Cobalt

by Shelley Grace

  They watched in silence as Rick slammed the door shut, and the black, non-descript van sped from the airport, towards its destination. Madeline’s hair and coat whipped about her as the stealth helicopter lowered into the carpark, a few meters away from her. Its arrival drew quite a number of spectators, but Madeline paid little attention to the crowd that was gathering around the terminal doors, as she ushered Stephanie on board ahead of her. Climbing in herself, she closed the door and motioned for the pilot to lift-off. She sat back in her chair and exhaled slowly before sending her first transmission to Lychart. ‘Lychart. Are you reading this?’

  ‘Loud and clear, Sassy.’ His low, husky voice echoed softly in her ear.

  ‘We’re in the air.’

  ‘E.T.A.?’

  ‘Fifteen minutes.’

  ****************

  In the Residence of the White House tension was mounting. Fifteen hours William thought. How can no one know, no one realise something was wrong. The first family, the Vice President had not been seen in the West Wing for fifteen hours and no one suspected anything. The CIA had to be planning something. Marcus surely wouldn’t let terrorists overrun the White House and get away with it. Where were they? And where was the secret service? Employed to protect him and his family. The irrational William, the William Watson furious at being held against his will, at having his family threatened doubted the secret service could even protect his family from rabbits at this rate. And rabbits weren’t even a threat to his safety, to national security. His daughter had a rabbit, and it was always under-threat of being stepped on as it appeared out from under couches, the dinner table at the most inopportune times. It was not causing threat.

  Logically William knew that something must have happened to his agents and to those responsible for protecting his wife. Kellerin’s men had taken care of those protecting his daughter. Kellerin had told him as much. Eight secret service agents would not just sit idly by and watch as terrorists threatened the lives of their charges. They had taken an oath to protect with any force necessary. They would take a bullet for anyone in this building. Especially Max ‘Coop’ Cooper, his head of security. That man was adamant about how he and his agents did their jobs. He took his oath very seriously. Where was Coop? Was he dead? The agents must have been disabled very early on, or there would be guns blazing and ‘Operation Relocate Eagle’ would be underway, William thought. God, he even named the imaginary operation, he was going out of his mind with all this waiting. He shifted in his chair, just sitting around thinking, over-thinking, waiting was killing him faster than the terrorists themselves. So far the terrorists had done nothing but sit and wait also. William didn’t even know why the terrorists were here. There had been no discussion. Any time he tried to communicate with their leader he was told ‘all in good time.’ Time was running out. He was sick of time. He could hear the ticking of the grandfather clock made from New Hampshire Oak in the hallway. He was sick of the ticking. Counting down to something. What? William had the fleeting thought that the terrorists had not planed very well, that they were in over their heads. They had intended, but never expected that they would capture the White House, and now were at a loss of what to actually do. Then he contemplated their leader again. Self-assured, confident, quietly discerning. Everything about the man radiated preparation, organisation and complete control. He knows exactly what he is doing, and what he is going to do. There is nothing about the man that was left to chance. Other than holding them hostage his treatment of his captives had been intrinsically decent. He was a perfect gentleman. William could see how easy it would be to be lulled into a false sense of security, how easy it would be to feel safe and assured around this man, how you could forget the inert accumulation of half truths he dealt in and trust him implicitly. He would make a brilliant politician, William thought, he had felt less about many of the current members of congress.

  As if sensing her husband’s discomfort and growing agitation Gillian reached a hand over and rested it on his thigh. William raised his eyes to meets hers as he placed his hand over hers and gently squeezed, his thumb rubbing across the back of her hand. They were snapped from their silent contemplation by yet another masked man entering the room. He approached where the head of the terrorist operation sat behind the desk. Leaning down he whispered something in his ear, rose and left as quietly as he had entered.

  Kellerin rose and began to pace the room. ‘The beauty of the White House, Mr President, is that once you control it from the inside, no one can penetrate. It was built to both humble and impress foreign leaders and that it does.’ Kellerin turned to face William Watson. ‘This will all be over very soon. I have just been informed that the rest of our party has been detained. Comrade Teslovich missed his scheduled contact time. One can only assume the worst. Time and keeping strictly to that time is of great importance in a mission such as this. Russia has waited long enough. There is no need to wait any longer.’

  CHAPTER 27

  Seated in the stealth helicopter, flying up Pennsylvania Avenue Madeline studied the younger agent, in silence. Stephanie was a young rookie. Marcus had assigned Madeline to oversee her progress and training. He believed Stephanie needed to be more like Madeline. Stephanie looked up from loading her weapon, and stared directly at her. Madeline smiled, non-committally, at her. Madeline very rarely took an instant dislike to someone, but she did not like Stephanie, there was something unsettling about the young woman. Something just did not add up. Stephanie was a slow learner and she often questioned Madeline's methods and solutions. And not just hers. Sebastian found it hard to work with her, and Sebastian Lychart was definitely not backward in coming forward. His words, she recalled were that young people, young agents today had no idea of protocol and procedure. They had no idea of their own faults, in fact if you asked most they were faultless. They took no guidance, any suggestions were met as criticism and then they overacted, threatening union action, citing discrimination, un-professionalism, slander, whatever the current trend in generation X to defer blame and remove responsibility. Madeline smiled as she recalled Lychat’s tirade. She too had been on the receiving end of one of these actions. She remembered all too well the meeting between Stephanie, Marcus and herself. Marcus had been ‘mediator’ between the two women. Marcus had sat in silence watching Stephanie attack Madeline verbally for over an hour, screaming every word beginning with ‘un’ she could conjure, unjust, unreasonable, unprofessional, uncaring… Madeline for her part had sat through the proceedings calmly, listening to Stephanie’s accusations, her fury and her inability to accept responsibility for her mistakes, for her actions. Everything was Madeline’s problem, Madeline’s fault in Stephanie’s eyes, not her own lack of development and experience. Of course, Madeline couldn't tell Marcus how useless Stephanie was, most of the time, as he had hired her on special request from the White House. Madeline hoped today would be one of Stephanie's good days.

  ‘Stephanie?’ Madeline addressed the younger woman, quite abruptly, snapping her attention from her own short black hair, to the task at hand. ‘When we get to the target site I want you to do everything I tell you. Exactly as I tell you!’

  ‘You're the boss.’ Stephanie replied, saluting at Madeline, copying the action she had seen Lychart perform moments earlier. Stephanie scowled when her salute failed to draw the same response as Lychart’s had. Her scowl deepened as she then assessed the clothes each of them were wearing, looking from her own night camouflage gear - the black pants, black skivvy and black combat boots - to Madeline's navy skirt suit and matching heels. ‘Is that what you're wearing, Madeline?’ she asked.

  ‘Is there something wrong with it?’ Madeline questioned, looking evenly at the twenty-six year old.

  ‘It's just...we're landing on a sloped roof, and we're supposed to be quiet and well, heels don't seem very appropriate for a task like that.’ Stephanie stated, examining Madeline from the ground up.

  As their eyes met Madeline smiled. ‘We'll see!’ sh
e said as the helicopter silently descended on to the roof. Madeline opened the side, sliding door and surveyed the shadowed surface that loomed up at them. ‘Ready?’ she threw over her shoulder, to Stephanie, as she exited the chopper and dropped the metre separating them from the roof. Stephanie hurriedly followed. Madeline and Stephanie quickly made their way to the edge of the roof. Following directions from Lychart, Madeline and Stephanie positioned themselves on the roof, two rooms down from where the President and the first family were being held. The communications unit hummed in Madeline's ear as Lychart advised her that Rick and his team were in position, and that team C was five minutes from the rendezvous point outside the Situations room, on the first floor.

  Madeline signaled for Stephanie to follow her, and then lay flat on the roof, on her stomach. Edging forward, she grasped the guttering and completed a guttering assisted forward roll, from the roof to land silently on the third floor, guest room balcony.

  Stephanie, amazed at the agility of the older woman, followed clumsily. Despite her clothing being more suited to stealth acrobatics, she lacked Madeline's discipline, agility and training. As she landed on the terrace, she turned to find Madeline standing in the bedroom, waiting for her. Stephanie entered the room.

  **********************

  As the van wound its way through the streets of Washington from Kennedy Airport to the White House, Rick mentally prepared himself for what they were about to face. Truth be told he knew Madeline had the hardest part of the mission- a roof-top landing, break and enter and this was all in the most guarded building in the western world. He wondered how the terrorists had gotten into the building in the first place. He hoped Lychart’s communication equipment would function at one hundred percent. He had no intention of entering the White House blind. Too many lives depended on his teams success. He hoped Madeline’s unit was functional. He didn’t want her unprotected either. God only knew what was waiting for them in the three story building of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

  ***********************

  After Rick saw Madeline disappear into the White House, he signalled for his team to close in. Moving in the shadows of the surrounding vegetation, the team of ten operatives advanced on the lower level of the building. At the main door, on the inside, stood the first of Kellerin's men. Rick slid a small ether grenade under the door. Sixty seconds later the terrorists were bound, unconscious to two of the kitchen chairs, and Rick's team was in the building. Making their way along from the East wing of the ground floor Rick's team encountered little resistance. Rick frowned. They had entered there, for security reasons, and after a sweep of the lower level it became apparent that the perpetrators were on the upper floor, in the larger, more well-known offices. Ordering two of his men to stay in the kitchen, Rick took the other seven to the administration wing of the White House. Rendering the next two terrorists unconscious, the team moved towards the Oval Office, Press Room and the Situations Room.. After eliminating the Oval Office and Press Room as potential hostage holding areas, Rick was forced to re-assess his game plan. In his mind, the terrorists would hold the hostages in one room, and only the Military Strategy Room, or Situation Room remained, as all the other offices were far too small to accommodate the vast number of employees of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Rick moved his team towards the Situations Room, as once he was standing outside its polished doors, he heard Lychart signal team C to enter. The highly trained espionage team burst through the wooden doors of the Situations Room, only eight minutes after entering the White House. Five seconds later the tapestry on the far wall rolled up to reveal a hidden door, and team C, consisting of another five CIA field agents, dressed in black, emerged.

  The four terrorists inside, surrendered without a struggle, to the thirteen men with auto-matic weapons that had emerged from all sides of the room. Samuel, relieved to see the team, stood and offered his assistance with the removal of the hostages from the White House Situations Room.

  With the room secure, the secret service agents freed from their restraints and back on active duty – to find and restore to duty the other six agents and then locate the President – eliminating threat as they go, Rick attempted to contact Madeline, and update her on their progress. When she failed to respond, Rick called Lychart, in the van.

  ‘Lychart, what’s your reading on Madeline?’

  ‘I lost contact with her over one minute ago. Her com. unit is down. My last audio reading showed her moving from the third floor to the second floor, and the President’s private lounge. I have a thermal. She’s about to enter. Hurry.’

  ‘I’m on my way.’ Leaving eleven of his men to escort the hostages from the building, Rick and his two remaining operatives raced through the White House, to assist Madeline and Stephanie.

  CHAPTER 28

  Knowing that Rick and his team were capable of gaining control over the terrorists inhabiting the other areas of the White House, Madeline slowly began to move towards the inner door of the third floor bedroom, they were in. She turned to motion for Stephanie to follow, but seeing the confused and frightened expression on the younger woman's face, Madeline broke her rule of espionage and spoke to her. ‘What is it?’ She questioned, her own features mirroring the worried expression on Stephanie's face. Stephanie hesitated, taking in the appearance of genuine emotion on Madeline's face.

  ‘Have you got a plan? Or are we just going to walk in there?’ she asked.

  ‘I'm just going to walk in there. You're going to wait in the hall until you hear the code 'My Friend'.’

  ‘Are you crazy? They'll kill you!’ Stephanie shrieked. Although whispering, Madeline understood the tone intended in Stephanie's voice. She smiled.

  ‘No man in their right mind would shoot a woman..,’ she said as she undressed. Standing in nothing more than her matching pale blue, lace underwear, and her smile, Madeline winked, ‘Especially a half-naked one.’ She turned to leave, beckoning

  Stephanie to follow. Stephanie muffled a laugh.

  ‘Particularly a half-naked woman packing a nine-millimetre. Hey Madeline?’

  As they approached the door to the President's lounge, Lychart's voice echoed softly in Madeline's ear. Doing as he said, she held the heat-detecting, infer-red device to the door. Lychart’s voice sounded once more. ‘Target confirmed. Seven life signs. All strong.

  Removing the device Madeline turned and mouthed to Stephanie ‘Target Confirmed. I’m going in. Wait for 'My Friend.’ She dropped her suit onto the ground by the door. Madeline knocked on the door, softly. After a few seconds she turned the knob and entered. As she stepped through the open doorway, her com. unit failed.

  Acknowledging the mechanical problem, Madeline continued her advance. She had gone too far to turn back.

  Quickly assessing the room, Madeline smiled seductively and addressed the President, who sat, opened mouthed, in the centre of the group. Madeline noted that the faces of two of the three terrorists, the First Lady and the Vice- President Ackerly mirrored the President's own confused expression. Only Ted Randal and Dominic Kellerin seemed to comprehend what was going on. She crossed to stand in the middle of the room. Kellerin seemed to sit back in his chair, content, wanting to watch the scene play out.

  ‘Mr. President,’ Madeline stated smoothly in her even alto voice, ‘It's Tuesday night. Ready for our session?’ She winked at him.

  The First Lady's expression changed from shock to anger as she assessed the beautiful half-naked woman seducing her husband. She had suspected her husband once before, but this, Madeline, was the last straw. She frowned, distastefully at her husband, who remained thoroughly confused by the situation.

  Two of the terrorists didn't know what to do or say. They were fighting, as peacefully as possible, for freedom, respect, and money, and killing a half-naked, seemingly un-armed woman went against that plan. Kellerin smiled. ‘The rest of our party was able to come after all.’

  Madeline continued, ‘Oh, I thought you'd be here, Mr. Ackerly, so I brought My F
riend with me.’ On hearing the code Stephanie entered, still wearing her espionage gear. As she drew close, Madeline seductively ran her hands through her mahogany tresses and down her neck. As her fingers found the butt of the weapon, gaff taped to her shoulder, she said, ‘Now!’ Madeline, yanked the nine millimetre pistol free, and shot the two terrorists either side of the desk in the upper arm – to wound, not kill - while Stephanie stood motionless, beside her. As his two assistants fell, writhing in agony, Kellerin shot Madeline in the chest. She didn't even flinch. Madeline trained her gun on his head, her eyes meeting his. She was slightly surprised to see the cool, indifferent expression reflect in his bright green eyes, but she didn’t show it. He looked as though he knew her, and anticipated her lack of response at being shot. She returned the expression, oblivious to the blood that had begun to trickle from the bullet wound in her chest. She motioned for Stephanie to secure his weapon.