“No,” Flagg replied. “If you closely you’ll see that the hole isn’t perfectly round, all three went through there.”
An impressed and even more nervous Aidan took a deep breath and stepped up to his position. He worked the slide of his pistol and attempted to mimic Flagg’s stance. He pointed the weapon at the target and pulled back on the trigger. The bang was loud, and the pistol jumped so hard in his hands he nearly dropped it.
When Flagg had fired off his shots, the Sig had hardly seemed to move, yet in Aidan’s hands, an identical weapon caused his arm to jolt back so that he nearly hit himself in the face. He paused, frightened to pull the trigger again.
“Don’t worry about the kick, Aidan,” Flagg said. “You’ll get used to it in time and learn to compensate. The important thing is to make sure that you don’t jerk your hand in anticipation, it’ll throw your aim all to hell. Now, take a breath, hold it for a second and then let it out. As you do, I want you to squeeze the trigger gently, don’t yank on it.”
“Okay.”
Aidan focused, pointed the Sig down range again and took another long breath, letting it out as he squeezed the trigger. He flinched involuntarily at the bang, but then steadied himself for another shot immediately. This time he got through the process cleanly. His slide stayed back, Flagg had instructed him to only put three rounds in the magazine.
“Let’s see how you did.”
Flagg brought the target forward. One of the shots, probably the first, been a clean miss. Another had hit the paper, but outside of the shoulder outline by two inches. The last shot had hit the target in the center of what would have been its belly.
“Not bad, Son, Not bad at all. I’ve seen Marine recruits that couldn’t hit the target once in their first three tries.”
He pressed the button again, and the target slid back out to where it had been.
“Put five rounds in your magazine this time; we’ll make a marksman of you yet.”
Aidan was called back from his rumination by what sounded like pebbles hitting the windows and side of the car.
“Get down,” yelled Brett, diving over them for the second time that day.
3
Aidan squirmed under the heavy weight of the agent to twist his head and look at the darkened windows of the Limo. With each spak sound, a small crater appeared in the armored glass. The intercom clicked on.
“We’re under fire folks, Denny keep the packages down,” said Flagg in a calm voice.
“Where’s it coming from?!” Pete shouted as the limo swerved onto the off-ramp.
“Calm down Miller,” said Flagg. “I believe those shots came from the Pentagon.”
“The Pentagon?” Evelyn said.
“Yes. The exit we’re taking into Arlington takes us past the Pentagon, Ma’am.”
“You and Aidan should keep your heads down,” said Agent Denny. “It’s unlikely, but if a second round happens to hit exactly where a previous one did it might penetrate the glass.”
“This could be good news,” Flagg said, his voice grim despite his hopeful words. “They might think we’re headed to the Pentagon. Perhaps they think we have the POTUS in here - that means they don’t know he’s at Camp David.”
More automatic fire raked the side of the limo. Aidan, his mother and the agent were thrown around as Pete skidded the car off the ramp and headed away from the Pentagon.
“There doesn’t seem to be anybody following us,” Pete said. “Yet.”
“Well, that’s the downside of them thinking we have the POTUS in here. They’ll be coming in hot,” said Flagg.
He talked into the radio up front, before his voice came back more clearly over the intercom.
“I’ve alerted the Arlington police and NSA; they should be responding ASAP. Miller, we ditch the Limo at the first car lot you see.”
“Okay,” Pete said. “But I doubt any will be open at this time on Christmas Eve.”
“I don’t give a fuck if they’re open or not,” Flagg’s voice came back. “It’ll be easier if they aren’t.”
Brett let Aidan up when they were out of range of the gunfire. The president’s son stared at the pockmarks in the tinted glass, allowing his mother to hold his hand for the first time in a long time. While he was shocked that somebody had shot at them, surprisingly, he was not frightened. The agent sitting opposite them looked tense but ready for anything.
Ten minutes later they pulled into the parking lot of a used Ford dealership.
“Stay alert and wait here, I’ll check it out,” said Flagg’s voice through the intercom. It was followed by the dull thud of a heavy door closing.
“Whatever happens, we are not moving from the back of this vehicle until Flagg or Agent Miller gives us the all clear,” Brett said, loosening his jacket so that he could get at his recently pocketed pistol if he needed to.
“Do you think ditching the limo is dangerous?” Aidan asked.
“Flagg knows what’s he’s doing,” Brett replied. “He’s probably right about a presidential limo being too noticeable, but we’d be dead right now if we’d left the White House in an unarmored Escalade.”
“They might not have even shot at us if we were, though,” Evelyn said. “That’s the idea, I guess.”
Denny didn’t argue.
“We’re moving,” Pete’s voice came back through the intercom. “Flagg’s got the maintenance garage doors open. We’ll park the limo inside, out of sight.”
“Somebody’s going to be in for a surprise when they get back to the dealership after Christmas,” Brett said, as the Limo crept forward. Aidan thought that was a pretty optimistic comment but didn’t say it out loud.
“Sit tight,” said Pete, after they pulled up.
A couple of minutes later they heard another vehicle pull up beside the limo. A car door opened and closed. Then nothing for a while.
“You still up there Pete?” Brett asked, leaning toward the intercom box.
“Yeah, I’m still here,” Pete’s voice came back. “Flagg wants to take two cars; he’s got one ready to go, Hang on another minute.”
Aidan nearly jumped off the seat when someone pounded hard on his door.
“All clear,” Flagg bellowed. “Open up and let’s move out.”
“Me first,” Brett whispered. “Just to be safe.” He pulled the Sig Sauer out of his shoulder holster and opened the door, keeping the pistol low while he slid out of the of the limo and surveyed the area. “Okay, Madam First Lady, you next, then Aidan.”
Aidan followed his mother out of the limo and examined their new transportation. Next to the limo was an older model Ford Explorer. Behind it, a small Hyundai hatchback.
Flagg stood with his back to them, looking out through the garage doors, his submachine gun at the ready. As Pete joined them, Aidan looked back at the car he’d just exited, amazed at what he saw. The entire right side of the vehicle had been chewed up. The gunfire had certainly been more intense than the vehicle’s sound insulation had made it seem.
Aidan saw something silver lodged in one of the craters in the safety glass. He reached out and probed it with his finger. It was cool to the touch and fell into his palm without too much prying.
“Hey Flagg, what kind of bullet is this?” Aidan said, crossing to Flagg and holding out the flattened slug.
Flagg glanced down before turning his attention back outside.
“I couldn’t tell you for certain. It’s too deformed by the impact. Looks about the size of a seven-six-two NATO round. Not that it means much, it’s one of the most common rounds in the world.”
Aidan remained beside Flagg as Brett moved their luggage to the back of the Explorer. Dusk had come upon them quickly, and thick cloud cover meant it was even darker than usual. The weatherman on the news the night before had said there was a decent chance of snow in the Baltimore to Philadelphia area for Christmas. Given the look of the clouds overhead, Aidan thought it might extend down to DC as well.
Back in San Dieg
o, where they’d lived before his dad was elected president, it had never snowed for Christmas. Or at all for that matter. Since moving, he’d seen one white Christmas, but normally in January before the snow started sticking around. Flagg glanced over his shoulder at the others. Pete was just throwing the last of the bags in the Hyundai.
“Come on kid,” Flagg said. “Ideally, we’d have one more agent, but we work with what we’ve got. Miller, you’re driving the Explorer, I’m shotgun and Mrs. Riley’s in the back seat. Denny, you and Aidan are in the Hyundai. Did you put the SAT-phone in the Explorer?”
“It’s in the back seat,” Pete said.
“Can I ride in the front?” Aidan asked, walking over to the small car
“You’re safer in the back seat,” Brett said, opening the driver’s door.
“Am I really? Won’t it seem odd you driving and me in back? In a Hyundai? I want to see where we’re going and what’s going on.”
“Fine, sit where you want,” Brett sighed. Aidan hurried around the other side and slid into the seat next to him. Almost as soon as Brett’s door was closed Flagg was knocking on the window.
“Make sure you keep your radio on,” Flagg said. “It’s the only way we can communicate. Same route we were planning before.”
“Roger, I’ll follow you guys,” Brett responded, before fiddling with the radio in his belt. “It’s on.”
“Looks like we’re ready to roll,” Flagg said. “We might make it through this night yet.”
Flagg got in the Explorer. Brett followed behind the SUV as it did a U-turn in the empty garage and passed by limousine out into the night. They paused while Flagg got out and pulled the door down. Aidan took one last look inside at the presidential limo and wondered if he’d ever ride in its like again.
“We’re going to turn left and take the next freeway entrance,” Flagg’s voice crackled over Brett’s radio. “No sense in heading back toward the enemy, even if they are unlikely to recognize the vehicles.”
“Roger that,” Brett said, keying the send button on his radio. “Look for a gas station on the way to the freeway; this thing has only got a quarter of a tank.”
“Less than half a tank here” Flagg responded. “We’ll keep an eye out.”
The Explorer eased onto the road and Brett followed it. He stayed back a few car lengths on the largely deserted streets. Aidan fiddled with the heater and got it cranking. He noticed the tangle of wires hanging from the dash under the steering column. Two of the wires had been stripped of their plastic coating and twisted together.
“Is that really how you hotwire a car?” Aidan asked. “I thought that was just a movie thing.”
“It works,” Brett replied. “But only on older cars. New cars have too many computer chips and safeguards for them to be hotwired easily.”
“Brett, what do you think will happen?” Aidan asked changing the subject.
“In the long run, I don’t know. But for the time being, I plan on getting you safe and sound to Camp David if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Do you think Mom called Dad yet?”
Brett shrugged.
4
They drove in silence for a while. Up ahead, the Explorer’s blinker came on, and it pulled into a gas station that still had all its lights on. Brett turned in as well and pulled up to a pump. Outside the circle of lights, Aidan saw the first flakes of snow starting to fall.
“Sit tight,” Brett said. He pulled the stripped wires apart to shut the engine off, then got out and went around to the pump.
Aidan opened his door a crack.
“Can I run inside and grab a bag of chips and a soda for the ride?”
“No way,” the Secret Service agent replied. Aidan knew from his tone of voice there was no use arguing.
“Well can you at least get me a root beer and a pack of Doritos?” Aidan asked.
“Sure,” Brett said distractedly. He barely took his eyes off the road and took a keen interest in every car that passed by. Aidan glanced over to the other bank of Pumps where Pete was filling the Explorer’s tank. The pump blocked his view of the SUVs back seat so that he couldn’t see his mom.
“I’ll put it on the company card.” Flagg’s voice caused Aidan to turn his attention back to Brett. Flagg seemed to have materialized from nowhere. “Is there anything else we need besides gas?”
“Aidan wants some snacks and a soda for the drive,” Brett said. “Shouldn’t we use cash?”
“Well, I don’t have any do you?”
Brett shook his head.
“Don’t worry; I doubt they’re monitoring Secret Service expense cards just yet. What do you want Aidan?”
“Doritos and a root beer, thanks.”
“And I’ll have a coffee,” said Denny. “Biggest cup they have.”
“On it,” Flagg said, heading into the convenience store.
By the time they left the gas station the snow was much heavier. Aidan ate corn chips as he watched the snow falling in the light cast by the headlights.
Snow had always fascinated him. When riding in a car, he loved the way the snow almost seemed to swoop toward the car then fly up over the windshield as if it was playing an endless game of chicken. He wondered if he’d find it so fascinating if he’d grown up someplace that normally got snow in the winter. His mother had told him once that it had snowed in San Diego the year he’d been born. It hadn’t snowed there since.
The ride to Camp David would normally take about two hours, under mild conditions. The lack of traffic because of the curfew would normally make it faster, but the snow would nullify that, especially if it got heavier the further north they went.
Aidan finished the last of his chips and settled back in his seat before taking a drink of his soda. Flagg had bought him two cans.
“Do you know if we’ll be spending the night at Camp David, or leaving straight away?” It had been at least twenty minutes since either of them had spoken and Aidan’s question seemed to catch Brett off guard.
“We were instructed to have you ready to board the plane when we got there,” Brett replied. “But, if the weather is worse up there than it is here…” he shrugged. “Hey, do you want to listen to the radio?”
“I’m good,” Aidan said.
He’d heard enough Christmas music over the past couple of weeks to last a lifetime, and he was afraid the only alternative would be the news. Frankly, Aidan was worried about what the news might be. Here you go America, have some Pyongyang Flu. Merry fucking Christmas.
***
An hour later, the snow was falling hard and growing thick on the side of the road as they passed through a wooded area of central Maryland. It was pretty close to being an actual snow storm. Their pace had slowed considerably.
The time of year, snow, and announced curfew had combined to limit the amount of traffic they had seen, even on the freeway. The one car that had been behind them had turned off at an exit nearly a half hour before. Now the only lights to see were the taillights of the Explorer a hundred or so feet ahead of them.
“She just made the call,” Flagg said, through Brett’s radio. “Looks like we’ll be laying over at the camp tonight. POTUS says that the snow is falling just as hard there, and his pilot says the runway needs to be plowed before Air Force One can take off.”
“Roger that,” Brett said. “Aidan was asking about that. Now he knows.”
They drove in silence for another ten minutes. Aidan was working on his second soda. Boredom was setting in, and he was beginning to think that even an unending stream of Christmas carols might be better than the silence. He was about to reach for the radio knob when he glanced at Brett. The agent was looking in the rearview mirror; concern stamped on his face.
“What is it?” Aidan asked.
Brett ignored him and reached down to key his radio.
“We have a problem,” he said.
“What is it?” Flagg’s voice came back.
“I’ve got two, maybe three, unid
entified vehicles coming up behind us… fast.” Aidan had never heard Denny so tense. “They don’t have their headlights on, and from their shape, I think they’re SUVs.”
Aidan peered through the back window. He could just make out the shapes on the dark road and wondered how Denny had seen them while he was concentrating on driving.
“Be ready for anything,” Flagg said.
“Roger that.”
Brett released the radio and reached inside his jacket. He pulled the Sig Sauer from his shoulder holster and held it out toward Aidan.
“I hope you remember how to use this,” he said. “Things might be about to hit the fan.”
“Yeah, I remember.” Aidan took the pistol and held it. The safety was off. He started to pull back on the slide. Brett put a hand on his arm.
“There’s already a round in the chamber, just cock back the hammer when you want to take your first shot. Don’t shoot unless you have too, this could be a false alarm.”
Two of the black vehicles flashed past the driver’s side of the Hyundai, while the last one fell in behind them. Both the Explorer and the Hyundai were in the left lane. One of the SUVs whipped in between their car and his mother’s vehicle. The other one pulled alongside it and kept pace.
“Fuck me, not a false alarm,” Brett slammed on his brakes as the SUV ahead of him did the same thing. At the same time, the vehicle pacing the Explorer swerved into it.
Aidan barely had time to register the screech of metal on metal before he was thrown forward against his seatbelt as the Hyundai’s brakes locked up. The belt cut painfully into his chest and shoulder, but Denny managed to stop before he hit the back of the car ahead of them.
Aidan’s relief was short lived. The SUV behind them crunched into them, and he was thrust back in his seat, his head slamming into the headrest hard enough stun him.
The impact forced the Hyundai forward and into the back of the Escalade that had slammed on its brakes. The front of their car crumpled, and the airbags exploded with a thunderous crack.
Fight Like Hell [America Falls Series | Books 1-6] Page 85