That gave him a thought. He reached for the phone again and grabbed his little address book. He thumbed through the pages until he found the number he wanted and dialed. Jonas Shillings was about to get an earful.
“Hello?”
“Shillings, what are you people doing up there? I ask you to do one simple thing and you give me this?”
“Now, hold on a minute, Gavin. I haven’t done anything. How dare you call me at home and disturb my family like this?”
“How dare I? How dare I? Shillings, have you forgotten about the pictures that I have in my possession? Have you forgotten about the taped phone conversations I have with you and a certain underage young lady? I bet your boy Larson would love to get ahold of those. Maybe he could find someone other than the PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES TO INTERVIEW!”
“Gavin, you need to calm down. Right now. You need to understand that when the president of the United States calls you personally and says he’s coming to your network to do an interview—not asks, tells you he’s coming—there’s not much you can do about it. Larson is the toughest, most indignant, disrespectful journalist on the planet. I would think that you would be thanking me for not letting someone like Janice Winters do the interview.”
Shillings had a point there. Winters was the complete and total opposite of Larson. She would have probably tried to help Walker make his case.
“I can’t help it,” Shillings continued, “if this man who calls himself the Prophet decided to call in and turn everything upside down.”
“Maybe he wouldn’t have felt the need to call in if your man had better sense than to demand that Walker present him to the American people.”
Shillings was quiet after that.
“Tell you what, Jonas, I’m going to do you a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m going to give you the opportunity to have Joe on tomorrow to start bad-mouthing this Prophet. And you better make him look good.”
Shillings clicked his tongue. “I’ve already spoken with him. He’ll be here tomorrow at five o’clock.”
Pemberton hung up the phone. He was still furious. And why hadn’t Smith called him back? This was ridiculous! He decided to go pack a bag. He was going to Washington.
He was in the bedroom when the phone rang. He hurried back out into the living room and snatched up the receiver. “This is Pemberton.”
“It’s Alex Smith.”
He had to control himself. He wanted to scream into the phone like he had with Shillings. But Alex Smith was not someone he figured he needed to make angry. “Yes, Ms. Smith. I’ve been trying to reach you all day. Is everything all right?”
“Everything is fine. I was actually calling to tell you some good news.”
He could use some right about now. “Really? What’s that?”
“Your order came in today. And actually, I was able to get you a buy-one-get-one-free promotion.”
His order? Buy one, get one free? What the heck was she talking about? Then it clicked. She was talking in code. And that meant that Sykes was dead. And so was someone else. But who? Not Walker. He knew that. “Can you elaborate?”
“On the free item, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“Sure. It’s a company promotion.”
Company? He thought for a minute. Suddenly, he knew. Jennings! “Really? A Company promotion, huh?”
“Yes, sir.”
Pemberton was so excited, he almost forgot about Walker and this whole business with the Prophet. But then it came back to him. And now he had another idea. “Listen, Ms. Smith, I’m going to be traveling to where you are located. I’ll be arriving tomorrow morning. I’d actually like to sit down and place another order with you. Can we meet?”
“Let me know when you get into town. I’m sure we can arrange something.”
“Good. Then I’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”
The line went dead.
Sykes was dead. And so was Jennings. He didn’t know whether to laugh for his good fortune or cry because of Shillings’s stupidity. It didn’t matter. Either way, he needed a drink.
He walked to the bar against the wall and poured three fingers of twenty-year-old scotch. He sat back down in his chair and looked at the shot-out TV. He laughed out loud. His third wife had bought that TV. He hated it then. It was too big. Seventy-inch plasma screen…bah! Who needed something that big?
For a second he was frustrated that he was going to have to go buy a new one. Joe was going to be on CNN tomorrow. But then he remembered. He had just decided to go to Washington. He didn’t need a new TV. He was going to be there in person. And he was going to be there when the Prophet gave his little speech, too. He wanted to make sure he had a front-row seat when Alex Smith put a bullet in the Prophet’s head.
CHAPTER 61
Bethesda, Maryland
Boz came as soon as he heard about Jennings and Sykes. He and President Walker had just returned from the news station to the White House when Chief of Staff Hardy met them at the entrance to the West Wing. He told them about Sykes, and that Jennings had been taken to Bethesda. Walker had insisted that he go to the hospital with Boz, but Boz wouldn’t listen.
“Mr. President, the woman is one of the most highly trained assassins the CIA has ever seen. She’s already caused a lot of damage tonight. Please…the safest place for you to be is here in the White House.”
Walker finally agreed to stay behind. But only if Boz promised to call him with an update the moment he had any information. Boz had given his word.
When he got to the hospital, the entire place was on lockdown. He was glad to see that. He spoke with the marine at the guard station that had been set up at the front entrance and told him who he was. The guard called it in on the radio. The radio crackled back, announcing that Boz was clear to enter. Keene met him halfway down the hall.
“I guess you’ve heard.”
Boz nodded. “Hardy told us when we got back to the residence. How is he?”
“He’s going to be fine. He took one in the upper chest, just above his collarbone. It was through and through. The bullet missed everything. But one inch in any other direction…”
“That’s good to hear. Where is he?”
“They just brought him to a room. They want to keep him overnight just to make sure nothing else is wrong. But they said he could leave tomorrow if everything checks out.”
“And Sykes is dead?”
“He was dead when he hit the floor. She cut his throat.”
“What happened, Jon?”
Boz spent the next ten minutes listening to Keene catch him up to speed. When Keene finished, Boz asked him what the plan was.
“I don’t have a plan, Boz. Every time we’ve tried to get out in front of her, she’s already one step ahead. I mean, we knew she was here in Washington. And we were betting she’d come after Sykes.”
“And you were right about that. She did.”
Keene shook his head. “Yeah, but we were wrong about where. I mean, how did she even know that Sykes was staying at Jennings’s?”
“I don’t know. But this isn’t your fault.”
“That’s what everyone keeps saying.”
Boz knew Keene was beating himself up over it. But if they were going to get through this, Keene needed to be on top of his game. Not doubting himself. “I’m only going to say this once. So pay attention.”
Keene just looked at him.
“Jon, you’re the best operative I’ve ever seen. I mean it. I’ve never met anyone with your level of skill. I’ve never met anyone with your intuition. Your instincts are impeccable. I’d be scared to death to ever get into an actual fistfight with you, for fear you’d literally rip my head off. You’re quite possibly the best soldier the US military has ever seen. You’re definitely the best CIA agent who’s ever lived.”
“So?” Keene rolled his eyes.
“So get your head out of your rear end and start acting like it. You k
now as well as anyone that you can’t control everything. You just have to roll with it. And trust that God’s plan is being worked out.”
Keene looked at him and started laughing.
“What?” Boz said.
Keene shook his head. “That’s about the worst motivational speech I’ve ever heard.”
“Yeah, well…”
Keene turned and started walking down the hall. “Let’s go, Tony Robbins.”
Boz hurried to catch up. “Where are we going?”
Keene put his arm around him. “I forgot to tell you. There is some good news tonight. Your boy Eli woke up a little while ago. They just told me on the way out here to meet you.”
Boz felt a huge sense of joy and gratitude well up inside him. “Thank You, Lord. Thank you.” He pulled out his sat-phone to call the president, as he’d promised.
Keene waited outside the door while Boz went in. Boz had invited him to come in with him, but Keene knew that Boz and Eli were close. Eli was like a nephew to Boz. He wanted to give them a minute before he came in. But he wanted to come in, for sure. He’d actually wanted to shake the man’s hand and thank him for what he’d done during the invasion. If it hadn’t been for Eli hijacking the entire Royal Navy and coming to America’s rescue, who knew what would’ve happened? But more personally, Eli had saved Megan’s life. And so Keene wanted Eli to know that he would forever be in Eli’s debt.
He heard Boz call from inside the room for him to come in. He opened the door and stepped inside. Eli was sitting up in bed with his shirt off. He smiled. “So you’re the real Jason Bourne.”
Keene gave a short laugh. “I don’t know about that.” He stuck his hand out. “I’m Jon Keene, Eli. It’s an honor to finally meet you.”
Eli took his hand. “The honor is mine, Jon. And by the way, that was Megan who said that. Not me.”
Keene shook his head. “Um…How’s that?”
“Jason Bourne. That was Megan.” Eli started flipping his hand back and forth and looking up, like he was thinking out a math problem. “See, I told her I was the real 007. Then she told me that you were the real Jason Bourne. One of us said that Boz was the real Jack Ryan—except that Boz never became president, which left her being one of the girls from Charlie’s Angels—I didn’t mention that, by the way. I think she might’ve shot me….”
At this point, both Keene and Boz were laughing.
“Anyway, we left the whole conversation at my wanting to finally meet you. And now here you are,” Eli finished.
Keene reached down and took Eli’s hand in a tight grasp. And then he clasped his left hand over top, holding. “I can’t ever repay you for what you did for our country. You saved our lives.”
Eli nodded. “Just doing my job, mate. Glad I could help.”
Keene continued to hold on. “And what you did in Raleigh, saving Megan like that…I owe you more than—”
Eli cut him off. “Hey, that’s what brothers do. And from what I’m told, you were the one who saved us.”
Keene locked eyes with Eli and knew right then that a friendship had been forged that would never be shaken.
“Are you girls going to blow smoke up each other’s skirts all night?”
They all turned around to see Kevin Jennings standing in the doorway. Keene couldn’t believe his eyes. He was both angry and astonished. “What in the heck are you doing in here? Does your doctor know where you are?”
Jennings looked at him with the same chastising look he had seen a thousand times. “Jon, when are you going to learn? I’m the director of the Central Intelligence Agency. I do what I want. I’m fine. I got shot in the shoulder. I’ll be out of here by tomorrow. Besides, I heard Eli was awake.” He shifted his focus to Eli. “How you feeling, son?”
“I’m good. Thanks for having them take care of me.”
“You bet,” Jennings said. Then, “Jon, did you tell him?”
It hit Keene immediately what Jennings was asking. Eli was a former British naval officer. He had coordinated the Royal Navy’s rescue of the United States with Bob Sykes. The two were probably friends. He shook his head no.
“Eli, I have some bad news,” he said. “Bob Sykes was killed tonight.”
Eli hung his head and took a deep breath and let it out again. “How?”
Keene clenched his teeth together. “The same woman who put you and Megan in here.”
“And did you catch her?”
“No.”
Eli shifted in the bed and turned his head away. “Right. Well, Bob was a great man.” There was a catch in his voice. “The world will miss him.”
Keene reached over and put his hand on Eli’s shoulder. “We’ll all miss him.”
They were all silent for a moment.
It was Eli who broke the silence. “I’m sure, then, by now you’re probably aware that Jake Irving is caught up in this.”
“Yes,” Jennings said. “The last few days since you’ve been out have been exciting.”
“Did he have anything to do with Bob’s death?”
“Probably,” Keene said. “He might not have ordered it. But he knew it was coming.”
“Then he shouldn’t be too surprised when I come for him,” Eli said. “Where are we on everything?”
Keene caught Eli up to speed on all that had happened over the last few days. When he finished, Eli shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t understand how anyone could be so selfish and stupid and smart, all at the same time,” he said, referring to Pemberton, Nolan, and Irving.
By this time, Jennings had pulled up a chair alongside Keene and Boz. The impromptu gathering had now turned into an ad hoc strategy meeting.
Jennings looked over at Boz. “Hey, what happened over at CNN?”
Boz’s hand went to his forehead. “Oh my goodness! I completely forgot.”
Now it was Boz’s turn to fill everyone in. He told them how Walker had jousted back and forth with Larson, and how Walker had all but put Larson in his place when Larson had brought the conversation back to the Prophet. He finished with the Prophet’s announcement that he would address the nation in three days. When he finished, Keene, Jennings, and Eli all sat there with their mouths open.
“So what does that mean?” Keene asked. “Did he say anything else?”
“Nothing,” Boz said. “He just said he was going to address the country.”
“We need to talk with Quinn,” Jennings said. “Jon, do you know how to reach him?”
“No. But if he’s going to show up to give some speech, I would imagine he’s going to contact us soon. Boz, did he give any inclination what he was going to say?”
“He just said that he was going to speak God’s decree for the nation. That God has been patient enough.”
“Wow,” Eli said. “This is going to be epic.”
“So what should we do?” Jennings asked.
“Pray,” Boz said. “ ’Cause whatever he’s going to say, it definitely doesn’t sound like it’s going to be good.”
They all started talking back and forth about what they thought the Prophet would say. Everyone was speculating on everything from a stern warning to a full-on pronouncement of judgment.
Keene felt the vibration from the sat-phone in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the display. He had no idea who it was. “Hello?”
“Mr. Keene…”
It was the Prophet. Keene snapped his fingers to get everyone’s attention.
“Hello, Quinn. Good to hear your voice.”
“We need to talk.”
CHAPTER 62
Washington, DC
When Alex Smith woke up the next morning, she felt more alive than she had since she woke up from her coma. She could feel her heart pumping, her shoulder and side felt like she had never been shot, and the adrenaline rush from last night at Jennings’s place was still coursing through her veins. She turned the water off from the shower, wrapped a towel around her, and walked back out into the room. She lay down in the bed and l
ooked at Farid, who was still asleep.
Just looking at him this morning was causing her heart to race faster. He had saved her, again. She reached out and touched his hand and felt the electricity course through her veins. She had never felt anything like this for anyone. Farid stirred and opened his eyes.
“Hey,” she said softly.
“Good morning, Alex,” he said as he yawned and arched his back to stretch. When he was done, he looked at her curiously. “What are you thinking about?”
“I’m thinking that I’d be dead at least three times by now if it weren’t for you.”
“So maybe you should keep me around, then.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Maybe.”
He laughed and pulled the sheet back and got out of bed. “I’m going to go take a shower. What time is it?”
“Ten thirty. We’re supposed to meet Pemberton in about an hour, so hurry up. I need to stop and pick up a couple things.”
She watched him as he shut the door to the bathroom. Yeah. I think I’ll keep you around for a while.
She felt her heart flutter, and her palms began to sweat. She leaned back against the headboard.
Alexandra Sokolov, I think you’re in love.
She smiled. She liked the way that sounded.
An hour later, she and Farid sat at a small corner table in the back of a coffee shop in Dupont Circle, watching as Pemberton came in. He stepped up to the counter and ordered. When he got to the other end of the counter, the clerk handed him a cup encased in a brown cardboard sleeve. He took the cup and made a face as if he were disgusted. He walked to the back of the room where she and Farid were sitting.
“Who’s this?” he asked, pointing to Farid.
“That’s none of your concern. He’s with me.”
Pemberton sat down and put the paper cup on the table. “I swear, ever since those hippies in Seattle got famous, you can’t find just a regular cup of coffee. Everyone wants to put chocolate, or caramel, or whipped cream in it. Tell them you just want a plain black cup of joe and they look at you like you’re some kind of freak.”
“So what can I do for you, Mr. Pemberton?”
THE 13: STAND BOOK TWO Page 29
