by Alex Lukeman
"I've heard about you," Reynolds said. "My predecessor may have indulged your adventures but you will find that I am a very different kettle of fish. I intend to carefully review the reason for your unit's continued existence. We live in an age of transparency, Director. Cloak and dagger spy games may be popular in fiction but I will not tolerate this sort of comic book mentality on my watch."
Elizabeth felt her blood pressure rising.
"Sir..."
"I think I've heard enough. Director Hood, unless and until you come up with independent confirmation of this so-called intelligence, I'm not willing to believe our Russian friends intend to unleash such devastation upon us. In fact, I'm not sure I believe such a weapon even exists."
Reynolds turned toward Palmer.
"Howard, would you care to add anything?"
"Only that I too shall be carefully looking at your unit, Director Harker. Somehow you have escaped congressional oversight up until now, but I can assure you that time has passed."
Elizabeth could no longer control herself.
"Is that a threat, Senator? Do you have any idea what the Project has accomplished during its existence? You wouldn't be sitting there if we hadn't made it possible by protecting this country."
"Elizabeth..." Hood said.
"Mister President, we came here today in the belief that our professional opinion as to the validity of this intelligence would be respected. Apparently, that is not the case. I can only say that our nation is at serious risk. I hope you will have the courage to do what is necessary."
Reynolds stood, his face angry.
"How dare you suggest that I lack the courage to protect this country."
He pressed a button on his desk. Hood and Elizabeth stood as well. She noted that Palmer remained seated. A door into the Oval Office opened and an aide appeared, waiting to escort them out.
"Director Harker, this meeting is over. You will be hearing from me regarding the continued status of your unit."
Elizabeth bit back a retort. She turned on her heel and walked out, Hood behind her.
Hood was silent until they were outside the White House. As they waited for their armored Suburbans to arrive, he turned to her and let out a sigh of frustration.
"That went well," he said.
"The man is insufferable. He makes me so mad I could spit. And that snake, Palmer. I don't like what I'm seeing there, Clarence."
"Nor I. I don't think you did yourself any favors today."
"It wouldn't have made any difference, whatever I did. You heard him. One of the first things he said was that he was going to 'review' my unit. He had the axe out before I walked through the door. I suspect your head is also on the chopping block."
"I get the same feeling. Well, I've had a good run. What bothers me isn't my potential firing, it's the fact that he seems completely closed to any consideration of what we brought to him."
"He was hostile from the beginning."
"Yes, he was. I find it rather unusual, even for a man who is new to the office. There wasn't any reason for him to act like he did. That means he did it deliberately. He's sending us a message."
"Which is?"
"That he's not going to be bothered by little things like facts, coming from comic book spies like us."
"Then God help us all," Elizabeth said.
Inside the Oval Office, Senator Palmer took out his encrypted phone and sent a prearranged signal indicating that Kolkov's disk had been discovered and the message it contained decrypted.
"That was an excellent performance, Ethan," Palmer said. "You almost had me convinced."
"What do you want me to do next?"
"You don't need to do anything. In a few days the NSA is going to pick up a Russian transmission about the weapon. It will take them time to process it. Once they do, things will take their natural course."
"What about Harker? I don't think she's going to let it go."
"Don't worry about her," Palmer said.
CHAPTER 16
Since the attack on headquarters, Elizabeth went everywhere in an armored Suburban with two armed agents. Sitting in the back seat as they headed for Virginia, she tried to relax.
She wasn't having much luck.
She remembered how Senator Palmer hadn't bothered to hide his amusement at her discomfort while Reynolds was insulting her. What was he doing there, anyway? He hadn't risen when Reynolds stood. You stood when the president did because it was protocol, because it showed respect. It was as if Palmer considered himself superior to Reynolds.
She filed the observation away for future thought.
They were on the 495 on the outskirts of Alexandria, moving faster than usual. Her driver kept glancing in his mirrors. On the opposite side of the front seat, the other agent watched his side mirror.
"Agent Wilson, aren't we going a little fast?"
"We might have a problem, Director."
Just what I need.
"What problem?"
"There's a suspicious car behind us. They picked us up about five minutes ago."
The agent sitting next to the driver was named Anderson. He turned toward her.
"Please make sure your seatbelt is tight, ma'am. Things might get a little hairy if that car makes a move."
Ahead, traffic thinned out. Wilson accelerated.
"They're keeping pace. Now they're speeding up."
Anderson had a radio in his hand.
"Bravo One, this is Blackbird. You copy?"
The radio crackled.
"Copy, Blackbird."
"We have a limpet, closing fast. Requesting backup."
"Roger, Blackbird. I have your location. Backup ETA ten minutes."
"Copy, Bravo One. Out."
He looked in his mirror.
"I see guns," Anderson said. "Getting serious."
He took a Glock 19 from his shoulder holster.
"He's right behind us. Hang on, Director," Wilson said.
He slammed on the brakes and locked the wheels. The tires screeched and smoked on the pavement. Elizabeth glimpsed men wearing balaclavas as the pursuing car shot by. They opened fire. She ducked as bullets hammered against the armor plating and starred the bulletproof glass.
"Fuck!" Anderson yelled.
He opened his window, leaned out, and began firing. Elizabeth's head snapped back as someone rammed them from behind. The big Suburban shuddered from the impact. Wilson fought for control. They were rammed again. Ahead, the pursuing car slowed. Men leaned out the windows, firing at them. The windshield starred as bullets spattered it.
They were rammed again. Fighting the wheel, Wilson lost control. The Suburban veered to the right, crashed through a guardrail and rolled down into a deep gully on the side of the road, coming to rest on its left side. The impact set off the airbags.
For a moment Elizabeth was stunned. She shook it off. Anderson climbed out and scrambled to pull open the rear door. Wilson was slumped over the wheel and the deflated bag. He wasn't moving.
"Director, come on."
Elizabeth fumbled with her seatbelt and managed to stand. She grabbed her purse. Inside was a Sig-Sauer P229. She reached up to the opening above her head. Anderson grabbed hold of her arms and pulled her through. One of her shoes fell off. As soon as she was out of the car she took her pistol from the bag.
"They'll be coming," Anderson said. "Stay behind the car."
"Agent Wilson?"
"Dead or unconscious."
From where she crouched behind the front of the wreck, Elizabeth could see the edge of the highway twenty feet above. The car had ripped out a large chunk of steel guardrail. Anyone coming for them would have to appear in that gap. She laid her arms across the side of the car and drew a bead on the space. The metal was hot under her arms.
She had a sudden memory of her father. The judge was the first to teach her to shoot, back home in the Colorado Rockies. He'd set up a rusty barrel and taped a man–sized silhouette on it. She'd been twelve years old.
The pistol he'd given her was a Colt Woodsman, a .22 automatic.
"Remember to calm your breath. Let some of it out and focus on the front sight. As long as that front sight is lined up with the target, you'll hit it."
"What about the rear sight?"
"We'll get to shooting for accuracy in a little while. Right now I just want you to focus on hitting that silhouette out there."
"How come we're not shooting at a picture of a dangerous animal? Like a lion or a bear?"
The judge had laughed.
"Honey, there isn't an animal on earth more dangerous than a man."
In a low voice, Anderson said, "They're coming."
She heard footsteps, men talking on the pavement above. The sudden stutter of a weapon on full automatic drowned out the sound. Bullets plowed into the dirt nearby and struck the car with harsh, metallic sounds. Someone was leaning over the guardrail farther along the road and shooting at them.
Elizabeth swung and fired two quick rounds and had the satisfaction of seeing her assailant fall forward and tumble over the rail. He rolled down to the bottom of the gully and lay still. She was aware of Anderson firing behind her at the gap in the rail.
He cried out and fell down.
She swung back and fired at the man who'd shot him, three fast shots. The bullets tore into his legs and groin. He screamed and fell back onto the roadway.
Someone else appeared, firing an automatic rifle at her. She crouched behind the bulk of the car and wondered if this was how it was going to end. The rifle fire stopped as the shooter reloaded. She jumped up and fired three more rounds, then ducked down again behind the car. More bullets whined past. She waited for a pause, rose, and fired again until the slide locked back on her pistol. She dropped down, ejected the empty magazine, and slammed in the spare she always carried.
Ten rounds. It had to be enough. If it wasn't...
Whop! Whop! Whop!
The sound of helicopter blades filled the air. She heard footsteps running, car doors slam, then a screech of tires.
The cavalry had arrived.
She stood and made her pistol safe. The driver was still inside the wrecked SUV, unmoving. Anderson lay on the ground. She bent over him and touched the side of his neck, feeling for a pulse. He'd taken two bullets in the chest. There was a lot of blood.
Still breathing.
She heard shouting. A man in fatigues appeared on the edge of the road above.
"Director Harker. Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. Get an ambulance."
"Yes, ma'am."
Elizabeth felt the tension let go. A wave of fatigue engulfed her, the aftereffect of the adrenaline rush. She looked at the bullet-marred wreckage of the Suburban, at the man who had tried to protect her lying unconscious on the ground, covered with blood. She shivered, then bent over and vomited. She straightened and wiped her mouth with her sleeve.
She trembled with anger. When she found out who had done this, they would regret it.
CHAPTER 17
Nick and Selena were about to leave for Virginia when Harker called. Nick listened to her describe the attack. After he'd hung up he turned to Selena, his face tight and closed.
"Someone shot up Harker's car as she was coming back from the White House."
"Is she alright?"
"Yes. The driver was killed. Her second bodyguard is in an ICU. She's pissed."
"I'm not surprised," Selena said.
"She wants us in as soon as possible."
"Then we'd better get going."
"If they went after her, we might be next. Keep your eyes open."
They took the elevator down to the parking garage.
"We'll take the tank," Nick said.
It was what they called Nick's souped-up, armored Suburban. It had once been a typical family SUV, but those days were long gone. It had a modified engine, bulletproof glass, run flat tires, and light armor. The reinforcement was proof against the average rifle or pistol round, but the car could still be disabled by a concerted attack. Even the best armored vehicle could be stopped by enough firepower.
As they stepped from the elevator, Nick saw someone near Selena's Mercedes. Someone dressed in dark clothes, with something in his hand. The figure looked at them, walked quickly to a service entrance and disappeared.
Nick's left ear started itching. Adrenaline surged through his body.
"You're scratching your ear," Selena said.
He took out his pistol. "Something's not right."
Selena reached into her bag and brought out her own weapon, a .40 Sig P229. It was what they all carried.
"Wait here," Nick said.
Their cars were parked next to each other, halfway down the side of the garage. Nick shifted into combat mode. He approached in a crouch, his pistol held in both hands at the ready. His eyes moved back and forth over the garage and the rows of parked cars, looking for anything out of the ordinary. The service door where the man had gone was closed. A set of stairs behind it led up to ground level. Whoever had gone through could leave the building with no difficulty.
But he might still be here, Nick thought.
He kept an eye on the door as he reached the Mercedes. Glancing at it, everything seemed okay. The Suburban was parked in the next slot. It appeared normal. There was no sign anyone had tampered with either car, but something still felt wrong.
Nick had learned long ago to trust his intuition, a sense of what could not be known by normal means. He'd inherited it from his Irish grandmother. It had saved his ass more than once, and it was screaming at him now. His ear burned as if it were on fire.
"Nick," Selena called. "Is everything all right?"
Her voice echoed in the garage.
"Stay where you are," Nick yelled. "Cover that door."
He holstered his pistol, got down on one knee next to the Mercedes, and peered under it. The car was low to the ground, making it hard to see, but everything seemed normal. He turned to the Suburban and knelt down again.
A black box was fastened under the car. Red numbers were counting down on it.
28...27...26...
Shit.
He scrambled to his feet and ran back toward Selena.
"There's a bomb," he yelled.
Broad, concrete pillars flanked the elevator, supporting the floors above. Nick reached Selena and pulled her behind one of the columns. There was no other cover to be had.
"Nick..."
The garage lit with bright, white light, followed an instant later by the sound of the explosion. The blast was overwhelming in the enclosed space, an assault on their hearing. Pieces of metal, concrete, and glass filled the air. Nick covered Selena's body and held her tight against the concrete column. A car bumper sailed past and slammed into the wall behind them in a shower of sparks. Pieces of the ceiling rained down on their heads. A great cloud of dirty, gray smoke and choking fumes filled the garage.
Nick let Selena go. He could see her lips moving but he couldn't hear what she was saying.
A chunk of ceiling fell down nearby.
They were covered with gray dust. Nick coughed. His hearing started to come back. Dozens of car alarms blared in a dissonant chorus.
"Are you okay?" he said. His voice sounded strange in his ears.
"I'm fine." She coughed. "You look like you just came out of a cement factory."
They stepped out from behind the pillar and looked at the chaos left behind by the bomb. The Suburban was a scrapheap of twisted metal. What was left of it was burning. Selena's Mercedes had been thrown into the car next to it and flipped onto its roof. It looked like someone had hit it with a gigantic hammer. The car on the other side of the Suburban was a smoldering ruin. All through the garage cars were in various states of ruin and disrepair, windows broken, metal dented, tires flat.
"The homeowners association isn't going to like this," Selena said.
"Big charge," Nick said. "Maybe a kilo of C4 or Semtex."
"They wanted to make sur
e."
"It was meant to go off after we'd driven out of here. That guy we saw had something in his hand. I'll bet it was a remote control to start the clock ticking. He saw us come out of the elevator and decided to speed things up. If we hadn't seen him and gotten into the car, we never would've made it out of the garage. They'd be finding pieces of us for the next year or so."
"First Elizabeth, and now us."
Nick took out his phone. "I'd better warn the others."
"You think they want to kill all of us?"
"Looks that way."
"Why?"
"Could be a lot of reasons. Maybe we just pissed someone off. Or maybe we're getting too close to something."
"Too close to what?"
"We'll find out."
CHAPTER 18
Lucas sent an escort of two agency vehicles with armed guards to take Stephanie in to work. Nick called Ronnie. He picked up Lamont, then drove over to Nick and Selena's place. There were cops everywhere. Nick and Selena climbed into Ronnie's armored Hummer.
"The cops let you out of there that quick?" Lamont asked.
"They had to, once they saw our IDs. Without that, we would've been there for hours."
"What the hell's going on, Nick?"
"Somebody doesn't like us. We'll figure it out."
They made it to Project HQ without incident.
When everyone was settled in her office, Elizabeth said, "We're under attack. I want ideas about how we deal with it."
"Hard to know where to start. We don't know who it is," Nick said.
"Whoever they are, they think we're a threat."
"They got that right," Lamont said.
"Why?" Selena said. "Why does someone think we're a threat? What are we doing that creates a problem for them big enough to try and eliminate us?"
Elizabeth picked up her pen and began tapping it on her desk.
"The only thing we're looking at right now is the possibility the Russians are getting set to attack us."
