by Nick Harlow
“And I’m sure they’ve got plenty more. If only we knew how many.” Sydney shook her head. “It wasn’t worth her life. God, she was just a teenager. She didn’t even get a chance to live. No, I should have listened to you.” She threw up her hands. “That’s it. I’m done running things while Ryan is unconscious. From now on, you’re in charge. You make the calls from now on.”
“Syd, stop it.”
“I shouldn’t be making decisions. When I make decisions, people die. I’m not a leader. I can’t do this. You’re the right one for the job.”
He pulled her aside, then took her shoulders. She kept looking down at Jordan’s body, but he took her chin with his hand and tilted it up until she was facing him. “Listen to me, Syd. Right now we’re all looking to you for strength. I know this is hard, and believe me, I feel horrible that she died, but we have to keep focused. The game has changed now that Mayfair knows he doesn’t have hostages down here. You need to focus on what we need to do next. You said we can’t sit here and do nothing. Remember, we have to get Ryan out of here soon or he’ll die as well. So take a breath, calm down, and tell us what we need to do in order to make that happen.”
She looked over at Jordan’s body again, the image of life fading from the girl’s eyes burned into her brain. “We have to avenge her.”
“That’s a given. Now, the question is, how do we do it? What’s our next move?”
“I don’t know. I need to think. But you’re right, the game has changed.”
The sound of Mayfair’s voice coming over the two-way radio filled the room.
Scott cocked his head in the direction of the radio. “Unfortunately we don’t have time to think. We need to talk with him. What do you want to do, Syd?”
She stared at the radio and said nothing.
“Make the call, Syd.”
She turned back to him. “You’re the more diplomatic one. You talk to him.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I’m too emotional right now. Just like my father has his Secretary of State handle diplomacy, I need you to be the negotiator. And as the leader, I know you’re the right one for this particular job. You can show strength through your words. Whenever we talk on the phone... your voice... it always has such a calming effect and you always make perfect sense. Every time in my life I’ve been upset I’ve looked to you, and you’ve always managed to set things straight for me and put things in perspective. So you talk to him. Meanwhile, I need to get a text to the FBI about what’s happened. And let the world know they’ve killed a child.”
MAYFAIR PACED BACK and forth and keyed the radio again. “Brooks, where are you? Dammit, come in!”
“Agent Brooks isn’t available right now. He is our prisoner. And as you’ve already seen, we are fully armed and can take care of ourselves. If you send any more of your people down here we’ll send them back in a body bag. So what do you want?”
His face tightened as he stared at the radio. He didn’t recognize the young male voice. “Where’s Brooks? Who the hell is this?”
“Like I said, Brooks is our prisoner. You’re not the only one who can take hostages. And I’m your insurance policy you need to get out of the country so the Speaker of the House doesn’t blow up your plane. Care to guess my identity?”
Mayfair slowly nodded. “So, young Scott Rusch is running things down in the bunker. Which means Ryan must be dead.”
“He’s busy right now interrogating Brooks. That’s how I know you need me to get out of the country. Of more importance to you, I’m alive. And you need me if you want to keep breathing after all this is over. I’m your only way out and you know it. So if you want to make any kind of a deal, you talk to me.”
“I want to talk to Brooks.”
“Not happening.”
“Then I want proof that Sydney Donovan is still alive.”
There was a slight pause, then he heard her. “The Spitfire is no longer your hostage, Mayfair. Nor am I collateral damage. What you saw on TV was true.”
“So, you are alive. Then you’d better come up here right now.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Because I’ll shoot your father in the head if you don’t.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Members of the media cowered in fear behind their news vehicles wondering if there would be more gunshots. All was quiet now, but would there be more?
Gina Collins heart continued to pound as she crouched next to the live truck, hoping it would stop a bullet while waiting for a call from Brett Lauria to explain the shooting she’d just heard coming from inside the White House.
But now, while every FBI agent and law enforcement officer had a gun trained on the building, you could hear a pin drop.
Is the President dead? Did the FBI and Secret Service attack the terrorists from inside?
Is the story already over?
Dammit, Brett, call me!
She jumped as her cell rang. But the name on the screen was not the one she was hoping for. Not even close. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me.”
Why is the network President calling me now? Seriously, NOW??? What, is my skirt not short enough? Does he want me shot completely out of focus to hide my wrinkles?
And I don’t need to be tied up talking to him if Brett calls.
Make this quick.
She rolled her eyes, trying to sound as professional as possible. “Gina Collins...”
“Gina, it’s Tom Davidson. I’ll be brief since I know you’re awfully busy.”
Ya think? “Yes, Sir. What can I do for you?”
“It’s more like what you can do for your country.”
So now he’s channeling JFK? She furrowed her brow. “Not sure I understand, Sir.”
“You will shortly. What I’m about to tell you goes no farther. You can’t talk about it with your photographer, the truck operator, the anchor, family, no one. The only other person who knows about this at the network is the senior executive producer who will be shortly taking over in the control room. You’ll be talking to her in a few minutes. So keep this under your hat.”
While she had no problem with stuff basically being off the record while interviewing people, this time it was coming from her boss, which made absolutely no sense. The only thing news people were forbidden to talk about in regard to management was salary. But his serious tone told her this was something very different. Her reporter’s radar went up. What the hell is this? “Sure, no problem.”
“Okay. Here’s what I am asking you to do.” Her eyebrows went up and her jaw slowly dropped as she listened to the network president’s request over the next two minutes. Which she knew wasn’t remotely a request, but an order. And if she didn’t do it, they’d find someone else who would in a heartbeat, and she realized the barbarians were already at the gate with torches and pitchforks back at the network’s broadcast center. Reporters would eat their young for a story like this... and one of the biggest exclusives of all time. “Do you think you can do that, Gina?”
“While it goes against everything I stand for as a journalist, I certainly understand—”
“Gina, I know you’re a very ethical reporter, probably the most credible person at our network, and the viewers appreciate that. Everyone knows you have an impeccable reputation. But lives are at stake today, Gina, and you can help save them. Not just those in the White House but countless ones overseas. And coming from you, with your track record, well, this would carry a lot of weight. When it’s all over you’d be the person who saved the President and his daughter. Along with countless people overseas. Isn’t that worth more than your professional ethics for just this once? This is more than a major news story. This is a matter of life and death. I know you’re a student of history, and surely you remember how a network reporter helped the Kennedys during the Cuban missile crisis.”
She instantly recalled the story of the meeting between the journalist and his Russian contact when JFK was just about out of options, how it helped b
oth countries back off from the brink of nuclear war. The quote from the reporter was burned into her brain, about doing whatever was possible to save humanity from destruction. And she remembered how a major newspaper sat on a story for a few precious hours. A scene from the movie Thirteen Days flashed through her brain, the reporter sitting down with Kennedy. Gina wondered if someday she’d be memorialized in the same way. “Yes, of course, I’m familiar with the story.”
“This is the same thing, Gina. Will you help us?”
It wasn’t the same thing, not even close. But in this case the ends would justify the means. In a flash she considered the possibilities. Her career on television was nearing an end anyway and with print journalism headed for extinction she’d soon be gone from the career she loved. She would not only own the story, but be a key part of it. Sure, it blew Journalism 101 out of the water along with everything she believed, but these days the media had no credibility with the public anyway, with lower approval ratings than used car salesmen. No one would possibly find her at fault. Hell, they’d probably throw her a parade and give her a medal. Bottom line, true journalism was basically dead, America was a celebrity nation and she would become the one most in demand. A superheroine with a microphone able to leap terrorists in a single bound on the cover of every magazine.
Besides, she’d never be able to live with herself knowing the President and Sydney Donovan died along with countless people overseas because she wouldn’t put her ethics aside just this once. While she despised most politicians she respected Donovan and knew he was a decent human being. And his daughter was a real gem who had devoted her teenage years to charitable causes. Donovan’s campaign slogan flashed through her mind. It is never the wrong time to do the right thing.
“I’ll do it, Mister Davidson. I understand this is a unique situation and I’m happy to help out. You can count on me to do whatever it takes.”
She heard him exhale. “Thank you, Gina. You’re a real team player. I promise I won’t forget it. When this is all over, regardless of how it turns out, you can write your own ticket with me. You have carte blanche. Anything you want, you got.”
She instantly thought of the perfect payback. What the hell, I’ve got the upper hand for once in my life. “If that’s the case, I want the weekend anchor job that’s coming open when George retires next month. Five year ironclad contract. His salary. And a million dollar buyout if you replace me before the end of the contract.”
“Done. You have my word on that. Gina, I need to go now and get the ball rolling on this. You’ll be getting a call from a high level government official in a few minutes with some more information.”
“Standing by, Sir.”
“Talk soon, Gina, and thanks again.” The call ended.
Gina Collins immediately started doing something she had never done in more than twenty years as a reporter.
Writing the story in her head.
A story that hadn’t happened yet.
And never would.
SYDNEY STARTED TO ANSWER Mayfair but Scott grabbed her hand before she could key the mike. “No, Syd. You’re not going. No way.”
“I have to. He’ll kill my father.”
“No, he won’t. And you’re not the most valuable hostage down here any longer. Mayfair is still working for someone who plans to kill him. He needs me to get out of the country, remember? Not you, not your father, me. My dad will blow up his plane unless I’m on it. I’m Mayfair’s only ticket out of the country according to Klein. And he can’t stay in the United States. He has one, and only one option to get out of this alive. I’m the one who needs to go upstairs, not you.”
“Scott, you can’t go up there. It’s too risky.”
“Oh, but it was okay for you to go up in that elevator. Sorry, that argument doesn’t work. Because actually it’s less risky for me.”
“Sydney? I’m waiting...”
“Mayfair needs an answer, Syd.”
“But what’s the point of you giving yourself up now?”
“Because I’m something we can use to trade for something we desperately need.”
“Trade? For what?”
“To save some lives. Especially one in particular. Let me do this.” Scott took the radio from her.
“Scott, wait a minute, don’t—”
“Mayfair, surely by now you know that Sydney is not your ticket out of all this. She doesn’t improve your bargaining position at all. How are you going to leave the country without the Speaker’s son? It’s me that you need. And, of course, you’ll be sure to get a king’s ransom from my father when he has to pay to get his son back. I can tell you how much he’s worth and where he’s got money stashed. Of course, I’m not coming upstairs just for the hell of it. But if you want to have your plane explode over the Atlantic, fine with me. I’ll just stay in the bunker till this thing is over. Unless you’re willing to make a trade. Which is the only way I’m going with you.”
Long pause. “Very well. What do you want?”
“We have someone down here who needs medical attention for a gunshot wound in the leg. Let that person go and you can have me. And then you won’t have a second murder on your resume since you’re already responsible for one death.”
“I’m not letting anyone go.”
Scott shook his head for a moment, then took a look at Ryan, still unconscious. “Why not?”
“Because I’m not.”
“Fine. Then I’m not coming up there. And you won’t have me to get out of the country.”
“I did not say I was unwilling to deal. I’m simply not letting people go. However, I will allow a surgeon and medical team to come down there. Acceptable? Or do you want a death on YOUR conscience?”
Scott shook his head and looked at Sydney. “The guy’s a good poker player, I’ll give him that.” He keyed the microphone. “Okay, Mayfair, you’ve got a deal. After the medical people arrive, then I’ll come upstairs.”
Another long pause. “Your terms are acceptable. I will contact the FBI and let you know when the medical people are ready.”
“Make it fast because the person who was shot needs attention right away. And I want to see the medical people on the network entering the White House.”
“Fine. I will contact you when everything is in place.”
“Oh, one more thing, Mayfair...”
“What?”
“You kill or hurt any of the hostages upstairs, you’ll never see me. And then you’ll never get out of the country alive. Am I clear?”
“You’ve made your point. I fully understand my current situation. I hope you understand yours.”
Scott put the radio down and turned to Sydney. “There, it’s done—”
“Dammit, Scott, why the hell did you do that? Surely you know that once you get out of the country he’ll kill you!”
“No, he won’t. Because my father will have to pay the ransom. Didn’t you hear me? Think about it... can you imagine what the country would think of him if he didn’t pay the ransom to get his own son back?”
“Your father doesn’t care about you.”
“True, but he cares about public opinion. He’d never get re-elected if he let me die to save a buck. Plus, he can always steal more from the party’s campaign slush fund. And as far as Mayfair is concerned, he only wants money, I’ll be worth a lot and I can tell him where my father has money stashed. He’s not going to throw millions of dollars away.”
She shook her head. “Damn, Scott, I don’t like this.”
“Besides, we need you down here. And once I get up there I can let your father know that you’re no longer a hostage.”
She locked eyes with him, the thought of never seeing him again making her lips quiver. “Scott... I can’t lose you.”
“You stole my line.”
She bit her lower lip, moved forward and took his shoulders. “Be serious, Scott.”
“Sorry, just trying to get you to lighten up a bit. You won’t lose me. But if you went upsta
irs, I know damn well I’d lose you. Remember what Klein said. They want you dead and need me alive. You were never meant to survive this whole thing. You need to understand that and remember what Ryan said about us not being bulletproof. These people play hardball and my father wanted you out of the picture. Mayfair was only using you for leverage on your father and once he had that and got your dad to order the removal of the troops, he had no reason to keep you alive. Logically, at this point he doesn’t need you anymore since your dad made the call to withdraw the troops. Therefore, I’m the one to go. And the only way for you to stay alive is to stay down here in the bunker until this is over. So no more guerrilla warfare trips in the elevator.”
She shook her head and tried to exhale her tension, knowing he was right. “Fine, but what the hell am I going to do without my Wingman to help me make sensible decisions? You’re the balance I need. We’re a good team.”
He reached up and took her hands. “I guess you could just ask yourself... what would Scott do? You’ll figure it out.”
“I’m not wired that way and you know it. Meanwhile, with Jordan gone and you upstairs, I’m the only one with any experience handling a gun if Ryan’s going to be undergoing surgery. And I haven’t exactly been a great shot under pressure. If I hadn’t missed in the elevator Jordan would be alive—”
“Stop it. Don’t focus on the past. Keep your eye on the goal. Getting your father out of this alive. Saving Ryan’s life. And, if it helps, getting me out as well.”
“Hell yeah, it helps. I won’t let you die either. Nobody else gets hurt on my watch.”
“That’s the Spitfire we need. Now go show Kyle and Vince how to shoot a gun. And when you think about Jordan, keep your emotions in check. Don’t get mad, get even.”
UNKNOWN NUMBER
While the screen on Gina Collins’ cell phone offered little clue as to who was calling, she had a pretty good idea she was about to talk with her new anonymous high level government source.
The one who would help her write the story.
