The president turned to face both of them. He had an extremely detached look about him. “Everything is fine,” he said. “I think we’re done here.”
“Let’s go!” Keene shouted to the other agents. “Something’s wrong.”
Keene had barely gotten the words out when the explosion rocked the entire street and surrounding area. The blast, which came from the National Gallery of Art–East Building, sent out a concussion wave that barreled people over and reached the steps of the Capitol almost instantly. Glass and debris flew everywhere. People began screaming and running in every direction.
“Go! Go! Go!” Agent Greene shouted as he picked the president up off the floor of the stage and covered him with his arms.
The group of six agents and Keene immediately surrounded the president and began to pull him back inside. Keene thumbed his wrist mic and changed the channel over to two. He, Boz, and Taylor had already discussed that in the event something should happen, they should switch to the alternate channel in order to communicate.
“Boz, Megan, you guys there?”
Nothing.
“Boz, Megan. This is Keene. Come in. Anyone there?”
The agents were trying to move as fast as they could back inside the doors and through the rotunda.
“Boz! Megan!” he shouted.
Some static and then a click.
“Jon! This is Megan, you there?”
“I’m here. Any eyes on Boz?”
“Negative. What’s your twenty?”
“On the move with POTUS. Evac route.”
Then another click with static.
“This is Boz. You guys on?”
“Here,” they both said one after the other.
“What’s the plan?” Boz asked.
Keene keyed his mic and said, “I’m in route with POTUS. You two cover the grounds. He’s here! Find him!”
“Roger that,” Boz said.
“Out,” Megan said.
Keene and the team were halfway down the corridor when Keene pulled up short. “Wait! Wait!” he shouted.
Greene pushed the other agents and the president on and stopped.
“What is it, Keene?” he asked.
“That blast was across the street. It wasn’t meant to kill him. It was meant to get him out of here and back inside!” Keene looked around quickly. “Where’s your agent who was stationed here?”
All of the color drained out of Greene’s face at once. He looked down the hallway. The other agents and the president were turning the corner to go down the small stairway that led into the Rayburn House tunnel, a small shuttle-type subway used by the members of the House of Representatives to carry them underground to and from the Capitol and their offices. It was the primary evacuation route. If a threat was indicated, the president would not leave topside, exposed to the outside and the public. He was to be removed via the tunnel into the Rayburn House, where the detail would have the motorcade waiting safely. It was a couple city blocks’ distance away from the Capitol, and so it gave the agents time to get the president secluded, away from immediate danger on the outside; and it gave the motorcade agents the ability to get out of the vicinity of the Capitol without the president, in case there was any further aggression toward them.
“Where is he!” Keene screamed.
Greene seemed to snap back. “He was right here. He should’ve—”
“Call them back! Now!” Keene said. And then he began running down the hallway as the last of the agents disappeared down the staircase.
Alex heard the explosion and then felt the ground rumble beneath her feet. Perfect, she thought. She had covered the distance at least three times since she’d gotten there. She did the math in her head. Six, maybe seven guys, moving at a quick pace, stopping at every corner to do a quick sweep—should only take them a minute and a half tops.
She looked at her watch, counting down the seconds. They should be here any moment now. And then she heard it. A cluster of footsteps running down the hall. She braced herself. This was it. And she was only going to have one shot at this. She had to let the men pass and then step out from the closet and begin to put them down, one by one. The fact that they would have their backs to her would give her a slight advantage, but she still knew. Some of these guys were former military Special Ops. They would be quick. And they would be accurate when they fired. If they fired. That was the thing. She had to be faster. And she was. She knew it. She had gone through such extensive short-range weapons training that she knew there was only a handful of people in the entire world who were as fast and accurate as she was. She placed her hand on the closet door and turned off the light. The footsteps were now coming down the stairs. She braced herself, ready to dart out and shoot.
But suddenly something changed. The men seemed to stop in mid-stride. Someone was calling after them. She could see them out of the slats of the blinds in the corner of the window of the door. They were turning around. No! This was wrong. What happened?
She didn’t even take the time to think. Either way, the men had their backs to her. Whether they were facing up the stairs or down the stairs. Made no difference to her. She stepped out and took aim. And then she began to pull the trigger. Phst! Phst! Phst-phst-phst!
Keene had almost made it to the stairs when he heard the first shot. Still at a dead run, he watched, in horror, as the agent at the top of the stairs crumpled like a rag doll.
“Gun! Gun!” he shouted. He ran harder toward the men.
He heard at least one agent get off a shot but no more. As he got to the stairs, he reached down to pull out his own weapon when he noticed something very wrong. Where was his magazine? His gun’s magazine had been ejected. How could this have—and then it all came into picture for him. The woman in the rotunda. She had brushed against him, slightly knocking him off balance. He’d thought nothing of it, at the time, except that she was really attractive, and if he hadn’t been there trying to find some psycho whack job, he might’ve liked to talk to her.
Well, he definitely wanted to talk to her now, he thought, pulling back the slide to check the chamber. And he had a bad feeling he was about to get the chance. He did a quick check around the corner and had to pull back.
Phst, phst, phst!
The wood from the door frame splintered next to his face. And then he heard footsteps, running away from him. Just then, Agent Greene caught up to him.
“I’ve only got one shot,” he told the agent. “My magazine’s gone.”
“I’ll lay down cover, and you grab a weapon from one of them,” Greene said.
This time, they came around the corner, guns up and ready to shoot. But there was no one there. He took reached down and grabbed one of the other agent’s guns and took off down the stairs.
“You stay here with them,” he shouted as he ran. “I’ll go after the hitter.”
As he started out after the shooter, it registered with him what he’d just witnessed. He had just seen the president of the United States lying on the ground with a gunshot wound to his head.
On the platform for the train, he saw nothing. The shooter had to have run down the tunnel. He knew that with the president giving a speech here, the trains would’ve been shut down. The shooter obviously knew that as well.
He leaped over the railing and began running down the tunnel. He could hear the shooter’s footsteps echoing down toward him. He pushed harder. The tunnel, he knew, wasn’t that long, and if he hurried, he might be able to catch up before the shooter reached the Rayburn House.
Just as the tunnel was coming to a close, he slowed his pace a little. He didn’t want to let whoever this was get away, but he also knew he was about to come out at another platform. And the shooter could be waiting for him.
Slowing down even more, to a walk, he crept the last few paces with his gun up, waiting to be fired upon. He didn’t have to wait long. As soon as the platform came into view, he felt two rounds spit into the concrete just a few inches from his head. He saw
the shooter at the foot of the steps. He was right. It was the woman from the rotunda. He fired a couple quick shots but knew he had missed his mark. He dove low, thinking he would hear the woman run up the stairs to make her escape, but that didn’t happen. He stood back up slowly, just peeking his head above the raised tracks. When he did, he saw her waiting there, taking aim directly at him. He fired his gun as fast as he could but never got the chance to look to see if he hit anything. Two rounds crashed into his right shoulder and drove him back against the tracks. He lost his balance as the searing pain ripped through his collarbone. And then he fell to the ground.
He heard her run up the stairs.
CHAPTER 46
Atypical to her normal practices, Marianne Levy arrived at the meeting place eight minutes early. She had had conversations with others about her punctuality. Alex, for instance, loathed the fact that she was late for everything. She didn’t have a good reason for why she was continually late. Perhaps it was the fact that she just liked the idea of people waiting for her. She checked her watch. Chin would more than likely be late. Alex had complained that he hadn’t yet been on time for any of their previous meetings either. Chin, apparently, shared her affinity for making people wait. No matter. It gave her a few moments to reflect on everything.
It hadn’t even been a week since the speech at the Capitol. And she hadn’t talked to Alex yet about it. The woman was avoiding her. And rightly so. She’d botched the entire thing. Grant wasn’t dead, like she had promised he would be. He was, however, in a coma. And his chances of regaining consciousness were less than fifty percent. At the end of the day, she guessed she still had the same result. The man she hated more than anyone on this earth was out of the picture.
Walker had now assumed the office of the presidency. And though she had believed her relationship with him wasn’t much better than that with Grant, she hoped he would return her office to her. That, of course, hadn’t happened. Instead, the man was drunk with his newfound power and had pushed her even farther away. The bombing of the art gallery, combined with the market crash, allowed him to basically shut down the government and call all the shots. Even Congress had begun to abdicate its responsibilities. All but a few of the senators and representatives had cleared out of DC to go back to their home states, declaring they needed to reassure their constituents. Really, they were all just a bunch of cowards and didn’t want to be around if another attack happened.
All in all, the entire country was a mess. The market had plunged even farther. Over a million people had lost their jobs in the span of a week. Business owners were losing money daily. The price of gas had gone up so much that no one except the very well off could afford to drive. Complete civil unrest was at the doorstep of America. And right now, there was no light at the end of the tunnel.
And then there was Chin.
When she had begun this treacherous journey eight months ago, she couldn’t believe how easy it was. She remembered waking up every morning for a week after their initial meeting, thinking it wasn’t real. But it had been. And now here she was. On the doorstep of doing something that could never be undone. Forever, the world would be changed.
She heard the cars pull up outside. The doors opened and four men, all in finely tailored suits and carrying automatic weapons, entered the building. Chin followed behind.
“Mr. Chin,” she said, bowing at the waist. “Good to see you.”
“Likewise, Madam Director.”
“Please, take a seat.”
The two sat down at the makeshift table across from each other.
“I understand you wanted to discuss further needs,” she said.
“Yes,” Chin confirmed. “I spoke with your associate about this.”
“She did not give me details, other than something about the southern border.”
Chin leaned back in the chair and folded his arms across his lap. “Yes, that is correct.”
She had already earned a ridiculous amount of money from this venture. Asking for more might seem offensive to Chin, but if he wanted more, then so did she.
“I’ve already given you invisibility to bring your men into the northern states. I have successfully kept our eyes and ears off your venture. I know that you have your men in place on the Canadian side, ready to bring in your equipment. There won’t be a problem crossing the borders there.
“As far as Mexico is concerned, I have some relationships there. But none that would help you to the extent you need. If you want to move more equipment into that country, you’ll have to do business with their president, Mr. Ramirez. However, I’m sure with some renegotiation of our dealings, I can be extremely helpful to you in that area. Let’s say … we add another hundred mil to the hundred you already owe me.”
Mr. Chin looked at her with a condescending smile. “Ms. Levy, I came here more out of courtesy.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Look around you, Ms. Levy. Your country is in a state of panic. Your own government is crumbling. This is no longer about you providing safe passage for our drilling equipment and turning over the property rights.
“When we first met, our deal was that you would provide entry into the country and the secluded protection for our oil workers to drill on your soil. But the reality is this: your country is so far indebted to mine that we own you financially. And the fact that your country is so unstable right now leaves my country only one choice.”
Immediately she felt her blood pressure rise. This was not what they had discussed. Chin was reworking the deal. She stood up and pointed at him.
“You listen here, Chin. I committed treason by falsifying those permits, documents, and removing any military or law enforcement from those areas. Do you understand what it takes to deem a section of this country hazardous, environmentally unsafe, and off-limits to the public? We’re talking about hundreds of square miles here!
“I have handpicked, fully armed, completely devoted civil military units—which you know I created specifically for this operation—on the borders of those protected areas. They are under the assumption that this is a top-secret, fully sanctioned by my government, endeavor with your country. And now you’re telling me that this isn’t good enough! You are out of line, sir.”
“Ms. Levy,” Chin continued calmly, “you don’t seem to understand. I’m sorry that you’ve been misled. But things have changed. We no longer intend on coming here and simply secretly drilling for your oil.”
Marianne sat back down, stunned. What was happening?
“Ms. Levy, as I said before. This is really a courtesy visit. My country has already moved our men into your southern neighbor’s land.”
“That’s impossible! I would have known about that.”
“Improbable, maybe. Impossible, no. I assure you, Ms. Levy. We are very good at staying under the radar. Even yours.
“As it stands right now, we are poised to move against your country very shortly. I came here today to do the honorable thing and inform you. So you could make plans to leave. We appreciate all that you’ve done for us. We’ve decided to allow you to keep the money. And we will honor the remaining one hundred million that we owe you. I’m sure you will be very happy. Somewhere. But I highly recommend that you seek residency elsewhere. And soon.”
As if he could read her thoughts, he continued.
“You don’t believe it is possible that my country would wage war on yours.”
She nodded, unable to speak.
“Ms. Levy, my country is one of the oldest empires in the world. We didn’t become that by haphazardly making war on other nations. We wait. And we plan. And we wait some more. And we lure our prey into a false sense of security. And then, when they believe that nothing could ever touch them, we pounce, just like the great tiger. Your nation, for more than fifty years now, has borrowed so much money from my nation that we own you already. You cannot operate financially independent of us. Who do you think is responsible for your stock market crashing
this very moment? Who do you think is responsible for setting this nation on its current course? We, the Chinese empire. We have orchestrated all of this.
“Your military, what is left of it, is scattered across the four corners of the globe. Do you not understand? You have spent so much time defending other nations’ interests these last twenty years, you’ve left your borders and your people vulnerable.”
“But they will come back!” she said. “And when they do—”
“It will be too late, Ms. Levy. By then, our people will occupy your nation. And your country would never risk a ground war on your own soil. We have over three million soldiers. And we will deploy as many as it takes. Your people will bow to our flag. They will learn to coexist with our people. This is the way of our empire.”
“You’re wrong! They will fight you! And you will see how strong and great this country is.”
In that moment, she realized how wrong she had been. She didn’t hate her country. She hated the people running the country. But none of that mattered now.
Now, she needed to run. Chin was right. There was no way to defend against a direct attack from China. And what was she supposed to do? Warn them? And how would that play out? With her head on a stick. That’s how. And if anyone ever found out that she had had any dealings with them previously, the result would be the same, if not worse. This had all gone so very wrong. She needed to leave.
She stood and smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt. She set her jaw and tried to look firmly into Chin’s face.
“I believe we’re done here.”
CHAPTER 47
Keene stood by the bedside of President Grant at Bethesda Naval Hospital. He watched as the man’s chest rose and fell in rhythm with the sound of the machine helping him breathe. The gunshot, while not fatal, had caused serious damage. President Grant’s brain, they said, had begun to swell almost immediately. And had he not gotten to the facility when he had, he would surely be dead. The extent of the damage was unclear. Also unclear was whether or not he would ever come out of the coma at all. And if he did, the doctors were unsure as to how well he would recover, if ever.
The 13: Fall Page 16
