King and Maxwell

by David Baldacci

  “Taken care of.”

  “Have you figured out what is happening yet?”

  “Getting closer every minute,” he lied. He glanced at Brown. “I know your hubby has been here every second. I think you got the marriage thing right this time. You guys were definitely meant to be together.”

  She smiled while Brown looked down, embarrassed. Michelle patted him on the shoulder and gave him a reassuring look.

  Dana said, “I feel okay, just so tired.”

  “That’s the morphine drip. Enjoy it while you can.”

  Her eyes closed and her hand slipped away as she fell back asleep.

  Sean rose and went over to Brown and Michelle.

  Brown said, “The doctors said it’ll take time but she should make a nearly complete recovery.”

  “That’s great news,” said Sean.

  Brown glanced at him and then looked away. He said, “About what we talked about before.”

  Sean said, “You found out something?”

  “The coffee shop, if you’ve got a minute.”

  “We’ve got all the time you need. Let’s go.”

  They got their coffees and took a table far away from all others.

  Brown swirled a pack of sugar into his cup and stirred it slowly.

  “The Pentagon has shut up like a clam on this,” he said.

  “That’s what we heard.”

  “But there’s been a fresh leak,” Brown said.

  “That says we’re trying to overthrow Iran by laundering funds for weapons with poppy shipments?” said Michelle.

  He glanced at her sharply. “So you saw it?”

  “We saw it on a blogger’s site.”

  “Well, that blogger is in big trouble.”

  “I think he knows that.”

  “Free speech is one thing. But you can’t print stolen national security secrets and get away with it.”

  “So it’s true? About Iran?”

  Brown took a sip of his coffee. “People look at the slaughter in Syria and think it’s bad. But they don’t see what’s happening in Iran. Or in North Korea. Those countries have shut down all communication with the outside world. Bodies are piling up like you wouldn’t believe.”

  “So we’re going after Iran first. And North Korea second? I didn’t think North Korea had any opposition forces in country.”

  “You’d be surprised. Many of them are displaced into South Korea, but want to go back home and change it. Iran was a test to see if something like this could work. If so, it would be deployed in North Korea.”

  “Long shot,” said Michelle. “Even a billion euros might not buy you an overthrow of an entire government.”

  “Didn’t have to. Just shake it up. If Iran or North Korea thought they were vulnerable from the inside they might tone down the rhetoric, come to the bargaining table, start to act like adults. Like you said, it’s a long shot but economic sanctions and threats from the outside didn’t work. We like to call it war on the cheap.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this. I only found out recently. This is classified as classified can be. If it’s discovered I told you I’ll be court-martialed.”

  “No one will find out from us, Curtis, I can guarantee you that,” said Sean.

  “I appreciate that.”

  “So Sam Wingo?”

  “Pentagon thinks he’s dirty.”

  “He’s not,” said Sean.

  “How do you know that?”

  Sean looked at Michelle and said, “We’ve met him. He saved Michelle’s life when some guys attacked us.”

  “What? Where? What guys?”

  “Probably from the same group that shot Dana. But Wingo was set up.”

  “So you’re working with him?”

  “We’re trying to, but, as you can imagine, he’s not in a real trusting mood.”

  “And his son?”

  “With the father. But please keep that to yourself.”

  “I have to even if I didn’t want to. If I admit to knowing that, I’ll have to tell them I met with you and then it’s all over for me.” He took another sip of coffee. “And the money?”

  “Gone.”

  “Does he know who set him up?”

  “He has some theories. And he’s been doing some legwork to run down those theories.”

  “Does he think it’s an inside job? You thought there was a leak at my office. But I checked, Sean, there wasn’t. There couldn’t have been.”

  “I’m starting to think the leak is coming from another place. What do you know about Heron Air Service or the Vista Trading Group in D.C.?”

  “Nothing. Are they involved somehow? I can check into it for you.”

  “We have somebody doing that. How about Dan Marshall at the Pentagon? You know him?”

  “A little. We’ve sat in on some meetings together. He heads up acquisitions. By all accounts, including my own, a straight-up guy. Please don’t tell me he’s mixed up in what’s going on?”

  “That’s still an open question,” said Michelle. “His career will take a hit with the missing money. And even more so with where that money went. At least that’s what he told us.”

  “I’m surprised he opened up to you.”

  Michelle said, “We forgot to tell you, we have a brand-new BFF.”

  “Who?” asked Brown.

  “President John Cole.”

  Brown gaped at her.

  Sean asked, “How about Colonel Leon South? You know him?”

  “No. Is he Army?”

  “DIA.”

  “I don’t have much to do with the military spooks.” Brown sat back, obviously out of ideas. “What else can I do?”

  “Keep your eyes and ears open. I’m always available by phone. But I think Dana will be keeping you pretty busy now.”

  Brown smiled. “I hope so.”

  “And keep an eye on her, Curtis. Whoever’s involved in this may come back to her at some point.”

  “They’ll have to go through me to get to her.”

  “Oh, I have no doubt of that.”

  Outside the hospital there were two SUVs parked next to their vehicle. Two men and a woman in suits and shades stood in front of them.

  Sean looked at Michelle. “Look familiar?”

  “Yeah, they look just like we used to look.”

  “You know where we’re going?” Sean asked.

  “I know where we’re going,” answered Michelle.

  CHAPTER

  59

  ALAN GRANT AND DAN MARSHALL left together from the offices of Vista Trading Group.

  “Thanks for making the trip downtown,” said Grant.

  “No, thank you for getting me away from the Pentagon,” replied Marshall.

  “Rough times continuing?” asked Grant.

  “Getting rougher every hour, it seems. Have you seen the recent news?”

  “Feeding off that same blogger. Iran? Afghan poppies? Really?”

  “That’s what the media says. I can’t comment on it, not even to you.”

  “Anything I can do to help?”

  “Just take care of my daughter and the grandkids.”

  “Maybe this will blow over, Dan.”

  “Yeah, and maybe the sun won’t come up tomorrow either.”

  They had a meal at a nearby restaurant and talked of things other than the disaster confronting Marshall. They said their goodbyes on the street.

  “There’s going to be some diplomatic blowback from Iran on this,” observed Grant.

  “No doubt. This will give Tehran an excellent opportunity to stick out its chest and start screaming at us. It’ll also give fodder to the whack jobs wanting to do us harm. Well, back into the fire pit I go.”

  “Take care, Dan. Let’s talk soon.”

  They shook hands, and Marshall walked off.

  Grant watched him go for a bit and then headed to his car in the underground garage and drove off. The drive took longer because of construction shutting down lanes on Inters
tate 66. He finally got off at his exit and drove for a while longer. He had exchanged the hustle and bustle of the capital city for the bucolic peace and quiet of the rural countryside in less than 150 minutes.

  He cleared the guard checkpoint and continued driving up the hill. He pulled his car to a stop in front of the old radio station and got out. He looked up admiringly at the transmission tower. It was now bedecked with satellite dishes hanging off it at precise angles. There was a hum of power emanating from there.

  He walked the perimeter of the station and noted that the exterior construction was all done. He went inside and gazed around at all the activity. Portable generators droned away. Power tools popped and clacked. Walls were going up. The interior vault was nearing completion. Men were moving rapidly in a choreographed construction dance with the thoughts of their bonuses for early completion firmly in their minds.

  Grant looked over the plans with his construction foreman and then walked the interior with the foreman, making sure that everything in the plans was actually being carried out in the execution phase. He made some modifications as they surveyed the construction and then walked back outside.

  He stared at the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains in the distance. Directly east was Washington. He could see none of it from here, of course. Although he did watch as a commercial jetliner made its way toward Dulles Airport. He drew in a long breath and then exhaled.

  Shortly they would be online and in the game. His hackers would be in their seats clicking away on their keyboards. They would be forcing themselves into where they needed to go like explorers used to do with their machetes when working through dense jungles or forests.

  He had handpicked these people. He had their undivided loyalty because of money he had paid them for their services. They didn’t care about geopolitics and had no horse in any international game of chicken. Grant did have horses in that game, but he was not a traitor to his country. After this was all over, America would pick itself back up and keep moving forward, of that he was certain.

  I’m simply righting a wrong.

  He put his hand in his coat pocket and pulled out his precious document, the one he had received from Milo Pratt. This document had cost Pratt his life. But without it Grant’s plan would not have a chance. There were many things that could go wrong, but at least this one piece probably would not.

  He could not say the same for other elements. Sam Wingo was still out there somewhere. As were Sean King and Michelle Maxwell.

  Yet Grant had some ideas on how to take care of that.

  He glanced down at the paper. But he couldn’t take his eye off the endgame, the real prize. He just had to nail it and then he would wrap up this operation, leaving no trail behind. And he would continue on with his life. At least that was the plan.

  He looked to the sky and angled his face in the right direction. His rented satellite was up there in its nice, safe orbit. The fragments his people had found on there were enough to get him where he needed to go.

  He looked at a different spot in the sky. Another platform was circling the earth at that spot. So much crap up there. Debris and working platforms. The Space Station. Soon, even the paying public—well, at least the rich paying public—would get their own ride into space.

  But for him it was just the two platforms, circling the earth in precise patterns. They had nothing to do with each other. At least not yet. But soon, they would be inextricably intertwined, at least in his own mind. As for the rest of the world, they would never know of the “twining” of the two hunks of metal. All signs would be eradicated because of a particularly ingenious execution method he had conjured that would literally bounce any evidence all over the digital space and then explode it into a trillion pieces.

  Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall…

  He dropped his gaze back to the ground.

  If only the problems down here could be so easily dealt with.

  He checked his watch as he turned to look back at all the construction activity. He glanced at his phone as the message came in. The task was complete. What Grant had ordered done had been done.

  That meant he had somewhere to go.

  He had someone to see. If the person refused his request, that meant he had someone to kill.

  Someone else to kill.

  CHAPTER

  60

  “HAVEN’T BEEN HERE IN A WHILE,” said Sean as the SUV they were riding in pulled through the gates that were capable of stopping a runaway tank.

  “Yeah, and the last time wasn’t very pleasant,” noted Michelle.

  “Yeah, that I remember.”

  They were escorted into the West Wing of the White House.

  “You never pulled presidential protection duty, did you?” said Sean.

  “My career ended before I got there,” she said. “One of my few regrets.”

  “It’s not all its cracked up to be.”

  “Liar,” she said, flicking her elbow lightly into his side.

  They were shown into the Roosevelt Room and told to wait.

  As Sean wandered the room gazing at several famous paintings on the wall, Michelle said, “Recognize any of the protection detail?”

  “Been gone too long. All my contemporaries are off double-dipping at other agencies. You?”

  “The woman outside the hospital looked familiar, but I never knew her name.”

  “Jealous?”

  “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You get to work with me full-time.”

  “Doesn’t change my answer.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  The door opened and the lead agent walked in, followed by President Cole and the rest of his detail. Sean and Michelle instantly rose to their feet and waited until Cole sat across from them before resuming their seats.

  Cole stared across at them.

  “Blogger?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Sean.

  “What do you know about it?”

  Sean didn’t answer right away. He was trying to size up the question and the intent behind it. “George Carlton. Independent. Not tied to any news agency.”

  “You went to see him?”

  “So your people have been following us?” asked Michelle.