In Sheep's Clothing: An Action-Packed Political Thriller (Matthew Richter Thriller Series Book 1)

by L. D. Beyer

  “Okay, assuming that Rumson and the Cabinet were to submit this written declaration. What happens next?” the attorney general asked.

  “The vice president would be authorized to serve as acting president.”

  “Acting president? What exactly does that mean?”

  “The amendment only envisioned that the vice president would need to serve in this capacity on a temporary basis. The president may resume the powers and duties of his office at a later date by submitting a written declaration stating that the disability no longer exists.”

  Justice Stanhope paused for a second. “Gentlemen, ladies,” he said, looking around the room. “It is my suggestion that we use the provisions of the Twenty-fifth Amendment to temporarily transfer the duties and powers of the presidency to the vice president immediately.”

  “But if President Kendall is dead?” Senator Broussard continued.

  “We don’t know that definitively,” the attorney general stated. “From what I have been told, rescue crews are just reaching the crash site. No bodies have been recovered yet.” He paused for a moment. “I think that until…pardon me…if…keep in mind that people have survived plane crashes before…so, if and when we find the president’s body and he has been declared dead…until that time, David Kendall is still the president. Consequently, what we are talking about today is Vice President Rumson’s ability to act in the capacity of the president. Is that correct, Justice Stanhope?”

  “I think that is the correct interpretation.”

  The AG turned to the two people next to him. “Congressman Bolsh? Senator Pankin? Are you two okay with this approach?”

  The Speaker of the House and the President Pro Tempore of the Senate responded that they were.

  The AG looked up at the monitor, where Tyler Rumson was connected by video conference. Rumson nodded, his face somber.

  “I’m on board, Ben.”

  ___

  By the time they finished testing the four pairs of snowshoes, it was after three. With less than two hours of daylight left, they decided it was too late in the day to attempt the hike to the cabin.

  Richter and Jack spent the rest of the daylight hours fashioning ski poles from pine branches. They filled their water bottles and, as the sun began to set, they sat inside the cave and discussed their plans.

  “Matt, we’re going to have to make you guys some coats or something to keep you warm during the hike,” Derek said.

  “I’ve been thinking about that. We could rig up some make-shift ponchos using the thermal blankets, the sleeping bags, and the rope.”

  “Yeah, that might work. You’ll need hats and gloves too. I have an extra long-sleeved shirt that you can use as a hat. You can wrap it around your head and use the sleeves to tie it on like a bandana.”

  Jack added, “I have an extra shirt too. And some extra wool socks that you can use as mittens.”

  ___

  “Ladies and gentlemen. Fellow Americans. It is with profound sadness and pain that I address you tonight. As you know by now, President Kendall’s plane crashed yesterday in a remote, mountainous region of Idaho. As you also know, this area has suffered severe winter storms, and rescue efforts have been hampered. Search and rescue teams have been mobilized, and I’m told that they have only recently been able to reach the crash site. We have no word yet on the president’s condition.”

  Rumson wiped away a tear. “President David Kendall was…is my mentor and my friend. We will spare no expense to find him and to find…and help….the other passengers and crew members who were traveling with him.

  “I ask that you pray for him. For his safe return. I ask that you pray for Maria Kendall and for their daughters. I ask that you pray for the many passengers on the plane and for the Secret Service and Air Force personnel who were with the president. Pray for their safe recovery. Pray for their families. Give them the strength they need to survive this ordeal.”

  Rumson paused for a second, staring at the camera before he continued. “America will endure. We have been through crisis before, and we have always emerged a much stronger nation. This is our history and this is what makes us stand out as the leader of the free world. Right now, I will be in charge of the executive branch of government, of the White House, until we have more information on President Kendall’s condition.”

  Rumson paused again and looked down at his notes before lifting his head and speaking again. “At this point, we do not know why the president’s plane crashed. I want to be clear about that. We do not know what caused the crash of Air Force One. It’s too soon for speculation.” He stopped, seemed to hesitate, and then stared hard at the camera. “But let me assure you this. If this tragedy was due to an act of terrorism I will not rest until the cowards behind this are brought to justice. Make no mistake. The full force and might of the United States will be brought to bear, and we will find you. We will find you and you will pay!”

  “God bless David Kendall. God bless America. Good night.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Sunday, April 25

  They were a strange-looking group. While Richter and the president appeared normal, except, maybe, for their snowshoes, Jack and Derek looked bizarre in their makeshift ponchos, rag hats and sock mittens. They had insisted that Matt and Dave use their gear and had traded their Gore-Tex coats, gloves, and wool hats for the improvised clothing. Richter had protested until he realized that his Sig Sauer would be useless below the sleeping bag and parachute wrapped and tied around his body. His instinct told him that even in the remote mountains, in the deep snow, he needed to be on his guard. He had to be prepared for the unknown, and in this case, the unknown was Cal Mosby.

  Mosby would have landed somewhere in these mountains, he reasoned. He may well have had someone waiting for him with a snowmobile. Or, more likely, the freak storm had interfered with his plans, and he had been forced to find shelter and wait it out. He would be looking for the opportunity to make his way to the closest town, probably Elk City, and make his escape. Mosby’s accomplices had to be waiting somewhere nearby.

  The conversation with the president yesterday left Richter even more worried. Who knew how big the conspiracy was? Could there be people involved in the search and rescue whose real agenda was to make sure the president was dead? Or to ensure that any evidence that this was anything other than an accident was destroyed? The conversation had validated his belief that their best option was to put as much distance between themselves and the crash site as possible.

  Ultimately, Richter had accepted Derek’s offer. As they continued on their way, he felt the reassuring weight of his gun in the coat’s outside pocket. He wanted to be ready, and if that meant wearing Derek’s nice, warm coat, well, so be it.

  ___

  Even with the snowshoes and ski poles, walking in the snow was a challenge. Although the improvised snowshoes worked well—preventing them from sinking into the deep snow—it was physically demanding as they had to navigate the ever-changing landscape, all the while facing a constant headwind. It took them five hours to cover two miles. Worried about Dave, Jack had insisted they take frequent breaks.

  An hour later, they came to a swiftly flowing stream. They stopped for a moment, staring at the rushing water, the opposite bank some fifteen or twenty feet away. After a quick discussion, Jack and Derek set out in opposite directions, searching for a safer crossing while Richter and the president rested against a tree. A short while later, Derek returned, then moments later, Jack.

  “I can’t find anything that way.” Derek said, pointing downstream.

  “There’s nothing upstream either.” Jack added. “At least as far as I went.” He rummaged in his pack, pulled out protein bars, and passed them around.

  “Wait,” Derek said. “Didn’t we cross this same stream…what, four days ago? Isn’t this Cobb’s Creek?

  “I think you’re right.” Jack responded. He pulled out the GPS and waited a moment as it searched for satellite signals. “We crossed f
arther north, about one point four miles upstream from here.” He punched several buttons. “Right now, we’re about one mile from the cabin. If we go back to where we crossed before, it would be about three point two miles total.” He shook his head. “I don’t think we’ll make it before dark.”

  “Okay,” Derek responded, “why don’t we go as far as we can today while there’s still light? We might find somewhere to cross along the way. If not, we’ll go all the way back to where we crossed before. If it starts to get dark before we reach the cabin, we’ll build another snow cave and hunker down for the night.”

  “I think that might be our only choice. What do you guys think? Dave, do you think you can make it?”

  “Let’s give it a shot.”

  ___

  “Idaho State Police. This is Sergeant Williams.”

  “Sergeant? My name is Rhonda Walsh. My son is missing…he hasn’t come home yet.”

  “Where are you calling from, ma’am?”

  “I live in Lewiston.”

  “Ma’am, are you aware that many of the highways and secondary roads have been closed, especially in your area? There are hundreds of people stranded, and we are working as quickly as we can to get to them all. There are shelters being set up all around the state.”

  “I don’t think he’s stuck on the side of the road.”

  “Why do you say that, ma’am?”

  “Because, they were going hiking. He was with his friend Derek. They were supposed to be home Friday.”

  “Where were they hiking, ma’am?”

  “In the Nez Perce National Forest. They left here Wednesday, and I think they were starting their hike in Elk City.”

  “Nez Perce?” The sergeant felt a chill.

  “I know. I know. I’ve been watching the news. I…I…think they might have been there…where the plane crashed.”

  The Sergeant heard crying on the phone.

  “Ma’am, if they were, we have hundreds of people out searching in that area right now.”

  “Have you found anyone alive yet?”

  “I don’t have anything specific on that. Why don’t you give me your name and information on your son? I’ll make sure that it gets to the right people.”

  ___

  They came upon a large tree that had fallen over the stream. Although the deep snow covered the banks, the large irregular shapes on either side indicated that this was a narrow channel cut between large boulders. On both sides of the stream, the banks sloped steeply down to the water. Derek stopped and considered the tree for a moment.

  “I think this might work.”

  He took off his pack and removed his snowshoes. Sitting at the top of the bank, he sank into the deep snow and carefully slid about five feet down to the tree trunk, displacing a large volume of snow along the way. As he stood up on the trunk, more snow fell into the rushing water four or five feet below him. He studied the tree. The trunk was wider than his shoulders, but the tree sloped up to the opposite bank where the upper portion had landed. To cross, he would have to walk uphill almost twenty feet before reaching the other side.

  “I don’t know, Derek. That water’s moving really fast. If you slip and fall in…” Jack didn’t finish the thought.

  Derek studied the stream. Jack was right. If he fell in, his wet clothes would quickly rob his body of heat, and hypothermia was a certainty. That is, if he made it out before he drowned or was bashed unconscious on the rocks. He patted the sleeping bag and parachute wrapped around his body. A wet sleeping bag would act like an anchor. Going across with the packs would be tricky. Still, he reasoned as he considered the tree, it didn’t look that difficult.

  “Toss me one of the ski poles.”

  Using the stick for balance, Derek was able to walk across without too much difficulty.

  “I think we can do it.”

  “I think it’s too risky.” Jack stated. “I don’t think everyone can make it as easily as you.”

  ___

  Richter listened to the exchange for a moment as he studied the log. Then, reaching into his pack, he pulled out the nylon rope. He tied one end of the rope securely to the base of a tree.

  “Hey, Derek. I’m going to toss this to you.”

  Richter took off his snowshoes and slid down to the base of the tree-bridge, using the rope to control his descent. Bracing himself, he tossed the rope across to Derek, who tied it to another tree, about shoulder height, pulling it taut.

  ___

  The president tentatively stepped out onto the tree. With the boys calling encouragement, he shuffled forward. The log was wide and, with the rope to hold onto, it was much easier than he expected. Soon, he was halfway across. He took another step and then it happened. A section of the trunk was coated in ice, courtesy of the splashing water below and the sub-freezing temperatures. His right foot slipped and he fell to the side. Suddenly he was plunging toward the stream—certain he was going in—when he was abruptly jerked to a halt. He bounced up and down like a yo-yo before Richter grabbed his harness.

  “I’ve got you…Dave.” Struggling, Richter pulled the president up until he got his feet back on the log. Kendall was breathing heavily.

  “That looked like fun,” Derek called. “Can I try it next?”

  Kendall let out a breath. He was too old for bungee jumping, he thought, but thank God for the harness. After watching Derek and Jack slip and slide their way across several times as they carried the gear over, Richter had fashioned a safety line using the parachute harness. He had looped the suspension lines over the rope support and secured the ends to either side of the harness.

  Kendall took a deep breath, stepped over the icy section and began to inch forward. Richter, in a second harness and with a steady hand on his boss’s shoulder, followed.

  ___

  It took them another two hours to reach the strand of pines. They stopped and rested for a moment after the strenuous climb. After some water and more protein bars, they set out again and twenty minutes later emerged from the trees. A shack, constructed from rough-hewn planks, stood in the middle of a clearing, fifty yards away. A single window faced them, but it appeared to be shuttered. A pile of cut wood stood to the right of the cabin, in an area that had been cleared.

  “Hey, we finally made it!”

  Suddenly, Richter grabbed the president and turned back to the trees.

  “Back in the woods!” he hissed. “Right now!”

  Confused, Jack and Derek trailed to a spot behind a large spruce.

  “What’s wrong?” Jack whispered.

  Richter ignored him as he stared through the tree branches at the woodpile, then up at the roof. There was a black metal chimneystack rising above the cabin. Even in the wind, the smoke was visible.

  Richter tapped Derek’s shoulder then pointed at the president and then the forest. Without a word, Derek took Dave’s arm and led him and Jack deeper into the trees. Richter watched until they disappeared. He studied the cabin for a moment then turned and followed. He caught up several minutes later, and they found shelter below a large spruce.

  Richter nodded at Jack and Derek.

  “Stay here with Dave,” he ordered.

  “What’s going on?” Jack asked.

  Richter ignored Jack again as he peered through the snow-covered branches. Then he took his gloves off, handing them to Derek.

  “If anything happens, I want you to take Dave back the way we came. Get as far away from here as you can. Understood?”

  Confused, Derek nodded nonetheless.

  ___

  Richter made his way back to the edge of the forest. He stopped to observe the cabin again. Other than the smoke drifting up from the chimney, the cabin was still. Holding his gun with both hands, he moved forward. His instinct was to run in a half-crouch, zigzagging from tree to tree for cover. Instead, he plodded along, awkward in the snowshoes, exposed, on top of the deep snow. Every three or four steps, he paused to scan and listen.

  He was twenty fee
t from the shack when, to his right, a figure suddenly appeared from around the corner, gun in hand. All he saw was a torso; the figure apparently was following a path through the snow. Richter, struggling to maintain his balance in the snowshoes, twisted his upper body like an acrobat as he tried to follow the figure through his gun sights.

  The figure froze in midstride then, with lightning speed, spun around toward him.

  The boom of several gunshots echoed through the woods.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Jack flinched. “Holy shit!”

  Derek stood, grabbed Dave’s arm, and pulled him up. “Come on! Let’s go!”

  Jack hesitated. “Shouldn’t we help him?”

  “No!” The president hissed over his shoulder. “There’s nothing we can do. Come on!”

  The three trudged deeper into the trees and, ten minutes later, they reached the other side. Derek stopped and peered back through the foliage.

  “I don’t think anyone’s following us.” He turned. “What do we do now?”

  “We keep going.”

  “Wait!” Jack pleaded. “What if he’s hurt?”

  President Kendall grabbed Jack by the shoulders. “No. We’re going to do exactly what Agent Richter told us to do.”

  Jack stared at Dave for a moment before the realization hit him.

  “Oh my God!”

  ___

  Richter pushed the snow off his face and sat up; he swung his gun back and forth, certain his attacker was coming. After several seconds of silence, he peered over the top of the snow and saw a head disappear to his right. The head reappeared a second later, closer to the woodpile. Richter swung his gun and fired. Seizing the moment, he sat back and removed his snowshoes. He rose and peeked above the snow again and, seeing nothing, dropped back down. Using the snowshoe, he began to dig a trench toward the cabin.