A Heartbeat Away

by Michael Palmer

  Ellis made eye contact with Gladstone, who was some fifty people in line behind Tilden. A slight nod from her and Gladstone abandoned his place. He walked past Tilden, and without offering an apology or explanation, cut in front of Supreme Court Justice Alfred Bauer. In the past, and at times during the current crisis, Ellis had witnessed the crusty Bauer lose his temper, usually without much provocation. Minor offenses such as loud talking, or even snoring, had been triggers enough to set off the already agitated, elderly judge. Ellis was counting on Bauer losing his cool one more time.

  “You can’t cut the line, young man,” Ellis heard him say to Gladstone.

  Gladstone, in response, turned to Bauer, and just as they had rehearsed said, “You can’t make me leave. You’re not the all-powerful justice, here.”

  Gladstone then turned away from the man and resumed his waiting.

  “I don’t tolerate that sort of disrespect, young man,” Bauer snapped.

  “I frankly don’t care what you tolerate or don’t tolerate.”

  Bauer took the bait and pushed Gladstone in the small of his back. Ellis’s aide stumbled forward. He waved his arms wildly in the air, pretending to lose his balance, and crashed into the man standing in front of him. Then he executed a quick side step to his right, and the man into whom he had fallen responded with an angry shove into Bauer’s chest. The justice countered with a wild, errant punch that missed his target, but grazed across a congresswoman’s jaw.

  The ensuing melee exploded like a match on gasoline-soaked rags.

  Having predicted every moment of the scenario, Ellis listened to the escalating shouting and startling profanities from men and women, many of them with impeccable pedigrees. She watched as more people joined in, pushing and shoving, and calling other combatants names.

  We’ll teach you the right way to brawl, she was thinking. The way we do it in the deep South.

  Punches were now being thrown. Boxed dinners were flying like missiles. A congressman was repeatedly kicking a fallen reporter in the abdomen and head. Pent-up frustration and anger, in all likelihood fueled by WRX3883, burst forth like an oil well gusher. Secret Service agents quickly rushed in to quell the mayhem. Several of them became enmeshed in it. Others extracted Allaire’s wife and daughter before they could become victims of the increasing violence. Capitol Police and more agents came together to pry apart several small pockets of fighting. Noses were bleeding, now, as fists continued to fly. Congressmen and -women were on the floor along with other dignitaries, cowering or flailing with their hands and feet.

  “I can’t take this anymore!” Ellis heard somebody scream.

  “Stop hitting me! I didn’t do anything to you!” shouted another.

  Ellis and Gladstone grabbed Tilden by the arms before any Secret Service agents could get to him.

  “Come with us,” she yelled into his ear. “There’s a problem with President Allaire. Dr. Townsend wants us right away.”

  Tilden nodded and allowed himself to be guided out of the House Chamber into the corridor that would lead across the Capitol to the Senate wing. As Ellis had predicted, the guards who had been posted at the doors had rushed in to help quell the fight. The screaming and racket muted once the exit doors closed behind them. Ellis was not the least surprised that her tactics were working perfectly. It was probable that no one had noticed them leaving.

  “What’s going on?” Tilden asked.

  There was confusion and panic in his voice and expression. Ellis wondered if he was reacting to the riot, or to the notion of becoming president. Probably both, she decided. How in the hell had he ever made it so high?

  “Townsend is waiting for us by the Senate Chamber,” she said. “We’ve got to hurry.”

  “Why there?” Tilden asked.

  “You saw what’s going on here. Townsend couldn’t meet us on the rostrum, and she couldn’t risk getting together anywhere near the president. He’s become paranoid about being removed from office. His doctor used the word ‘dangerous’ to describe him. That’s her word, not mine.” Ellis held up a metal tube. “I’ve got the documents rolled up in here that Townsend has prepared for us to sign.”

  Ellis and her aide walked the vice president at a brisk pace. According to the information that O’Neil had provided, Allaire was in a meeting with Salitas and would be there for at least an hour. If O’Neil were wrong about that, and by accident they bumped into the president, she would have to think fast. But she was totally capable of doing that. And besides, it was unlikely the man would venture into this wing, especially given the diversion Gladstone had started in the other.

  Nice!

  They led Tilden to the Senate Chamber, following the same route that Ellis had taken earlier—down the West Grand Staircase, across the House connecting corridor, into the Senate connecting corridor, and finally up the East Grand Staircase. She knew that all patrols to this side of the Capitol had been stopped per Allaire’s orders—more useful intelligence from O’Neil. Perhaps there could be room for him in her administration after all.

  Ellis quickened her steps to separate herself from Tilden. Gladstone dropped back. When the Senate Chamber door came into view, she dropped the metal mailing tube to the marble floor. It landed behind her with a loud, resonating clank. Fumbling to retrieve it, she kicked it so that it would roll toward Tilden and away from the door.

  “I’ll get that,” the tall vice president said, bending down.

  Ellis stood in front of the chamber door, blocking the door handles from his line of sight. There was a plastic bucket by her feet. The lock and chain that had once secured the doors were now coiled inside it. Gladstone had done his job well. He always did. Before he started the food line riot, he had gotten the key to the Senate Chamber lock from O’Neil, along with a blue plastic temporary handcuff.

  In the few moments Tilden was retrieving the metal tube, Ellis cut the plastic ties securing the door using a knife she had purloined from the food service. By the time Tilden reached her with the tube, she had already kicked the pieces of the temporary handcuffs under the door.

  “If Townsend is right,” she said, “you’ll be taking the oath of office in a few hours.”

  Gladstone readied himself as Ellis held her breath and pulled open the doors. Tilden hesitated at the threshold, clearly taken aback by the commotion and the stench.

  But it was too late.

  Gladstone shoved him brusquely into the vast room, and Ellis quickly closed the door behind him. Then she slipped the tube through the door handles. They could hear Tilden screaming and pounding from inside.

  “Open up! For God’s sakes, Ursula! Open the door! Help!… Hey, let go of me. Let go of me, dammit!”

  No patrols. No guards. No worries.

  With Gladstone holding the tube in place and keeping his shoulder hard to the door, Ellis pulled the chain from the bucket and looped it through the handles. The door bucked as Tilden, still crying out, continued to push against it from the other side.

  And then, quite suddenly, his screaming stopped.

  CHAPTER 55

  DAY 6

  7:00 P.M. (EST)

  Ellis gave her aide a decent head start and then followed him back to the House Chamber. Her thoughts were consumed with how close she now was to taking over the reins of leadership for the most powerful nation in the history of the planet.

  The House Chamber itself had degenerated into chaos. There were clusters of people facing off against one another, exchanging verbal threats, childish insults, and furious looks. Rows of sleeping cots, which had taken the place of many of the rows of chairs, were tipped over and their bedding ripped and tossed about. The floor was littered with food cartons and was slick to walk on from spilled drinks. But even in the din of that commotion, Ellis could still hear people coughing.

  She had prepared a simple explanation for her whereabouts if pressed, but she found the door through which she had reentered the chamber unguarded. Capitol Police and Secret Service agents were
still too busy with crowd control. Some had their weapons drawn, though most of the security force looked bewildered and incapable of restoring order.

  Ellis knew exactly how to rein in the unruliness.

  It was time to bring her bill to the House floor.

  The time had come to expose America to Jim Allaire’s unforgivable lies.

  Ellis felt she had proved herself every bit the leader that Allaire was not. She had proof now that Harlan Mackey had been executed because of the lethalness of the virus. Surely, the president had other options for dealing with the aging senator, but those options would have required him to admit his deception. In doing so, he would have made it clear to the American public that he did not trust them, and in doing so, they would learn that he was not trustworthy himself.

  In contrast to Allaire, Ellis had solid reasons for what she was doing. Negotiating with Genesis and locking Vice President Tilden inside the Senate Chamber were justifiable acts under these extreme circumstances. She was born to lead, and leadership not only demanded sacrifice, but a willingness to change the rules of the game. She had done what needed to be done. True leaders, she knew, were the ones who made the hard choices and never looked back.

  After a time at the rostrum working on details and watching the melee finally wind down, Ellis summoned Gladstone to her side. Her aide was pale and bleary-eyed. Never robust, he was starting to look frail. His weakened state was understandable given the hours he had spent crafting the bill and incorporating her edits, to say northing of the stress of working to elevate her to the presidency.

  “Are we ready?” she asked him.

  “I believe so,” her aide said. “I’ve made copies of the bill for every voting member and their aides, but only those who are in the House Chamber. I’m assuming Groups B and C are out of the equation.”

  “You assume correctly,” Ellis said.

  “And I used version twenty-three of the bill, is that correct as well?”

  “Yes it is. Well done. Now, have you been able to locate Jordan Lamar? As architect of the Capitol, we need his support to make everything happen as I’ve planned.”

  “I haven’t tried to find him yet,” Gladstone said, “but I don’t believe that will be necessary.”

  “I want those television cameras turned back on, Leland. Our dear Mr. Jordan is the only person with the authority to defy the president and restore those transmissions. It’s essential the American people be made aware of the truth. They must see with their own eyes the reason why I have been negotiating with Genesis.”

  Gladstone peered over Ellis’s shoulder.

  “I’m saying it won’t be necessary to find him,” he explained, “because it appears he has found us.”

  Ellis turned to see Lamar, Bethany Townsend, and the president heading toward them. All three looked gravely concerned.

  “We haven’t seen Vice President Tilden in over an hour,” Allaire said, without a greeting. “Have either of you seen him?”

  Ellis’s eyes narrowed.

  “No, I haven’t,” she said. “Not for hours. Leland? You?”

  “Nope. He was in line here when all the craziness started, but that was the last time I saw him.”

  “Well, keep your eyes out. He’s on treatment for high blood pressure.”

  Ellis tried to make eye contact with Townsend, hoping she might bring up the meeting the three of them had, but the physician looked away.

  Enough is enough, Ellis decided.

  “President Allaire,” she said, “as long as you’re here, I think you should know that I’ve had a change of plans regarding my committee.”

  “I hope that change involves your disbanding it,” the president said.

  “Actually, my current plan is to seek cooperation from the Committee on Rules, in hopes that they will grant privileged status to a special rule for a specific legislative measure that I intend to bring to the House floor for consideration.”

  Allaire looked appalled.

  “I’ve had enough of your antics, Ursula,” he exclaimed. “We’re involved in a deadly crisis of unparalleled scope, and you have been nothing but an impediment to resolving it.”

  Ellis urged herself not to become rattled.

  “Well, I’m afraid, Mr. President, that the rules of the House preclude your displeasure from interfering with permitted congressional business. Besides, you are in no position to be combative with me. That will only cause you trouble. Just ask your Dr. Townsend, here.”

  Allaire turned to his physician, concern drawing a shadow across his face.

  “What is she talking about, Bethany?”

  Townsend shuffled her feet and struggled to make eye contact with the president.

  “I … have some serious concerns about your ability to control your emotions,” Townsend responded, “especially your temper.” She paused to give Ellis a venomous stare. “I witnessed your outburst myself, and as is my duty to the country, I brought my concerns to the attention of Vice President Tilden and the speaker of the house.”

  “Why would you do that?” Allaire asked with the sting of betrayal evident in his voice.

  “You know what infection with the WRX virus can do to any of us. It could become incumbent on them to initiate the proceedings.”

  “By proceedings,” Allaire said, now straining to remain calm, “you mean my forcible removal from office.”

  Townsend nodded somewhat sheepishly.

  “You demonstrated behavior that you, yourself, had warned me about, sir.”

  Ellis’s inward smile broadened.

  “Yes, Mr. President,” she chimed in, “you never told most of us, but you warned Dr. Townsend and your inner circle about the true dangers of this virus. Isn’t that correct?”

  “What are you talking about?” Allaire demanded.

  “Why, the virus,” Ellis said saccharinely. “I’m talking about the dreadfully lethal virus you called the flu—the virus that is going to kill us all unless somebody does something drastic.”

  “It is not always lethal,” Allaire countered.

  “Oh, the fuck it isn’t!” Ellis held up Gladstone’s BlackBerry. “No thanks to you, but I know just how goddamn lethal this virus is. I saw what Group C has become. I even photographed it.”

  A primitive rage twisted Allaire’s expression. Ellis took a cautious step backward.

  “You had no right going into that room,” he said. “I am the president. It is my job to make decisions that are in the best interest of this country. Telling the whole truth about WRX3883 would have caused a panic here and on the outside that would have endangered everyone. I could not take the chance of triggering a pandemic.”

  “Wrong, Mr. President. I have the inalienable right to life, same as every man, woman, and child whose survival you’ve so callously put at risk.”

  Jordan Lamar looked concerned.

  “What is she talking about, Jim?” he asked. “You told us the virus wasn’t that dangerous.”

  “He lied to you, Jordan,” Ellis said. “He lied to us all. And what I propose we do is turn those network television cameras back on and show the American people exactly what it is that we’re facing.”

  “Just what are we facing, Ursula?” the architect asked.

  “A certain and horrible death, that’s what. But this legislation I plan to present will guarantee us the delivery of an antiviral treatment.”

  Allaire’s jaw fell slack. His look was of total dismay and disbelief.

  “You’re mad,” he said. “Absolutely mad.”

  “A no vote to what I’m proposing would be no different than putting a gun to our heads and pulling the trigger.”

  “Don’t listen to her, Jordan,” Allaire insisted. “She doesn’t have the facts. She can’t deliver what she’s promising.”

  “Is it true, sir?” Lamar asked. “Did you lie to us?”

  “I did what I believed was right—for all of us.”

  For the first time, there was little conviction in
his voice.

  “The virus is going to kill us,” Ellis repeated. “I have proof I can show you. And it will be a horrible death, Jordan. But I tell you again, I’ve secured us an antiviral treatment.”

  “How?” Allaire shouted at her. “How is that possible, Ursula, when the only person who could deliver a treatment is working with us?”

  “We pass my bill, and Genesis will deliver the antiviral treatment. They got the virus, they have the treatment.”

  Allaire went pale.

  “What have you done?” he managed.

  “I’ve cut a deal with them,” she said. “This bill—their bill—for our lives. And before you say we don’t negotiate with terrorists, I want everybody to see what is going to become of us. Jordan, get this video to play for everybody inside this chamber. And I want to simultaneously broadcast it to the American people. No more lies. No more deception. The time has come to do what must be done. Let’s get that broadcast going.”

  “Jordan, don’t!” Allaire exclaimed. “Our scientist is getting close. He’s nearing a breakthrough. Whatever this—this madwoman has been promised by the terrorists is a lie. I’m telling you the truth. There is no treatment yet. No cure. You will severely impede our ability to operate if you undermine my authority here.”

  “Give me the BlackBerry,” Lamar said to Ursula. “I want to see the video myself.”

  “Jordan, no!”

  But Lamar snatched the device from Ellis’s outstretched hand and turned his back to keep the president from taking it away. The architect’s shoulders slumped as he watched the horrific recording. Ellis could hear the tinny audio track sounding through the BlackBerry’s mono speaker. She heard the grunts and the screams. The sound of vomiting. The gunshot.

  “Mr. President, what have you done?” Lamar asked.

  “Jordan, don’t do it!” the president said again.

  “I am the architect of the Capitol, sir. If I wish to broadcast chamber activities, the rules governing this facility permit me to do just that.”

  “You will be committing a treasonous act,” Allaire warned.