Room 1515

by Bill Wetterman

  “Unless we encounter something unexpected, only Van Meer and I will know when the day comes to actually fire the missile,” Reed said. “Standard procedure: Van Meer will ring your cell, and you’ll lock in on Marine One as you’re doing now. The only difference will be he’ll ring the cell a second time, and you’ll pull the trigger. Hans, have you selected your vantage point?”

  Van Meer set down his weights and wiped off with a towel. “The Visitor’s Center at 15th and E, near to the White House, has a new parking garage. The fifth floor, northwest corner, has an open view of the South Lawn.”

  “Your biggest concern?”

  “We can expect anywhere from two to five identical escorts will join Marine One after takeoff. It’s called a shell game. They alternate height and position frequently so as to throw off any identification of which helicopter is carrying the President.”

  “There has to be a flaw in that,” Reed said.

  “Indeed,” Van Meer answered. “On the tail of each is a small white identification number unique to that unit. I’ll identify it, and Dunn and Morgan will hone in on the unit with that number.”

  “Despite what we’re paid, it’s not enough,” Morgan grumped. “These Muslim fanatics have made life ten times more difficult. It’s not like the good old days when you could come and go at will.”

  Reed could care less about risks. He took very few, unless one considered making a presentation before the British Prime Minister and Pendleton at the same time a risk. He paid his mercenaries to do the risk-taking.

  “What launch sites are you considering?” he asked. “I’ll pull Marine One’s route up on satellite.”

  “Site one is at the old raceway where Marine One turns east toward Andrews.” Morgan wiped his mouth and focused in on the satellite feed. “Yes, there,” he pointed. “Where Marine One crosses Henson Creek between the raceway and the park. There’s an abandoned building on the raceway grounds with an upper story. Some boards are rotted out. Others can be removed, but the floor is solid. Marine One should be in range for 45 seconds at 1.5 kilometers. We’ve practiced there several times.”

  “All right,” Reed said. “The place sits out in the open. No one can see inside, but once you fire, US. Intelligence will know exactly where you are.”

  “The second site is on Old Auth Road right where it goes under the Capital Beltway. It’s closed there due to delayed construction—seems the government ran out of money.” Van Meer slipped on a shirt and sat down. “There’s an iron and mesh stairway with a handrail that leads up the side of the bridge structure from the ground to a platform. The stairs must have served a purpose when the bridge was under repair.”

  “The window from there?”

  “It’s a longer shot, maybe 4 kilometers, but our boys can lock on for over a minute and a half. The Old Auth site’s less likely to be on the government’s radar.”

  “Is the equipment in good working condition?”

  “The Stinger’s in beautiful shape. Dunn’s changed the lithium batteries and ran all the program checks,” Morgan answered.

  “Old Auth Road it is then,” Reed said. “Run your tests from there until I phone.”

  #

  Day 648

  “Plans change.”

  “What?” Peacock turned off the shower and dried her hair. Pendleton was up and ordering breakfast.

  “Listen carefully.” The voice again was Ursa’s.

  “Don’t you sleep?”

  A chuckle greeted her ears. “You, my lovely, hit a bonanza of information yesterday. From Martin’s papers and phone, we’ve learned who inside the Capitol Hill network of players is connected in some way to the W.F.C. Their allegiance comes into question, including Vice President Edmunds. Nothing we can go forward with legally. But enough to twist arms and bully people if we need to.”

  Who were the good guys? Who were the bad guys? The more she learned the more she understood that the difference depended only on which side you were on.

  “Twist arms and bully people, nice choice of words.”

  “Thank you.” Ursa said something to others on his side of the conversation, and laughter broke out. “Two Stinger missiles and a launcher went missing from an arsenal in Arizona. The agents who picked them up had forged papers. The Sons of Tiw or MI6 have rats in our chicken coup.”

  Peacock giggled at the comment.

  Pendleton called out from the bedroom, “What so funny?”

  “I was just thinking how bloody silly you look when you’re mad.”

  There was silence.

  “I’m sorry about last night. It won’t happen again.”

  “Yes, it will. But Arthur, that’s all right. You’re mine rich or poor, drunk or sober.”

  She opened the shower door and stepped out.

  “Go ahead, Ursa,” she whispered. “You talk. I’ll listen.”

  “From all the information you sent, we know what team is in the United States to assassinate Monroe. Your husband knows the big picture but not the details.”

  She sighed. Pendleton wouldn’t want to kill Monroe if he didn’t have to. Now last night’s outburst made sense. She admired her husband’s image in the mirror as she dried her hair and applied her make-up.

  “That team is on the ground near the White House waiting for instructions. Pendleton won’t be giving them. You’ve given us all we need from him to know who will.”

  Not knowing details gave Pendleton the ability to distance himself from ugly events. Her husband was brilliant.

  “You’re brilliant darling,” she called out from the bathroom.

  “Yes,” Pendleton said. “But that doesn’t give me the right to be rough with you.”

  “Someone has infiltrated Homeland Security,” Ursa snapped. “We don’t know who. One person who does know is a man named Thomas Reed. Your husband called him. His call gave us enough information to get an address.”

  Ursa paused for a moment and then blurted out. “You’re going to Edinburgh, Scotland, more specifically Lasswade.”

  “You mean I’m not heading back. I need to check on Room 1515.”

  “There are reservations for you in Edinburgh. Offer to drive Pendleton back to London through the Tunnel. I’ll have two agents waiting for you in Edinburgh at the Howard Hotel.”

  “All right, now stop talking to me in my head and dial me on my cell. Say you’re from Crenshaw Properties and ask to speak to Laverna.”

  She put on her robe and wrapped the garment tight around her. As she sashayed back into the bedroom, her cell rang.

  Pendleton answered and handed her the phone. “It’s someone from your hotel chain.”

  She and Ursa had a short conversation. When she hung up, she said, “Something’s come up. Crenshaw Properties is looking for a site in Leeds to possibly build or buy another hotel. They want me to inspect two locations for them before I return to the States. Can I give you a lift to London on my way?”

  Pendleton closed his eyes and sighed. “Alas, though I’d love to, my schedule takes me to Dublin and I have to be in London by one-thirty to repack and leave. I’ll hitch a ride to the airport with my security people.” He looked up at her as she fastened her bra. “I’ll be in Los Angeles in two weeks. Maybe we can get together there. I’d love to do some sightseeing along your Pacific coast.”

  “It’s a date then.”

  “Lovey, I’m terribly sorry about last night.”

  “I’m not. I’m glad I was here. You’d have bloody smashed up the room, if I hadn’t been.”

  Damn it. His lower lip was quivering. This man, ruthless as he was, adored her and showed his love so freely. Guilt pangs had to be erased from her consciousness. She sat down next to him. “One of the reasons I’m attracted to you is that you hate to lose. So do I. Since I understand and accept you regardless, stop regretting your actions.”

  “Done,” he said. “Do you want a security escort to Leeds?”

  “No thank you. I think I’ll enjoy the time alone. I ha
ve colleagues meeting me there.”

  Hopefully he didn’t consider Thomas Reed more than a business partner. Reed would most likely end up dead when this trip was finished. Oh well, this was business, like it or not.

  #

  Only six people knew Thomas Reed’s private cell number, Pendleton, Van Meer, Lytle, Morgan, Prime Minister Claymore, and Reed’s mother. None of them owned the number flashing on his phone. He placed a call to Lytle who was in Glasgow recruiting for the cause.

  “I need you and a dozen brothers. We need to evacuate my home and move to location five in your manual.”

  Reed heard pages flipping.

  “I’m at a gym with a couple of blokes. One minute, here it is,” Lytle said. “You’ve a home near Haddington?”

  “Yes, north of A-199, a duplicate of the one at Lasswade right down to the bedspread.” Reed punched in a new code on his phone. “I have a new cell number. I’ve sent notification to only those with a need to know. Right now, you’re the only person who knows about the Haddington location. I’ll need to keep it this way until we find out who dialed my old number.”

  “I’m bloody blest,” Lytle replied. “I’ll be there tomorrow around fourteen hundred hours with a lorry.”

  “No, no, no, nothing that big. Bring a small equipment van. I’ll pack my personal belongings. We’ll take the necessary electronics with us.” Reed paced in the dark. “Once things here are secure, we’ll stake out Lasswade and see who shows up.”

  #

  “Damn traffic,” Peacock growled.

  A ton of horsepower under the hood and no place to show it off. She flipped the channels on her radio. Only N.P.R. and the B.B.C. had anything in English until she neared the tunnel. She feared using the Channel tunnel. But once she drove onto Le Shuttle, her fears were eased. Still by the time she reached Folkestone on the British side of the Channel, it was already seven p.m.

  “I’m tired, Polaris. Have someone find me a hotel without roaches somewhere close.”

  “There’s a small inn, The Channel Watcher, five miles up the highway on your left. Get some sleep. But you still need to be in Edinburgh by eleven a.m.”

  “Whoopee, I’ll get maybe six hours of sleep before I have to be on the go again.”

  She heard a snicker.

  “Poor girl,” Polaris said. “By the way, Carna rang Reed’s number, and he answered.”

  “What? Are you idiots? Don’t you think he monitors who calls him? Now you’ve alerted him that something’s wrong.”

  Silence greeted her for a moment.

  “Get some sleep, Peacock. Things will look brighter in the morning.”

  “You’re all numbskulls, and it’s my life on the block.”

  #

  “Zoom in on Reed’s property by satellite,” Ursa said. “Peacock’s right. The call was a mistake.”

  He moved closer to the screen. “Scan the surrounding area as well. Let’s focus on key landmarks for directional guidance.”

  “Celtic Cross Cemetery and the North Esk River are close markers,” Polaris said. “This organization, The Sons of Tiw, identifies closely with their ancient heritage. Is their passion like a religion, or is their passion because of their ancestry?”

  Ursa shook his head. “Probably a little of both.”

  “Nothing moving near the property or on it,” Carna said.

  “That’s good for now. I suspect there will be activity there tomorrow.”

  #

  Peacock’s silver SSC Ultimate Aero turned onto London Road and A1 highway. She followed her GPS toward the Howard Hotel and checked the clock—noon straight-up.

  “Yes,” she shouted as she playfully tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “Four hundred and seven miles in six hours flat, I love my car.”

  She pulled up to valet parking, tipped the bellman three quid, and was in her room in less than ten minutes. She had enough time to call her Arthur to keep him from worrying.

  “I’ve arrived, Darling. I hit a hundred and twenty miles per hour. Oops, I mean almost two hundred kilometers an hour on those coastal roads and still made the curves. But the little towns slowed me down.”

  “Be careful. Speed kills.”

  Pendleton’s sigh sounded ominous, and Peacock held her breath.

  “Lovey, I need to ask you a question. I’m sorry, but even the Prime Minister and members of her staff have been grilled. Did you handle my cell phone Tuesday night?”

  Give a quick answer and be as honest as possible.

  “Yes, but you were in no condition to undress yourself. I took the phone from your pocket and placed it on the dresser.”

  “Good enough for me,” he said, and she relaxed. “I’ll miss you every second we’re apart.”

  “You sound worried, Darling. Did I do something wrong?”

  “No, no, don’t give it another thought.”

  “I’ll meet you in Los Angeles in two weeks. I’m already making plans.”

  “Oh good, glad you can get away. See you then, and I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Arthur, you sounded like something dreadful had happen when I called.”

  He cleared his throat and whispered. “I can’t talk about it. Just keep me in your prayers.”

  After he hung up, Peacock swayed a bit and sat down on the bed. “Just keep me in your prayers?”

  She didn’t know where to start. She hadn’t prayed since the car crash. She hadn’t believed in God since then. But the closer she got to Arthur Pendleton, the more she felt his soulish side. He believed in God and in the power of prayer.

  Before she could reflect further, her phone rang. She picked it up. “Yes?”

  “So you’ve arrived.”

  “Magnus, are you here?”

  “I’m four doors down on your side of the hall. Felicia is two doors down.”

  Magnus and Felicia were here? Things were looking better. “Well, let’s get together and figure out how we’re going to plan this.”

  “We can start. Two other agents will join us at five.”

  She waited. She wanted them to come to her. When Magnus didn’t volunteer, she said, “You know my room number. I’ll put on the coffee.”

  She pursed her lips tight as she hung up. If Ursa put her on this task, she was in charge. This was her operation, her turf, and her reputation. Her partners would have to get that straight right from the start.

  “Polaris?” she called out. “I need either you or Ursa to strategize a game plan with me.”

  Chapter 25

  “Sit.” Claymore’s finger pointed at Belington and he obliged her. “Arthur Pendleton is a fraction of a centimeter from ruling the world. The E.U., the British Commonwealth, Japan, and soon the United States will rally to his call. One-world government and peace in our age is possible.”

  Belington nodded. “Quite so, Madam, the man handles himself with dignity and compassion. He’s a true leader.”

  “Except.” Claymore’s dress swished like a lion’s tail as she paced behind her desk. “This new wife of his has blinded him. I suspect her of treachery. She showed up in his life so suddenly. One has to question why.”

  “She seems content to follow her husband’s lead. Stays in his shadow, but she has a light of her own. She’s bright. I say she’s good for him.”

  “You work for me, and I say she’s suspect!”

  Belington slumped where he sat. “What would you have me do?”

  “Have our experts go over every document about her on the Web. Dig until there’s nowhere left to look and then look again. The woman’s hiding something, and I don’t want to be blindsided. Arthur may trust her. I don’t.”

  #

  Thomas Reed waited until dusk. Outguessing his opponents had kept Reed alive and rich. No home was worth saving. His home dwelt where his technology dwelt. His technology lived in his head and in seven masterfully crafted instruments he had duplicated in Haddington.

  Lytle popped some peanuts into his mouth. He gave the keys to
the van to a man he’d just recruited from the bar in Glasgow.

  “Here’s a map. Take the van to this address and store the boxes in Locker 5B North. Then drive it back to Glasgow and wait for me there.”

  The van disappeared down the drive and out onto the main road. Reed waved Lytle into the house. He handed him a flashlight and told him to wait while he set the explosive charges. He set traps for his pursuers at the front door and the rear doors. Once opened, the explosion would rip the house and anyone in it to pieces and engulf the area in flames.

  Without a word, Reed rushed past Lytle and unbolted a hidden door in the back of the hall closet. The two men headed down a flight of stairs and into a tunnel. The tunnel led to a spot a half a kilometer away. There Reed ascended another flight of stairs and pushed open an old metal door. The two emerged at the north edge of the woods surrounding Reed’s property and scurried down an embankment to an SUV parked on a utility road.

  Once inside, Reed took in a deep breath. “Let’s hope your man arrives safely at the storage locker.”

  “If he doesn’t, he’ll be ash blowing in the breeze,” Lytle said.

  “But we’ll be alive, and we’ll know the breach of security goes high up.” Reed pulled away from the curb and drove down the utility road to a side road. He turned right and drove into Lasswade itself.

  “Someone close to Pendleton or ole Gracie, herself, may be behind this security breach.”

  Reed pulled up a block from The Laird & Dog Pub and parked. Then the two walked down to the pub and went inside.

  “I don’t think we’ve been spotted,” Reed said, “But we’ll spend the night here in Lasswade and drive the SUV to Haddington tomorrow.”

  “You may have the willies. That’s all,” Lytle said. “Our boys are in place. I’m betting no one shows up”

  “Let’s wait and see.”

  #

  Ursa hung up from his call to President Monroe.

  “Destroy the van,” he shouted.

  As the van moved up A768, Carna focused her satellite screen on the vehicle and the driver. She entered the coordinates and the presidential code. The satellite missile system performed flawlessly. Eight seconds later the van exploded, leaving a crater several yards wide in its wake.