet through his left eye. Lindemann was scrambling, trying to crawl away, but he came out from behind the table and the next shot caught him in the back of the skull, obliterating his face on its way out. Noah snapped the scope back to Perkowski, but he was up and running. Noah followed him with the scope for a couple of seconds, then moved it slightly ahead and squeezed the trigger.
Perkowski’s next step put his head directly in line for the shot, and the bullet entered his right temple at a slight rearward angle. The whole left side of his head exploded into a gooey red mist, and then everyone on the patio was screaming and running.
Noah took down the rifle quickly and put it back into its case, then picked it up and headed toward the stairway door. He went down the stairs three at a time until he got to the ground floor, then peeked out to see the security guard standing just inside the front doors, staring at the police cars going by.
Noah nonchalantly walked out and approached the front desk. The security guard, still standing at the front doors, didn’t notice him until he spoke.
“Hey? Can you sign me out?”
The guard turned and stared at him, his eyes wide. “Who are you?”
“I’m Jackson, from Robinson Computers,” Noah said. “I’ve been up at that lawyer’s office, fixing his computer system. What’s going on, why are all the cop cars out front?”
“I don’t know,” the guard said. “They just started showing up a few seconds ago. Were you signed in?”
Noah raised his eyebrows. “I thought I was,” he said. “David Jackson, don’t you have me down there? The guard that was on duty this afternoon asked me for my name, so I figured he put me down.”
The security guard scowled. “That was Chandler,” he said. “He’s a dweeb. Doesn’t look like he bothered, so you’re all good.”
“Okay, sorry about that,” Noah said. He started toward the door and then looked back. “Thanks, man.” He stepped out onto the sidewalk and turned right, walking slowly until he got to the corner. There, he turned to the right again and climbed into the open side door of the minivan.
Sarah started it up and put it into gear, and they pulled away from the curb as Noah shut the door. They drove straight for several blocks, then turned left on to H Street NW. Sarah followed it for three more blocks, took another left onto Third Street, and followed it until she was able to merge onto 395 South.
Just over twenty minutes later, they pulled in at the Night’s Rest Motel, where they had rented rooms when they’d arrived in D.C. They listened to the radio all the way back to the motel, waiting for news of the assassinations to break, but there had been nothing on any station throughout the ride.
“Let’s get inside and ch
eck TV,” Noah said. They all followed him into the room he shared with Sarah, and waited as Noah turned on CNN.
The banner for a special bulletin was just beginning to cross the screen, and one of the regular newscasters suddenly appeared.
“Washington, D.C. police are currently on scene at the Lincoln Club on North Capitol Street, where reports say a number of shots were fired into a gathering of elected officials on the rooftop patio. Guests at the club are saying that a sniper fired into a crowd, killing at least six people. Initial reports say that there are senators and congressmen among the dead. Our Nathaniel Rogers is on the scene. Nathaniel?”
The scene cut to a camera on the street, facing a clean-cut young man holding a microphone, with the Lincoln Club behind him.
“Chris, I’m here at the Lincoln Club, where a number of people say that a sniper opened fire onto the rooftop patio, killing six people. I’ve just spoken with an official of the National Security Agency who was just coming onto the patio when the shots began, and I’ve been informed that Congressman Bob Majors, Congresswoman Lisa Vincenzo, Senator James Lindemann, Senator Solomon Perkowski, and Senator Robert Dennison have all been killed, along with Deputy Director Tom Lewiston of the NSA. Police responded about twenty-five minutes ago to a nine one one call, and they say that they came upon a scene of chaos when they arrived. People were running out of the building and screaming, and it took them a minute to find out what had happened and get up onto the patio. Paramedics have responded, but it’s my understanding that none of the victims have survived. I’m waiting for Captain Janet Lieberman of the Washington police, she’s going to come and give me a statement here in a moment. I’ll keep you updated as soon as I know more.”
The camera cut back to Chris Libby, the anchorman.
“Thank you, Nathaniel,” he said. “That was Nathaniel Rogers at the Lincoln Club. If you’re just joining us, there has been a sniper attack at the Lincoln Club that seems to have taken the lives of several of our representatives. Congressman Bob Majors, Congresswoman Lisa Vincenzo, Senator James Lindemann, Senator Solomon Perkowski, and Senator Robert Dennison are reported among the dead. Also killed, according to reports, are Deputy Director Tom Lewiston from the National Security Agency. We are currently waiting for a statement from the Washington police, and will bring you that statement as soon as it becomes available.”
“Six at once,” Marco said. “Nice shooting, boss.”
“Lewiston was a freebie,” Noah said. “His name wasn’t in the list that Neil found, but this was supposed to be a meeting of the immigration committee. Considering that my targets were all sitting in a single table, I think it was really a meeting of the conspirators. I sat and watched for a few extra minutes, just to see if anyone else sat down at the table with them.”
“And nobody did?” Sarah asked. “Babe, you may have just taken out their top people. I wonder if there’s any way to find out.”
Neil picked up his computer, which he had left in the room earlier, and opened it up. “Let me see what I can find out,” he said. He called up a browser and typed, then noticed a flashing icon. “Wait a minute,” he said. “We got an incoming message.”
He opened the email from Catherine Potts to find a message containing strings of numbers. He quickly copied it all and then opened the code breaker program and pasted it in. He tapped the button to tell it to run, and a moment later the message was displayed on the screen in simple English.
Urgent. Urgent. Perkowski becoming a threat. Eliminate soonest possible. Urgent. Urgent.
“Well, will you look at that?” Neil said. “The Dragon Lady wants Perkowski out of the way, ASAP. We actually beat her to it, boss.”
Noah nodded. “I don’t think you need to bother replying,” he said. “I suspect she knows already.”
“Probably,” Sarah said. “But we can worry about that tomorrow, and I’m hungry tonight. We haven’t had dinner yet, remember?”
Noah nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “I don’t want to go back out tonight, the police are probably looking for anyone that fits my description after the security guard told them all about me. Marco, would you go out and grab us a bucket of fried chicken?”
“Sure thing, boss.” Marco got up and headed toward the door, and Jenny got up and walked out with him. She came back a couple of minutes later with soft drinks from the vending machine and passed them around.
“Don’t know about anybody else,” she said, “but I was getting pretty damn thirsty.”
“Thank you,” Noah said as he took the bottle of root beer. He looked around at the rest of them. “I think we need to relax the rest of the night, and get back on this in the morning. Marco should be back before long with dinner, let’s see if we can find a movie to watch.”
* * * * *
Allison was just about to leave her office for the day when the phone rang on her desk, and she picked it up. “Allison,” she said.
“Allison, it’s Barbara. Have you heard the news?”
At that moment, Molly Hansen came rushing through the door. When she saw Allison on the phone, she stopped and motioned for Allison to put her hand over the mouthpiece.
“Hold on a second, Barb,” he said. She covered the mouthpiece and nodded at Molly.
“Perkowski and five others just got assassinated in D.C.,” Molly said. “Vincenzo, Majors, Lindemann, Dennison, and Lewiston are the other names I heard. Turn on CNN, it’s all over it.”
Allison picked up a remote and pointed it at a mid-size TV on her wall, powered it on, and switched it to CNN. She watched the replay of the comments by Nathaniel Rogers, and then the scene cut to Rogers with the police spokeswoman. Captain Lieberman confirmed the names of the dead, and then stated that the police were looking for a single shooter, a tall, blond man who was seen by a security guard leaving a nearby building.
Allison smiled and put the phone back to her ear. “Well, well,” she said. “Seems like our boy took care of the problem for us. What about those others? What was a group like that doing all together in one spot?”
“Well, they were all on the joint immigration committee,” Holloway said, “but that’s really nothing but a cover. Perkowski, Lindemann, and Lewiston were closest to Andrews, while Vincenzo, Majors, and Dennison were all important to the plan in some way or another. Again, I just don’t have the standing in the group to get much more than that. Duckworth is supposed to be in touch with me tomorrow, and I’m hoping he will have found something out.”
“So am I,” Allison said. “We’ve already gone through most of the list that I had; can you get us more targets?”
“We’ll try,” Holloway said. “I’ll be back in touch soon.”
The phone went dead.
Chapter TWENTY-FOUR
“I’ve got one Senator left on our current list,” Neil said, “and two congresspeople. Senator Richard Martin, Congressman David Anderson, and Congresswoman Charlotte Willamette. Other than that, what we’ve got are some names at NSA and DHS, and a couple from CIA.”
“I think we’ve shaken up the politicians enough for now,” Noah said. “Let’s have a go at the others.”
“Okay,” Neil said. “In that case, there’s Herschel Robinette, Ronald Pickering, Wilbur Benton, and Harriet Morgenstern at the NSA. At DHS, you got Edgar Mikesell, Simon Scheiber, Antonio Romano, and Armando Rodriguez, but Allison said they weren’t actually certain about him. I’m doing a search on all of these names, and, oh, look at that, Wilbur Benton and Edgar Mikesell are going to be briefing the new president tomorrow morning at eleven-thirty. They’re scheduled to meet at the NSA headquarters at Fort Meade at nine, and a White House limousine is picking them up at ten.”
Noah looked at him for a moment. “Fort Meade would be tough,” he said. “Just getting onto the base with any kind of weapon would be hard enough. On the other hand, they’ll undoubtedly be on the Baltimore-Washington Parkway. Can you find me a vantage point along it, somewhere I could get a good shot at the limo?”
>
Neil scoffed. “Does a duck swim?”
“Sarah, Jenny, I’ll want the two of you to go to Fort Meade in the morning and try to watch for them to leave. You should be able to get on the base as tourists, just leave your weapons behind. NSA HQ is a tall glass building, actually a couple of them. What I want you to do is watch and see if the limo is marked as a presidential car, or get a description of it if it isn’t. I don’t want to be shooting into the wrong limousine.”
“We can handle it,” Sarah said.
* * * * *
Senator Marvin Duckworth walked into Senator Richard Martin’s office and closed the door behind himself. Martin had called him first thing that morning, demanding to get together and talk. Duckworth had suggested that they meet in Martin’s office, rather than his own, claiming that his secretary was driving him crazy and spying on him all the time.
“Richard,” Duckworth said as he entered. “What’s got you so shook up?”
“What’s got me shook up? Good god, man, don’t you listen to the news? Perkowski, Lindemann, all of them, they’re dead. Borden is dead, and the president. Are you going to tell me this doesn’t seem a little fishy to you?”
Duckworth nodded. “Of course it does,” he said. “Somebody is trying to take us out, that’s pretty obvious. The only question is who is behind it. Any ideas?”
Martin shook his head as he paced around. “I don’t have any idea,” he said. “Andrews was supposed to be the head man in this thing, and then he dropped dead from bee stings, of all things. Right after that, Borden gets himself filleted down in Texas, and now every other high muckety-muck in this thing gets blown away by a mad sniper. Hell, Marvin, it’s really starting to look to me like we might be next. I don’t know about you, but I didn’t sign up for this kind of thing.”
Duckworth looked him in the eye. “Then what did you sign up for? Richard, aren’t we trying to turn this country into what it should be? We stand to hold positions of power that will reach throughout the world, did you think there wouldn’t be some risks involved? That’s pretty childish thinking, Richard. I would expect more from you.”
