“Because we need you....”
“Because I’m expendable?” Cody sighed deeply.
“Because we hope you’re patriotic. Because you have experience with these men. Because you’ve studied the breed. You know them. And because you look enough like the President that with make-up we can exchange you in his place.”
Cody jerked straight up. “You want me to impersonate the President?” He looked down at himself, incredulous. “In case you haven’t noticed, he’s about thirty years older than me, for one. Secondly, you’re out of time to do a make-over.”
“Stand up,” Agent Herman said, his voice devoid of emotion. He took out a tape measure and took Cody’s length, and girth, murmuring, “Hmm,” at various intervals. Looking up at Devereaux, he nodded. “He’s six-foot-two-inches. The President’s six-one. Close enough to fool them. They’re both about the same build. They have the same facial structure. It can be done.”
“Aren’t we out of time?” Wasn’t anyone listening to him? Or was he only talking in his dreams?
Devereaux quirked his lips. “It’s only eleven p.m. We lied to them. We have a couple of hours to work with. We’ll get you into make-up and wardrobe and Air Force One will carry you to Zion.”
“So I can stop the beasts.” Hopefully they weren’t like the Heaven’s Gate members, convinced they could move up a notch in human evolution by shedding their containers and catching a ride on a spaceship on the tail of another comet--or nuclear warhead. Why couldn’t these society dropouts focus inward instead of trying to destroy humanity?
Cody was as patriotic as the next guy, but he didn’t like the turn of his thoughts. These killer cults made him crazy. How had Melissa ever managed to get involved with one of the worst megalomaniacs in history?
“I don’t suppose they want to dance with me once they get me? And unless you’re like the Mission Impossible guys with facial masks and voice synthesizers, they’ll never buy the switch. They’re crazy, not stupid.”
A tall, slim woman stood up and sauntered over to him. Her nametag read, ‘Agent Lynne Decker.’
“Where do you think television got the idea for that show? We’re the originals. My crew can make you over so that you won’t even know you’re not the President when you look in the mirror.”
Devereaux leaned on the table heavily, staring at him. “We’re counting on your police training, rusty though it may be, to help us overtake these lunatics. We cannot let them launch their missiles, or else millions, maybe billions, of innocent people will die. Our government will be in ruins. World War will ensue; nuclear winter.” He banged his fist into the table, making all its contents jump.
Cody gulped as his Adam’s apple worked overtime. “Is that all you want from me? Piece of cake.” Did these guys remember he had a rap sheet? That they weren’t sure he wasn’t on the bad guy’s side?
“You can tell us no; however, you probably won’t be alive past tomorrow to regret your decision.” Devereaux stared him down, his eyes mere slits in his dark face.
“Don’t you need someone more seasoned? Someone with better and current training?” He’d made up his mind to help; however, Cody wasn’t sure just how good a choice he was. He’d not even been much protection for one runaway heiress and now they wanted him to save the world.
“Not with our limited time. We’ll have a team behind you. But we need you to get inside and cause a commotion so that our boys can stop the launch.” Devereaux looked pointedly at his watch. “Are you okay with that, soldier?”
Cody stifled a groan and nodded. The military mindset made him sweat, even though these were the supposed good guys, and although the FBI wasn’t officially military, they were close enough. He didn’t work and play well with others. Wasn’t that one of the reasons why he’d been cut from the force? Isn’t that why he worked as a lone bounty hunter now?
“I hope you’re a good actor.” Devereaux slapped his shoulder, grinning, but his eyes remained dead serious. “Go get into make-up. Win the Academy Award. You’re our last hope.”
Cody grunted, biting back a snarl. The idea of these self-proclaimed divinities, intoxicated with lust and power, running loose in armed missile silos gave him big time indigestion. The satanic rites he’d run across in the past, like the Lions had described, made him shudder and he never wanted to see these bloodsuckers again. And he’d run across some weird ass cults in his mission to save innocent kids like his sister and Melissa, like that Kentucky Vampire cult he’d investigated a few years before.
His patriotic fervor won over, as it always did. Or was it his intense anger that these idiots seemed intent on opening the gates to Hell, too often in the name of Heaven? Cody wanted to cut their nuts off and stuff them down their throats every time he thought of his sister and those other lost kids. Maybe if he castrated them in the process of saving Mother Earth, he’d chase away his personal demons, too. If he was successful at this all-important mission, maybe he could finally put the ghost of his sister to rest. At the very least, he’d save Melissa.
He’d be damned if the Senator, or his spirit, got in his way.
“Can I see profiles on these generals? Do you know who any of their men are?”
Devereaux followed Cody and Agent Decker down the antiseptic hall, their footsteps reverberating in his ears. “Alexander’s as lethal as any Jones or Koresh or Manson. He’s got to be in the silos or pulling the strings.”
Decker, who had been quiet throughout the ordeal, shook her head. “They’re launching from Zion, of all places. Why is Missouri such a magnet?”
“We first ran into Brother Larry in New Jersey.” The nightmarish memories sent shudders down his spine.
“In here.” Agent Decker held out her hand. “My team’s waiting to groom you, Mr. President.” She winked and a dimple came out of hiding in her cheek.
The team consisted of two women and two men. Latex, glue, wigs, fake eyebrows and hair littered the table. Heavy, porous make-up clustered on a nearby vanity.
“Meet Rosa Patterson, who is our wonder beautician.” Agent Decker pointed at the second lady. “Julia Jacobs will do your make-up.” Turning to the men in the group, she smiled professionally. “This is Scott Thurlowe and Artie Unger. Scott does magic with latex. Artie is the best tailor this side of the Rockies.” She backed toward the door. “We’ll leave you in their capable hands, Mr. President.”
Devereaux saluted smartly, clicked his heels and pivoted on the balls of his feet. His chuckle echoed down the hall and Cody turned to his transformation crew.
“Doctors Frankenstein, I presume?” he asked dryly, eyeing his team of makeover whizzes quizzically.
As they were giving him a new face, he hoped they’d found a better brain to give him … for he’d obviously lost his mind.
Chapter Twelve
“I demand to see him!” Melissa shook with fury and turned to her attorney. “John, represent him. I’ll pay your fees. They have to let you see your own client.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared into John’s kindly brown eyes.
The lawyer laid his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “I’ll represent him, but you have to let me handle this.”
Out of sorts, scared, confused, she implored John with big eyes. “Can’t you get me in to see him for at least a minute?” She recalled the snatch of conversation she’d gleaned from the hallway. If she didn’t see him now, she might never see him again, and she needed to tell him she was sorry and that she loved him. Soul-searching combined with fear made her realize he wasn’t the scoundrel she’d accused him of being. Fate might snatch away her happiness again but at least she could set things straight first, couldn’t she? “I love him.”
“This isn’t a regular prison and he’s in the middle of questioning. I don’t think even I can see him so fast.”
Agitated, Melissa jumped to her feet, biting her finger. She paced, glaring at Sitorsky. Herman had disappeared long ago. “Can’t I see him for at least two minutes? Just two minutes?
”
Sitorsky pursed his lips, and shook his head. “Maybe later. Not now.”
“He’s innocent.” She counted to ten silently, holding her temper in check as best as she could. “He’s a hero. He saved the President. He saved me. What is there to be suspicious of?” She pinpointed the man with a haughty look. “He’s a hero. You should be pinning him with medals, not blackmailing him like this.”
“I suppose you don’t recall how he was on Alexander’s payroll?”
Melissa swallowed hard and glared at the man. “He explained that to my satisfaction.”
“Please calm down and be seated, Mrs. Alexander. Please....” Sitorsky rose, towering over her.
Through gritted teeth she said, “I am calm. And I’m not going to sit down and let you walk all over us. We have rights.”
Cody’s voice floated in the door and she froze, her ears perked. “These are the general’s dossiers? Did you locate the Vice President yet?”
“We’ll finish briefing you on Air Force One. Time’s running out.”
Bolting past Sitorsky, ducking his grab for her, Melissa ran into the hall, ignoring the agent’s shouted “Stop! Come back here!”
When hands grabbed her arms, she shook them off. “Cody!” She flung herself at the man.
“Melissa!” Heavy footsteps bounded down the hall toward her.
But it wasn’t Cody who came face to face with her, but the President. His hands held her shoulders.
Mortified, she stared at him. Her eyes scanned the hallway behind him for Cody but she only saw a group of agents, a distinguished black man with graying hair at the front of the group.
“I-I’m sorry, sir. I thought you were someone else.” When she tried to pull back, the hands clamped more firmly on her.
“Lisa.” Firm lips descended on hers, coaxing a response from her.
Melissa stiffened, confused, and pulled back. Then she realized that Cody’s intense eyes gazed at her from the President’s face. “Richards?”
The leader marched hurriedly, looking around. “Get in the room!” He ushered them into the room where John and Christina waited and closed them in. “National security’s at stake. We can’t afford a screw up now.”
“What’s going on?” Melissa asked.
“Captain Devereaux....” Sitorsky began, sliding a sideways glance at Melissa.
The black man glared at Sitorsky over the rim of his wire-rimmed spectacles. He wore an impeccable dark blue suit with an air of authority. His face didn’t match his body. Long, heavy jowls tugged at his mouth, and he had a broad, lined forehead and slightly receding hairline. Yet he looked fit, and moved with a lithe grace a man twenty years younger would envy. “Why was the door open? They shouldn’t know....” A deep, rich voice resonated through the hall even though he lowered it several notches.
“Know what?” Melissa circled Cody, looking him up and down. “That you’re impersonating the President?”
John strode over to her, scowling. “Let me handle this.” When he tried to escort her back to her seat, she shook him off.
“What about the missiles? Did Nathan’s soldiers seize them?” She bristled outwardly but was scared to death inwardly. “Why is Cody impersonating the President?”
Cody’s lips set in a grim line and he frowned.
Revelation flooded her. “My God!” She rounded on Devereaux, the blood draining from her head; she felt faint. “You’re sending him into the silos because he’s expendable. You don’t expect him to survive.” Trembling, she hugged Cody. “You’re not taking him.”
She’d already lost Jesse. Not Cody, too. Not now when she’d finally realized what a fool she’d been.
“I have to do this.” Cody lifted her chin with his finger, forcing her to gaze into his eyes, willing her to understand. “The alternative is certain death for all of us.”
Eyes narrowed, she lifted her chin regally and squared her shoulders. “Then I’m going with you.”
“She can’t go.” Devereaux rubbed his short hair. Light reflected off his glasses so that she couldn’t read the expression in his eyes. “This isn’t a trip to Disneyland, miss. Essential personnel only.” The words were clipped, terse even.
She quelled the part of her that the man intimidated; adopting the air of authority she’d learned to run a large estate. “Nathan might listen to me. You need me.”
Cody’s eyes widened and he stiffened. “No, Melissa. He almost killed you before. He kidnapped you. He’s desperate and has nothing to lose.”
Thinking of the alternative, waiting for the world to explode, she said, “Neither do I.”
She lifted her chin and stared at the man straight on. “Like it or not, I’m your best shot at reasoning with him.” Or bargaining with him. Acid burned in her chest at the thought that she might be forced to go with the man again. She pursed her lips and waited for her invitation.
The Captain glowered at her, his heavy-lidded eyes narrowed to mere slits. “I don’t like this one little bit.” To Sikorski, he said, “Put it on record that I’m taking Mrs. Alexander on this mission under protest and against my better judgment.”
“Against mine, too.” Cody whispered so that only she could hear him. “Please stay here, out of danger. I’d feel much better knowing you’re safe.”
“Safe?” Visions of a big bang and rising mushroom clouds filled her mind. If she had to die, she’d rather it be at Cody’s side. “No one’s safe until Nathan and the Lions of Judah are stopped for good.”
She neglected to add the second portion of her thoughts aloud for the ex-cop’s benefit. Just because he was worried about her didn’t mean that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. They had a lot to talk about when this was all over.
Devereaux snapped his fingers and then nodded to his men. “Get them to safety.”
* * * *
How his disguise fooled the array of officers and enlisted men who took him from Air Force One, Cody didn’t know. He supposed the Doctors Frankenstein were marvels at their job. He just prayed his luck held out. He wondered how long this latex would stay put? Twelve hours? Twenty-four hours? Thirty-six? If he could just get inside and cause a distraction for a couple of moments, the special task force would do the rest. He just had to make sure the Lions didn’t launch the missiles prematurely, before the good guys could disarm the warheads.
“Here’s the President, sir.” A young Lieutenant whose nametag read ‘Lt. Lamont’ shoved Cody forward at gunpoint as he dared Melissa and Devereaux to disobey.
General Hyram Potter squinted at him over the giant circles that bagged under his eyes. He sported a crew cut and wore black Army regular issue glasses. “It’s about time you got here. The Senator’s been crawling up my ass.” He practically growled the words.
“What happens now, General?” Cody’s extra emphasis on the man’s title belittled it. He took in the dynamics of the dark, daunting room that wasn’t much larger than the plane’s compartment; noting that it was dim for the most part with a myriad of red, white, and green blinking lights. Digital displays flashed and he heard the occasional ping above the hushed voices.
Melissa stood between himself and Devereaux, uncharacteristically silent, her hands folded demurely in front of her.
Uniformed men quietly bustled around, shooting him haughty looks, even snickering.
“This the girl the Senator wants so badly?” The General looked Melissa up and down dispassionately.
“Yessuh.” He swallowed the sir as if he hailed from Alabama or Louisiana. Lieutenant Lamont was a good-looking young man. Almost a man at any rate. He looked to be fresh out of college. Tall and lean, with classical dark looks, he’d fit better in a college frat house than this missile tomb.
Tension made the air oppressive, although Cody doubted it ever felt comfortable, much less pleasant, to be inside this rocket silo. He wouldn’t want the job of turning one of those keys and annihilating all mankind. Death lurked here, laughing, waiting, trying to trick th
e unwary to turn the keys as if in a Stephen King nightmare.... He finally spied one of the keys. It seemed to glow, radiating negative energy.
“Hello, Melissa.” Nathan swaggered up to them as Cody stood stoic, holding his breath, biding his time.
“Well, well, Senator,” Cody drawled in his best imitation of the President’s voice. “You’ve got what you want--me and this young woman. Call off your goons. Disarm the warheads.”
The Reverend drew Melissa away from Cody by both hands. “There’s only one way I’ll disarm them.” He didn’t waste his glance on Cody--they were all for the woman. “Concede all power to me now. Declare me ruler.”
“Ruler?” Cody’s skin crawled. He faced a truly crazy man. “Emperor of the United States? Or King of the world?”
Nathan turned feral eyes on him. “Why, emperor of the world, of course.”
“Our government doesn’t work that way. I don’t have that kind of power. Even if I was willing to hand over power to you, which I’m not, I don’t have the authority to speak for all other countries....”
“Oh, I have the authority. I think I have about fifty tons of authority.”
Nathan drew and cocked a handgun, and aimed it at Cody’s head. “You do exactly as I say, the way I say, or we’ll send this world back to our Maker. Our society will disappear in a flash--just like Babylon. Because of you and your government, this world is too evil to survive. Drastic measures must be implemented, and I’ve been ordained to lead His disciples.”
Melissa’s eyes widened as all color drained from her face. “Who chose you?”
“Divine revelation was revealed to me. Why everyone here believes that. Why can’t you, my chosen one, see it?” Nathan lifted his face and arms to the sky as if he were nailed to a cross.
Several of the men glanced their way. Lt. Lamont stood at parade rest, his gaze straight ahead. He and the other presidential guards re-holstered their pistols.
Shocked and dismayed, Melissa choked out. “Wh-what? Are all the security guards members of your Lions? Are they all your disciples?
Deadly Love Page 17