The 13: Fall

by ROBBIE CHEUVRONT

  Next she took the picture from the ATM security camera and scanned it into her hard drive. She brought that image up on the third of her four screens and began the process of trying to enhance it as best she could. There wasn’t much there, but she had enough to work with.

  With that done, she exported the ATM photo and the new three-dimensional image of the bandana into a different program. This one was a facial-reconstruction software. Taking the skin tone of the forehead from the video, and the secondary image of the ATM photo, she typed a few commands and waited. Less than two minutes later, she had a complete, rendered image. She looked back at the eyes from the video. Then turned to the ATM photo. Then to the newly created image. It was perfect. According to Jinx—the name she’d given her computer, after a robot from one of her favorite classic movies, Space Camp—she was looking at an exact representation of the man they were looking for.

  She saved the image and exited the editing software. Over on her fourth screen, the one she had started out on first, was a message from Jinx, in a dialogue window.

  You are now ready to proceed, Megan.

  “Thanks, Jinx,” she said, patting the monitor.

  She looked out the window to her office and made sure no one was lurking around or looking like they were coming to see her for something. Satisfied, she started typing.

  The FBI facial-recognition program was one of the best in the world. And it could take anywhere from five minutes to two days to find someone through facial comparison recognition. With Jinx, that time got cut by three-fourths. She clicked the button and watched as the software went to work. Even with the worst-case scenario, Jinx should be able to find him before she had to be back at the Capitol. She leaned back to stretch, when Jinx beeped at her. Sitting up, she looked at the screen. Staring back at her was a Texas driver’s license belonging to one Quinn Harrington.

  Taylor stood up, kicking her chair back. She pointed at the screen with a huge grin and said, “Ha! I got you!”

  CHAPTER 39

  In all of her forty-eight kills, Alex had never attempted anything like what she was about to do. This was the granddaddy of them all. Killing the president of the United States. No one had ever done it and gotten away with it. That is, unless you believed in the Kennedy conspiracy. And even then, there was Oswald. Whether he did it or not was not the point. The point was, no one had ever gotten it done without being discovered. Leaving nothing behind. But then again, she had never tried to kill the president before now.

  The agents would already be in place by now. Once word was given that President Grant was to give the speech, they would’ve been flying around like madmen, trying to get the area secured and prepped for him to be there. So she had to think outside the box. The fact that Marianne had given her less than eight hours’ notice was something that made her even more excited. There were a couple reasons for this. One, there would be no time for a proper advance team setup. So that meant she had options. And two, it was more of a challenge.

  She exited the Smithsonian’s National Gallery of Art–East Building and walked along Third Street NW. Off to her left, she could see the steps of the Capitol Building, approximately two thousand feet away. She needed to be closer. Not that she couldn’t make a shot from here. It’s just that there was no place to take a shot from. Besides, she wanted this to be as up close and personal as she could get.

  That gave her an idea. What if, in the midst of an imminent threat, they were to whisk him away? Where would they go? How would they do it? There was protocol for this, she was sure. And she knew who would know said protocol. She found a pay phone and dialed the number.

  “I need a coffee,” she said when the line was answered. “You want to meet me?”

  “Sure,” came the reply. “Where at?”

  “You pick the place.”

  “The coffee shop on Lowell?”

  “Sure. Give me twenty minutes.”

  “Okay. I’ll see ya there.”

  She hung up the phone and flagged down a cab. She got in and told the man where to take her.

  Marianne was already there when she arrived. The two of them left the coffee shop and started out down the same path they had a few hours earlier.

  “I need the evac routes from the Capitol,” Alex said.

  “Why would you need those?” Marianne asked. “I thought you were going to be there.”

  “I am. But so is every available Secret Service agent in DC. But when they move him, only a handful go with him.”

  “Depends on what the situation is. Is he being taken out due to potential threat? Is he being taken out due to imminent danger? Or has there been an attempt?”

  “Let’s say they believe there’s been an attempt.”

  “Then it would be one of three ways.”

  “Too complicated. I need to control which way.”

  “Impossible. They decide right then and there. That way it’s completely spontaneous and no chance of being compromised.”

  “Then I need—”

  “However,” Marianne said in a menacing tone, “the actual evac procedure from the building to the cars is set. They won’t deviate from that.”

  “Then I need to be there.”

  “Fine.”

  “I’ll need to have credentials. Something from DHS. Secret Service is going to know their own. Homeland Security could be anyone.”

  “How will you get out?”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ll get out. You just make sure I can get in.”

  “Meet me at six forty-five, north entrance. I’ll have what you need then.”

  “You going to be there?”

  “Ha!” Marianne said. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

  CHAPTER 40

  The five o’clock news hour came. And with it, more bad news. Reports from all over the country that banks were closing. People could not get access to their money. Riots were starting to break out in small pockets. The country was on pins and needles, waiting for the president to speak, hoping that he could bring some sense to what had happened earlier in the day. The market was a mess. And everyone was saying that it was about to get worse. Grocery stores were being emptied. Banks were closed. Rioting was beginning to start throughout all the major cities. Mayors and governors from all over the country were issuing statements saying that everything was going to be fine. But no one believed it.

  The latest news to hit the airwaves was that the price of a barrel of oil had just gone up astronomically. Within the next few days, the price of a gallon of gas was expected to shoot up over ten dollars a gallon. The country was in a full panic. And President Grant was sick to his stomach. He had less than an hour before he gave his speech.

  He had informed his staff that he would be writing the speech himself. This came with a barrage of argument. Even VP Walker had tried to convince him that he was letting this get too personal. That he needed to trust the speechwriters to give him a solid manuscript that would calm the American people and show them everything was under control. Grant had laughed at that.

  “You think we’re in control, Gray? Look around. We’re not in control of anything right now. This is happening, man. There is no speech that is going to appease the people. In less than a week, our entire country is going to shut down. Do you understand that?”

  “Calvin, look,” Walker had pleaded. “You can’t know what’s going to happen. You need to go out there and assure the American people that we can control this. That we are going to be just fine. And then, if not, we’ll deal with it.”

  “I’m going to deal with it tonight, Gray,” he’d said. “And you and everyone else may not like what I have to say, but I am the president. So I will decide what this speech is going to be about. Not you or anyone else. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir.” Walker had stormed out of the room.

  Grant knew his friend was angry, but it didn’t matter. Walker wasn’t someone who shared his deep convictions on faith. Sure, he went to church o
n Sundays with his family, but that was about it. Walker was what Grant called a weekend warrior. He never spoke ill about God, but he never went out of his way to show he had any strong beliefs either.

  None of that mattered. It was nearly time. He looked over the speech again. He made a quick change to one of the lines and then reread it. Yes, he thought, this is exactly what I need to say.

  He called Agent Greene into the office. The agent stepped inside and closed the door.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I want you to make sure no one disturbs me for the next thirty minutes. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. President. Any exceptions?”

  He thought about that for a moment. What if Tess needed him? What if something else happened that couldn’t wait. No, he decided. Even Tess would have to wait. He needed to do this.

  “None. Absolutely none. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll let you know when we’re ready to leave, sir.”

  “That will be all. Thank you.”

  “Yes, sir,” Greene said, leaving the office.

  When the door closed, he pushed away from his desk and stood up. Taking his suit coat off, he draped it over the back of the chair and then knelt down beside the desk. It had been too long since he had found himself in this position. And though his knees rebelled against him for being on the ground like this, it felt good.

  He folded his hands and bowed his head and began.

  “Father in Heaven …”

  CHAPTER 41

  Boz waited in the living room while Keene finished cleaning up. They had less than an hour before they had to be at the Capitol. That wasn’t much time, considering it was a fifteen-minute drive and the fact that they wanted to be there early to get a look around at where the president was going to give his speech.

  Then just as he got antsy, Keene appeared, pulling his shirt on.

  “I’m good,” Keene said. “Let’s roll.”

  Boz looked again at his watch. “You know what? We still have a couple minutes. Can we talk for a sec?”

  Keene raised an eyebrow. “Sure. Okay. What’s up?”

  Boz sat down in one of the chairs there in the den. He had tried to have similar conversations in the past week with him but to no avail. Something or someone had interrupted them every time. Or Keene had gotten mad and walked away. But here they were. No one to interrupt.

  “There’s something I need to talk to you about. But you just won’t let me.”

  Keene sat down across from him, blank-faced. “Really? You want to do this now? We’re about to go see if this guy shows up at the speech, and you want to do this now?”

  Boz smiled. “Yep. I do. Listen. For the last week, I’ve followed you around. I’ve taken your lead on all of this. And where has it gotten us?”

  “Oh, so this is all of a sudden my fault?”

  “No.” He sighed. “I’m not saying that. I’m saying maybe it’s no one’s fault.”

  “Here we go!”

  “Why are you so bent on dismissing that this guy could actually be who he says he is?”

  “Listen to yourself, Boz! You seriously think that God would pick some random guy to just harass the president because all of a sudden He cares? He doesn’t care! This is absurd.”

  “First of all,” Boz said, “God has used random people throughout history to accomplish His will. Secondly, yes, He does care. He’s always cared.”

  “Yeah.” Keene rolled his eyes.

  “Jon, listen.”

  “No, you listen. I grew up in church. I went to Sunday school. I learned all the little songs and all the prayers. And when I went into the Marines, I trusted that He would take care of me. And then I got married. And I believed that He had brought her into my life. And so He would take care of her, too. That was supposed to be part of the deal.” He sat there with a clenched jaw for a moment. Then continued, “And then some other idiot, who believed in his god, and who thought that his god told him to kill everyone who isn’t like him, killed her. That pretty much sums it up. Doesn’t it? The God you say cares so much, He cares so much that He took her away from me. So don’t you sit there and tell me that He cares. If He cared, He would’ve never let that happen.”

  “I’m sorry—”

  “No, chapy, you wanted to have this conversation. We’re having it. You want to know why I think all of this with this guy is a bunch of garbage? Because God doesn’t care! And to be completely honest with you, I’m not even sure anymore that He ever existed to begin with.”

  Boz waited a few seconds when Keene was finished. It was good for him to get it out. Keene probably had never said that to anyone—keeping it bottled up inside for years. Finally Boz said, “What I was going to say was, I’m sorry you’ve been misled. I wasn’t apologizing for the loss of your wife.”

  Keene sat there a moment and then said, “What’s that supposed to mean? Misled?”

  “It means what it means. Somewhere along the line, you were led to believe that God is here for our pleasure and that He should do what we want.”

  “And that makes it so much better.”

  “Actually, it does. See, your problem is, you think that because God allowed your wife to die, that somehow it was a personal vendetta against you. Or that He somehow abdicated His responsibility. When in reality, what you don’t understand is, God loved her more than you could ever love her. And to see her die in pain, like that, brings Him no joy. But you have to understand, there’s more to it than that.”

  “I understand He let her die.”

  “Yes, He allowed it to happen.”

  “So you prove my point.”

  “Quite the opposite. You have to understand that God allows things to happen because He is working all things to their appointed end. And we may not understand why some things happen, but we have to trust that there is a reason for it. God calls us to come to Him, to lean on Him when these things happen. He allows these things to happen because our world is broken. And in due time, He will come back and restore all things to their rightful state. You think He doesn’t care. I’m telling you He cares more than you’ll ever know.”

  “Well, He’s got a poor way of showing it.”

  Boz looked back to his watch. The time was getting away from them. “Listen, we need to go. But will you at least continue this conversation with me later? There’s a lot more to it. I really want to try to explain and help you understand.”

  “Tell you what,” Keene said standing up, “you promise me that you’ll put every effort into finding this guy, as if he was a terrorist, not some freak, and I’ll think about it.”

  “Deal,” Boz said. “Now, let’s go hear a speech.”

  CHAPTER 42

  Alex knew the only way the president was going to be taken away from the steps of the Capitol quickly was if there was an immediate threat. So she had to make that happen. How, was the question. Once they took him, she would be ready. Since Marianne had given her the evacuation plan, she knew exactly where the president would be taken en route to the motorcade.

  She’d spent her young career imagining all the different ways to distract a mark or plan a diversion. She had tried some different weapons, investigated different explosives, tested out certain poisons, all to prepare her for immediate and unforeseen scenarios. Today all of that planning would pay off.

  A couple years ago, she’d encountered a young Afghani bomb maker. He was very impressive. After the wars in the Middle East, his country had been left all but devastated. The American troops had pulled out way too soon, leaving the radical factions of his country to move back in and take over the nation. Eventually, the Americans returned but not before the damage had become so extensive the country was hardly recognizable. The years that followed were deadly. And still were to this day. But he had been brought up in a village that had some very talented men when it came to explosives. His grandfather had taught him the trade of bomb making. And he had showed him new ways to conceal an IED, an improvise
d explosive device.

  It was his work that Alex was going to use this evening. While the president was giving his speech on the steps of the Capitol, Alex would be waiting in the stairwell of the hallway. And the explosion, she was sure, would send the agents running, with the president in tow.

  Getting the device past security was simple. She had already visited the place earlier today. With the DHS identification Marianne had provided, she was able to walk right in, without even acknowledging the security guard. Not that it would have mattered if he had stopped her.

  The device was completely unassuming. Just a child’s toy. And completely undetectable to all known explosive-detection technology. She wove her way through the corridors to the place she wanted to set the charge. There, in front of the window. She took the item out of the bag and placed it exactly how she needed it.

  The room was an upstairs office, unused, like many of the rooms in this building. From the looks of it, the place had probably been left unattended for months. It was perfect. And when the time came, it would do, she was sure, exactly what it was supposed to do. Of course, there might be collateral damage. This was something she wasn’t a huge fan of, but given the enormity of the target, she guessed she could overlook it this time.

  She checked the device one last time and then left the same way she came in. She took care to make sure no one noticed her coming out, and when she was sure she was good, she casually walked on. The president was scheduled to arrive in less than fifteen minutes. She would need to wait until he was on the steps before getting in place. That gave her, she figured, no more than twenty minutes. She needed to hurry.