by H. L. Wegley
The twelve men immediately changed their approach. Some covered while others moved.
“If I dial the last number called on this phone, refresh my memory,” Scott said. “To whom will I be talking and where are they?”
“Captain Craig will answer, and I think they’ll still be in the DUCC under the West Wing,” Brock said.
“If you need verification,” Steve said, “I’m a member of Craig’s detachment. I can vouch for you.”
“One of the terrorists I came to kill is going to vouch for me?” Scott shook his head and pushed on the phone’s touchpad.
Steve’s arm had remained around Julia almost the entire time since she ran to him. But he released her and moved closer to the captain.
“Bancroft, if you’ll stop breathing on me, I’ll turn on the speakerphone.”
Steve stepped back.
Julia pulled Steve close to her side, and listened, hoping for a quick resolution to what seemed like an overwhelming mess.
“Craig, here.”
“Captain Craig, this is Captain Scott, company commander 75th Ranger Regiment, 2nd Battalion.”
“Scott, what is the status of the five civilians and my man Sergeant Bancroft?” Craig’s voice came through loud, angry, and threatening.
“Settle down, Craig. They are all safe and standing nearby. All except a missing Sayeret Matkal soldier whom we are looking for. Now it’s my turn. Julia Weiss told me that President Hannan is dead, killed by Eli Vance. Can you confirm that?”
“I wish I couldn’t, but it’s true. Hannan’s dead and Eli is cuffed, sitting in a chair here in the DUCC, wheezing like he needs oxygen.”
Scott stood silent, staring at the ground for a few seconds. “That raises a big question, Craig. Who is our Commander-in-Chief?”
“The truth is … we don’t have one.”
Scott swore and shook his head. “After all the trouble we’ve had, being placed under martial law, states breaking away from the union, and we don’t have a president? That’s not good.”
“We haven’t had a president for nearly eight years and, for the past six weeks, we’ve had a dictator,” Brock said.
“Was that Brock Daniels,” Craig asked.
Scott looked up at Brock. “Yes, it was the big guy, himself.”
“He’s right,” Craig said. “But we’re trying to rectify the situation. We’ve contacted Chief Justice Wendell Warrington and, since the vice president resigned, Speaker of the House, Ben Tucker, is next in line. We just reached him. But it took a little while to persuade him that he needed to be sworn in. He’s as nervous as heck, but he’s coming from his home in Arlington and should be here in a few minutes. But we have another problem.”
“I’ll bet you do,” Scott said. “It sounds like you made an assault on the West Wing. If you’re sitting in the DUCC with the dead president’s body, it doesn’t matter who killed him, you’re in the hot seat and it’s probably getting hotter by the minute.”
“Yeah. Tell me about it. The problem at the moment is the military patrolling the city still thinks the president is in charge. So, we have a nation under martial law with troops deployed and no commander. And now a group of Secret Service Agents loyal to Hannan has secured the ground level of the West Wing, and they’re pressuring us to give ourselves up. I have no doubt that my men could go upstairs and kill all of them. But it would be a lot better if we could just get the boys upstairs to stand down. Then we could swear in Tucker and start this nation moving forward again.”
“You said Secret Service Agents loyal to Hannan, right.”
“That’s right.”
“Then I’ve got an idea. Are you a gambling man, Craig?”
“If the odds are right. But, right now, anything I do is a gamble.”
“This could scuttle your career and mine, too.”
“Scott, you just worry about your career. Mine may be down the tube, already.”
“Okay, I have an in with the commander of the 2nd Ranger Battalion at JBLM.”
“How’s that?”
“He’s my fiancé’s father. He’s friends with commanders of both the 1st and 3rd Battalions. I know that some detachments from all three battalions are patrolling sensitive areas in DC, just not the White House. If you’ll give me the phone number you’ve been using to contact the agents in the West Wing, I’ll call my commander and see if he’ll let me use a detachment or two to put the fear of God in Hannan’s good old boys.”
“I’m in,” Craig said.
Captain Scott took the number and walked about thirty yards away from everyone to place his calls.
Excited voices came from a group of men near the mouth of the cave. Four men emerged carrying an improvised stretcher. Were they bringing out Deke’s body?
There was a man on the stretcher, but it wasn’t Deke or Johnson. The man raised his head. “Steve, it’s Benjamin,” Julia said. “How could he have gotten into the cave? He was outside when I went for water.”
The men eased the stretcher down onto the ground and all wiped sweat from their faces.
“For a skinny Israeli, you sure do weigh a lot,” one of the men said.
“You six his friends?” A short, stocky Ranger pulled out supplies from his pack.
“Yeah,” Brock said. “A team of seven, the number of perfection.”
“I’m the Medical Sergeant on our team. Sergeant Welby. And I don’t want to hear any jokes about my name.”
Benjamin groaned and held his head. “Sorry, I let you down.”
“Benj,” Steve said. “Nothing to be sorry about. You’re the one who got hurt. What happened?”
“I was a little west of the lava tube and heard voices. When I came closer, I saw a rope going down one of the skylights. It was moving. Someone was climbing in near the back of the cave. I ran to stop them and—”
“You created a new skylight in the Skylight Cave.” Sergeant Welby said. “The ground gave way and Benjamin got scraped up going through his new skylight, then broke an ankle and banged his head when he hit the ground twenty-five feet below.”
Benjamin raised his head to look at them. “What happened to Deke and his man?”
Brock grinned at Benjamin. “I didn’t see everything that happened. But somebody said an Amish girl shot them.”
Benjamin met Julia’s gaze and the grimace from his pain turned to a grin. “An Amish girl, you say? Amish girl, thanks for doing my job?”
“I could never do your job, Benjamin. We wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you. And, as for the Amish ways, I think I’ll leave them to the folks in Lancaster County.”
Her words drew a smile from Steve.
Sergeant Welby opened a container and pulled out a syringe. “You look like you could use a little something for pain.”
Benjamin nodded. “My ankle would appreciate it.”
The men on this combat mission were based in Tacoma. What would they do with an injured Benjamin? Julia stepped between Benjamin and Welby. “Where are you going to take him? To a hospital, I hope.”
“Ms. Weiss, is it?”
Julia nodded.
“I think the plan is to fly one of our Chinooks in close and take him to the medical center in Bend. They’ll probably cast his ankle and keep him overnight for observation.”
“Then tomorrow he comes to my house.” Julia scanned her friends around her and Steve. “You’re all coming to my house as soon as Scott says we can go. And you can all stay there until you decide what you want to do.” She met KC’s gaze. “And where you want to live.”
KC touched Julia’s arm. Tears welled in the Celtic princess’s eyes. “Thank you. But Brock and I might want to have a short honeymoon. Ours was rudely interrupted.”
Brock draped an arm over her shoulders. “And I know just the place, Kace.”
“Where’s that, sweetheart?”
“The Sunview Motel. Squirrel Room, #17.”
“You mean where we climbed in bed together?”
“Ka
ce, I don’t think we should get into that?”
“Brock, my idea saved our lives that night.”
“It wouldn’t have if I hadn’t convinced the FBI that I was your husband.”
“And you were very convincing.” KC gave them her impish grin.
“Look,” Julia said. “We’re getting too much information about a subject that’s none of our business.”
Captain Scott walked back from the spot he’d been standing with the phone planted in his ear for the past several minutes. He had a smile on his face. There was a spring in his step that hadn’t been there before. “That’s right, Craig. They’re leaving now, and you and your men are cleared to take over security of the West Wing and the White House. Once you do, if the new president has confidence in you, he will likely want you to continue in that capacity until he can clean house and insure he has people he can trust to protect him.”
Craig’s voice came from the phone. Evidently Scott had turned on the speakerphone for their benefit. “We’re heading for the elevators now. But we need someone to pronounce the president dead before we swear in Ben Tucker.”
“Can your Medical Officer do that?”
“We can’t let him have the official say on that. It’s too much a conflict of interest. We need to take Hannan’s body to a hospital and have things done right. I think I’ll call an ambulance from George Washington University Hospital once we’re in the West Wing. Then we’ll have the FBI pick up Eli Vance. Thanks for all your help, Scott. I owe you.”
“Dude, you took all the big risks. The whole nation owes you.”
Scott ended the call.
The wop, wop of a helicopter rotor grew louder.
Captain Scott knelt beside Benjamin. “We’re going to take good care of you, Mr. Levy. When you get home, tell your commander thanks for taking care of this group. They’re good people.”
“Captain Scott,” Steve said. “This whole group wants to leave for Julia’s house. It’s on the bluff above Crooked River Ranch. She can give you the address.”
“I have no reason to hold you. But there will be investigations into all the deaths of military personnel that you were … uh, involved with. As long as the investigators can find you, gather up your stuff and go.”
Steve took Julia’s hand and started to walk toward the cave.
Scott hooked Steve’s free arm. “Bancroft, that’s one heckuva team you put together. I don’t know how you accomplished all that you did, but I sure am glad you did it. Maybe I can be proud of this man’s army again. I was almost ready to resign.”
“Thanks, captain. And, sir, don’t resign. This country needs Rangers like you. Men that will take the initiative to do the right thing instead of jumping like puppets on a string when the CIC violates the Constitution.” Steve dropped Julia’s hand, popped a salute and then they were off, running hand-in-hand to the cave.
Brock and KC were already at the cave entrance. Brock waved them on. “Hurry up. We need to get back to your house, Julia, and watch history being made on TV. And I’ve got a blog post to make ASAP. America needs to hear about Craig. KC, can you get me online with your satellite laptop? I know exactly what I want to say.”
“I can try. But no promises, sweetheart.”
Julia pulled Steve to a stop before they caught up with the others. “Steve, you and I still have things to talk about.”
Chapter 44
In the Yellow Oval Room of the White House, Speaker of the House, Ben Tucker, stood wide-eyed, frozen, staring at Chief Justice Wendell Warrington.
Craig placed his hand on Tucker's shoulder. “Having second thoughts?”
“No. Just a lot of first-time thoughts.” Tucker swallowed hard.
“Did you bring a Bible?”
“Uh …”
“Never mind,” Craig said as he reached inside his uniform jacket and pulled out his small Bible. “You can use this one.”
Craig shoved it at Tucker, but pulled the Bible back when Tucker reached for it.
“Craig, what are you—”
“Just listen for a minute. You're not putting your hand on my Bible unless you're going to tell the truth. And once you're sworn in, you'd better not cut and run or—”
“I know, I know. Or you'll shoot me like—”
“No, Tucker. We didn’t shoot anyone today, only flash banged them. And we didn't shoot Hannan. Eli Vance did that. But Hannan's inner circle will likely end up in Leavenworth. I'm sure you don't want to join them.”
Tucker shook his head.
“Let's do this,” Judge Warrington said, raising his voice. “America is waiting.”
* * *
A few seconds later, President Ben Tucker pulled his hand from Craig's Bible and looked up at Craig. “Now what do I do?”
This was not the start Craig had hoped for. “Tucker, why are you asking me? You're the president, for Pete's sake.”
Justice Warrington pointed out the window to the Truman Balcony. A crowd of hundreds had grown to thousands on the White House Grounds, filling the south lawn to the fountain and beyond. “I already took the liberty of instructing some White House staff to plug in a mic and turn on the PA system. Now, you need to calm the fears of the people. Assure them there will be an election, soon, where they can choose a leader that they trust.”
A chant started somewhere in the throng that was moving in from East and West Executive Avenues and E Street. Now the throng, including everyone moving their way, had grown to what seemed like a million people.
Craig’s ten men would provide as much security as possible, but there still would be risks. Perhaps this was the time to take risks, because the people needed to see an honest man in the White House. All of America needed to see the moment as up close and personal as possible. The time had come for healing.
A spontaneous chant began from the crowd. “We want Craig!”
Why were they using his name? Craig scanned the crowd. “They’re already on the White House grounds. I think we should let them come. My men will keep them out of the building. But we need to build some trust with the people. It's worth the risk. After what Hannan has put them through, we certainly don’t want to shoot anybody.”
Tucker raised his eyebrows. “Let them come? That’s easy for you to say. They’re cheering for you. They might view me as complicit with Hannan or negligent in doing my duty.”
“Tucker, uh … Mr. President, look at them. These people aren’t here to shoot anyone. This is a celebration.”
The chant grew into a pulsing roar. “We want Craig! We want Craig!”
How did they know? Craig shook his head. “Brock must have posted to his blog already.”
President Tucker reached out and gripped Craig’s arm. The man’s hand was trembling. “Will you walk out there with me?”
It's not what Craig wanted, but Tucker needed a boost of confidence. “I’ll come. But remember, you're the president. Act like it.”
When the two men reached the outer edge of the balcony, the chant slowly morphed to “USA! USA!”
Tucker raised his hands and the crowd quieted.
President Tucker stepped to the mic. “My fellow Americans, as most of you have heard, President Abe Hannan was shot and killed today. The suspect, Secretary of State Eli Vance, is under arrest on suspicion of murder. After our vice president resigned, as Speaker of the House, I am next in line for succession to the presidency. Chief Justice Warrington swore me in as your president—”
The roar from the crowd stopped Tucker. Was that a hitch in his swallow? His eyes welled, too. Getting emotional was a good sign. After seven and a half years of Hannan, the people needed a president who genuinely loved them rather than himself.
It took a full minute for the crowd to finish their approval.
Ben raised a hand to quell the last of the cheering. “As your president, I will keep my oath to defend the Constitution until the person you choose in the general election takes office.”
Cheering broke out again.
Then it morphed spontaneously to a chant. “Craig for president! Craig for president!”
Tucker raised his hands again.
The chanting did not stop. It crescendoed into a deafening roar.
What had Brock said in his post that would have gotten this reaction? Regardless, Craig needed to deflect attention to Tucker.
President Tucker turned to Craig. “They're not going to stop until they hear from you.” Tucker motioned to the spot beside him. “Please?”
Craig couldn't hear him, but he had read Tucker's lips.
“Craig for president!” The chant continued.
Craig sighed in resignation, sought the right words, and stepped to the mic beside President Tucker.
It seemed that two million eyes had focused on him.
He prayed a silent prayer and whispered, “Brock Daniels, I'm going to shoot you for this.” Then Craig raised his hands.
The world went silent.
* * *
Flood lights came on in the twilight, but the silence seemed eerie, especially with such an enormous crowd.
Craig leaned toward the mic. “Fellow Americans … I appreciate your confidence, but I'm a warrior. It's what God called me to be.”
A murmur rose from the crowd.
“Furthermore, I am not qualified to be your president … well, not for two more years. But we have a plan to right the wrongs in America and prevent someone like Hannan, or an out-of-control legislature, or a legislating-from-the-bench judiciary, from wresting control from you, the citizens and from the states in which you live.”
Craig looked at Ben Tucker.
Ben gave him a nod, slow and full of presidential authority. He was catching on.
Craig continued. “As soon as we can get agreement from thirty-four state legislatures, something we hope to accomplish over the next four weeks, a convention of states will be held to draft amendments to the Constitution, returning power to the states such that the power of the states cannot be subverted again … ever.”
A roar grew to earsplitting volume.