The Enigma Series Boxed Set

by Tierney James

  The invaders hunched low like shadowy monsters wearing ski masks. With determination, Tessa swung around toward the president and his protection detail. They pushed him back toward the door when the lights went out. Their weapons raised, the brave men who protected the president tried to neutralize the threat.

  “Uncle Jake, get down,” she screamed as she fell to the floor and tried to crawl toward the Secret Service. Earlier she’d relieved Chase of the Beretta then rammed the barrel of weapon into the top of her bodice. The butt of the gun rubbed her chin as she scampered toward what she believed to be safety. Her knees ached. The crazy thought of losing one of her new shoes made her look back toward the fire fight unfolding.

  Jake continued to fire his rifle as the Secret Service came alongside him. She wasn’t sure why they didn’t kill him. Maybe the fact that he fired at the greater threat kept him alive. She knew he had to be close to empty. Did he have more ammo? Could he reload under such dire circumstances?

  She watched two more attackers fall but just as many Secret Service fell. One dropped across her legs smashing her flat. With elbows pressed into the concrete, Tessa managed to pull free of the dead weight on her calves. Something wet and sticky running down into her half on shoes created a gag reflex. She felt a bullet whiz by her ear, forcing her head down so hard she nearly knocked herself unconscious against the floor.

  Tears gushed out of her eyes from the sudden jolt of pain. She looked up to see the president hunched down behind John Elliott, the point man for the Secret Service. He’d been the one who forced her to interrogate the girl. He walked backwards, gun drawn, pushing the president back against his will. The wall stopped them. John’s gun was drawn with other men to stand and block a fatal shot.

  As she tried to crawl again she heard John’s agitated command. “Stay down.”

  Was he talking to her or the president? Her eyes lifted to John just as she watched his gun fly up and out of his hand. The same instant his hand fell to his neck as an explosion of blood flew back on the president. He tumbled forward, leaving the president exposed.

  Something clicked inside Tessa. She saw chaos in the stock market, battle lines drawn for war, NORAD open missile silos, and her children crying. She scrambled up with the grace of a three-legged gazelle.

  “Mr. President!” She jumped in front of him, grabbing him by the shoulders. His eyes went wide with surprise as he put his hands around her waist. She tried to pull him down to the floor, but he resisted as his eyes watched the unfolding mayhem. The tug of his hands nearly pushed Tessa aside. She could feel him draw her near as if it were her who needed protecting. “I’m sorry, Mr. President.”

  Reaching inside his jacket she found an exposed spot on his neck. Between her index finger and thumb Tessa grabbed some skin around his juggler and pinched viciously.

  President Austin looked down at her in bewilderment and pain as she released him. He jerked back hitting his head against the wall. This gave Tessa enough time to knock him off balance and force him down. A bullet ricocheted off the wall just as they hit the floor. As awkward as it felt, Tessa flipped over and found that she had straddled the president’s lap.

  A fleeting press release appeared in her head: “The president was found dead with an unknown female sitting in his lap. Speculation is that…”

  Tessa pushed the report from her head.

  “Chase. Chase,” was all she could manage to yell as another Secret Service agent fell.

  With horror Tessa watched one of the attackers take his gun and slam it into her uncle’s head as he tried to reload.

  Jake waved the others back saying: “Take care of the president.” He fell through the swinging doors of the kitchen as another masked man rammed the barrel of his gun into the old man’s gut.

  The smell of gun powder, sweat and something else repulsed her as the attackers stepped in over her uncle.

  The agents backed toward the president, eyeing her as she covered his body. She rolled off with a clumsy attempt to stand as she reached down for him. Would they shoot her too? “He’s safe,” she declared staggering while trying to pull the president to his feet.

  Thirty seconds. That’s all it had taken to nearly destroy the leader of the free world. Tessa knew, as did the agents, it would start again as soon as the attackers reloaded and sucked in some courage. She guessed they were surprised at the appearance of the Secret Service coming through the doors.

  She wasn’t sure if it was a flash of lightning or the timid attempt of a street lamp to reactivate outside that drew her eyes to the kitchen doors swinging open. Without hesitation her arms flew out in front of the president as she deliberately fell against him. She pulled her gun from her dress and released the safety as she shouted to the remaining agents.

  She managed to cry out. “Behind you.”

  ~~~

  The protection detail pushed Gilad to the floor when gun fire broke out. Screams shattered the open space of the ballroom. Sounds of toppled chairs and breaking water glasses clattered to a carpeted floor as the hurricane slammed into the windows outside. The crashing of exploded glass showering down on the guests who chose to watch the unfolding storm from the lobby could not be heard over the panic of educators trying to find an escape. The hum of electricity powering hotel systems ceased as chandeliers quivered above tables. Their glass pendants danced to a dangerous melody, as a warning smell of burning wire began to drift throughout the room. A few candles flipped over catching a dried flower arrangement on fire. Several quick thinking teachers smothered it out with their suit coats.

  “Get off me,” Gilad demanded as he physically shoved Micah aside with a grunt. “Give me a gun.” It was an order that Micah understood and quickly jumped to his feet. When Gilad waved him away the giant of a bodyguard positioned himself in front of the prime minister. “Did you hear me?” he quipped. Micah fished in his pocket for a small caliber revolver and handed it to his boss. “Sam.”

  Samantha already helped alleviate the darkness by turning on the flashlights brought along for such an emergency. She now checked her weapons, one in a shoulder harness and another strapped to her hip. Running a hand down her leg, it was obvious to the prime minister’s men she carried more than two equalizers. Nodding to Micah, she knew it was pointless to insist on protecting his boss.

  “Stay here, Sir.” Sam was all business now. Her eyes narrowed, wide lips thinned and her movements grew quick. She looked back at Micah. “Get him out of here. Go through the front if you must, but not the way the president left. I don’t know who is out there but…”

  Gilad frowned and pushed forward. “I know.”

  Sam eyed him incredulously. “Mr. Prime Minister? What have you not told us?”

  “One man is Mrs. Scott’s uncle. The others are Egyptians or someone connected to them. They weren’t supposed to get this far.”

  “You knew they were coming?” Sam stepped forward in a threatening manner only to be shoved aside like a toy by Micah. “What have you done?”

  “I have an informant at the Egyptian Embassy. Someone is trying to stop Israel from admitting their sins against the USS Liberty that we bombed in 1967. They want to force a crack in the relationship between our two countries. It was under control until…”

  “Until what?” she snapped then clenched her teeth together.

  “I’ve said enough.” He nodded at his men. “We’re going in too.”

  “Like hell you are,” she hissed as she pivoted toward Ari, another one of Gilad’s giants. Eyeing him she considered a swift kick to his groin, but the sneer on his face revealed he prepared for such an assault. “Get out of my way, Ari.” She pointed her gun at his groin then arched her eyebrow. “You can come with me but your boss stays. Understood?”

  Ari looked at the prime minister then to Micah. “Keep him restrained. I’m going with the woman.” Micah nodded and extended his arm as Gilad attempted to shove past. A series of colorful adjectives and threats followed, but Sam and Ari left the
room with two other Mossad in tow.

  The shooting stopped just as they came to the exit door of the corridor. Evaluation of the situation was impossible without a window. A great deal of chatter flooded into Sam’s earwig until she pulled it out and shoved it into the pocket of her jacket. Focusing in chaos was her specialty. Stretching her neck upward then rolling her shoulders back, she exhaled slowly then inhaled the same way.

  The image of Chase’s face flashed momentarily in her mind’s eye but she quickly buried it. There was no way to know if he made it to the president. The sound of Tessa’s call for help earlier, then for Chase, meant the president stood in the crosshairs. Agents were down.

  “Ready?” Sam looked up at Ari who nodded his blond head.

  The door swung open and the corridor detonated with flashes of gunfire.

  Chapter 19

  V ice President Warren McCall sat in a wooden chaise overlooking the water from his deck. The weather, according to the Alaskans, had been warm compared to other years. In his opinion this was as close to perfect as you could get. Washington D.C. in the summer could be sweltering. The mountains rose up in the distance with such majesty that the VP started humming God Bless America. He’d laid the western novel down and now forced himself to sip the white soda his wife brought him earlier. They’d run out of Dr. Pepper, his favorite.

  “I’m the Vice President of the United States. I should be able to get what I want to drink.”

  “You’re being a baby, Warren. What do you think your Inuit buddies would think of all the whining? I’ll tell you what they’d think. The vice president sounds like a spoiled little girl. You wouldn’t be able to handle a rocking boat or cold icy water that splashed on you. Shut up and drink,” his wife demanded as she took his pulse. “You want to go fishing then let me treat you. You have food poisoning. It’s not like you can get two rooms away from a toilet.”

  The VP groaned feeling his bowels pinch. He frowned. “Some vacation this is turning out to be. Can you at least send one of the boys across to the mainland to get my Dr. Pepper? I promise I’ll be a good patient after that. No fussing…”

  “Whining, Warren. It’s whining.” She withdrew her fingers from his wrist and offered a soft smile. He’d waited a year for this trip. Knowing how hard he worked in D.C. made her feel almost sorry for him. “Okay. One of the staff is taking the boat across to pick up supplies. I’ll add some Dr. Pepper to the order. Do you think you can wait a couple of hours or do I need to medicate you?” This time she laughed and drew a chuckle from her husband.

  “I’m sorry to be such a bother, Peggy.” He reached for her hand then kissed her knuckles.

  She bent and kissed him on top of his head.

  “Mrs. McCall, the boat is getting ready to push off. Anything else you need?” It was Terry, the vice president’s Secret Service agent. “Do you want to go into town? I’ll watch Mr. McCall like a hawk.”

  She looked down at her husband who shooed her away. “Go. The sea air will do you good. I know how you like poking around in all those little foo-foo shops for knick-knacks. Just don’t forget my Dr. Pepper,” he warned good-naturedly.

  Terry stood aside. “I’ll get your agent, Mrs. McCall.”

  She thanked him and said she’d be down at the boat dock in a few minutes in time for the departure. A change of clothes and a light jacket before heading off delayed the trip another fifteen minutes, but no one appeared to mind as she was helped aboard the fifty-six foot yacht. Turning to look up at the deck, she shaded her eyes, trepidation toying at the recesses of her mind. The vice president stood against the railing waving like a school boy. It reminded her again of why she loved him.

  It would be the last time she saw him.

  ~~~

  Amon walked into the holding area where the old men from the USS Liberty waited. They were all seated around a wobbly folding table. A deck of cards appeared to be in use as he looked in on the former warriors. Mildew and dirt mixed with the scent of rain dripping from the overhead windows. Their loud voices stopped once aware of him. He wasn’t sure if their voices rose because of the storm or if their hearing failed. Two wore hearing aids. He guessed the other two probably should but were too proud to cave into old age.

  Their glares intensified when he did not speak readily. One man rose and threw his cards down. “Are you going to tell us why we’re here?”

  Amon’s smile became cynical. He approached the table causing the other three to stand and move away. “It is for your own protection.”

  “Protection from what?” The one they called Simon snapped. “Who are you?”

  “That is of no consequence.”

  “Like hell it isn’t. We’re American citizens. By your accent I’d say you aren’t from around here.”

  He pulled out a chair and sat down. “You are correct. I represent the country of Egypt. I have come to talk to you about the bombing of the USS Liberty in 1967.”

  A stout looking man with snow white hair and glasses banged his fist on the table. “Get in line.”

  “And you are?” Amon smiled, not in the least bit intimidated by the old man’s posturing. “Another sailor from the ship, no doubt.”

  “No. I’m a United States Marine.”

  “My sincere apologies. Then you would be Mike Strafford. I suppose your ability to speak Russian on that fateful day did you no good at all.” The old marine remained quiet. “But your friend Jake had skills in Russian and Hebrew. He heard what was happening to my people a few miles away in Arish, did he not? A problem for Israel.”

  The old marine folded his arms across his chest as if he were looking over the deck of a ship. “You cannot question me like this. We can give you our name, rank and serial number. No more.”

  Amon burst into laughter. When he regained composer, he rubbed his eyes. “Americans are so dramatic. I love it.” He stood and pushed the chair under the lip of the table. His British accent thickened. “I admire your allegiance to a country that swept the whole affair under the rug. Your President Johnson and his advisors did not wish to lose Israel as a friend since the Russians were funneling money to us. They sacrificed the honor of brave American men to keep the Israelis happy. Even after Israel admitted bombing your ship they claimed it was a case of mistaken identity.”

  “Our colors were flying.” Simon pointed an arthritic finger as if it were a loaded gun. “Every man was a witness to that. They mowed us down like we were rabid dogs. The only reason they stopped the slaughter was because they heard the radio broadcast of the 6th Fleet saying help was on the way.”

  “Yes. Some would say God works in mysterious ways.” Amon eyed the group carefully.

  “Why are you holding us?” Amon raised a questioning eyebrow as to the identity of the new voice. “Carl Robbins.” He appeared to stand at attention for a few seconds after saying his own name. Pretending to stare in the distance for a few seconds, he then refocused on his captor.

  “You were to testify before a hearing in a few days concerning the USS Liberty. I merely wanted to make sure you had your stories straight before speaking to a group of men and women who really aren’t all that interested in what happened over forty years ago. With terrorism, unemployment, immigration reform and insurance issues, I wanted to make sure you were heard, my friends.”

  “Let’s get something straight. We aren’t your friends.” Simon’s lip snarled then quivered. It had been a long time since he’d had to stand up to anyone.

  Amon nodded in acceptance. “Perhaps you are correct. The Israelis will probably just claim,” he tried to think of the words, “sour grapes, I think you say. They paid some money years ago to make it go away and yet it never has. Thanks to you and other survivors, the issue has now come back like the hurricane that rages outside.” The men looked at each other for guidance. “I want to hear your stories. Nothing more.” He turned to see two of his men enter with trays of food. “It is not much; soup, some sandwiches and cookies. The cookies are stale as is the brea
d but the soup is hot. The bottled water will do, I hope. Please sit and eat. Then we will talk.”

  He watched the old men sit down reluctantly and eye the food placed before them. It wasn’t until he left that he heard them begin to eat and murmur amongst themselves.

  ~~~

  “I’m going to die today,” Tessa thought with some hysteria. “I better do something to make it count so my kids will be proud of me.”

  The agents were already leveling their weapons to shoot when the attackers burst through the swinging doors of the kitchen. The rapid spit of bullets to darkness made flashes of light explode like fireworks. She wasn’t sure of anything except the smell of gun powder and the president trying to relieve her of the Beretta.

  Somehow, she managed to keep a tight grip as her elbow unconsciously jabbed his gut to prod him toward a door she believed to be a safe room. Several hours earlier she’d come through those doors to meet the leader of the free world.

  An agent fell but fired again to topple an attacker. Cartridges being expelled from weapons were silent as they hit the floor. Between the roar of the storm and automatic gun fire Tessa couldn’t even hear that she was screaming. The corridor suddenly looked like strobes making a death dance as two more agents fell while reloading.

  Covering her head with one arm, she pushed the president toward the door. Something zinged past her forehead then her arm, causing her to lose her footing. Having hooked her arm through the president’s she felt herself being dragged down.

  “Stand up,” she ordered before realizing the president had been shot and was falling.

  Looking toward the attackers she became aware they had stopped firing. The agents were alive but injured. One tried to rally and was rewarded with a shot to the head. Heavy breathing, groans of pain from both sides of the law, now mixed with the thunderous sounds of the hurricane coming through the outside doors.