Credible Threat

by Ken Fite

  He acknowledged the bomb. This was my chance to take him down. Maybe the only chance I’d get.

  I stood behind Gibson and adjusted my earpiece and leaned in. “Tell me where the bomb is! Tell me now!”

  Gibson smiled. “Even if I told you, you’d never get to it in time. Within minutes, Keller will be dead. Mike Billings will be dead. Keller’s entire incoming administration will be gone. And while America mourns for their leaders, I’ll be sitting aboard Air Force One somewhere over the Atlantic being sworn into office.”

  Walking back around the couch, I kept my gun trained on the defense secretary. “Why would you do this?”

  His smile started to fade. “For the same reason that you’re here, Jordan. To see justice served. To see America stay on the right path, to continue on the trajectory that President Rouse set us on. To make sure the past eight years of my life aren’t wasted. Keller’s going to undo everything we’ve worked so hard to create. I’m not going to stand by and let that happen.” Gibson glanced at the door, then back at me. “You and I are the same, Jordan. We’re both doing what we believe in. The difference is, you’re on the wrong side of history. You’re too blinded to see that.”

  “We are not the same.”

  Gibson looked me over. “You know what? I believe you. That’s why you’re not going to pull that trigger.”

  I leaned in again. “If you think I’m going to let you get away with this–”

  Gibson looked up at the clock again. “I just did.” He moved his eyes over to the television, watching the reporters covering Keller’s inauguration and waiting for news to break that an attack had taken place.

  I took a step back. “You almost did,” I said and watched Gibson look back at me. “We found the bomb.”

  He paused for a moment. “You’re lying.”

  I shook my head slowly. “It was inside the National Cathedral. I got there in time. Got Keller out. He’s across the street right now.” I knew that Gibson still didn’t believe me. “Go look for yourself,” I said.

  Gibson stood and walked over to the window. As he did, I could hear men starting to enter the residence.

  In moments, they would get to the third floor, kick in the door, and take me down if they found me with a gun still in my hand. It hadn’t been loaded since Rivera removed the bullets before we left the vehicle, but the other agents might not know that if Rivera wasn’t able to carry out his part of the plan.

  I didn’t want to take any chances. While keeping an eye on Gibson, I got on my knees, set the gun down next to me, and put my hands behind my head. The footsteps grew louder. The agents were almost here. I bowed my head and waited for them to enter.

  “He has a gun! Somebody help me!” I heard Gibson yell. I looked up and saw him aiming a weapon at me.

  It caught me by surprise. I looked at the gun on the floor next to me. It would do no good. I desperately searched around the room for a place where I could take cover. There was nowhere to go. He had me.

  “Don’t do this,” I said, looking up at the madman across the room. He smiled and fired. I felt the bullet hit my chest. The impact thrusted me backward. I landed on my back and my head hit the floor.

  FIFTY-FIVE

  MOMENTS AFTER I hit the ground, agents kicked in the door.

  “Drop your weapon!” one of the men yelled at the defense secretary. “Drop it!”

  “He was going to kill me,” said Gibson as he set the pistol on the table next to the window. An agent approached, took the gun, and stood next to him while Rivera came to check on me.

  “Jordan, are you okay?” he asked.

  I couldn’t speak. It felt like I had just been hit in the chest with a baseball bat. The wind was knocked out of me. I started to gasp for air as Rivera and another agent helped me sit up and pulled my sweater off.

  “What are you doing? Arrest that man,” Gibson said from across the room. The agents ignored him.

  After they got my sweater off, Rivera removed the Kevlar vest that Jami had given me and checked me over. “You have a bad abrasion. We need to get you checked out for damage to your internal organs.”

  I removed the earpiece and handed it to Rivera. “Did you get it?” I asked, finally able to get words out.

  “We got it, alright. You came in loud and clear.” While in the car, I had asked Rivera and Bennett if the frequencies they communicated on were recorded. They said they were and that it’d be a hell of a lot easier to get to that recording than pull a call from the NSA. Rivera was still crouched next to me and turned to Gibson. “Didn’t expect a weapon on him. Guess we’ll just have to throw in attempted murder.”

  There were more footsteps coming from behind me. I turned around and saw Bennett enter with Keller. Mike Billings followed close behind.

  The president-elect stared at his defense secretary. “Take him away,” said Keller and the agent that was standing next to Gibson put a hand on his back and pushed him past us and both men disappeared.

  “Blake,” Keller began as Rivera and another agent helped me to my feet and I put the sweater back on. “I don’t know what to say other than thank you.” My hand met Keller’s and he pulled me in for an embrace.

  I looked at the television and watched the nation’s top leaders arriving and being seated on the west front of Capitol Hill. The inauguration was set to happen at the top of the hour. “You’re gonna be late,” I said.

  Keller turned to Bennett and nodded.

  Just then we heard shouts coming from downstairs followed by a gunshot. “Stay here,” I said to Keller and Billings and hurried down the stairs alongside Agent Rivera to see what had happened.

  “He took my weapon. I thought he was going to fire it at me, but he turned it on himself,” the agent that had taken Gibson away said.

  He had both hands covering Gibson’s chest, trying to stop the bleeding. I put two fingers to the defense secretary’s neck. I didn’t feel a pulse. It was too late.

  We saw an ambulance arrive. Rivera ran past me and opened the front door leading to the veranda. Medics had arrived, originally called for Mike Billings, and Rivera let them in.

  “What happened?” one of them said.

  “He killed himself,” answered the agent that had escorted Gibson downstairs.

  “No, it was a heart attack,” we heard a voice say coming from the staircase. I looked behind me and saw Keller and Billings walking down the stairs, followed by the agent that had stayed back with them.

  “That’s not what happened, sir,” said Rivera.

  “It was a heart attack,” Keller insisted and looked at everyone in the room.

  Keller’s words hung in the air as the rest of us looked at each other and finally realized what he was asking us to do. The paramedics took Gibson’s body and the ambulance left the property.

  “Mike, I’ll need you to stay here,” said Keller. Billings nodded as Keller approached Bennett. “Let’s go.”

  After Keller stepped onto the veranda, I caught up to him. “Why are you trying to cover this up?” I asked.

  “If Americans know the truth, if they find out what happened here today, they’re going to lose faith in their leadership. Terrorists will take advantage of this. That’s what Gibson wanted,” said Keller.

  “But what about justice? What about being transparent?”

  “Blake, yesterday morning I spoke with President Rouse. I asked him for his help in finding the terrorists. He refused to help me. Said I’d never understand the kinds of decisions he had to make until I was in his shoes. I’ve thought about that a lot over the past twenty-four hours. I’m starting to believe he was right.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Keller looked past me and watched the ambulance further down the road taking Gibson away. “Maybe the world isn’t as black and white as I believed it to be.” He looked at his watch. “I need to go, Blake.”

  I extended my hand and Keller shook it. “Good luck, Mr. President.”

  Keller offered
a brief smile before walking back to the vehicle that had been parked in front of the home. He climbed inside and, a moment later, left the observatory grounds and headed for Capitol Hill.

  When I heard the sound of footsteps in the snow coming from behind me, I turned around. It was Rivera with another agent. “How’s the pain?”

  “I’ll be okay,” I said, but the pain was excruciating. Not only in my chest from the bullet that had hit me, but also on the back of my head after it hit the floor when I got knocked over.

  “Can you bring your car around?” he asked the other agent who nodded and left us. “We’re going to take you to George Washington University Hospital, have them check you out, and make sure you’re okay.”

  FIFTY-SIX

  ON THE WAY to the hospital, I called Jami with Rivera’s phone. I had already given him Donovan’s phone earlier for evidence. Jami told me that Emma Ross had one of her aides take her to Ross’s home until she heard from me. Ross filled Jami in on what happened at the National Cathedral and explained that I had left with Keller. After we spoke, she got a ride and joined me at the hospital a short time later.

  The hospital staff checked me out. They took some x-rays and ran a few tests on me. They gave me stitches for the head wound.

  While Jami and I were waiting on the doctor to talk to us, we turned on the television in my room and watched the presidential inauguration. A banner scrolled along the bottom of the screen as Keller was sworn into office and gave his inaugural address: RON GIBSON HAS HEART ATTACK, DEAD AT 58.

  The irony of the words scrolling across the screen while Keller was sworn in, safe and sound, was not lost on me.

  The doctor finally showed up and sat down to talk with Jami and me. Everything came back looking okay, but he explained that I could expect more bruising to appear over the next few days. Doc said he’d prescribe something for me to help with the pain and, in a couple of days, I would be just fine.

  After they released me, Jami and I went to see Chris Reed. When we found the wing of the hospital that they had taken him to from the ER, the staff let us know that Chris was still in a critical state and would be in the ICU for the next several days. They wouldn’t let us see him yet, so we ended up leaving for the night.

  The next day, we came back and were able to visit with Chris. The doctor said he did just fine in surgery and he expected Chris to make a full recovery. Jami and I changed our flight back to Chicago so we could stay in DC a few more days. Chris was making quick progress and was soon joking around with us.

  I spent most of the next few days in meetings with Keller. Jami spent that time with Chris and I stopped by to join her at night.

  On Friday morning, we headed back to Washington Dulles International Airport. I brought the bags into the terminal as Jami went to the front desk to check in.

  We walked together to the line for security and when we got to the back of the line, I set the bags down. “This is as far as I can go,” I said, as we embraced and Jami gave me a kiss.

  “When do you think you’ll be back in Chicago?”

  “A couple days. I just need to take care of a few more things before heading back.”

  “Still no trace of Claudia Nazir?”

  I shook my head. “Maybe you and Morgan will have better luck once you get back.”

  Jami smiled as I watched the line for security start to move. A TSA agent opened a new lane and motioned for Jami to follow him. She turned to look at me. “Go on,” I said. “And try to stay off Shapiro’s radar.”

  “Always,” she said with a wink followed by one more embrace. I held on tight and didn’t want to let go. I wanted to ask her to wait, to stay longer. But she had to get back to Chicago. Shapiro needed her at DDC.

  I stood alone watching her walk through security, grab her bags, and disappear around a corner.

  On my way back, I passed by a general purpose shop and made a purchase before walking back to the car.

  When I stepped outside, I found the black sedan with tinted windows and I heard the door unlock as I approached. I climbed inside, closed the door, and buckled my seatbelt.

  “What’s that for?” Keller asked, looking confused.

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s an inside joke.”

  The driver looked at us through his rearview mirror. “Where are we going?”

  “George Washington University Hospital,” I replied.

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  I KNOCKED ON Chris Reed’s door and waited for a response.

  “Come in,” he said and I stepped inside the hospital room and saw my friend in bed.

  “Wanted to make sure you were decent,” I said, as I got closer to him. “I brought you a surprise.”

  Chris grabbed the bag I handed him, looked inside, and pulled out a pack of adult diapers. “Really Blake?”

  “Not sure if they’ll fit. If they’re any good, they should ride your ass. Just don’t let them get full of crap.”

  Chris threw them at me and we shared a laugh. “You look better,” I said.

  “I’m feeling better,” he replied and turned the television off so we could talk. “You going to sit down?”

  “In a second. Actually, I did bring you a real surprise.”

  We heard another knock at the door and James Keller walked into the room and closed the door behind him, leaving one of his Secret Service agents posted outside the room.

  “Mr. President,” Chris said and tried to sit up.

  “Stay right where you are, son,” he said and walked up to Chris and shook his hand. “Blake tells me you’re one hell of an agent. And an even better friend. May I sit down?”

  “Of course,” said Chris. Keller and I pulled a couple of chairs up to Chris’s bed and sat down to talk.

  “I want to personally thank you for what you did, putting your life in danger to help Blake and Jami. You’re a hero.”

  Chris didn’t know what to say and just shrugged his shoulders. “I’d do it all over again if I had to.”

  Keller looked at Reed and nodded. “I believe you,” he said and turned to me to continue the conversation.

  “Actually, that’s partly why we’re here, Chris. I told you that I got a job as a senior advisor to the president on matters of domestic counterterrorism. That’s not the whole truth.”

  Reed looked confused. “What’s the whole truth?”

  “Chris, I’ve agreed to also serve the president as an interdepartmental floater. I’d be on loan to the FBI, CIA, and any other government agency as needed on a provisional basis for special projects in the field.”

  “Why, Blake?”

  I paused before answering, finally embracing the truth about myself. “Because that’s where I belong.”

  Chris nodded. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I want you to join me.”

  Reed looked at Keller, then back to me. “Chris, you know firsthand the red tape that all of these agencies have created. They operate in silos. Yes, each agency has its own purpose, but you know as well as I do that those checks and balances get in the way. Red tape keeping good people from doing good work.”

  I turned to Keller who nodded as I continued.

  “You saw what happened last week with the terror plot. Bill Landry should have provided us with more support. If he had, we may have been having this conversation in the White House Situation Room–”

  “Not in this hospital,” Keller added for emphasis. “Think about it and let Blake know your decision.”

  Keller and I stood as the president shook hands with Chris. “Get better, son.”

  I walked Keller to the door and reached for the handle.

  “I don’t need to think about it,” we heard Chris say from behind us. Keller and I turned around. “I accept.”

  Keller looked at me, then back at Chris. “Glad to have you on board. Blake will fill you in on the details.”

  “Yes, Mr. President,” said Chris as I opened the door and Keller stepped outside.


  I ended up staying with Chris for another hour or so before catching a cab back to Blair House where Jami and I had been staying after Keller moved into the White House. I ordered dinner and afterwards, spent the rest of the night thinking, trying to process everything that had happened over the last several days.

  I thought about how just a few months ago, I had been fired from DDC and was sitting at home trying to figure out what was next for me. I thought about Jami and the life we had together back in Chicago.

  I thought a lot about my father. How he had asked me to protect Keller before he died. How proud he was of me when I saved Keller last year. And I thought about destiny. How it’s not just a matter of chance, but rather a matter of choice. How the most important day in your life is the day you realize why you’re alive.

  And I realized that one often meets his destiny on the road he takes while trying to avoid it.

  I didn’t know what to expect in the days and weeks to come, but I would embrace whatever came my way with clear eyes and a full heart.

  I knew why I was alive. And I was ready to do what I was created to do.

  Find out what happens to Blake.

  I’m currently writing the next book in this series. If you’d like to get the novel free when it’s done, just:

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  -Ken

  The Blake Jordan Series

  The Senator: A Blake Jordan Thriller – Book 1

  Credible Threat: A Blake Jordan Thriller – Book 2