The Rowen (A Rossler Foundation Mystery Book 7)

by JC Ryan

  Jack swallowed hard as the responsibility for the lives of America’s top two leaders settled firmly on his shoulders.

  “We’ll see you at the rendezvous then,” Laurie confirmed.

  “See you there Ms. President,” Jack responded, “God speed.”

  Chapter 27- Come right this way

  Jack looked over at Peter, who sat as if shell-shocked. “This isn’t going to be a walk in the park, Jack,” he said slowly. “This could turn into a bloody massacre.”

  “We’ll have to see that it doesn’t. Let’s go. Get the pilots to warm up the engines again.”

  They left the conference room on board Air Force One still dressed as mechanics, carefully concealing their guns. Peter headed toward the cockpit, gathering the agents he came across as he went. Once he had them all around him, he briefed them on the plan and sent them to their positions.

  Jack was already approaching the rendezvous with President Campbell’s group when Peter took his place in the cargo hold along with a few agents prepared to lay down protective fire for those who would be boarding.

  He heard the engines start up and saw a few people near the cargo-hold approach the military guards. He couldn’t hear what was said, but it looked like they were demanding to know what was going on.

  Time to play my part again.

  Descending the cargo ramp while appearing to wipe his hands on a ‘grease rag,’ he approached the guard most in danger of being overrun by those surrounding him. “What’s the problem?” he shouted over the noise of the engines.

  “We want to know what’s going on!” the man said pointing at the guard, “he says this is routine maintenance, but I don’t believe him.”

  Peter looked over the motley crew. Since taking over the base, they had all found real weapons to replace their bats and pitchforks… guns—military issue guns.

  “Well, he’s telling you the truth!”

  “I don’t think I believe you either!” the man retorted, poking Peter in the chest with his index finger for emphasis.

  Peter restrained himself from breaking the man’s arm. “Why not?” Peter questioned acting genuinely surprised.

  “I’ve never seen any airplane get so much attention from so many people.”

  Peter could see this man was going to be trouble. “Sir,” Peter said firmly, “this plane carries the most powerful person in the world, the President of the United States. Nothing is ever overlooked when servicing the President’s plane—everything has to be in perfect working order. That’s our job.

  “Can you imagine what would happen if we let our President die because his airplane wasn’t serviced and checked properly?”

  The man thought for a moment. “Well, why do they keep testing the engines? Isn’t once enough?”

  “They test them after every adjustment to make sure that the work they performed didn’t have a negative effect on any other system. Aren’t you one of General Hayden’s troops—President Hayden I should say?”

  The man stiffened proudly, “Yes, I am.”

  “General Hayden just became the President.” Do you want to explain to him why Air Force One isn’t prepared for use when he needs it? Or do you want to be the one who gives him a firsthand report that the service has been completed, and Air Force One is at his disposal?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Since you’re so concerned about the President’s plane, how about I take you aboard and assign one of the mechanics to give you a thorough tour and explanation of everything that’s been done to ready the plane. Then you can give a full and complete report as to flight readiness to President Hayden when you next see him.”

  Looking around at his colleagues for agreement, which he received, the man grinned. “I’ll take you up on that offer!” he said enthusiastically.

  Peter led him up the ramp into the plane—just in the nick of time too—he could see Jack approaching with the service cart.

  They stepped around a pallet of boxes to reach the front of the bay. Peter called one of the ‘mechanics’ over, “Smith,” he yelled, not knowing the agent’s name, “I’m turning this fine gentleman, a representative of President Hayden’s over to your capable hands. Give him a complete tour of Air Force One—he needs to give President Hayden a flight readiness report ASAP.

  The agent smiled in understanding. “Of, course Jonesy! Come right this way sir,” he said to the man.

  “That’s right kind of you fellows; I guess there really is nothing going on here after all. Hey!” he screamed as he found himself face down on the floor and felt the cold metal of handcuffs snap around his wrists. “What’s the meaning of this? Help! It’s a trap!” But the sound of his voice was already muffled by the rag shoved into his mouth.

  He was out of sight of his colleagues, and no one could hear his calls for help over the roar of the engines.

  “Leave him be; they’re here,” Peter said turning back to the cargo ramp just as all hell broke loose.

  Chapter 28- Hand me the scalpel

  Jack parked the service cart and its attached boxes as close to the ramp as he could. The Secret Service agents got out first, then Rick, followed by the President, Daniel, the two Secretaries and the last two agents.

  Although they were all dressed as mechanics, their feet had barely touched the ramp before one of Hayden’s troops recognized them and opened fire. Two of the leading agents were hit in the first barrage of fire.

  Suddenly, the President bent over sharply and fell forward. Rick threw himself on her shielding her with his body.

  Jack half turned and started firing at the attackers with one hand while pushing the Secretaries forward shouting “Go, go, go!”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed two of the agents had already surrounded Daniel and were dragging him up the ramp.

  “Take off!” Jack screamed into his mic. Within seconds, the huge aircraft began to move.

  Secret Service agents lined the top of the ramp, firing at the men running towards the plane, dropping several which slowed those behind them. Two agents ran down the ramp to the President’s side, one of them fell as a bullet hit him in the chest. The other reached the President, lifted her in his arms, and ran up the ramp as it began to close.

  Jack, still firing, jumped onto the ramp and pulled a blood-covered Rick away from the edge.

  “Leave me, sir, take care of the President,” Rick said.

  “We don’t leave anyone behind, Rick, you know that,” Jack yelled as he flung the boy’s body over his shoulders and started up the ramp. He felt a bullet graze his left leg and stumbled for a moment but quickly regained his balance and kept running.

  Hayden’s troops reached the plane, and about a dozen of them jumped onto the edge of the ramp. But just as the ramp leveled out, Air Force One accelerated for take-off, and everyone at the end of the ramp was thrown off onto the ground.

  Having made it further up the ramp, Jack was thrown onto his back, landing on Rick, who screamed in agony and then mercifully lost consciousness. Grabbing a tie-down ring with one hand and wrapping his legs around Rick’s torso, Jack kept them from rolling out the back of the plane as its angle increased with take-off.

  He saw three of Hayden’s men slide to the end of the ramp where two were thrown out onto the tarmac. The third clung to the side of the rising door, half in, half out of the plane. Before the plane leveled out for cruising, the man’s agony was over, as his body was crushed by the powerful hydraulics that operated the ramp.

  Just as Jack felt the pressure ease from his body when the plane leveled out, gunfire erupted over his head. He rolled behind some cargo containers, dragging Rick with him and saw some of Hayden’s troops, who were inside, had regained their feet as had the agents and were exchanging fire.

  Bullets were striking randomly throughout the hold.

  I hope they don’t hit anything vital! Jack thought as a piece of the wooden pallet splintered next to him.

  He reeled
back, pulled Rick deeper behind the pallet and peeked around the other side. As near as he could tell, five of Hayden’s men had made it onto the plane. Based on the rate of fire being returned, he guessed that they were severely out-gunned, so it was only a matter of time before the fight was over.

  From his position, he saw several agents making their way around behind Hayden’s men. Jack fired three quick rounds, blowing off half the head of one of the unwelcome passengers and hitting another in the shoulder. His fire kept their attention away from the approaching agents.

  One of the men made a run for a better position and was picked off by an agent; another fell to the marksmanship of one of the military guards. One left.

  Jack noticed that it was becoming a little harder to breathe and realized that the plane must have passed twelve-thousand feet. Something’s wrong; the compartment hasn’t pressurized! We have to get out of here before we die of hypoxia!

  Just then he heard a minor explosion and the plane tilted to the left.

  Sounds as if we’ve lost an engine! Some of the shots from Hayden’s men on the ground could have damaged it.

  When the plane tilted, it threw some of them off balance, and they fell to the floor. The remaining man of Hayden’s outfit slid from behind his cover toward him.

  Jack had held on to the cargo straps and pulled himself to his feet in time to kick the gun out of the man’s hand.

  The man grabbed Jack’s ankle to stop his slide and pulled him down. They wrestled across the floor—the man got on top of Jack.

  He grabbed Jack’s head and tried to slam it into the floor, but Jack struck him with the palm of his right hand in the throat, breaking his larynx and cutting off his air supply. The man grabbed at his throat, making gurgling sounds as he fell to the floor. He would be dead within minutes.

  The plane had leveled out and was stable.

  Jack got up and made a quick assessment—two of the agents were down—wounded. The remaining three were in good shape. Hayden’s men were all dead.

  “The altitude and pressure—we have to get out of here!” He shouted.

  The three able agents helped the two wounded while Jack went to help Rick. They needed to get out of the cargo area, but, due to the dropping pressure, they didn’t make it to the cabin—all of them collapsed short of the door.

  ***

  Max and the doctor worked feverishly over the President trying to stabilize her.

  “One bullet went through her right lung and exited through the right shoulder,” the doctor reported.

  “Another is lodged somewhere in her abdomen; she’s bleeding severely. Have you ever assisted in surgery, Max?”

  “Simple surgeries, yes; but nothing like this. But, I’m probably the best qualified you’ve got at the moment.”

  “So be it. Can you administer anesthetic.”

  “Yes, sir but minor surgery only—you’ll have to guide me.”

  “Good. Get it going; I’ll prep her for surgery.”

  Max placed a mask over Laurie’s face, and the doctor quickly inserted an IV, injecting several medications and then wiped the blood from her abdomen as best he could.

  The doctor called to an agent, “Can you please come and apply firm pressure to her shoulder wound—try to slow or stop the bleeding. Max, hand me the scalpel.”

  Chapter 29- A lion examining its prey

  Hayden stood frozen at the demolished gate of Joint Base Andrews, the engine of his car still running. His aides stood behind him, watching Air Force One’s nose wheels lifting off the ground as the wings caught air and pushed the plane aloft.

  His driver quietly eased himself back into the driver’s seat while the General’s aides swallowed hard and stepped back. Who knew how he would react to this? For fear of his wrath, everyone was silent.

  Hayden stood watching until Air Force One was out of sight then turned around, his face was nearly purple with rage; he was shaking. His aides took a few steps back.

  “Get me back to the White House—now!” he hissed through clenched teeth.

  When he was settled in the seat of the limousine, he called his top commander at Andrews. “Who was on that plane?”

  The aides held their breath while the General listened to the report.

  “Are you positive it was them and not decoys?” He listened for another minute and then hung up the phone without another word.

  He sat quietly for a few minutes, but his stiff posture and constantly working jaw muscles told his aids it was all a façade—the calm before the storm.

  “Brandon,” he said quietly to one aide, “call the senior staff. There will be a meeting in one hour in the situation room.”

  “Yes, sir,” he responded and started making calls.

  Hayden was silent for the rest of the trip. While the General’s rage was frightening, this calm silence was terrifying.

  When he reached the White House, he entered the Oval Office, ordered his aides to ‘keep everyone out’ and shut the doors.

  He descended the stairs into the Reagan tunnel and walked its length, coming out where the fiercest of the fighting took place—where the President had gotten away from him. He paced between the bodies. “Shit,” was all he said and then returned to the tunnel and the Oval Office.

  Brandon was waiting for him when he returned. “I thought I told you to keep everyone out!”

  “Yes sir, you did, but we became concerned when you didn’t answer, and I came in to check on you. The others have gathered in the Situation Room as you ordered.”

  “Let’s go then,” he led the way out of the office, down the staircase to the Situation Room.

  The room grew deadly silent when he walked in; no one knew what to expect next. The General appeared calm and totally in control— to them, a truly petrifying occurrence.

  “Air Force One, carrying Laurie Campbell, Daniel Rossler, and God knows who else, lifted off from Andrews less than two hours ago, I don’t know how they got out of the White House or how they gained access to that plane. It doesn’t matter—what’s done is done.

  “What matters now is what we do next.” He paced slowly around the table—a lion examining its prey.

  ***

  Just as the doctor began tying off bleeders in the President’s abdomen, an agent carrying Rick, rushed in. “Bullet wound to the chest.” Several others followed carrying more agents.

  “Shit!” responded the doctor as blood sprayed out of the President’s gut splattering on the wall. “She’s sprung another leak!”

  Max quickly stopped the flow of blood from the ruptured artery and the doctor repaired it posthaste.

  “Max, she’s under, I’ll take it from here, see what you can do for the boy. Agent!” he was speaking to the man who carried Rick in, “Get over here!”

  The agent paled but stepped up to the table that held the body of the President. “Is she alive?” he whispered, taking the suction tube from Max and watching as blood flowed through it from the abdominal cavity.

  “Barely. Hand me instruments as I tell you what I need, and do exactly what I tell you when I tell you. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Max! How’s the boy?”

  “Multiple gunshot wounds, the worst is to the chest. Preparing to tie off bleeders.”

  “Who else in here is wounded?” the doctor demanded as he finished with the last bleeder and moved to inspect Laurie’s spleen.

  “I have a wound from earlier but the bleeding has stopped,” Daniel said, “and I have basic first aid skills; I’ll check the others for you.”

  Another agent stepped into the room, just in time to hear Daniel’s offer. “Stay where you are sir, I’m Stan. I’m trained as a First Responder. I’ll check everyone.”

  “What about the agents that were just brought in? Are they injured?” the doctor asked.

  “Most of them have minor injuries. Jack Symonds took a bullet through the left calf; I will bring him in shortly. The cargo hold is riddled with bullet hol
es and couldn’t be pressurized. They couldn’t make it out before the plane gained too much altitude—they’re unconscious but still breathing. We brought them into the cabin.”

  “They’ll be alright before too long - although they may wake up with one hell of a headache.” He told the agent which instrument he needed next and began removing the spleen.

  “Alright, if you’re not injured and not here to help, clear-out and give us some room to work,” the doctor ordered.

  While the doctor fought to save Laurie’s life and Max worked to stabilize Rick, Daniel watched as Stan treated several agents with bullet wounds in arms and legs. Most of them were grazes with only one that tore through an agent’s wrist shattering the bone.

  Stan had tried to check Daniel first, but Daniel would have none of it. He insisted that the recently injured took precedence over him. Their discussion started to become heated until one of the wounded agents stepped in.

  “Excuse me, sirs. My wound is only a scrape on my side. Let me check Vice President Rossler’s shoulder while you start on the others. I have some first-aid training and can let you know if it needs immediate attention.”

  The young agent helped Daniel to take off his shirt.

  “Tell me what you see, Ken,” Stan ordered.

  “Yes sir, give me a moment to get to the wound.”

  Daniel winced when the blood-soaked bandages were removed.

  Just then the doctor uttered a string of swear words that would make a sailor blush. “There is only so much damage a human body can withstand and only so much I can heal! What the hell am I supposed to do with this …” and he seemed to run out of steam. “I’m sorry; I’m so sorry Madame President,” he whispered. “There is only so much I can do.”

  “Doc?” Stan shouted. “Can I help?”

  “No. Only God alone can help now.”

  “What is it?”

  “Her liver — her right kidney — her heart … where do you want me to start?”

  Stepping beside the agent helping the doc Stan said, “the others are stable and can be treated with first aid. I’ll help.”