by Lisa Harris
“I suppose if I’d hung around in that shack you’d have disposed of me by now?”
“Now I don’t know why you’d say something like that.” He took a sip of his wine from the tapered glass he held. “Makes me sound…barbaric.”
“Maybe I should clarify for you, then. I’ll start with kidnapping and holding an American citizen for ransom,” Chad threw out.
Patrick’s brow rose. “I’d be happy to turn the tables back onto you with the evidence I’ve recently gathered on your involvement with embezzled aid funds.”
Natalie’s eyes widened as she looked at Chad. “Embezzled funds?”
“Didn’t your boyfriend tell you?”
“Don’t listen to him, Natalie,” Chad countered. “It’s nothing more than a bunch of lies.”
“It’s enough to have you arrested right now if I wanted to.”
“If that were true, then you wouldn’t have hidden me away in some godforsaken shack in the middle of nowhere. They’re lies and you know it,” Natalie countered. “Like the suicide of Ernest Ademola, for example.”
“His death was unfortunate, wasn’t it? Thankfully, the president had enough sense to commission me to take over once again as the head of security.”
Natalie felt her chest constrict. “What do you have planned, Patrick?”
Patrick glanced at the front door. “I think it’s time I called security—”
“Mr…Seko.” A balding gentleman who, according to his slurred speech and foul breath, had already had too much to drink, interrupted them. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“Mr. Abega, I’m sorry but—”
Chad nudged Natalie with his elbow. She pressed her lips together as he pulled her through the crowded entryway and they made their escape. She had wanted to confront Patrick over Rachel’s death, but Chad was right. Her losing her temper wouldn’t get them anywhere. Neither would their getting arrested. Their priority right now had to be to get to Stephen.
They rushed out the front door before Patrick had a chance to call security. She hurried down the marble staircase beside Chad, who pulled out the walkie-talkie Paul had given him. Once they were a safe distance from the guards, he clicked the Call button.
“What have you got?” Paul’s voice crackled from the other end.
“We have a problem. We have a meeting with Stephen now, but Patrick saw us. I don’t know how we’re going to be able to get back in and meet with Stephen without Patrick having us arrested.”
“Where were you planning to meet him?”
“On the north side of the veranda that runs along the back. He should be there right now.”
Natalie stood beside Chad, hidden in the shadows of a small grove of trees in the front yard as they waited for Paul’s advice. “If you can’t get to Stephen, then we need to get Stephen to you.”
“And how do we do that? We’re running out of time, and the president’s due to give his speech soon.”
“I want you to leave now. I’ll send the car back to the front of the house to pick you up.”
Five minutes later they were outside the gate in the back of the embassy van where Paul waited with his surveillance team.
“What did you mean when you said we need Stephen to come to us?” Natalie asked.
Paul set his walkie-talkie on the bench beside him. “In exchange for extra security, the president is allowing my marines access to the palace. With the description Natalie gave us this afternoon, they should have no problem bringing Stephen in.”
The back of the van opened again. Two marines thrust Stephen into the vehicle.
“What’s going on?” Stephen jerked his arm away and sat down hard against the bench lining the side of the van.
Paul nodded to Natalie.
“We ran into Patrick,” she began. “We couldn’t get to you.”
The veins in Stephen’s neck pulsed. “The president’s getting ready to give his speech in ten minutes. I have to be there.”
“So that’s when they’re planning to shoot him?”
“No.”
“Come on, Stephen.” Natalie clasped the bench. “We’re on your side. Tell us what’s going to happen.”
Stephen’s expression was marked with defeat as he stared at the floor. “It’s not during the speech. It will be afterward, as the president leaves.”
“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. How? A car bomb? A sharpshooter?”
Stephen hesitated, then nodded. “There’s a sniper set up on the third floor of the palace. I’m planning to take him out before the president leaves the building.”
Paul’s eyes widened. “Take him out? Now you’re sounding like James Bond.”
“With the threat neutralized, I’ll drive the president’s car—which will be the third in line in a convoy of seven—as scheduled.”
“Then you’ll be free to get the president to safety.”
Stephen nodded.
“And with the sniper in custody,” Chad added, “Paul should have enough leverage to bring in the others.”
“I can do this myself.” Stephen eyed the closed door. “But I’m running out of time.”
“Plans are changing a bit. We’ll take care of the sniper; you drive the president out of here as scheduled. We’ll have reinforcements meet you outside the palace gates.” Paul signaled to the other end of the crowded van. “Are you boys ready for some more action?”
The two fatigue-clad marines who’d brought in Stephen waited for their orders.
“Did you have any problems getting into the palace earlier?” Paul asked.
“None at all, sir,” one of them answered.
Stephen still didn’t look pleased. “You know you could get into a lot of trouble for this. There are those who will do anything to ensure the president’s death.”
“From what we’ve heard, if we don’t go in we could get in even more trouble.”
“There is one more thing you should know going into this.”
“What’s that?”
“The opposition isn’t who’s behind this attempted assassination.”
“It’s not Bernard Okella?”
Stephen shook his head. “Bernard Okella will be lucky if he captures a quarter of the votes. He was never the competition.”
“Then who is?”
“General Dumasi.”
Natalie tried to digest Stephen’s words as she watched the two marines whisk him out of the van. The general’s involvement with the election put an entirely new light on the situation. It wasn’t the first time a military leader had attempted to take over the government in this vast continent. Coups and attempted coups had ravaged Africa from Nigeria to Madagascar to the Central African Republic. The continuous cycle of corruption, coups, and countercoups was a difficult chain to break.
Even President Tau’s less than ethical takeover a decade and a half ago was still fresh in the minds of the people as they wondered whether or not he was going to keep his promises of the first fair election this country had ever seen. One thing was certain: if the general had the backing of the military and a foreign investment group, the impending uprising was going to be worse than any of them had imagined.
Natalie edged forward on her seat. “Do you think he’s telling the truth?”
Paul shrugged. “I have to say it makes sense in light of all that’s happened the past twenty-four hours. What if the riots and following negotiations by the general were not by chance, but a well thoughtout and executed plan?”
“Helping General Dumasi win the people’s favor and giving him an even greater chance to take over the country.”
Paul tuned in his radio to the local station so they could listen to the president’s live address, which was being broadcast across the country. While the polls had officially closed over an hour ago, the president thanked the people and assured them that each one of their votes would count.
He sounded confident. Too confident, in her opinion. No one had forgotten how the pres
ident had taken over his office. How much had President Tau really changed? Enough to be willing to step down from office? And what if the general forced him to step down?
From Natalie’s vantage point in the van she could see the long driveway leading up to the house. The massive structure itself was partially blocked by a row of towering palm trees. She checked her watch. If they were still on schedule, the president would make his exit within the next five minutes. Already the presidential motorcade had begun to line up along the circular drive.
Paul’s walkie-talkie clicked and he picked it up. “Go ahead.”
“We’ve got a problem, sir. We’re here on the third floor, but there’s no sign of a sharpshooter anywhere.”
“Are you sure?”
“We’ve checked every room on this side of the house.”
Paul’s gaze snapped to Natalie. “Stephen was lying to us?”
“I don’t know. I…” She stared out the window of the van, unsure what to think.
“The cars are in position,” Paul said. “We don’t have much time.”
“It looks as if the president is leaving the palace and heading for his car.”
“Keep your eye on him.”
“We’ll try, but I’m not sure we can. The crowd is heavy and they all want to shake his hand. It’s chaos, sir.”
“Well, at least the sniper’s going to have problems picking him off.”
A burst of static filled the line. “I’m sorry…sir…we’ve lost him.”
Paul grabbed a pair of night-vision binoculars and stepped out of the van.
A flash of light lit up the night in front of the presidential palace, followed by a deafening bang. The explosion shook the ground.
“What just happened out there?” Paul shouted into the walkie-talkie.
Natalie grabbed a set of binoculars and jumped out of the van behind Chad. She counted the cars through the smoke. The president’s car was engulfed in flames.
SIXTY-TWO
FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 8:20 P.M.
OUTSIDE THE PRESIDENTIAL PALACE
Chad jumped out of the van and stared in disbelief at the black-and-gray smoke billowing from the president’s car. A sick feeling washed over him. All their efforts to save the president had just blown up with one well-timed explosive device.
Natalie stumbled beside him, and he tightened his grip on her forearm.
“Stephen lied to us.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “And now the president’s dead.”
Paul shouted into his walkie-talkie to the marines who were still on the third floor of the palace. “I want a play-by-play from your position of what’s happening on the lawn. Once you see us drive in, get down there as fast as you can. I’ve got UN troops on standby that I’m calling in now. Everyone else, let’s go.”
Chad helped Natalie back into the van, then jumped in behind her and slammed the door as the driver started the engine. Centrifugal force slammed them against the side of the van as the driver spun around and headed for the palace. Paul signaled to the driver to stop at the security gate, where he flashed his identification at the guard. After an intense minute of arguing, the man finally opened the gate.
Chad stared ahead at the smoldering car that sat on the other side of the drive. Stephen had played them all by sending them on a wild goose chase.
In the lights of the entrance, he caught Natalie’s glazed look and squeezed her hand. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m just ready for this to be over.”
When the van stopped, he jumped out, then quickly covered his mouth with his sleeve. Smoke poured from the vehicle, obscuring those who’d been injured from the impact of the explosion. The charred vehicle was completely destroyed and had clearly left no survivors.
A quick assessment of the grounds revealed complete chaos. They’d be lucky if they didn’t find more casualties among the injured. Guests ran across the grass toward the front gates, apparently afraid another bomb might detonate. When all this was over, they were going to have more to deal with than just the physical wounds. In this situation neither position nor status mattered; trauma would affect all of them.
Paul barked out orders to the marines on the ground, then turned to Chad. “I need you to deal with the injured. I’ll try and see if there are any other doctors here.”
“I’m on it.”
Chad knelt down beside a man in a three-piece suit with burn marks on his face. Natalie and one of the marines crouched down beside him.
“What can we do to help?” Natalie asked.
“We need to treat the more serious patients first, which is primarily going to be burn victims and those hit with shrapnel. See if you can find some room-temperature bottled water and pass it out to any of the responsive victims. They need to use it to flush any burns and then drink the rest to ensure they stay hydrated, which can be a concern with burns. Get whoever you can to help you, because I’ll be sending you more victims.”
He pointed to a clear area a good twenty-five feet from the blast sight and addressed the marine as he moved onto the next patient. “We need to get these injured people away from here in case there’s another explosion. Anyone who is injured but still able to get up needs to go with you there. I’ll deal with those who can’t move.”
While he didn’t expect chemical or biological agents to be involved, he wasn’t taking any chances. Even without them, there would still be large quantities of particulates in the air.
“Excuse me, sir?”
Chad looked up from a twentysomething-year-old in front of him who was having trouble breathing to see one of the uniformed presidential guards. Maybe Paul had managed to find a medic. “Do you have medical experience?”
“No. I need you to leave the grounds immediately. I have orders to secure the scene and remove all nonessential personnel from the premises.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. I’m a doctor and I’m treating this woman.”
“General Dumasi is in charge of this situation now, which means you and the marines need to leave immediately.”
Chad ignored the man as he unclasped the woman’s bracelet from around her wrist in case of swelling. Bureaucracy was bad enough here on a good day. He wasn’t leaving these people behind because of some general’s lust for power.
“Sir, I’m asking you to leave now. If you don’t, I’ll be forced to place you under arrest.”
“You just don’t get it, do you?” Chad stood to face the man, using the six inches he towered over him to his advantage. “There’s got to be at least two dozen people here who were just injured in a blast that killed your president. I’m not leaving until I know everyone has been taken care of.”
The guard reached for Chad’s arm, but Chad jerked away before he could grasp it. “Don’t even try it.”
Paul appeared from behind the man. “What’s going on?”
“Apparently Stephen was telling the truth about one thing.” Chad spoke above the growing clatter. “General Dumasi thinks he’s in charge now and doesn’t want our help.”
A UN-marked helicopter whirled above them, drowning out any further arguments as it prepared to land on the palace grounds.
Chad went back to work on the woman while Paul dealt with the guard. “We’re dealing with dozens of foreign delegates and other government officials here, and I can promise that you don’t want to see your face splattered in newspapers all over the world as the one responsible for their deaths.”
“I’m under strict orders to—”
“I don’t care what your orders are.” Paul stood his ground. “We’re going to care for the injured and evacuate as many of the delegates as we can by air and get them somewhere safe.”
A UN officer dressed in fatigues and a blue helmet jumped from the helicopter as the rotor blades began to slow. With the guard seemingly put in his place, Paul hurried off to coordinate the evacuation.
A car door banged shut behind them and Chad glanced over. At first he focused on Natalie, who
was walking toward him. Then his attention shifted beyond her to the car directly behind the charred vehicle.
President Tau stood beside the car looking dazed.
Chad blinked his eyes and shook his head. It couldn’t be the president. He was dead.
Natalie caught his shocked expression and looked behind her.
Someone shouted.
Chad hollered for Paul, then darted toward the car with Natalie right behind him. They had to get the president to safety.
President Tau slumped against the car.
Chad heard the shot a split second before the president dropped to the ground. Adrenalin surged through his body and he shifted toward Natalie. There was a sniper and she stood less than ten feet from the president. “Natalie, get down!”
He pushed her to the ground, then ran for the car. Several shots rang out as the marines sighted the sniper and opened fire.
Ignoring the danger, Chad dropped to his knees to examine the president, who was still conscious. His unexpected move as the shooter took aim had probably saved his life. “My name is Dr. Talcott. I’m here to help.”
“It’s my leg.”
“I want you to lie still so I can evaluate the extent of your injury.”
Chad ripped off the pant leg and found where the bullet had lodged. He pulled off his shirt and tore off a strip. Using it as a bandage, he pressed it firmly against the wound.
“Are you hurt anywhere else, sir?”
The burly leader shook his head and attempted to sit up.
Chad pressed gently against the man’s shoulder. “Not yet. I’m going to see that you get out of here as soon as possible, but until then I need you to lie still and relax.”
Keeping pressure on the wound, he studied the sloping grounds that led up toward the palace, where shadows played against the walls from the outside lights. His breath caught. The marines had taken down the shooter and were now leading him across the lawn.
Patrick.
Paul appeared above Chad. There’d be time to absorb the implications later. “How is he?”
“Lucky,” Chad said. “The bullet went through his leg. He’s lost a lot of blood, but he’ll live if we can get him out of here.”
