by Nick Harlow
Donovan’s jugular vein stuck out. It was all he could do not to strangle the man. “What about all the lives the Russians will take? Don’t you even consider that? What do I say to the families of those people?”
“Like I said, I don’t care about them, and, more importantly, Americans don’t care about them, Mister President. You should know by now we live in a narcissistic country. Americans are selfish and only care about themselves. It’s all about me, all the time. And by tomorrow they’ll be back to obsessing about the newest cell phone and too busy taking selfies to worry about foreign affairs. Hell, they can’t even find that province on a map, much less pronounce it. So, you want to save a bunch of strangers half a world away, or your daughter and some of our own troops? Seems like a no-brainer to me, even without a gun to your daughter’s head.” Mayfair looked at the ceiling again. “Hmmm... I wonder what the average American would choose?”
“An American with a soul would choose what’s right. Apparently you’ve sold yours. How much did you get for it?”
Mayfair looked back at Donovan. “Oh yeah, I forgot your campaign slogan. It is never the wrong time to do the right thing. But who gets to judge what’s right? Why should you get to play God and decide who lives and who dies? Who made you judge, jury and executioner?”
“From here it looks like you’re the only executioner in the room. I gotta ask... what’s in this for you, Mayfair? You’re obviously someone who doesn’t give a damn about foreign affairs or anyone’s life but your own.”
“I don’t. I care about my bank account. You might say I’m tired of being underpaid for the privilege of perhaps taking a bullet for someone I hate. And working for someone whose political views are the opposite of mine.”
“Ah, so whoever is bankrolling this—”
“None of your concern as to who my employer is. Let’s just say I’ll never have to be a human shield for a politician again.” He looked at his watch. “Stop stalling. You going to recall the troops or not?” He held up the two-way radio. “Or do I tell my guy in the bunker to put your daughter in front of the camera—”
Donovan spit out the words. “Fine. I’ll make the call.”
Gladys reached forward and grabbed his forearm. “Mister President...”
He turned to her and gave her a wink. “It’s all right, Gladys. I can’t lose my daughter.”
Mayfair propped up a computer tablet on the table in front of the President. “Excellent. I’m going to set up a video chat so that everyone on the other end can see the gun to your head. And when all this is over, America will know their President is a coward who selfishly traded countless lives for that of his daughter. Hey, how convenient... just in time for the election. By the way, if you say anything about Sydney being a hostage, I’ll have her shot in the head.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
FBI Agent Brett Lauria ended the call, said, “You gotta be kidding me,” tossed his cell phone on the table and shook his head in disgust. He grabbed a root beer from the cooler in the command truck and rubbed the icy can across his forehead.
His world class headache was already at DEFCON 1, and he hadn’t even gotten the demand from those holding the President hostage. The news he’d just received meant it was only going to get worse.
The Bureau’s top hostage negotiator who had been en route and was minutes away was now unconscious in the hospital after a bad car accident.
So it was all on him until someone else could get there. Problem was, most of those with significant expertise in the field were at, ironically, a hostage negotiation seminar in California.
He was Doctor McCoy from Star Trek, stuck doing something out of his element.
Dammit, Jim, I’m a field agent, not a psychologist.
But it was not entirely hopeless, as, once upon a time, he was mentored by one. Which is why The Director had dropped the assignment in his lap for the time being. “Next man up” was just a slogan for football teams dealing with players who got hurt. Not FBI agents trying to negotiate the release of the President.
He searched the corners of his mind, trying to remember those “field trips” he’d taken long ago with the senior agent, how the man’s silver tongue had talked people off the ledge and defused what could have been potential disaster. How words and the way you delivered them could be more effective than guns. How the tone of your voice was as important as what you said. Sound firm but fair, and try not to be threatening. Don’t push the subject too far but don’t let him take advantage of you and let him know you’re in charge. Be the parent, not a friend. Say no when you have to do so. Listen for clues as to the subject’s mental state, discover whatever might upset that person, and avoid pushing those buttons unless it’s to your advantage.
For the time being, he’d have to draw on that experience.
The waiting was interminable.
His forehead sufficiently cooled off, he popped the soda and took a long drink, letting the icy bubbles bathe his throat. Brett closed his eyes and tried to relax, to no avail. He opened them and saw his reflection in a mirror, glad the terrorists couldn’t see him.
Because his face was drawn with eyes that were filled with worry. I can’t look like this if I go on television. He tried to force some energy into his body.
His private cell phone beeped with a text. Only about six people in the whole world had this number.
Has to be my wife. Just wants to make sure I’m okay.
He pulled the phone from his pocket and swiped his finger across the screen, seeing something that puzzled him.
It wasn’t a text from his wife.
It didn’t even come with a name, but from a website he didn’t recognize.
Normally he would have thought it was spam or a wrong number, but the first few words of the text made his eyes grow wide.
Jetpack, it’s Rum Runner. I’m in the bunker with Spitfire and five other kids. POTUS thinks she’s a hostage, Mayfair using her as leverage. Took out two of Mayfair’s men, Klein & Brooks. Using teleprompter computer to send this via internet. All other outgoing comms down. Took a shell in the thigh but not critical. Kids okay. Locked out elevator access & have weapons. Can receive audio via phone line hooked up to prompter in auxiliary Oval Office, cannot transmit as we have no outgoing audio. Don’t know phone number but I think our I-T genius can trace it. Check with her. Also have email, but very slow. Awaiting instructions.
“Ho-lee shit!”
The other agents all turned to face him. “What?”
“Got a text from my old college roommate. He’s Secret Service, down in the bunker with Sydney Donovan and a bunch of kids.”
One agent stood up. “The President’s daughter is trapped in there?”
“Apparently. No idea why they’d be down there, but they’re okay. The agent said Donovan thinks his daughter’s a hostage and Mayfair is using that to get leverage on him.”
“That would be pretty strong leverage. So we’ve gotta let the President know she’s safe. If he thinks there’s a gun to her head, that could be a huge factor in what he does.”
“No kidding. Meanwhile, somebody get me the schematics of the White House bunker. I’ve never been down there and I’m sure none of our people have either. And I need to call our I-T wizard to know what phone extension is the one in that auxiliary Oval Office they have set up down there. We can get information to them on that line.”
“Why didn’t they just call us? I thought you said you got a text.”
“They sent the text via a website. I didn’t even know you could do that. Anyway, their phones are jammed so they can’t make calls. They can hear us on a land line in the bunker but we can’t hear them for some reason. It would be a one-way conversation, but at least we can get them some information and let them know what we’re doing if we can figure out the phone number.”
“So how do we get word to Donovan that his daughter’s okay?”
Lauria suddenly stood up straight and smiled, remembering the deal he’d ma
de earlier. “I think it’s time to use the media for something good.”
“There’s a switch.”
“No kidding. And I know just the person who can help us.” His headache went to the back burner as he pulled out his regular cell phone and called Gina Collins.
GINA COLLINS EYES WIDENED as she saw Brett Lauria’s name on her cell phone. Her pulse shot up as she stepped away from the other reporters who were set up nearby so that no one could hear her. “This is Gina...”
“I’ve got something for you.”
“Something real, or something you need me to do?”
“A little of both.”
“I’m listening...”
“This is an exclusive, Gina. In fact, everything I give you from now on will be exclusive. You’re the only member of the media I’m talking to today.”
“So far I’m liking this deal. So what’s the exclusive you’ve got for me?”
“Okay, first off, try not to react when I tell you this.”
“This must be something really good.”
“It is. Hold onto your hat, Gina. Sydney Donovan was a hostage. And now she’s not.”
Her jaw dropped and she stood up straight as the adrenaline of a major exclusive rocketed through her veins. It was hard not to react. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Whoa, are you kidding me? She escaped? I want an interview with her—”
“Can’t do it. She’s in the White House underground bunker for some reason but she’s with my college roommate who’s a Secret Service agent. I just got a text message from him on my private line that they tried to take her hostage but failed. She is now safe under his protection with a bunch of other kids.”
“Damn, Brett, that’s incredible. So what do you need me to do?”
“Broadcast it.”
“Duh-uh. Why wouldn’t I?”
“I know. But here’s the kicker. The President has no idea that Sydney is okay. He thinks his daughter is a hostage and the terrorists are using that as leverage on him. And we can’t talk to Donovan. The only way to let him know she’s okay is for a reporter like you to broadcast it because we have to assume they are monitoring the networks. So we hope the President will see it. Coming from you, he should believe it.”
“I understand. So, are you getting Sydney out of there soon? I need access, Brett. If I can’t get her on camera I’ll take a phone interview.”
“Can’t get to her right now and the phones in the bunker are jammed. They actually sent me a text through a website. And unfortunately the only route to the bunker is through the terrorists so she stays put for now. They’ve planned this well. But the point is that the President needs to know his daughter is safe before he agrees to anything. That will definitely change the way he deals with this and the demands of the terrorists.”
“Right. Anything else?”
“I’d like you to report it this way... that Sydney Donovan is safe in an undisclosed location. And you can call me a high level government source.” He gave her more details. “Okay, are we on the same page, Gina?”
“We are. Don’t worry, Brett, I’ll do exactly as you asked. And I didn’t get this from you.”
“Great. And I need you to do it right away.”
“I’m not exactly gonna sit on this. Soon as I hang up I’ll get the ball rolling.”
“Thank you so much, Gina. I really appreciate your help on this. I’ll be in touch soon.”
“Thanks, Brett.”
The call ended. She walked briskly back to her camera position as she called the producer.
This deal I made with the FBI might actually work.
Especially since Brett isn’t talking to anyone else.
Her call to the producer connected. “It’s Gina. I’ve got a major exclusive and need to go live right now.”
SYDNEY LOOKED OVER at Agent Ryan, noting he now looked pale with his eyes drooping. She walked over, crouched down next to him and took his hand. “Hey. How are you doing?”
He grimaced a bit. “Fine.”
“You don’t look fine. You’re a ghost. And I know you’re in terrible pain.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be okay. We have bigger problems right now.”
“Well, I do worry about it. But meanwhile, we’ve got one problem we have to deal with immediately.”
Ryan nodded. “Yeah, I know. Mayfair is waiting for Klein to come back upstairs. And when he doesn’t... it’s just a matter of time before he realizes something is wrong.”
“But he can’t get down here.”
“True.”
“So what should we do?”
“Radio silence might be our safest bet.”
“Won’t he get even more suspicious?”
“Oh, I’m sure. But we can’t exactly put a dead body in an elevator and send it up with a message on his shirt written in blood. This isn’t Die Hard and you’re not Bruce Willis.”
“Yippie-ki-yay.”
“Very funny. Anyway, I do know we probably don’t have much time before he does call down here again. However, I have an idea—”
“Hey guys, come see this!”
Scott’s voice from the Situation Room sent everyone in that direction. He turned up the sound on the news broadcast.
Sydney’s jaw dropped when she saw the graphic on the bottom of the screen.
President’s daughter now safe in undisclosed location after being taken hostage
Scott pointed at the screen. “Our secret’s out. Now we have to hope your father can see this.” They all watched as reporter Gina Collins told the story.
Ryan yelled from the other room. “What’s going on?”
Sydney headed back to him. “News just reported that I’m no longer a hostage.”
“Great. Our message got through to my buddy and he got the media to help.”
“Hope it got through to my dad. Otherwise, the situation upstairs hasn’t changed.”
“Meanwhile, we need to re-think our plan. The problem is, it surely got through to Mayfair. So now he thinks there’s a problem down here.”
“Why is that a bad thing? He can’t get down here right now.”
“True, but I just thought of something. We don’t know if he’s got some weapon down here he can set off by remote. Mayfair may be a jerk, but he’s not stupid. He may have planned for a contingency like this. I think we need to keep him believing that he’s in control.”
“But won’t he expect Klein to come back upstairs?”
“He will. And maybe we’ll let him send someone else down here and we can pick off another of his people.”
“So, back to our original conversation. What’s your idea?”
MAYFAIR’S EYES WENT wide as he saw the red “breaking news” banner across the corner of the screen... and what was written on the bottom. “What the hell is this? Safe in an undisclosed location?” He fired the remote at the television, bringing up the sound.
“Gina Collins is standing by live at the White House with an update on some major breaking developments regarding the President’s daughter. Gina?”
“A high level government source has just confirmed that Sydney Donovan was actually a hostage for a short time but America’s First Daughter is now safely under the protection of the Secret Service in an undisclosed location. How she managed to get to safety is still not clear. But again, Sydney Donovan somehow escaped her captors and is safe. I’ll have more details as they become available.”
Mayfair muted the television, hoping the President had not heard the report from the other room. “Oh, they wanna play games with me, huh? We’ll see about that.” He marched toward the phone in the Cabinet Room and yanked it from the cradle. It rang once and then the call connected.
“This is Lauria.”
“Listen, don’t play games with me with false leaks to the media! I know what you’re up to.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I just saw some reporter say that Sydney Donovan was no longer a hostage. I ju
st saw her with a gun pointed at her head. And the President saw it as well.” He turned to the President. “Tell the FBI what you saw.”
He held the phone next to Donovan. “I saw my daughter with a gun to her head.”
Mayfair pulled the phone back. “Sydney Donovan is under my control and always has been. So you tell that reporter to do a retraction right now.”
“Calm down, it’s just some reporter going rogue. Surely you realize that half the stuff they broadcast isn’t true. And I haven’t given the media a damn thing. You haven’t seen me do a news conference, have you? I’ve been in the command truck the whole time standing by to talk with you.”
Mayfair moved to the window, pulled back the drapes a bit and peeked outside at the media horde. “That doesn’t mean you aren’t leaking stuff, because your agency is famous for that. Just know that we have the President’s daughter in custody and I have no qualms about putting a bullet in her head. Do I make myself clear?”
“Hey, let’s not drag children into this. Just tell me what you want and nobody has to get hurt. How about letting the daughter go as a sign of good faith? That would make it a lot easier for me to make a deal with you.”
“Nice try. She’s too damn valuable. As for what I want, the President already knows and is about to tell the Secretary of Defense. After that, I’ll tell you what needs to happen in order for you to get all the hostages back in one piece. But if you keep playing games, I start executing them.” He slammed down the phone and turned to the President. “Now, are you about ready? I assume you believed what you saw.”
“I’ll do whatever you want,” said Donovan. “Just don’t hurt my daughter.”
“Do what you’re told and I won’t.”
Mayfair typed on the keyboard attached to the tablet now propped up in front of the President and waited for the video chat to connect. As soon as the connection was made Donovan saw the face of the Secretary of Defense Harry Jakes fill the screen of the tablet.
