The Kill Button

by Tom Hron

  Suddenly, the president went on. “Now for my surprise. My wife is expecting you at the White House, and you are to be our guests until I get back from the G-eight.” Next, his face glowed with a grin. “However, I suspect there will be a little problem … which of you gets the Lincoln Bedroom, and I can’t imagine how you will settle that.” He laughed and boarded Air Force One again, waving good-bye to them at the door.

  Minutes later, they were on their way to the White House in Marine One. Harry looked down at the Maryland countryside. Was it feeling so overtired that he couldn’t see straight, post trauma of some kind, or something else entirely, he wondered. The others were talking up a storm.

  “Harry, what’s wrong?” Joe finally asked.

  “I’m not sure.” He shook his head. “Maybe I just need to visit Catherine’s grave.”

  Alexis and Shawki fell silent and looked at him.

  “I’ll go with you if you want,” said Joe. “Maybe you shouldn’t be alone.”

  “No … thank you, but I want to go alone. I hope the First Lady will lend me a car.”

  “I’m sure she will.” Joe studied him with his dark eyes. “But I really wish you’d get some rest first.”

  CHAPTER 28

  GEORGETOWN

  The night’s chill woke him, and Harry sat up and wondered how long he’d slept beside Catherine’s grave. Two or three hours? … All the guilt and tears had done him little good, since he felt as sad as ever and no matter which way he cut it he had provoked her death. He stood and walked back to the car the First Lady had given him.

  He drove to the old federal homes along the Chesapeake and Ohio canal in Georgetown and walked along its cobblestone sidewalk until he found the house he’d visited just once before. Yes, he was sure it was the one—its blue front couldn’t be mistaken among the other colorful brick fronts, all elegantly lit by period lighting. Lifting the brass knocker, he banged on the front door. Seconds later, a balding young man swung it open. “What do you want?” he snapped. “There’s nobody here.”

  “I came to see the senator.”

  “I told you that he’s not home.”

  “Yeah, then why are you here?” Harry pushed past him before he had a chance to close the door.

  “Listen, do want to get thrown out on your head? Now beat it.”

  Harry faced him. “Would you like to try?”

  The young man measured him, then backed off and snaked his right hand under his suit coat. “Okay, pal, you’ve got two seconds or you’re getting your head blown off.” He then pulled the biggest pistol that Harry had ever seen. “Now get out!”

  “Go ahead and shoot, since that’s all the senator would need right now, cops crawling all over this place.” Harry stepped up to the barrel. “Come on, asshole, pull the trigger. I’m sure you’ll be just as courageous when the Justice Department gives you the death penalty for killing me—but then maybe you’d better ask for the senator’s permission first. Bad timing and everything, you know.”

  The bodyguard started to sweat.

  A solemn voice came downstairs from the foyer balcony. “All right, Danny, back off with the gun and let him come upstairs.” Next, an exhalation of air descended like a noisy whisper. “I should have known you’d figure it out, but now the problem is, Harry, what should we do with you, since it’s my life or yours?”

  Harry walked up a curving balcony stairs and followed Jefferies into a wood-paneled library. An ornate desk sat near the opposite wall, boxes and books were strewn about, a metal suitcase lay on a leather armchair, and two Pierre Cardin bags were on the floor beside another chair. The bodyguard came in and stood behind him.

  “May I?” asked Harry as he stepped over to the metal suitcase. “I want to see what’s inside.” He opened its lid and looked down at two metal canisters with swastikas stamped all across their antiquated brass surfaces. He swung toward Jefferies. “What man in his right mind would want these? Are you so evil that you were trying to sell primitive biological weapons? These were worth Catherine’s life?”

  “Not as primitive as you might think, Harry.” The senator spread his hands to make a point. “The research that went into the lepry bacterium was amazing and would be impossible to duplicate today.”

  “Like using men, women, and children for ethnic disease research would be wrong.” Harry distorted his face. “My God, how shortsighted the world has become since the Holocaust.”

  “Harry, the containers were priceless … well, at least they were at one time.”

  “Then why didn’t you sell them?”

  “That’s not why I have them.”

  “Let me guess. Connolly beat your party in the last election and left your candidate looking like a pontificating robot without any new ideas. Your guy promised that he would run again, and what better way to start the next campaign than to destroy Connolly’s presidency by showing up at an impeachment hearing with these.

  “And maybe you weren’t even going to wait that long, seeing that he was under so much fire now. I can see the headlines, Senator Jefferies, chairman of the Intelligence Committee, discovers the administration has a weapon of mass destruction that exterminates Jews. The president would have been forced out of office. Well, let me be more precise, with everything else that he’s allegedly done, he would have been prosecuted and jailed, leaving you looking like a knight in shining armor, especially to every minority in the nation, which would have let you run for president next time. Your candidate had preached that Connolly was dishonest when he ran against him, and now you have the proof.”

  Jefferies lifted his eyebrows, shook his head, but went on packing.

  Harry paused and then went on. “I know that you had Catherine killed.”

  Jefferies froze in place. “You’re simply speculating,” he answered after a moment, “and I had nothing to do with it.”

  “Who killed her then … Reechi, and you told Sarychev to have him do it? You’re the only one who would have known that she’d be home all alone.”

  There was another hesitation. “Harry, you will never understand how much I cared for her, but you can only blame yourself. You seemed to have nine lives and wouldn’t stop coming after us. I couldn’t stop it.”

  “You’re SiddhArtha, the one who has attained his goal, the one who would be king. I should have remembered what the president told me.”

  Jefferies looked surprised. “Oh, the president got ahead of me on this one. I should have known.”

  “He contacted me without you knowing and warned me not to trust anyone, and I should have listened to him. It never occurred to me that you might be hiding behind Sarychev, and using him besides. Good God, Skeleter and all the others don’t even know who you are, do they, and that you were pulling everyone’s strings, including mine?

  “The president said the only thing he feared more than having spies in his administration was his political enemies. Spies aren’t interested in destroying a nation, since all they want is its classified secrets. Why kill the golden goose? People like you are the real threat. You would sell the country into ruin just to gain more power. There’s nothing sacred to you, is there? You will do anything, say anything, and even let an innocent woman get killed just to stay in office.”

  “I said that I didn’t do it, and Skeleter wanted everybody dead who had the least association with the Aurora, the Black Dragon, or the president’s investigation of him. He wasn’t willing to face the death penalty or life imprisonment for anyone, not even Sarychev—especially Sarychev. Catherine and I got in the way when you asked her for the location of Abu Muhammad’s camp. Where in hell did you think we would get that information? Magruder tipped off Skeleter the moment I called his office. Blame yourself, Harry, but don’t blame me. You could have left it all alone, but no you had to be the big hero.”

  It was like taking a punch to the stomach, and it took him a little time to find the strength to go on. There were still so many unanswered questions … or maybe he was just tryi
ng to shift the blame. Regardless, he had to know.

  “So that’s it, Sarychev had started squeezing back. As head of the Intelligence Committee you would have known that he was a Russian spy posing as a diplomat. How long did it take you to realize that Skeleter was his principal asset here in Washington? I bet it was back when your political party held the presidency, so you didn’t dare blow the whistle. Instead, you set yourself up as the pseudo spymaster, next got a rope on Sarychev and waited for just the right opportunity to come along. Meanwhile, look at all the games you could play, or should I say all the political havoc you could cause. No one would ever suspect, let alone be able to prove that you had Russia’s top agent under you thumb. What a sick bastard you are—”

  “Don’t push me, Harry, because your life isn’t worth much right now.”

  “Answer me one thing. How did you get your hands on these canisters, and how long have you had them? That’s the one thing I don’t understand.”

  Jefferies made a wry face. “How old do you think I am, Harry?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Opendoor—the damn fool signed Opendoor. Everyone was beginning to figure it out, Chambers being the first.”

  The light bulbs went off for Harry, and he sadly shook his head. “I should have guessed—you worked for Langley long ago. Hell, I bet you even headed the covert operation that salvaged the Black Dragon, a.k.a., Project SiddhArtha. Let me guess again, there’s this old top-secret paper trail. Twenty-five years later it’s going to get sent over to the National Archives where people constantly do research and sooner or later it will be found out that you were in charge. Oh, oh, there goes your squeaky-clean image and it’s curtains for you politically, especially if you want to stay on the Intelligence Committee or ever run for president. You couldn’t take the chance, so you start manipulating Sarychev to get Skeleter, et al, to get you the leprosy canisters and cover everything up, except he smells a rat and wants quid pro quo, like the Aurora. Both of you start pressing the wrong red buttons and guess what happens, everything flies apart and Skeleter goes postal on you. It costs Catherine her life.”

  Jefferies eyes started running tears. “I couldn’t stop him, and Sarychev even lost control of him. Jesus Christ—”

  Harry looked straight at him. “You could have confessed. That would have stopped him, and saved four lives besides.”

  Jefferies defiantly shook his head. “No—never!”

  Harry had run out of breath, let alone things to say. He was still to blame, and he would always remember that his stubbornness had caused a terrible thing.

  Then an awful thought grew in his mind. He had committed himself to danger as he always had, but this time there was no way out. The bodyguard was behind him with a gun, he’d come all alone, and the room offered little chance for escape. No doors, no windows. His recklessness had finally caught up with him, and his only hope was to fight. He slowly bent to pick up a brass canister.

  “Don’t try it, Harry, or I’ll kill you where you stand.” Jefferies stopped packing.

  Harry straightened himself. “The whole block will dial nine-one-one if your guy fires his cannon.”

  Jefferies reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a Colt .22 semiautomatic. “I’ll kill you with this, and it only goes pop as you probably know.”

  He only had a split-second to decide. Jefferies and his bodyguard were lined up with him. They couldn’t risk a sudden shot, not without the danger of hitting each other. Lifting his arms halfway, he spread them as if he were making peace. “Relax, I’m won’t do anything.”

  “Danny, tie him up.” Jefferies lowered his pistol a little. “We’ll get rid of him on our way to Dulles, and it will be my pleasure to throw him into a dumpster. He’s ruined my life.”

  Harry hurled himself across the desk with a scream, hitting Jefferies chest high. He knocked the .22 to one side and rolled onto the floor with him. Twisting and turning, each locked their hands around the Colt. The bodyguard ran over to them, aimed his gun, but Harry kicked him in the crotch and pulled Jefferies under the desk to shield himself. Crying out in pain, the bodyguard aimed again, this time letting fire at the carpet beside them. Ka-boom! The senator shrieked like a pig. Don’t shoot, don’t shoot! Hit him—get him off me! The bodyguard dove in and then all three wrestled back and forth with the .22. Bang—bang! Two shots blasted by Harry’s ear. He flew into a rage, forced the barrel back, then suddenly saw Jefferies get shot between the eyes. Bang! A tiny, gray hole started oozing blood. In a final Herculean effort he smashed his head against the bodyguard’s face and drew another agonized cry.

  Then he heard the cavalry coming with Cochise and Geronimo leading the charge. Both snapped at the bodyguard’s arms, legs, and throat. Joe came running in next and kicked the man’s gun away, grabbed him by the neck, and pulled him from under the desk. Finally Shawki and Alexis arrived, along with about 50 Secret Service agents, all waving their pistols and shouting at the top of their voices. Harry lay under the desk a moment and let the world pass by. There was a sense of victory, but nothing would ever be the same.

  CHAPTER 29

  THE TIDAL BASIN

  They found Tungsten perched like a bird in a tree along the Tidal Basin, which was not a long way from the White House but over a mile from where he’d been lost. The problem was he wouldn’t come down, no matter what Alexis said, and all he’d do was stare at her with his blue eyes, much to her consternation.

  Shawki thought it was funny as hell. “He’s had a belly full of you completely,” he laughed. “How many times have you almost got him killed? Two or three?” He laughed again.

  “Tungsten, you come down here right now,” she screamed, “and this time I really mean it.”

  All that did was set Shawki off on another roar, which then got Harry and Joe laughing as well.

  “You guys shut up, because you’re not helping at all.” She gave the tree a good kick. “Now help me get him down.”

  Finally, Joe stopped laughing and calmed himself. “Let him alone, for Pete’s sake, and he’ll come down when he’s good and ready. Now let’s eat lunch.”

  After a minute, she turned away and joined them.

  They had left the White House a little before lunchtime, intent on finding her cat, but wanting to enjoy the waterproof day too. The sun had warmed the noon hour into the seventies without much wind, and, graciously, the First Lady had given them a picnic basket fit for a king. Wine, cheese, wheat rolls, southern fried chicken, potato salad, cold beer—everything was there, leaving them with food for all day. Although they had felt sorry about losing Tungsten, it was time to take it easy as well.

  Harry, Joe, and Shawki threw themselves onto the grass and pulled out the chicken and beer.

  “Harry, why in hell did you try committing suicide again last night?” Joe asked. “You might have gotten yourself killed if I wouldn’t have been suspicious of what you were really up to. Godalmighty, them bullets didn’t miss you by an inch, and besides, that bodyguard was awfully big.”

  The horror of it was still inside him. “It came to me while I was at Catherine’s grave that Jefferies had to be SiddhArtha. Some of it was from what Sarychev had said before he was killed. It became clear that he wasn’t in control.”

  Shawki glanced at him. “But how did you know SiddhArtha wasn’t Skeleter or one of the others?”

  “I really didn’t, but then I remembered the president had told us that they couldn’t find the lepry canisters at Langley but were searching for them. That got me wondering if someone had stolen them. Then I remembered that Skeleter, Magruder, and Scirpo were working for Sarychev, not the other way around. I started wondering who might be manipulating Sarychev from behind the scenes. To use Joe’s words, I got suspicious.”

  “It almost cost you your life,” muttered Joe, “and it’s a damn good thing I decided we’d better follow you. We knew you were in trouble when we heard that family-sized pistol go off.”

  “Whose idea was it
to bring the Secret Service along?”

  “Alexis. She thought we might need the law.”

  “It’s a good thing she did.” Harry smiled at her. “Now we don’t have to worry about being eyewitnesses for the government.”

  “What do you mean, eyewitnesses?” asked Joe after a pull on a beer.

  “Well, the president called me this morning before you guys woke up. He’d been briefed on Jefferies.”

  Alexis stopped eating. “Well, what did he say? Tell us.”

  “He wondered if we’d work for him again, off paper, of course, so we don’t get any publicity.” Harry reached for another piece of chicken. “I didn’t know what to tell him and said I’d have to get back to him, since I thought a couple of you were just in it for the glory.”

  At first, they didn’t know what to think of his dumb joke, then suddenly a food fight broke out with him being the main target. Finally they ended in a heap laughing and crying with Cochise and Geronimo and all the people around them staring as if they’d all gone nuts. —But they had come together as a team and nothing would ever break them apart. The future was theirs.

  A little later Harry watched Alexis play with the dogs while Shawki and Joe slept on the grass beside him. She would throw a red Frisbee as far as she could and they’d race after it, having the time of their lives. What a wonderful scene and a beautiful young woman, he thought to himself. Feeling sleepy as well, he rolled onto his back and saw Tungsten finally coming down, mad as hell about Alexis having fun with the dogs.

  He still had questions that needed to be answered about the destruction of the Aurora and the incestuous spy ring that had been uncovered, led by a U.S. Senator, no less. The president had promised a thorough investigation and an entire housecleaning of his administration to find the rest of the people who had been involved in what had happened, example being, who exactly had shot him down and bombed Joe’s ranch home? Clearly, that individual had infiltrated Area 51 and done what David Skeleter had told him to do, but where was that deep-cover mole now? And had the High-frequency Active Auroral System and a robotic drone been used, or were there other weapon projects the CIA wasn’t talking about, even to the president. Or maybe General Drucker had been Skeleter’s obedient sidekick and had done it all on his own. In any case, it would take time to find out and in the meantime he supposed others would turn against the country, whether they were dangerous traitors or power-hungry politicians. Freedom didn’t come cheap and all men wanted to become rich and powerful if they could. Often that was what made the world so unsafe, but now it had become his work, for better or worse. He would wait for the president’s next phone call, though it would mean the nation was in even greater danger.