by Randall Wood
“None taken, Jack. Gotta go.”
Jack played with the dead receiver for a few seconds before cradling it. What had he missed? Sam had trained him. He knew how the man thought out a mission. What would he do? Jack looked up at the map of DC he had tacked on the wall some time ago. He had been here already. There were thousands of good shooting positions. This was wasted time. He jumped to his feet and marched back to the Pit.
The first thing he noticed on entering was Eric. Across the room and through the glass, he was seated at his desk with both fingers crossed, staring at the screen of the laptop. The two NSA people were standing over him.
“Yes!” Eric punctuated the event with his fists in the air, nearly punching an NSA guy in the face.
“What is it?” Jack asked.
Eric could not contain his excitement. His fingers were again flying across the keyboard. “We’re in. I found a way around the last safeguard and I have total access. The memory is near full, lots of data. Just tell me what to look for. No, wait, lemme copy the hard drive first. Only take a minute.” He was soon loading and unloading disc after disc.
Jack looked at the borrowed help. “Anything?”
“We’ll try the same thing on these two. See where it leads us.” They sulked away to their respective computers, beaten by an amateur, one with spiked hair no less.
“Sydney, Larry, work with Eric, please. You know what we’re after. Call me if you get anything. I’ll be with HRT.”
“Okay, Jack. Are you all right?”
He looked at her. Same worried look she had when they were together.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
She watched him leave. Larry tore her attention back.
“Come on, Syd. Let’s see what the rookie found for us.”
• • •
Jack bypassed the elevator in favor of the stairs. A quick sprint up two floors and he was in the command room of the Hostage Rescue Team. They were monitoring the teams deployed around the area, waiting for the President to exit the Capitol Building. An electronic map showed their positions and call signs. A quick response team waited on the roof of the building with the little bird helicopters.
“Anything happening?” Jack asked.
One of the team spoke up. “One of the modern-day hippies tried climbing the fence at the White House. Park police grabbed him before the Secret Service could put a round through his head. He’s on his way to lockup. Other than that, it’s been quiet. Best idea they ever had was doing this in January. Weather keeps most of the crazies away.”
“Let’s hope.” Jack looked at the screen showing the speech. “He about done?”
The tech in front of the screens checked his watch. “Should be. It’ll take a while to exit, but he should be clear in a few minutes.”
Jack stared at the map and screens.
“I guess we wait again.”
• • •
Six blocks away, Sam also watched the TV and waited. While the President’s head filled the screen, Sam was spared his speech thanks to the mute button. The man was ineffective as far as he was concerned. He tried, but the opposition always seemed to find a way to defeat him. Sam watched as the audience rose and applauded over and over, sometimes the whole room, but mostly half at a time. Partisan politics, it was nothing but a big game for them. They might change their minds about the game after tonight. They all rose as the President wrapped it up.
He fingered the switches on the remote unit in anticipation.
• • •
“What do you have, Eric?” Larry asked.
“Well, basically a bunch of files. None of the names are flat out. Mostly code words, I imagine. Here’s a big one.” He punched keys and the file appeared on the large flat screen monitor on the wall. He scrolled it slowly as they all scanned it.
Sydney spoke first. “It’s a copy of the crime bill proposed last year. Skip to the end.”
The document flew by as Eric prompted it. The last few pages were a list of names.
“The voting tally,” Larry explained.
As the list scrolled up the screen, several names appeared in highlight.
“Those would be the key senatorial votes that defeated it,” he added.
“Print that, Eric. What else is there?” Sydney asked.
“That’s it for that file.”
“Keep going. Look for maps, like Jack said.”
As data flew up the screen, Eric paused here and there to check something visible only to him, and then just as fast moved on.
“Here, this might be a map.” The file appeared on the big screen. “No, looks like a floor plan of a building. But what?”
A voice from across the room said, “It’s the Senate Office Building.”
They all turned to see a young female security guard standing in the doorway.
“Say that again?” Larry inquired.
“It’s the Senate Office Building. My cousin is part of its security team. You know, right next to the Capitol Building.”
The state of Tennessee holds 25,403 inmates in its prisons.
Approximately 17,020 are repeat offenders.
—FORTY-TWO—
John Hoskin’s night was only half over. The speech had ended, and he was watching closely as the President shook the last few hands before breaking away to make his exit. He increased his pace to stay in front of the President as they made their way to the motorcade. John listened through his custom-made earpiece as his agents reported, one after the other, that the exit was clear. He paused at the doorway for a look of his own, before stepping aside for the President. The walk under the freshly erected canopy was short, and they were both soon in the limousine. It quickly left the curb, and accelerated to a speed highly illegal on the DC streets.
The President was in a joyful mood. “Well, John, what did you think?”
“About what, sir?”
“About what? The speech, John. I’d like your opinion. How did the old man do tonight?”
“I’m sorry, sir, I really couldn’t say. I’m afraid I wasn’t paying attention.”
The President just smiled and shook his head. Since he had known John Hoskins, he had never seen the man in what he would call a relaxed state.
“You’re taking tomorrow off. That’s an order from your Commander-in-Chief. I should make you watch it on tape, too.”
“Yes, sir.”
The limousine took a long sweeping turn toward the White House. The driver was very good. While his feet were on both pedals, the brake had yet to receive any pressure. They were about halfway home.
• • •
Sam watched the motorcade’s progress on the television from his perch on the two dressers. The other TV still showed the House chamber emptying. With an eye on both screens, he held the remote in his hand, his finger on the button.
Just a little closer.
• • •
The flash was seen against the buildings facing the Mall, quickly followed by the sound. The driver immediately floored the accelerator and took the next turn away from the explosion. The President found himself face down on the floor of the limo with Agent Hoskins on top of him. The President struggled to rise, but found himself pinned by the agent’s weight and strength. Before he could protest, he heard Hoskins yelling something to the driver. He felt the car take another turn and once again accelerate.
“John?” he asked.
“Just stay down, Mr. President.”
It was a tone of voice which had not been directed at him since the Naval Academy. He decided to do as he had been told.
• • •
Senator Harper had just left the chamber and was on his way to the exit closest to his car. He and a few aides were scheduled to attend a post-speech meeting at a fellow senator’s residence. Hopefully, they could beat the crowd. They had just stepped out of the building when the noise reached them. A dull boom, it echoed around the buildings, and several car alarms could be heard going off. As they turned to l
ook back at the building, a security officer slammed the door shut. Several others could be seen approaching with their sidearms out.
“The car. Quickly!” the senator ordered.
As they all turned toward the street, they saw police cars pulling out everywhere, blocking every entrance and exit to the Capitol Building.
“Damn it. What’s going on?” he asked an aide who had a cell phone to his ear.
“Some kind of explosion in the park near the Washington Monument,” the aide replied. “The Capitol Building is being locked down.”
The senator spun in a circle, taking in the scene. People were running in every direction. The flashing police lights obscured any view he had of what was happening. He didn’t wish to return to the building and be locked down, yet standing in the open in the cold was not appealing, either.
“Follow me. We’ll go to the office to wait this out.” He turned and walked toward Capitol Plaza.
• • •
Special Agent Whitcomb suddenly had an earful of radio traffic. Jack watched and listened from across the room.
“What’s happening people? Sierra One, you have a view?”
“Negative.”
“Sierra Two, talk to me.”
“Sierra Two. I have a visual. Looks like a small explosion in the park. I see two park police on scene. Smoke from a trash can, some debris on the snow, little damage to the can. Sounded like a grenade simulator, or one of our flash-bangs, from our position. I see no threats at this time. Several officers on scene now. A dog team. Again, no threats seen at this time. Over.”
“What the hell?” Whitcomb asked. “James, you hearing anything?”
James held up a finger for a few seconds while he listened to the police channel before replying. “They say it looks like an improvised device. A lot of bang and flash, but no real damage. No other threats present. They have the dogs checking the other trash cans.”
“Okay, everybody, stand down. Hold your positions. Continue your scans and rotate crews on schedule. Probably just a protester trying to help his cause.” He spotted Jack watching in the corner. “Sound like your guy, Jack?”
“Not exactly. But . . .”
“But what?”
Before he could answer, his phone started ringing. He snatched it up.
“Jack? It’s Sydney, what’s going on?”
“Somebody set off some homemade fireworks. You guys find anything yet?”
“No. Well, maybe. I have a theory. We’ve found a lot of info on the crime bill the President tried to pass last year. It was shot down in the Senate. Anyway, we have a list of the senators and how they voted. Some names highlighted. We’ve also found some profiles of these senators. Leader of the pack is a Senator Harper. All the information we have here points to him being the reason the bill didn’t pass. We have little paper on the President, but a lot on this guy and his cronies, including a layout of their office building. Jack, what if the President isn’t the target. What if our shooter’s after someone else?”
• • •
“I said this is Special Agent Jack Randall with the FBI. I need to talk to John Hoskins immediately.” Jack was on his third try at getting through to the Secret Service detail guarding the President. With all the confusion, he was having little luck. His phone had a priority number, meaning he would not be dropped by the carrier due to call volume. It did nothing to boost signal strength, however. He could barely hear who he was talking to.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Hoskins is unavailable and will be for some time. Can I take a message and contact number?”
“Damn it! Tell him the threat is not to the President, repeat, not the President. He needs to locate Senator Harper and secure him as soon as possible. Did you get that?” Jack took a deep breath to keep his voice clear. The adrenaline tended to make one talk faster and become harder to understand. Something he had learned from an old artillery instructor years ago. The man could call in sixteen-inch rounds off a battleship, danger-close, and still sound like he was ordering a pizza.
“Yes, sir, I will see that he gets the message.”
“Okay.” Jack pulled the finger from his opposite ear and looked for Greg. He was across the room, issuing orders to the HRT members present. They turned when he finished and headed for the stairs.
“Jack, I’m sending the Gold Team to the Capitol Building to augment the crew there. The senator is not in the chamber, and the first sweep of the building has shown no sign of him. I have them repeating the sweep, but the man never travels alone, he always has a group of aides with him, so he should have been easy to spot. No answer at his office. I have someone tracking down phone numbers for him, but it will take a while. He’s due at a meeting within the hour. We’ll know if he shows. I also sent the locals to his home. That’s all we’ve got so far.”
Jack just nodded his head while he tried to think. Instinct told him to start where the senator was last seen, but he would be long gone before he got there. Unless. The sounds of blades turning mixed with tail rotor buzz came from the roof.
“Greg, I need to go with your team.”
Special Agent Whitcomb had a sudden look of pain on his face. This was highly irregular, and he would definitely get his ass chewed, but the logic of it made sense. He weighed the pros and cons. It was against HRT’s policy to take non-team members on any mission without approval, but he knew Jack, and Jack was the FBI Director’s right hand. Plus, Jack had been chasing this guy for two months plus: Jack knew the shooter personally. That outweighed the cons. Jack would back him up when they were in front of the Director’s desk tomorrow. There was no doubt in his mind that would happen.
“Hold the bird.” Greg turned to one of the backup shooters. “Give him your vest and jacket. Damn it, Jack. Don’t screw me on this. You are there for direction, not to do any assaults. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Got it, Greg.” He looked him in the eye after he donned the vest. “I won’t forget.”
“You better not. That’s gotta be twelve steak dinners you owe me now.”
“You and all your guys, I promise.”
“Get out of here.”
Jack took the stairs two at a time. When he emerged onto the roof, he saw the little bird waiting for him, the team standing on the modified skids. He made for the open spot, and one of the team handed him a thick set of gloves of a type he had not seen in some time. He looked into the interior to confirm his fears. Two large diameter ropes lay coiled and ready to kick over the sides. He looked at the team member who was checking his vest. The man tightened it with practiced movements until it was snug all around. He then handed him a set of goggles to keep his eyes from watering against the cold wind. He eyeballed Jack’s shoes. This was not a feat one usually did in office attire.
“You know what to do?” The team leader nodded towards the rope. Jack nodded back with a lopsided grin.
The man grinned back and then took his place behind Jack. The bird became light on the skids with the pilot’s twist of the throttle. He then pedal-turned into the wind, and with minor movements of the collective and cyclic, the helicopter sped off over the Mall. Jack fought the numbing cold of the wind. It was only a few blocks to the Capitol. With no place to land safely, they were going to fast-rope in. Something Jack and his fear of heights had never enjoyed.
• • •
Senator Harper was getting short on patience. It was their third attempt at getting through the perimeter, and he had finally found a security man who actually knew him. The older guards with seniority got the better duty inside where there was heat, while the newer personnel had to brave the cold. He passed the senator and his people through with a wave while stopping everyone else. They made even slower progress now, as the crowd was thicker outside the perimeter. While he could see the office half a block away, it looked like a thirty-minute walk with the traffic. He turned to ask an aide a question, but found them all on their cell phones. Typical. He buttoned his coat against the cold and made his wa
y through the crowd, the engine of his own little people train.
• • •
Sam took his eye from the scope when he heard the tail-rotor buzzing of the helicopter. He recognized the sound from the inventory in his head, built from years of working around them. A small Hughes model 500—that meant HRT. He soon saw them circling the Capitol Building before descending to a hover near the reflecting pool. He swung the scope to check the make-up of the team, and was surprised to see two fast-ropes fall to the ground. They were quickly followed by agents sliding to the snow-covered grass. The last one’s clothes flapped in the downdraft as he descended. An expanse of white skin showed briefly from his lower legs as he spun his way down. Sam followed the man until he hit the ground and promptly fell on his ass in the snow. It was Jack. Sam couldn’t help but smile. What was his friend doing running around with HRT? He was obviously out of practice.
Sam returned his scope to the bird as it left and saw two men lying prone in the door of the copter. A sniper and an observer. The little bird turned and went out of his field of view around a building. He returned to see the team having a huddle in front of the Capitol.
After a lot of pointing and discussion, the team split up and headed for various buildings in the area, disappearing behind the various network trucks with their satellite dishes. Sam forced himself to look away from the image of Jack standing in the snow talking on his cell phone, and returned to scanning the crowd below him. Jack’s presence shouldn’t make a difference. He just needed to be patient.
The state of Texas holds 166,911 inmates in its prisons.
Approximately 111,830 are repeat offenders.
—FORTY-THREE—
“My wife?” the President asked, as he rose and placed himself back in the bench seat of the limo.
“She’s fine, sir,” Agent Hoskins said. “I have her in Senator Coffee’s office with five agents. The rest of your family is in the residence. Are you all right, sir?”
“I’m fine, John, I’m fine. Little caught off guard by the tackle. What the hell happened?”
The President looked out the window to see that they had arrived at the White House. Several agents and a few uniformed Marines had the area surrounded. He looked out the windshield, half-expecting to see smoke coming out from under the hood. Someday he would have to ask John what was powering this thing, maybe over their next cigarette, which he could use right about now. He brushed lint from his suit and straightened his tie. He noted the examining look from his chief agent.
