Credible Threat

by Ken Fite

  “There’s a bomb inside the podium that the president will be using at the inauguration. It has enough explosives to not only take out Keller, but everyone sitting on the deck on the west front of the Capitol.”

  My heart was racing. I turned to Nazir. “You don’t have any more information on the bomb, do you?”

  “I do–”

  I started to squeeze the trigger. “No, you don’t. Say hello to Marco for me,” I said and fired three shots.

  I clenched my teeth and stared at Aasaal’s body. The gunshots echoed throughout the underground as the bright beam from Nazir’s light caught the smoke billowing from my gun and I turned to face Donovan.

  FORTY-FIVE

  “KEEP MOVING,” I said to Donovan as we headed southeast down the corridor. When we reached the traffic circle, we took a sharp turn to our left and walked a few steps until I found the exit for 19th Street.

  I stood behind Donovan with my Glock trained on his back. When we got to the top of the stairs and we could see through the mesh in the grate, I told him to take a seat. I turned the Maglite off, stuffed it inside one of my pockets, and reached for my phone after confirming that I now had a signal.

  “Blake?” asked Keller. So much for not being able to get to him. I wondered what Aasaal had meant.

  “Yes sir, it’s me.”

  “Hold on, Gary,” I heard him say to National Security Advisor Gary Wallace. “Blake, where are you?”

  “Dupont Circle,” I said as I kept my eyes fixed on Donovan.

  “We’ve all been worried about you and trying to figure out where the hell you are. What happened?”

  “Sir, I’ve captured Max Donovan. Please keep that between us for now.” There was silence on the other end of the line. “I have reason to believe that Mike Billings might be involved somehow,” I added, thinking of Nazir’s words when he said he had people that would keep me from getting to Keller.

  Keller’s voice grew softer as he continued the conversation. “I doubt that, Blake. The Secret Service questioned him and they didn’t seem too concerned. If they’re not worried, I’m not, either. I trust Mike.”

  “Sir, you need to get agents to look at the podium that you’ll be giving your address from.”

  “Podium?”

  “A bomb has been placed inside it. Aasaal Nazir – he and his men were underground at Dupont Circle coordinating the attack. They’re planning on taking out not only you, but any leader on the west front. Please, you need to have someone look right now.”

  “Blake, we still have a few hours until the inauguration. I’m leaving soon to attend a prayer service. I’m going to hand the phone over to Ron Gibson who’s standing with me. Talk to him while I walk into the next room and get with the Secret Service to have them get someone to go take a look for us.”

  There was a shuffling sound on the other end of the line as Keller handed the phone over to Gibson. “I couldn’t help but overhear Keller’s side of the conversation, Blake,” he said when he came on the line.

  “Ron, is Mike Billings going to the prayer service with Keller?”

  “He is.”

  “Someone needs to keep an eye on him – I believe he may be involved with Max Donovan.”

  There was a pause on the other end of the line. “That’s what the Secret Service is for. Did you find Max?”

  “No,” I lied, sticking to my initial thought of only letting Keller know that I had captured Max Donovan. “But I need to locate Agent Jami Davis,” I said as I heard a car up above me on 19th Street drive by.

  “Agent Davis is being brought here to be interviewed by the Secret Service. Blake, why don’t you come to Blair House? They should be finished with Davis in a little while and I’m sure she’d be glad to see you.”

  I looked at Max Donovan and thought about what I was going to do with him. I wondered if it would be best to bring him to the Secret Service at Blair House and turn myself in at the same time.

  Before I could answer, Keller returned. “Jim’s back, hang on.”

  I heard the phone being passed back to Keller. “Okay, they checked and there wasn’t anything inside the podium. I asked them to get a team in there and look at every piece of equipment on the west front.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “They’re doing it now. I’m running late for the service, Blake. If you need to get a hold of me, call Billings.”

  I slid the phone into my back pocket and walked up to Donovan. He cowered with fear. “They checked – there wasn’t a bomb where you said it was supposed to be.”

  “That’s not possible,” replied Donovan. “That was the plan, there’s no other place where it could be.”

  My heart skipped again and now the back of my head started to throb as I studied Donovan. I could tell that he wasn’t lying. Either someone changed the plan on him or he wasn’t as in-the-know as he thought he was. “Why did you attack Nazir?” I asked, stepping closer and making Donovan more uncomfortable. He hesitated. “Why did you attack him?” I asked again.

  “Because I was betrayed. He was going to kill me and leave me down there if I didn’t kill him first.”

  “Where is Claudia Nazir?”

  Donovan looked away and thought before responding. “She escaped,” he finally confessed.

  “Escaped where?”

  “Right before you showed up, she said she thought her husband was going to kill me, then kill her.”

  I stepped closer. “Who else knows?” Donovan shook his head. “Is it Mike Billings? Give me the name!”

  Donovan just shook his head as I kept the Glock trained on him. He wasn’t going to talk. I grabbed my phone and called Morgan. I needed to let him know about Claudia so he could track her car and see where she was going. I thought she might be headed to Reagan National to get on the flight that her husband had mentioned. Morgan could coordinate with the FBI and stop her at the airport before she could escape.

  “Hey, it’s me,” I said as soon as I heard him pick up the phone. “Claudia’s on the move, I need you to stop her from boarding a plane at Reagan National.” There was silence on the other end of the line. “Morgan?”

  “This is Roger Shapiro. Jordan, you need to stand down and turn yourself in. Where are you?”

  I disconnected the call and sat down on the steps, keeping my gun on Donovan. Chris was hurt, maybe dead. Jami was detained. And now Morgan couldn’t help me anymore. They’re going to track me, I thought and knew I had to ditch my cell phone before Shapiro told Bill Landry and the FBI my location.

  FORTY-SIX

  I STOOD AND threw my phone down the stairs. It disappeared into the dark underground as I heard it smash against a wall. They can track me down here if they want to, I thought before turning to Donovan.

  “Get up,” I said and forced him to his feet.

  I looked through the grate above us and heard another car pass by overhead. “I want you to push the grate open. I’ll stay behind you. We’ll walk to my truck one block north at 19th and Q. Don’t try anything.”

  Donovan nodded, turned around, and reached for the large metal grate when I heard his phone ring.

  “Answer it.” He turned around to look at me. “Answer it!” I yelled and rested the barrel of my Glock on his forehead. Max reached inside his pocket and pulled out his cell. “Put it on so I can hear,” I added.

  Max slid his thumb over the screen. He hesitated to speak and I pushed the gun harder against him. “Donovan,” he said and waited for a response. I motioned for him to speak again. “This is Donovan.”

  “It’s me,” the man said. It was a familiar voice, one I had heard before. Suddenly, everything that had happened since yesterday, including Max’s involvement, started to make sense. “Where are you?”

  “Sitting outside a Starbucks at Dupont Circle.” I saw a look of disgust on Max’s face and I realized at that moment that he had been betrayed not by Aasaal Nazir, but by Defense Secretary Ron Gibson.

  “Where’s the woma
n?” Gibson asked. “Why are you not with her?”

  “I don’t know,” replied Max. “She dropped me off and said she’d be back, but she hasn’t returned.”

  Gibson paused. “Stay where you are. I’ll send someone to come and get you.”

  The line disconnected. Watch the other hand, I could almost hear Jami’s voice in my head saying to me.

  I took the phone from Max and put it in my back pocket. “Mike Billings isn’t involved in this at all, is he?” Donovan just looked away. “We better start moving unless you want Gibson’s men to find you. Now go.”

  Max turned back around, pushed the grate up, and we climbed the stairs and stepped onto the street.

  There were people walking down the sidewalk and customers entering and leaving the coffee shop. They looked at us. “Move,” I said and Donovan and I started walking north on 19th Street headed for my truck.

  The streets were still dark and I noticed red and blue lights reflecting off the buildings up ahead.

  They knew about Chris Reed being in the hospital and they found his vehicle, I thought. “Donovan, back this way,” I said and we turned around and crossed the street, heading the opposite direction on 19th.

  When we got back to the traffic circle, we headed east, crossed P Street, and got on Massachusetts Avenue.

  We came across a group of four identical cars sitting along the street. They had ENTERPRISE CARSHARE decals on the side of each of the vehicles. As we approached, I watched a young man carrying a backpack walk up to one of the cars, hold a card up to the windshield sensor, and unlock the vehicle.

  “Stop right there,” I yelled, keeping my Glock at my side as Donovan and I jogged toward the young man.

  He was startled and tried to climb inside. He closed the door and I caught it, forced it open, and grabbed the student’s jacket. I yanked him out of the seat and pushed him toward Donovan.

  “What do you think you’re doing? This isn’t even my car,” the student said.

  “Federal agent,” I replied. “I need you to walk away.”

  He noticed the gun in my hand. “Walk away, son.” He held his hands up, turned, and ran away from us.

  I looked up and noticed a couple of cars had stopped alongside the road and were watching. I didn’t care.

  Looking inside the vehicle, I confirmed that the keys were in the ignition, waiting for the next driver who rented the car. Just where they should have been. Jami and I had researched the car sharing service before leaving Chicago and dismissed the idea, deciding to hitch a ride from the airport with Reed instead.

  Donovan was staring at me. “What are you doing?”

  The truth was, I didn’t know what I was doing. Or where I was going. I just knew that I needed to get out of the area before someone called the MPD. I needed to get in touch with Keller and tell him about his defense secretary. And I needed to figure out just what Gibson was planning and stop it from happening.

  Then I needed to find Gibson.

  I turned from Donovan and looked back inside the car. I found the lever for the trunk and popped it.

  “Get in,” I said as I walked to the back of the car. Donovan looked inside the trunk with panic before his eyes returned to me. “You’re lucky I’m fresh out of zip ties,” I added.

  “What are you going to do to me, Jordan? Are you going to kill me?”

  Still holding onto my Glock, I forced Donovan inside.

  He rested his head on the floor of the trunk and I watched as the gray interior started to get stained by patches of red from the blood that Max was losing. The gash on the back of his head reminded me of mine.

  I winced in pain before refocusing on Donovan. I saw terror in his eyes. And I felt no pity for him.

  “Jordan, don’t leave me in here,” he begged.

  I reached for the lid and held onto it. “Karma’s a bitch, Max,” I replied and slammed the trunk closed.

  As I jogged to the front of the car and started to climb inside, I saw that more cars stopped to look. The drivers were watching me. When they saw my gun, they took off. I looked around and saw that the path down Massachusetts Avenue was clear, so I started the vehicle, made a U-turn, and left the area.

  FORTY-SEVEN

  JAMI DAVIS REALIZED where Agent Hastings was taking her when he approached 17th Street and turned north. The agent pulled the car around H Street and another agent let the vehicle inside the gate at Jackson Place. Hastings then turned a corner and parked behind another vehicle in front of Blair House.

  As they waited, Jami felt relieved. She knew that in a few minutes, she’d be meeting with James Keller and would explain everything to him. The van that had taken the electronics equipment to the inauguration. Claudia Nazir and how Blake went after her and Aasaal to stop the attack. Keller would want to help her.

  But after a few seconds passed and Agent Hastings and the other agent in the passenger seat didn’t get out of the vehicle, Jami started to worry.

  “What are we waiting for?” she asked. Neither of the men responded. Thirty seconds later, the front door opened and Jami watched to see what was going to happen. Two agents emerged, followed by Keller.

  Jami looked to the empty seat to her right and moved over to give the president-elect more room. She watched as the three men jogged down the steps and approached the SUV that she was sitting in.

  But once Keller got to the sidewalk, he turned to his right and was led to the vehicle in front of her.

  “No,” Jami said. “I need to talk to James Keller right now.”

  As Keller disappeared, Jami noticed movement at the top of the stairs. Someone else was stepping out of Blair House, escorted out by another set of agents. They opened the car door and the man climbed inside.

  Jami watched the vehicle that Keller was in start to move. It made a U-turn and left.

  “You must be Davis,” the man said as he got settled in next to Jami and one of the agents closed his door.

  “And you are?”

  “Defense Secretary Ron Gibson.”

  “Secretary Gibson, glad to finally meet you in person. I was hoping to have a minute of Keller’s time,” Jami said and extended her hand.

  Gibson pulled his right hand out of his jacket, revealing a SIG Sauer pistol.

  Jami reflexively pulled her hand back and tried to open her door, even though she knew it was locked. Gibson laughed. “What are you doing?” she asked as Hastings got the car moving and drove onto H Street.

  Hastings looked at Gibson in the rearview mirror. “Where are we going?”

  “Naval Observatory,” replied Gibson, keeping the gun trained on Jami.

  “I don’t understand,” she said as the man driving pulled out onto K Street.

  “Do you know what a designated survivor is, Agent Davis?” Jami shook her head. “Imagine if something terrible were to happen to the president and the nation’s leaders if they’re all gathered in the same place. A designated survivor is a successor, someone chosen to maintain continuity of government if they were–”

  “All killed in a terrorist attack,” said Jami, finishing his sentence.

  “Very good – beautiful and smart,” said Gibson as he turned to his right and saw heavy traffic.

  “Hastings, are you not going to do something about this? What about you?” Jami asked the agent sitting in the passenger seat as Gibson smiled, enjoying the show. Both agents ignored her pleas for help.

  “I’m the designated survivor, Agent Davis. Only, the attack isn’t hypothetical. It’s a certainty.”

  “I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?”

  Gibson turned his gun from side to side, admiring it as he collected his thoughts. “Over half this country doesn’t want James Keller to be their president. That includes people from all walks of life,” he replied, glancing in the direction of the agents in front of him.

  “So you’ll just wipe them all out, kill the president-elect and his entire cabinet? Then what?”

  “I prefer to t
hink of it more like a reset. Look at Congress’s approval rating – eleven percent. Turn on the evening news any given night and you’ll see for yourself that the American people are ready for a change.”

  Jami looked at the defense secretary with disgust. “You’re sick,” she said and Gibson smiled.

  Ten minutes later, Agent Hastings turned into the compound. Jami looked at the sign at the entranceway that read U.S. NAVAL OBSERVATORY. She wondered if the outgoing vice president was still here.

  Hastings pulled in and nodded at the woman working inside the guardhouse.

  She opened the gate and Hastings drove inside.

  The agent followed a series of curves and pulled up to the vice president’s residence that in a few short hours would have been occupied by Mike Billings. As they came to a stop, the agent in the passenger seat got out and opened the door for Gibson.

  “You shouldn’t have interfered, Agent Davis,” Gibson said as he stepped outside.

  He slammed the door shut and Hastings locked the doors. Jami watched as the agent walked Gibson to the residence and Hastings started moving the vehicle again to leave the observatory grounds.

  Jami turned around and saw Vice President Connors step outside and shake Gibson’s hand. Connors was dressed in a suit and tie. Jami decided that he was getting ready to leave for the inauguration shortly.

  “Where are you taking me, Agent Hastings?” Jami asked after she turned back around and watched the man look at her from the rearview mirror before resting his eyes back on the road in front of him.

  “Move over to the other seat where I can see you,” Hastings replied and continued to drive. Jami wondered where Hastings had placed her weapon after he had arrested her in Bethesda. She was surprised that she didn’t have handcuffs on and wondered how she was going to get out of this mess.

  Then Jami had an idea. It wasn’t perfect. But it might just save her life.

  FORTY-EIGHT

  I KEPT THE radio on low as I drove away from Dupont Circle and tried to figure out just where the hell I was going and went over what I knew up to that point.