Once the appropriate amount of cockroaches had crawled inside Alex’s leg Jamal covered the lid of the drum, and wrapped both wounds tightly with duct tape and a metal cylinder. He fired up the acetylene torch. The blue hiss of the flame alerted Alex to what was happening. Jamal held the flame right up against the metal. A few of the insects scampered out from underneath the cylinder, but once the heat of the flame hit the metal no more appeared. They were burrowing themselves deep into Alex’s legs, looking for another way out.
***
Alex felt the first twinge of pain in his legs. Then it consumed him. His legs were on fire, literally and figuratively. The heat from the torch that continued to singe him was nothing compared to the fire that was raging inside his legs. He thrashed about as much as his bindings would allow, but that only seemed to make the pain worse. Beads of sweat from his forehead quickly morphed into a miniature waterfall spilling down his face and splashing onto the floor.
Should I talk? He did not think he could hold out. If his legs hurt this bad what would it feel like when the crazed lunatic opened a wound in his chest or in his head? Maybe he should lie. He assumed the monster would know if he were. The fiery pain now shot through one of his feet and he let out a scream of pain.
“Feel better? No one can hear you. Think how much better you will feel if you just tell me what you know. I can uncover this wound and the roaches will find their way out. Or I can take the metal cap off and allow more in. Then they can continue to eat you alive until they find another opening they can escape from. It is your choice.” His torturer shut off the torch.
Alex felt like his head was on the verge of exploding. Every pain sensor in his body cried out for mercy. He could now hear his own sweat hitting the floor. Or was that his blood? Did it really matter? From somewhere in the distance a telephone began ringing. After five rings he heard movement.
“I will be back in a few minutes. Then I will open up another cut for you,” the voice said.
The pain continued to tick upward in intensity. Every time he thought it could not get worse he learned how wrong he was. He could hear the muffled voice in the background, but could not understand any words. Alex continued to try to wrench his hands free until his head was racked with another burst of raw pain. Unable to take it anymore his body shut down, and his head slumped forward.
Jamal re-entered the room to find Alex passed out. He yanked the metal cylinders off his legs, cut the bindings, and carried the unconscious body into a bedroom. He dropped the limp body on the bed, and re-tied his appendages to the four corner posts. The cockroaches began poking their antennae out of the two wounds and making their escape. Jamal needed him alive for the moment. They may need this Alex as a bargaining tool now.
Chapter 57
Anna stared blankly out of the tinted window of the SUV at the thin layer of snow that surrounded the Washington Monument. It was Inauguration Day, and a beautiful, crisp January morning greeted them. The police were out in force setting up barricades all over the city in preparation for the momentous occasion. Malcolm sat at the other end of the backseat, composing his own thoughts. They looked like an unhappy married couple who had just had a knock-down drag-out fight only to discover they had nowhere else to go, and so were attempting to create as much space between one another as possible. In reality they were both loners, the kind who were self-reliant and preferred to do things themselves. It was this similar characteristic that made them the best at what they did. It was also the reason they needed to be left alone with their thoughts before the final confrontation.
The last forty-eight hours brought nothing but bad news. Aman’s suicide left them with nothing. A confession from him would have gone a long way towards being able to take their case to the current President, the FBI, or someone who may be able to assist them. They were forced to leave Aman’s body inside the vice-president’s residence. They smuggled the unconscious Secret Service agent out in the back of their car. He was currently drugged up and unconscious at Malcolm’s house. He would sleep for another twenty-four hours at least.
In addition to this, they discovered that Alex had disappeared when they returned to Malcolm’s house. Their first thought was that he had turned on them, but no federal agents ever showed up to arrest them. The other option was just as bad. He must have been kidnapped by one of Aman’s men. Anna assumed the most likely candidate was Jamal. After all, he had seen Alex in the car the night they visited the Senator. He must have found out whom the car belonged to and staked them out.
Their vehicle slowly turned into the White House driveway. She watched carefully for anything out of the ordinary that might suggest they were about to be arrested. A Secret Service agent armed with a submachine gun waved them through the final security stop, and motioned for them to continue to the North Portico of the White House. It was time for Malcolm to deliver President Gray’s final PDB (Presidential Daily Brief) in person. This was a lucky gift from Zachariah Hardin, who made the firing of the CIA Director effective immediately after the inauguration. This gave Malcolm an excuse to visit the White House one more time.
Anna felt on edge as she stepped out of the SUV. The door was opened by one of the White House staff. It was her first visit to the White House, and she felt like she was heading into the den of an enemy instead of the home of the leader of the free world. The hand written speech she found when they riffled through Aman’s belongings came back to her now.
“Before today, the world was divided into two houses, the House of Islam where Muslim law solves all problems, and the House of War, which is ruled by the West. With the return of the one true Caliphate and Mahdi, and the destruction and humbling of his enemies the world is now forced to submit to Muslim rule or face annihilation. The Great Satan made its choice. It is now a vassal of the new Caliphate. Now the rest of the world’s citizens must choose sides.”
The chilling declaration stood at the forefront of her thoughts as she and Malcolm crossed the threshold into the White House. They were at the mercy of President Gray now.
Chapter 58
Zachariah Hardin stood quietly in front of his bathroom mirror and methodically shaved his face. The razor slid harmlessly over his flat chin, cutting off the stubble that had accumulated during the night. The dark circles under his eyes were evidence of his lack of sleep. He was glad he called the makeup artist. He would need to be spruced up in order to be presentable to the cameras. He carefully pushed a stray piece of his jet back hair back into place. A little extra gel ensured it would not fall down again. He was jumpy and nervous. This was to be expected of someone about to become the leader of the free world, but his fear was of a different sort now. Every knock on the door could be a group of federal agents coming to snatch him away and make him disappear just as he was reaching his goal.
Twenty-four hours earlier he brimmed with confidence. Now he just wanted to hold off his adversaries a little longer so he could have his victory. No matter how close his enemies were, he knew that time was on his side. Aman had never called him to inform him that he arrived back in Egypt, and Zach spent a fruitless hour trying to reach him at several different locations. After all the dead ends he had Jamal escort him to the Naval Observatory in the middle of the night, where they discovered the awful scene. Aman was dead of what was surely a self-inflicted wound, and his Secret Service agent was nowhere to be found. Jamal cleaned up the mess. The brutal death had to be kept quiet until after the inauguration. Afterwards it would not matter anyway. The city was already abuzz with the discovery of Senator Rosenbaum’s body at his home, and Zach could not afford any more distractions.
He glanced at his cell phone to check the time. Jamal should be arriving at the White House within the hour. He was likely checking the parade route and security arrangements for the inauguration address on the steps of the Capitol at that moment. His real duties, however, would not begin until the speech was over. There were a whole slew of agents who would make sure the short trip from the ste
ps of the Capitol to the White House would go off without a hitch. Once Zach and his entourage made it to the White House all the parties would commence and Jamal and his team would take over security, and more importantly, the nuclear codes.
It would be somewhere in the White House where they would make their move. For the first time he allowed himself to mentally picture the scene that would make him infamous to the majority of the world, but an instant idol to another group. They would disappear into a room with the Military Officer carrying the nuclear football. Jamal would dispose of the man, and then, with the codes in their hands, they would unleash the nuclear arsenal of the United States on itself.
The first nuclear missile would explode in the atmosphere. It would be an EMP (electro-magnetic pulse) weapon, and it would render everything that relied on electricity in the continental U.S. worthless. The entire mainland would be thrust into the Stone Age. Then he would launch as many nuclear missiles as possible, and turn the country into a radioactive wasteland. He would become the ultimate agent of influence, as the CIA Director would say, as he would turn the country’s most devastating weapons on itself. Zach thought of the only other agent of influence to have wormed his way so close to presidential power. He had been a vice-president at the beginning of the twentieth century. The man was a Soviet spy, but that was just before the advent of nuclear weapons, and the president at the time quietly removed him from the ticket after their first four years in office, thus preventing him from doing any damage. This time would be different.
Zach set the razor down and looked at his reflection with satisfaction. The punishment of the U.S. was a long time coming. Sheik Osama would be a mere pauper compared to him once the missiles were launched. It still seemed like a dream to Zach, but now it was about to become something even better; a nightmare for the United States. He hoped to live and make his way back to the Middle East in triumph, but it really did not matter. Martyrdom could be the best possible thing for him. He would never be as popular, or more reviled than he would be in the next few hours and days. Why not go out on top? He picked his razor back up and began meticulously shaving a few missed spots. He needed to hurry. The makeup artist would be arriving shortly.
Chapter 59
“That is certainly one hell of a story. Unfortunately, I believe every word of it,” President Gray said as his eyes shifted back and forth between Anna and Malcolm, looking for some kind of deception on their part. He knew it was not there, but he felt obligated to pursue all possibilities.
He tossed the front page of the Washington Times in their direction and motioned towards the article discussing the death of Senator Rosenbaum. “I thought that smelled of you. When you wanted to personally give me my final PDB I knew the game was still alive. Any idea why Aman’s death has not showed up on the news yet?” The President took a large bite from a cinnamon donut and sat it back down on his desk.
“My guess would be that either Zach or Jamal found the scene and secretly cleaned it up. There would be no way to explain it to the press without generating all sorts of uncomfortable questions,” Malcolm said. He sipped his bottled water and ignored the proffered paper. He had already read the article three times at his house and memorized every piece of information he thought could be useful.
President Gray stood up and paced the room. They were all racked with tension and nerves. They were making decisions that could soon land them in jail if their instincts were wrong.
“Still no sign of the amateur?” The President was referring to Alex.
“No. I would presume he is dead. We can only hope he has not divulged any information to his kidnappers. Have any police or FBI been asking questions about Malcolm and I?” Anna asked the president in a clinical tone, keeping all emotions for her vanished colleague in check.
“Not that I’m aware of. I’d steer clear of Jamal if I were you though. He was supposed to arrive here an hour before you did. He is probably walking the grounds now to make sure everything is in order for the transfer of power. By the way Malcolm, Zach called me this morning and wanted me to inform you that you are not welcome at the inauguration.” He smiled at his CIA Director. He knew Malcolm would not care, but it was fun to needle him a little. A little levity right now was the only thing keeping him from losing his cool.
Malcolm returned the smile with one of his own. “That will work well for what we have in mind. Now my no-show will be expected. Just make sure you casually mention to some members of the press what happened. Once the reason for my vanishing act is out in the open I won’t be missed. Everybody knows I’m on his shit list anyway. They will quickly lose interest in me.”
“I will have a talk with them. Now what did you have in mind? I need to get going in a few minutes. My wife and I have to meet with the President-Elect in thirty minutes so we can head over to the Capitol together.”
“Can you hide us out somewhere in the White House?” Malcolm asked. “We have to be here when Zach first arrives. Our guess is that they’re going to activate their plan immediately. If we can catch them in the act we may be able to keep ourselves from receiving life sentences at the federal pen.”
President Gray stared blankly at the wall. The White House was teeming with people, and it seemed like everywhere he walked there was someone in his way. An idea popped into his mind. It would be a tight fit for a few hours, but it was the one room where they would not be disturbed.
Ten minutes later the three of them were standing amongst a sea of suitcases in the Lincoln Bedroom of the White House. Guests of the sitting president typically used the room, but today it served as the moving room. The first couple’s belongings were in a holding pattern until the next day when they were scheduled to be picked up, but for now the room was the world’s swankiest storage facility. The green and brown floral patterned carpet could only be seen in spots thanks to the piles of luggage. They maneuvered around the bags to get to the cherry wood furniture upholstered in a milky white ivory fabric.
Anna glanced at the wall and noticed a signed copy of Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address. She thought it was very fitting for the moment upon which they were closing in on. Lincoln once possessed the same absolute certainty that what he was doing was best for the nation, and he was forced to tear the country apart with a brutal civil war. Were their own instincts as on target as Lincoln’s, or were they recklessly pursuing a selfish path more similar to Jefferson Davis? President Gray interrupted her thoughts.
“You can stay here until the President-Elect arrives. This is all my stuff so you probably won’t be disturbed. If someone does come in you can just hide behind one of the piles of luggage until they leave.” It was a ridiculous sounding statement, but it was true. “The movers aren’t scheduled to pick it up until tomorrow. Too much going on today,” President Gray said with a smirk on his face. He was proud of his joke.
“Thanks. It will work perfectly. Did you get our weapons back?” Malcolm asked. President Gray pointed to the cabinet behind the love seat. I had my secretary stick them in there. Don’t worry, she will keep her mouth shut. She likes the incoming guy less than we do.” He stepped over a few bags and headed towards the door. “Now I need to get going. I have an inauguration to attend.” The lock of the door clicked loudly into place as he left the room.
“Everything okay, sir?” Malcolm and Anna heard an unknown voice in the hallway.
“Yes, fine, Brian. The wife thought she left a personal item that she needed in one of the bags. Damned if I can find it amongst all that crap!”
They heard the President’s deft lie from the other side of the wall, and traded smiles. President Gray always worked best in spontaneous moments.
“The limo is ready to take you to the Capitol,” they heard the agent say as the sound of a door being opened was immediately followed by the President’s footsteps leading the way towards the North Portico.
***
President Gray could see the columns of the portico through the exterior glass doors as he mad
e his way down the elaborate hallway. Another Secret Service agent joined him so that he would be covered on both sides when he stepped outside. A service door suddenly opened in front of them and Jamal stepped out into the hallway, nearly bumping into the President.
“Sorry, sir.” The icy glare flashed for a moment, showing the briefest sign of disrespect. President Gray returned it with a knowing look. He was tempted to make a stupid comment, but he kept his mouth shut and continued his trek towards the waiting limo.
“Mr. President?” Jamal spoke to the back of President Gray.
“Yes, Jamal?” He swiveled his body around to face the traitor. Jamal’s chiseled figure was an intimidating figure in the hallway.
“Just wanted to check one thing, sir. I noticed that Director Ray was on the guest list this morning. Do I need to escort him out, or has he already left?”
“No, he’s gone. I just showed him out myself,” the President said tersely, not waiting for a response. The White House doors closed behind him, and he stepped outside. He saluted the ever-present Marine, and the door of the limo slammed shut behind him. He watched the figure of Jamal disappear into the White House. He felt like he was leaving the White House to an enemy. As the motorcade pulled into the street for the short trip to the Capitol he suddenly realized that he would never step foot inside the People’s Mansion again. His wife gripped his hand, sensing his sorrow.
Chapter 60
The massive crowd surrounding the Capitol Building extended well into the Mall and past the museums that stood on both sides of the street. The twenty-degree temperature, combined with the light snow covering the ground, allowed the early afternoon sun to reflect off the snow, lighting up the area like a bright summer day. It was as close to perfect as one could expect when the temperature was as low as it was.
Agent of Influence: A Thriller Page 39
