She picked up her phone and dialed Yumi Tanaka.
Yumi answered on the first ring.
“Yes?”
“I need to meet with you.”
“Yes, ma’am. When?”
“Now, please.”
Yumi seemed surprised. “Is everything all right?”
“Not over the phone. Let’s meet in our special conference room in say, ten minutes?”
“Of course, Madam President. I’ll be there.”
“And Yumi...”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Don’t mention our meeting to anyone—not anyone, okay?”
“I won’t. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine,” President Glass said, heartened by her concern. “But we have something difficult ahead of us, and I can’t afford for anyone to get wind of it.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be right there, and don’t worry, I won’t mention the meeting to anyone.”
President Glass’s next call was to General Carr. After a quick discussion, he too agreed to meet her in the conference room. However, he seemed overly concerned about her decision to include others in their investigation. General Carr was a good man, perhaps a great man, she thought, but he needed to learn to trust.
Yumi Tanaka felt sweat begin to bead along the top of her forehead. What the hell was President Glass up to? Did she know about Yumi and the vice president? No, of course not. She wouldn’t have called to set up a private meeting if she had. What was it then? She was up to something that required secrecy. The fact that Yumi was being called in on it was a good thing. But that inclusion might not be enough to stop events from unfolding in a most unfavorable direction. She had to be prepared for the worst.
Yumi opened the desk drawer and withdrew a small fixed-blade tanto knife. It was wrapped in a piece of colorful rice paper and was designed to look like an exotic gift, easily mistaken as a ceremonial trinket collected during her travels overseas. But the knife was much more than a novelty. The three-inch blade was forged entirely from zirconium dioxide, a ceramic that was harder than steel and invisible to metal detectors. Both edges had been ground with a diamond-dust-coated wheel until they were razor-sharp.
While it was certainly not in her personnel file, Yumi was no stranger to knives. Having spent two years in the Philippines as a teenager, she had learned the right way to handle a blade. She had only cut a person once, and that was a would-be suitor who had forced his hand down her pants. When she opened up his inner thigh, he had come to appreciate the error of his ways.
Yumi carefully slid the paper-wrapped knife into the side pocket of her jacket. She could have it in hand in the blink of an eye. She had no idea what President Glass had in mind, but one thing she knew for certain—she wouldn’t allow any harm to come to Lincoln. Not today. Not ever.
Yumi was already waiting when President Glass entered the conference room. Two Secret Service agents moved past her and carefully searched the room. Once they were satisfied that the President’s Chief of Staff was the only occupant, they left to stand outside the door.
President Glass sat down and pulled her chair close to the table.
“Thank you for coming so quickly.”
Yumi smiled, thinking that President Glass looked tired and old, like a bag lady who begged for quarters outside the subway station.
“Of course, Madam President,” she said. “Please tell me what’s happening.”
“I’m afraid it’s serious.”
Yumi leaned forward, resting her hands on the table.
“It’s also very sensitive,” added the president.
“Ma’am, you can trust me with anything.”
President Glass smiled and patted her on the hand.
“I know that.” She paused for a moment, deciding on how start. “General Carr and I have been investigating a terrible attack on a law enforcement center in Glynco, Georgia.”
Yumi suppressed a smile. This was old news. Lincoln had told already her about the chemical attack, and with great pride. Still, perhaps there was something to be learned. If not, she might at least be able to provide a little misdirection.
“What kind of attack?” she asked.
“Someone bombed the center with sarin gas. They killed hundreds of US Marshals.”
“Why would anyone do that?” Yumi gasped. “For that matter, who would even have access to sarin gas?”
“Those were our questions as well,” President Glass said, nodding. “So, we did some digging. What we found was even more troubling than the attack itself.”
Yumi didn’t like the sound of that. She sat back, slowly withdrawing her hands from the table and placing them in her lap.
“What could possibly be worse than the poisoning of hundreds of peace officers?” she asked.
President Glass looked around the room as if double-checking that they were indeed alone.
“We found a connection between the bombs that were used and someone in the highest levels of our government.”
Yumi felt her heart begin to pound violently against her chest. Just how much did President Glass know?
“Who?” she asked, sliding her hand into her coat pocket.
President Glass leaned over the table and whispered, “It’s Vice President Pike. We think he may be involved.”
Yumi tightened her grip on the knife, pushing the rice paper away from the handle.
“That’s impossible,” she said. “The vice president? Surely, there’s been some kind of mistake. Why would he do something so heinous?”
“General Carr believes his intent is to undermine my presidency.”
Yumi shook her head. “And that would lead him to kill hundreds of marshals? I can’t believe it.”
“I don’t know for certain that Pike orchestrated the attack, but I do know that he’s connected to it.”
“Madam President, I don’t like the vice president any more than you, but asserting something like this could backfire. People might think you’re trying to suppress him because he’s been an outspoken critic of your policies. You could end up looking like a jealous tyrant.”
Even as she made her case, Yumi realized that it didn’t really matter whether or not she was successful in convincing President Glass to abandon her investigation. The vice president would forever be under suspicion, and that would leave him impotent and ineffective.
President Glass took a deep breath, obviously frustrated by Yumi’s unexpected resistance.
“Don’t you think I know that? I wouldn’t suggest it if we didn’t have proof.”
“What kind of proof?” she asked, sliding the knife out of her pocket and holding it beneath the edge of the table.
“We traced the delivery of the bombs back to an acquaintance of Pike’s. It might not be enough to put him away, but it’s too much of a coincidence to ignore. The vice president is involved in this, and by God, I’m going to prove it. That’s why—”
Yumi whipped the blade up and sliced through the side of the president’s neck. The weapon was as sharp as any samurai’s katana, and it slid through her carotid artery with only the slightest resistance. The strike was so quick that, for a moment, President Glass just stared at Yumi in disbelief. Then, with the next beat of her heart, blood sprayed out in a huge fan, covering the table and sprinkling warm drops across Yumi’s face. The president fell back against the chair, her hands clapped over the gash as she tried to stop the flow of blood.
Yumi leaned across the table and stabbed her, this time with a quick in-and-out motion that penetrated the gap between her top two ribs. The ceramic blade pierced a lung but missed her heart by an inch.
President Glass weaved from side to side, her eyes slowly closing as her blood pressure plunged. Unable to hang on to consciousness any longer, she pitched forward, her head smacking against the table with a dull thump. Blood continued to pump from her neck, spreading out into a pool that raced across the table and
dripped off the other side.
Yumi was preparing to stab her one final time when the door swung open. General Carr stood in the doorway, his eyes wide with shock. As he began to shout, Yumi leaped around the table, determined to put an end to the investigation once and for all. She lunged forward, hoping to drive the blade through his eye and into his brain.
But having fought in two wars, General Carr was not an easy man to kill. He sidestepped, brushed the knife away and struck Yumi across the throat with his forearm. The hard edge of his radial bone crunched against her windpipe, and she stumbled back, gasping for air. Before she could recover her balance, he stepped forward and hit her under the chin with his elbow. Her head flew back, and a tooth shot high into the air.
As she started to collapse, General Carr reached out and caught her by the throat. Yumi struggled to stay conscious as she felt his calloused fingers closing around her windpipe. She slashed out with the knife, slicing his upper leg. Blood poured out as his quadriceps pressed their way through the open skin.
But General Carr’s grip didn’t falter.
She raised the knife again, this time hoping to catch him under the ribs. He batted it away with his free hand, and the knife fell to the floor, breaking the blade into a dozen small black shards. She flailed against his chest with tiny fists, but they grew weaker with every blow.
The last thing Yumi Tanaka ever saw was the piece of decorative rice paper floating through the air like the feathers of a fallen angel.
CHAPTER
19
The remainder of the drive to Boone was smooth sailing. Mason was able to make the final hundred and thirty miles in a little over four hours, which probably counted as a personal best, given the condition of the roads.
As he entered the city limits, he was surprised to see a military UH-60 Blackhawk helicopter rise into the air. Based on its position, he figured that it must have taken off from the Watauga Medical Center’s rooftop helipad. As soon as it reached a few hundred feet off the ground, it turned west toward the mountains.
Mason pressed his foot down hard on the accelerator. He could think of no logical reason for the military to be in Boone. Other than border defense, their role had been relegated to guarding supply shipments and screening for the virus. Boone would not have been high on the list for either of those activities.
He whipped right on Deerfield Road and sped up the hill toward the hospital. Father Paul, Dr. Darby, Fran, and a dozen people Mason didn’t recognize were huddled outside the hospital’s main entrance. They talked and moved about nervously, like school kids who had been evacuated because of a bomb scare.
Mason hopped out of his truck, and Bowie followed, darting past him to get to Father Paul. The portly priest and Bowie had become close friends when they had fought against a band of convicts terrorizing Boone. And while it was clear that Father Paul was not entirely comfortable around large animals, he did his best to give Bowie the love he deserved.
“What’s going on?” asked Mason.
Father Paul gently pushed Bowie away, trying to keep the giant dog from knocking him down.
“We don’t really know,” he said. “A government agent is inside with Ava.”
“What type of government agent?”
“He said he was with the Secret Service. He had a badge and a gun, if that means anything. There were three soldiers in uniform with him too.”
“Who was in the helicopter that flew away?”
He shrugged. “I guess some of soldiers. No one came out to let us know that it was okay to go back in.”
Mason looked toward the hospital.
“What do they want with Ava?”
Father Paul shrugged. “I can’t say for sure. All I know is that after briefly talking with her, they told the rest of us to leave the hospital.”
“They forced you out?”
“More or less. One of the nurses just went to get Don and Vince. We figured the town’s deputies would know what to do.”
“Fine, but I’m not waiting.” Mason turned and started for the door.
Father Paul reached out and gently grabbed his arm.
“You should know one other thing.” There was worry in his voice. “This might have something to do with the girl your father brought in.”
“My father was here?” Oddly, the revelation didn’t surprise Mason.
“Less than a week ago.”
Hearing that his father was alive should have brought him joy. Instead, it only brought worry. Where Tanner Raines went, trouble followed.
“He had a girl with him?”
The priest leaned in closer and lowered his voice.
“It was the president’s daughter, Samantha Glass. Apparently, people are out to get her.”
“What?” Mason struggled to put the pieces together. “Why would the president’s daughter be with my father?”
“It’s a long story best saved for another time. What you need to know is that Ava took a small tracking device out of the girl’s arm.”
“What did she do with it?”
Father Paul stared at him, his face going white.
“Father,” he pressed, “what did she do with the device?”
The priest sighed and shook his head.
“She put it in a drawer in the hospital.”
Mason pulled away and hurried toward the emergency room door.
“Stay here,” he warned, his voice hard and determined.
Mason drew his Supergrade as he ran toward the emergency room. He passed through the front doors and found the lobby and waiting rooms both empty. Bowie came running in behind him.
“Find Ava!” he bellowed.
Bowie took off through the waiting room, his nose glued to the ground. Mason ran after him. They entered the treatment area, which was divided into several small mini-rooms, each sectioned off with large curtains that hung from tracks on the ceiling. Most of the curtains were pulled closed, but a few remained open.
Bowie raced to the end of the room and disappeared around a curtain. A few seconds later, Mason heard the dog whimpering and scratching its claws against the white tile floor. Even before he stepped around the curtain, Mason knew what he would find. The air had a discernible heaviness to it, a sense of death that he had felt many times before. He tried to ignore it, telling himself that any kind of sixth sense was nothing more than anxiety. But denying it made it no less real.
Mason whipped back the curtain.
Ava was seated with her wrists duct-taped to the arms of a metal chair. Blood dripped from dozens of small razor cuts on her arms, abdomen, and legs. No single cut was deep enough to have killed her. They had saved that for the thin metal garrote that still hung around her neck like a cowboy’s bolo.
Bowie whined and licked the tips of her fingers, unable to understand what he was seeing.
Mason stepped forward, gently pulled the garrote off her neck, and felt for a pulse. Her skin was so warm that, for a brief moment, he held out hope that he would find one. He didn’t. He slid his hunting knife free and cut the tape that held her to the chair. She flopped forward into his arms, and he lowered her carefully to the floor. He sat down next to her and lifted her lifeless body into his arms. Bowie sniffed around the room for a moment before coming over to lie down beside them.
Cradling Ava against his chest, Mason began talking softly to her. He told her about everything that had happened since leaving Boone—the militia that had captured him in York, the hotheaded Alexus and her penchant for hanging, the cannibals who had nearly had him for dinner, his grisly findings at Glynco, his discovery and subsequent chase of the mercenaries, the showdown with Nakai—even his indiscretion with Trish, the prostitute in Chester. He told her everything.
And when he finally finished, he told Ava one last thing. He told her that the men who had taken her life would soon be joining her.
After another brief conversation with Father Paul, Mason knew as much as he
needed to. Agent Sparks was obviously looking for Samantha Glass. He had managed to locate the electronic tracker only to discover that it had been removed from the girl’s arm. So, he had turned to torturing Ava to reveal what she knew. Mason suspected that Ava had probably told him everything she knew very quickly, but being professionals, they had continued until they were certain.
He also believed he knew where they were headed. Ava would have told them about his cabin, and they would have assumed that Samantha was hiding there. If his father were indeed still there, they would be in for a hell of a fight. The cabin was very defensible, and Tanner was as tough as any man alive.
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