by Nick Harlow
“You can send an email from a computer this old?”
“Sure. What, you think email is something new?”
“You really think this ancient thing has an internet account?”
“Don’t need one. We can connect via the PSTN network.
“Huh?”
“It’s an acronym for the Public Switched Telephone Network but how I can use it would take too long to explain. It’s basically Hacking 101.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You’ve hacked stuff, Kyle?”
A sheepish grin spread across his face. “I can neither confirm nor deny such actions. Needless to say, it won’t be a problem.”
“How long do you think it will take you?”
“I have no idea. Depends on what materials I have to work with. And what tools I have to put things together. But don’t worry, I’ll make it happen one way or another.”
The sounds of the two-way radio from the other room grabbed her attention. “Okay, you get started on that.” She ran to Agent Ryan, now listening to the chatter. “What’s up?”
“Things are moving.”
“How so?”
“Well—”
“Brooks... situation under control?”
CHAPTER FOUR
Ryan’s rugged face tightened. “I’ve gotta answer or they’ll know something’s wrong. Give me a piece of paper, anything I can crumple up that will make noise like static.”
Sydney looked at all the items on the floor and found an envelope containing a letter. She handed it to him.
“Great.” He took the letter, held it near the radio and crumpled it as he spoke. “Under control.”
“TV in thirty minutes. Send video of Ryan’s body now. We’ll show the hostages live later.”
“Copy that.” He put the radio down. “Well, that’s interesting. It means the TV camera down here is still connected.”
“Great. So we can use that to contact the outside world.”
“No, we can’t.” Vince arrived and crouched down next to her. “They have disabled all the satellite controls. The TV equipment in the auxiliary Oval Office turns on and works, but the only connection they apparently left untouched is closed circuit and goes directly to the Cabinet Room next to the real Oval Office.”
“Can you get the satellite stuff working?”
Vince shook his head. “No. They literally destroyed the connection to the uplink and cut all the cables. Even MacGyver can’t get it back together.”
Ryan turned to Sydney. “I’m thinking they only want the President to see you as a hostage. From a political standpoint, if they showed you to the public, people would understand a man who gave in to demands because he wanted to save his daughter. I’m guessing they want to make him appear weak to the rest of the world. Especially considering the election is only a few days away. And that might be their main motivation. Of course, there’s the situation with the Russians as well.”
Sydney slowly nodded. “Makes sense, and I just thought of something else. This morning Brooks was asking me about who was on the tours, and he was especially interested in which tour Scott Rusch was on. So they must have wanted him as a hostage as well in order to control his father.”
“Another valuable hostage, and one whose father is the most powerful Democrat in Congress. But that doesn’t make sense politically since the Speaker and your father are enemies. Maybe they’re going to get the Speaker to do something totally unrelated. I must admit, they’ve covered all the bases, politically, anyway.”
“Except they didn’t expect you to kill Brooks.”
“Right. Thankfully they don’t know that and they have to assume everything is going according to plan down here. Right now about the only thing we have in our favor is the element of surprise. Though I’m not sure how much that’s worth until we find out more about what’s going on upstairs. And we’ll lose the advantage if they discover I’m alive and Brooks is out of the picture.”
“So what do we do, Agent Ryan?”
“First of all, since they want video of my body, I need to play dead.”
“Huh?”
“If we’re to have any chance at all, they need to think Brooks is still alive and in control of you guys. If they assume you are all hostages at least that will keep them from trying to come down here.”
“But my dad will think I’m a hostage and he’ll take that into account if they try to force him to do something.”
“Then you’ve gotta find a way to tell him that no one will notice.”
“What, you want me to blink Morse code or something?”
“Of course not. But you and your dad must have a non-verbal way of communicating. A certain look, some physical movement. Think of something. If you can let him know you’re okay, that will give him a little advantage he can use. Your dad is very clever and he’s a master negotiator. Also a damn good poker player.”
Vince pointed the camera at Agent Ryan as Andrea smeared some blood on his forehead and the corner of his mouth. She leaned back and studied his face. “Now all you have to do is give a vacant look.”
“Fine, but my leg is killing me and I’m not sure if I can remain perfectly still so they won’t notice.”
Vince shook his head. “You won’t have to. I’m going to shoot some video and freeze frame the best part. We’ll just send them a few seconds. They won’t notice since they’ll assume you’re dead and not moving anyway.”
“Makes sense. Okay, I’m ready.”
Andrea got out of the way and Vince pressed the record button. “Okay, rolling. Just lay back and stare into space.”
Ryan looked at the area left of the camera. “How’s that?”
“It helps if you don’t talk. Dead men tell no tales, remember?” Vince looked through the eyepiece. “Okay, I think you’ve got it. Let me get a few more seconds.” He shot a little more video, then stopped recording. “Okay, let me still-frame this and record ten seconds worth of video. Then I’ll feed it upstairs.”
Ryan relaxed and leaned up on one elbow as Andrea crouched down and wiped the blood from his face. “And when you’re done, TV Guy, you’re going to play Agent Brooks.”
“I don’t look anything like him.”
“Off camera. You’ll be holding his gun. Pointed at what they need to think are hostages. We need to really sell this.”
“Why aren’t you holding the gun?”
“Because I can’t stand up and I don’t know how to run a TV camera.” He popped the clip out of one gun, then removed the bullet in the chamber. “Don’t worry, there won’t be any ammo in it.” He handed it to Vince.
“I’ve never even held a gun before.”
“Hopefully you won’t have to shoot one either.”
NEARLY THIRTY MINUTES later all the teens except Vince were seated together in chairs, hands behind their backs, pretending to be tied up. Vince had the camera pointed at the group while he held the unloaded gun near the lens so that it was in the foreground.
Ryan leaned up and looked at the shot in the monitor. “Looks good, but you need to aim the gun at the President’s daughter.”
Sydney’s eyes went wide. She sat up straight as the blood drained from her face a bit.
Ryan gave her a soulful look. “Sorry, Spitfire. We need to make this look real. And of course it’s not loaded right now. But don’t relax, we need to really convince them you’re scared.”
“No problem, Agent Ryan. I understand.” Suddenly one of the monitors on the wall cleared, showing video from the Cabinet Room which was next to the Oval Office. Sydney’s eyes widened and her pulse rocketed as she saw her father and several staffers in chairs surrounded by men with guns. “Oh my God...”
Scott reached over and patted her on the shoulder. “He’ll be okay, Syd.”
“Hands behind your back, Wingman,” said Ryan. “Remember, you’re hostages and you’re tied up. And you all need to look scared to death.”
Scott put his hands behind the chair as a voice filled the
two-way radio. “Brooks, turn on the camera.”
Vince flipped a switch, turning on the feed to the closed circuit system.
Sydney saw a Secret Service agent lean into the shot. “Hello to those hostages in the bunker, especially you, Miss Sydney Donovan, daughter of the President of the United States. And you, Mister Scott Rusch, son of the Speaker of the House. We have some real celebrity hostages today. I trust you’re all safe and being treated well and as long as you all cooperate the gun pointed at you will not go off. But behave, as Agent Brooks isn’t terribly patient with kids. So relax, and let me get you up to speed on what’s happening right above you. As you can see, we have the President and several members of the White House staff under control. We’ve already killed one hostage and have no qualms about killing another. Or all of you.”
And then Sydney saw it.
Gladys slightly raising one eyebrow.
He’s lying...
I need to send her the same signal...
“Now, Mister President, you have proof that we have your daughter and that Agent Ryan is no longer available to protect her.”
Sydney slowly raised one eyebrow.
I sure hope she noticed.
THE ROGUE AGENTS ENDED their broadcast and moved to the other side of the room. Mayfair pulled out a satellite phone and placed a call, then left the room.
Gladys leaned forward and whispered. “Mister President?”
He turned to face her. “Yes?”
“I think Ryan’s alive down there.”
“We just saw video that showed him shot dead.”
“And I think I just saw your daughter give me a signal that it’s a lie.”
“What signal?”
“The one I gave her when Mayfair said they had killed a hostage and we know they haven’t. I always raise one eyebrow when I catch your daughter in a lie, and she just did the same thing when Mayfair talked about Ryan being dead.”
President Donovan glanced at their captors to make sure they weren’t listening. “So, what, you think they staged that video and that Ryan took out Brooks?”
“I do. One more thing. There were five kids on the tour and we only saw four.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. I know who was on the list.”
“Maybe one was a no-show.”
Gladys shook her head. “No. They all showed up. I saw them a few minutes before your daughter took them down to the bunker. Trust me, there were five. One of the kids was missing.”
Donovan slowly nodded. “They wouldn’t have killed one yet. That wouldn’t make any sense, especially since they said they killed Ryan. There would have been no need. And they would have showed me the dead kid if they had. Do you know who was missing?”
“I do. The young man who is the intern at the TV network. He would probably know how to create a fake video showing Agent Ryan being dead.”
“Gladys, you may be on to something.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Speaker of the House Sterling Rusch smiled as he watched the news coverage of the hostage situation. He muted the sound on the television, as it was time to check in. The fifty-four year old Congressman reached into his pocket, pulled out the burner phone and placed the call to the Democratic Presidential nominee’s private line. Senator Brigham answered on the first ring. “Yes?”
“You watching?”
“Are you kidding? Of course I’m watching. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I might even make popcorn for this. Have you been in contact with our... friends?”
“Yes. Everything is going according to plan and right on schedule. By the end of the day you should have clear sailing to the election. We don’t even have to take out the incumbent. And as a bonus we get to ruin his legacy in the process.”
“As long as Donovan folds like we think he will.”
“Trust me, he’d take a bullet for the country, but he won’t let his daughter do it. She’s all he has left as far as family is concerned. The world will know he doesn’t have a backbone and puts his own needs ahead of that of the country.”
“Funny how the simplest things seem to be most effective in negotiations when it comes to life and death situations. Especially when he’s so close to his daughter.”
“I know. And beyond protective of her. When he took office, he took the best agent off his own detail and assigned him to Sydney.”
“You’re not worried about Ryan, are you?”
“Not a problem. Brooks has taken him out by now and has Sydney under control.”
“Speaking of Miss Donovan, it would be nice if your son wasn’t seen with her after I take office. She’s almost as big a thorn in the side of Democrats as her father with that smart mouth of hers. Yet everyone loves her. Have you seen her approval rating? She’s probably worth five points in the polls for her father.”
The short, portly Speaker rolled his gray eyes and shook his head. He ran his hands through his thick white hair as his eyes narrowed a bit. “I know, I can’t stand that smug little bitch. But my own kid’s been off the reservation for years. Hell, I haven’t even seen him since he started college. Wants nothing to do with me, can you believe that? And after all I’ve provided for him. He should thank his lucky stars he wasn’t adopted by some poor family. Or ended up in a foster home. At least he doesn’t have a big mouth like the Donovan girl and stays out of the media.”
“Hope you can keep it that way.”
“Unfortunately, he doesn’t listen to me. Never has. And if I tell him to do something, he’ll go the opposite way. But thankfully he’s not the type to speak his mind on political issues. He’s simply got the hots for a tall redhead. But don’t worry, she won’t be a problem after today. I’ll make sure of that.”
“See that you do.”
Rusch needed to change the subject. “Have the funds been transferred to our friends?”
“Down payment has been delivered, the rest when the job is complete and they’re at their final destination. Considering the campaign budget, no one will ever question a ton of money spent for security. I consider it the cost of doing business. Beats the hell out of mud-slinging TV commercials. Even I’m getting tired of those and people zip through them with their DVRs anyway. This is much simpler and cheaper.”
“That’s what slush funds are for.”
“Good one, Sterling. The whole campaign is a slush fund.”
“Who would think you could buy an election by paying off a bunch of Secret Service agents and Capitol Police?”
“Everyone has a price, Sterling. Especially those who are overworked, underpaid, and took an oath to die for a politician they can’t stand. But a brilliant idea on your part.”
“Thank you. It helped that the leader used to work for me. Talk soon.” The line went dead.
Rusch turned up the sound and leaned back in his chair.
The dominoes were about to fall.
NETWORK REPORTER GINA Collins jumped out of her car as it came to a screeching halt in front of the White House, already a beehive of media activity.
This was the story to save her career.
At forty-five, she was unfortunately near what was commonly referred to as her “on-air expiration date” in television news. The network had already started hiding her character lines by shooting her in “soft focus” as high-def showed wrinkles down to the molecular level. The “info-babes” were getting to cover all the big events. And they were using Gina less often. On less important stories. Not that they’d ever used her for anything like this anyway.
Her contract was up in a month. And she’d read the handwriting on the wall. The new hires were younger, blonder, sexier. Legs up to their neck and spilling out of their tops. The ones on the morning show so sweet they’d give viewers a cavity. The current main anchor a pageant queen who couldn’t write a complete sentence.
Luckily, in this case, none of them were in the right place at the right time. Gina was. The regular White House correspondent had gone home very sick this mo
rning, just before the story broke. The regular substitute was snowed in at a Colorado airport. The third stringer was busy covering the Democratic challenger who was campaigning in Arizona. Management had run out of actual journalists and surely realized that none of the other cookie-cutter androids could handle a story like this. It demanded a real reporter with credibility.
Just in time, the stars had aligned.
She needed to nail this story.
Own this story.
If she did that, and she had no doubt she could, it would make it impossible for the network to let her go. Even if they did, her gravitas would surely be marketable to someone else who would value someone with her credentials. A signature story can make a career. A reporter who blows away the competition on something like this becomes the link between the media and the general public.
A household name.
The slim brunette quickly ran to the live truck, cursing her network requirement of four inch heels and tight short skirt that was age inappropriate even though she still had a pair of well-turned ankles. The crew was already feeding video of the White House back to the station. She found photographer Glenn Foster looking through his camera. She stopped next to him, out of breath. “Glenn, anything new?”
He turned to her and shook his head. “Nothing’s happening. At least nothing I can see.” He cocked his head at a nearby tactical van belonging to the FBI. “They just rolled up. Go check with them and get back here with something. Anything. Boss wants you on as soon as possible.”
“Yeah, they’re burning up my cell.”
“Mine too.” She started to head to the FBI van but he grabbed her arm. “Hey, Gina...”
“What?”
He locked eyes with her. “I’m glad it’s you on this story and not one of the fembots. We need a real reporter for this. ”
“Thanks, Glenn. I really appreciate that from a real photographer. Be right back.” She prayed her best contact from the Federal Bureau of Investigation was here.
A senior agent who owed her big time.
