Captive-in-Chief

by Murray Mcdonald

  “Damned dog!” he griped as he walked out into the garden. Fortunately, he was no longer tracking her with his rifle. Otherwise, Joe wouldn’t be desensitizing the men with her. Joe noted the third time felt like a nuisance, and there had been a delay in responding. The delay he needed to cross the seventy yard gap before they reacted.

  Once more, he thought. He stopped mid-whistle. The guy’s patience was breaking.

  “Stay!” he commanded.

  He worked along the treeline to the far side of the garden. He’d go in from the side, although he had to make sure he didn’t trigger the side motion sensors. He rushed towards the house. It took him longer than he thought. In his mind, he was twenty-five and could run an 11 second 100 yard dash. He whistled as he ran, and the lights triggered. Sandy exited from the treeline and offered the men a casual glance comfort that it was just the dog back again. Joe reached the back of the house as the kitchen door opened. The rifle was raised, a silencer attached. He reached out and pulled with all his might.

  The man followed, but only after he had depressed the trigger. The spit erupted into the ground and Joe’s hand lit up with pain. All bets were off. The man’s head followed his rifle when Joe continued to pull and was met by a thunderous punch from an enraged and still moving Joe. Sandy kept walking, unaware that her life had been in danger. She would keep walking until Joe directed otherwise.

  A shout from inside the house followed quickly. “Nicholas!?”

  Nicholas was in no position to answer. Joe had never connected so well with a punch in his life. His full weight and momentum had been behind his fist. The man’s jaw was broken and dislocated. His attempt at a scream was silenced by his own pain at trying to scream. Joe ripped the assault rifle from his hands and ended his pain.

  “Damned dog!” Joe shouted, trying to mimic the man’s voice that he had heard twice and cover the spit from the rifle.

  “Nicholas?”

  The question answered Joe’s wonder at how good a mimic he was. He raised the rifle and rushed into the house.

  “Nicholas!” a man shouted as Joe exited the kitchen and met him in the hallway.

  “Don’t move,” Joe directed quietly, the rifle aimed at the man’s head.

  The man smiled, shouting. “Johan, we have an intruder!”

  Joe pulled the trigger. The man died with his smile intact.

  A flashbang fizzed down the hallway. While Joe hadn’t experienced one for over twenty years, it wasn’t a sound you ever forgot. He dived back into the kitchen, covering his ears, opening his mouth, and clamping his eyes closed.

  A barrage of bullets followed the explosion in the hallway behind him. Another flashbang came fizzing into the kitchen. Joe managed to kick it back into the hallway. It exploded in the doorway, impacting both the kitchen and hallway. Joe fought through the pain ringing in his ears and slid into the hallway, his rifle pointing towards Johan.

  He wasn’t there. Joe heard footsteps pounding above. Johan had been distracting Joe to get to Clara upstairs. He stood and steadied himself, whistling for Sandy. He needed every advantage he could muster to save Clara.

  Johan appeared at the top of the stairs with Clara. “I’ll kill the girl.” He was obviously confident he had the upper hand. “Throw down your weapons and she’ll live.”

  It was a confident and ballsy move. Rather than hide and wait for backup, he was taking control and dealing with the situation. However, it also suggested there was no backup nearby. It was probably a good thirty miles away in D.C.. Otherwise, Johan would have hunkered down.

  Joe threw out the rifle, which clattered to the floor at the bottom of the staircase.

  “Your weapons, not the one you took from Nicholas.”

  Joe threw out the pistol he had holstered on his belt.

  “Okay, now walk to the bottom of the stairs.”

  “No,” said Joe. “You’ll shoot me.”

  “I’ll shoot the girl.”

  “No you won’t,” said Joe.

  “Yes, I will.”

  “Don’t make threats you won’t keep, it doesn’t work. It just undermines you,” said Joe. He mouthed to Sandy, she cocked her head. “Fetch,” he whispered and pointed into the garden. She ran out and returned with a stick.

  “I will kill her!” shouted Johan infuriated that Joe wasn’t playing along.

  Joe sent Sandy out again. This time she struggled back in. He smiled and waved her to him.

  “Come to the bottom of the stairs or I will kill her!” Johan demanded like a petulant child.

  “No, because you can’t kill her.”

  “Of course I can.”

  Joe heard Clara sobbing, it was hard to hear. “You can’t kill her because you can’t lose the leverage she gives your boss.”

  “I’m going to kill her right now if you don’t come out.”

  Joe was lying on the wooden floor. Highly polished, it was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship and befitting the tens of thousands of dollars Lloyd had probably paid for it. Joe took his rifle from Sandy’s mouth and pushed with all his might with his legs.

  “No you won’t!” he shouted.

  He slid his body along the floor, and, as expected, Johan was waiting to shoot but was in the position to prove how he would kill Clara. His weapon was aimed at her and not down the stairs to where Joe would appear. It was a difficult shot whilst moving. Joe stamped the soles of his shoes into the floor instantly stopping, aimed, and shot. As expected, Johan didn’t shoot Clara. She was far too valuable. His weapon was racing to target Joe when the bullet struck him in the shoulder. It was the closest shot Joe would risk with Clara in the firing line. Joe jumped up and rushed up the stairs. Clara was already on the floor when Johan’s arm dropped, along with his weapon. Joe kicked him backward down the corridor, shooting him well out of Clara’s sight.

  Joe dropped his weapon and helped her up. She was sobbing wildly. She looked into Joe’s eyes.

  “You’re safe,” he said, taking her into his arms.

  She pulled back out of his embrace and stared him in the face, recognition igniting in her expression. “Uncle Joe?”

  A tear ran down his cheek as she pulled him close and hugged him like the long lost uncle that he was.

  Chapter 77

  After their brief and tearful reunion, Joe cleared the rest of the house. There were no other captives or targets in the house, only Clara, who had been looked after like the asset she was. There weren’t many people in the world that would allow you to control the most powerful man on Earth.

  He introduced Clara to Sandy and they walked back to the car. Unsurprisingly, Clara was quiet. It had been a violent and bloody end to her captivity and not something she was likely to forget or get over soon. He kept his arm around her as they walked. It was amazing how much of the ten year old he could still see in her as a woman.

  “I can’t believe you remember me,” said Joe.

  “Are you kidding! I remember every time you had leave, you’d come visit, right up until I was about eleven and met Clay for the first time. You never came back after that,” she said sadly.

  “Yeah, life didn’t really pan out the way I expected.”

  “Nor for me,” she said quietly.

  “You’re safe now.”

  “Joe, please don’t take this the wrong way, but my father’s the president. You’re one guy! What the—”

  “It’s complicated,” Joe interrupted. He could see the shock was wearing off and the anger was building.

  “I understand I’m an embarrassment. I understand he can’t publicly claim me, but I was kidnapped, being threatened, and he sends one—please don’t take this the wrong way—old guy and his dog! He’s the most powerful man on Earth, commander of the most powerful military in history, and he sends a guy and his dog?!”

  “No offense taken. Although I can’t argue with you, you don’t know the full picture. Once you do, you’ll understand.”

  “God, I can’t wait to see my husband, he mus
t be out of his mind with worry.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Joe said sheepishly. “As I say, there’s a lot you need to hear.”

  “He’s not with you?”

  “No, he’s still in New York,” he said, not technically lying, unless the body had been moved from the New York morgue, which he doubted. “Nobody knows I’m here. Look, it’s a long story,” he said as they neared the car.

  He’d have to keep Amy’s gag in place, Clara couldn’t hear her husband was dead from her. That was something that would need to be managed, and carefully. There was no doubt the full trauma of her experience had yet to hit her.

  “Before we get in the car, I need to let you know there’s a woman tied up in the back. She’s part of the group that’s blackmailing your father. She led us here.”

  “Us?”

  “There’s a reporter, Daryl, he was going to print a story that would expose part of their plan. They killed his partner by mistake and he’s on the run from them.”

  “So you’re a one man army doing the president’s dirty work?”

  “Effectively, yeah.” Joe shrugged. “You know what, on second thought…” he said on reaching the car door and seeing Amy’s face, “…she can ride in the trunk. I’d rather not see her treasonous face.”

  Or give her the chance to upset Clara, he thought to himself. He stuffed a clearly reluctant Amy unceremoniously into the trunk, slamming the lid.

  “Clara, Daryl,” Joe said, introducing them, “Daryl, Clara.”

  “God, I’m so sorry for your loss, I know exactly how you feel!” Daryl said.

  Clara’s head spun to Joe; he couldn’t look her in the eye. He looked at Sandy, who jumped into the car, not wanting any part of that conversation.

  Chapter 78

  Joe handed an address to Daryl. He still was barely speaking to him. Clara was inconsolable. Joe considered telling her the truth but no matter how he broke it to her, she’d be riding in the car with the man that killed her husband. Her level of trust for Joe would be nowhere near what it was for her scumbag husband, certainly not over the next hour in the car. He’d tell her, just not yet.

  “Where’s this?” Daryl asked.

  “I have no idea, it’s an address I was given to go to once I got Clara,” he snapped.

  Daryl input it into his smart phone and a computerized voice told them to make a U-turn.

  “Who was that?” asked Joe.

  “Seriously, man? Where’ve you been?”

  “What?”

  “It’s a GPS app!”

  Joe didn’t even want to start with how little what Daryl had said meant to him. He remained silent and went with the occasional voice breaking the silence, a welcome intrusion to Clara’s sobs. Sandy had the right idea. She caught some sleep while she could. Joe closed his eyes. The second he did, Clara spoke.

  “Okay, tell me what’s been happening,” she said, wiping her eyes.

  “What do you know since your kidnapping?”

  “Nothing. They kept me in a room with a DVD player and about a hundred movies. No TV.”

  “Shit, you’ve missed a lot.”

  Clara sat in silence while Daryl and Joe brought her up to date with the events that had rocked and reshaped their nation.

  “And my dad’s agreed with all these laws and policies?”

  “It was that or you died.”

  “And he can’t talk to anyone?”

  “Anyone he does talk to is killed. Even questioning something he had supposedly done got three people killed.”

  “So they must have people everywhere.”

  “We know a few names, but we’ve spoken to pawns and foot soldiers, who don’t know half of what is going on. The conspiracy they’re part of is far bigger than they know. Your dad doesn’t know who he can or can’t trust. The only way is to tell them something and if they don’t die, they probably can’t be trusted, the conspirators had you as a failsafe. With you in their hands, he was powerless. He wasn’t going to go around challenging people’s trust when their lives were at risk. Particularly those close to him. It wasn’t whether they could be trusted, it was who they then told.”

  “My God. How did they manage this?”

  “While I don’t have the full picture, from what your dad has conveyed in the few messages we’ve relayed to one another, it’s been planned for years. And certainly from what we got out of Amy we know that’s true. She’s been in her post since your father became president.”

  “Everything’s been done so quickly. I mean, surely they’d have been better taking their time.”

  “Shock and awe, a classic military tactic. Hit hard and fast. By the time people stop to think what just happened, it’s already a done deal. The American people are still in shock, they see the government taking decisive action in the face of mounting adversity. One day after another, something else, something bigger to distract them from what was happening as a result of the previous day’s events.”

  “What if my father hadn’t nominated a vice president?”

  “He’d likely be dead and the Baldwins would be in power. One week. They planned to transform America in only one week and take complete control. As maniacal as it sounds, they nearly succeeded, and who’s to say we’ll be able to stop them? However, the longer we can hang on, the more the American people will understand what’s happening and I’m sure will fight back.”

  “But why’d they kill my husband? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Probably because he knew about Clay.”

  “He didn’t.”

  “He…” Joe caught himself but Clara was on him like a hawk, her legal training picking up on his mistake.

  “You’ve lied twice now. You said he was in New York and now you’re arguing he knew something he didn’t, yet you’ve never met him?”

  “I didn’t lie, he is in New York.”

  “We’re here,” announced Daryl, trying to help Joe, even though his smart phone was saying they should stop in half a mile.

  “Uncle Joe, I think with everything else I’ve been through—”

  “He was a plant, Clara. He was part of the conspiracy. He didn’t love you. He only cared about the hedge fund they gave him,” said Joe.

  Clara’s eyes welled up. “He knew about Clay?”

  “And a lot more. He was using you, he set you up.”

  “He’s part of all of this?” Clara waved her arms in a halfhearted circle, sobbing heavily.

  Joe nodded, not wanting to point out she had used the wrong tense when referring to him.

  “What did you do?”

  “What any good uncle would.”

  “What?”

  “Threw the son of a bitch off the tallest building I could find.”

  “Shit,” Daryl breathed. “You’re hardcore!”

  “Not hardcore, Marine Corps,” replied Joe proudly. “We here?”

  “Yeah, not entirely sure where ‘here’ is but wherever it is, it’s there.” He pointed to number 231, a small, neat townhouse.

  “One day I’ll thank you,” Clara said, climbing out of the car. “That day is not today though, okay?”

  Joe nodded, checked his pistol, and strode to the door marked 231. He knocked three times, hard and unmistakable for anyone inside as to the fact that someone was at the door.

  A young woman answered. “You’re gonna wake the baby knocking that loud,” she complained.

  “I’m sorry, Ma’am, but President Clay Caldwell gave me your address,” said Joe.

  She turned away, ironically shouting far louder than Clay had knocked. “Some guy for you, Momma!”

  “Who’s looking for Ramona at this hour?” came the response.

  Chapter 79

  Ramona listened for less than a minute before ushering Joe, Daryl, and Clara into her house. She listened intently while they explained what had happened and who Clara was.

  “I knew something wasn’t right, I knew it!” she proclaimed many times as they spoke. “So what can I do
?”

  “We need to get to the president but nobody can know,” Joe replied. “And we need to do it now. Once they discover Clara is gone, who knows what they’ll do?”

  “That’s not going to work, there’s no way in to the White House without proper passes, especially at this time of night. I could call Mike, his lead agent, he’s a good guy.”

  Joe shook his head. “We know there are a number of Secret Service agents already implicated. We can’t trust anyone. The fact he’s given me your name says a huge amount about you.”

  “He better trust Ramona, Ramona’s always had his back!”

  “That’s why we’re here.”

  “Who are you again?”

  “I was an old friend of his,” replied Joe.

  “Funny, he never mentioned you. Ever,” she said suspiciously. “Then again, he never mentioned having another daughter. There’s no denying you’re his though. Same eyes and nose.”

  “What if…?” asked Daryl, running through a scenario.

  “Too risky,” said Joe. “I’m not happy with putting Ramo—”

  “Don’t you be worrying about me, I can take care of myself. Sounds like a plan to me,” Ramona said, bulldozing the men. “I’m in!”

  ***

  Clay sat on the sofa with his children, his arms wrapped around them both. His role as protector didn’t get more basic than that. Anyone coming for them would have to get through him first.

  “Just one more, Dad, please?” Jack pleaded.

  Clay looked at Tess. She nodded her agreement, so he hit the button and the next episode began to play. Another 22 minutes delay on going to bed. Val was going to kill him but he was savoring every waking moment. He had no idea how much longer he had with his children. He didn’t think many bookies knowing his situation would give him odds on seeing out the weekend.

  If Jack wanted another ten episodes, there was no way he’d say no.