The First Family

by Michael Palmer

  “I’m going to draw him out,” he said.

  Karen’s ears may have been ringing, but she had heard him.

  “No,” she said sternly. I’m still the parent here. “Whatever we do, we do it together.”

  “Whatever you do, Mom, don’t miss,” he said.

  Before she could get in another word, Josh was gone, on the move, headed for that tree.

  Gunshots rang out, following the sound of Josh’s fast-falling footsteps. Without breaking stride, Josh swung himself up onto a sturdy tree branch. The gunman targeted the same tree, bark splintering where his bullets struck.

  Karen lost sight of Josh in the branches as he ascended. The rustling leaves became her son’s heartbeat. She understood now. Josh was drawing the gunman’s attention away from Karen and onto himself. He was bait. Chum in the water. Karen held a breath. What’s next? she wondered. Whatever you do … don’t miss. What could he be thinking?

  Flashes exploded from the dark, still targeting that tree.

  Raising her rifle, Karen aimed at the last flash of light she saw … and she waited. Something told her she would know when to shoot. From the corner of her eye, Karen watched the tree where Josh was hiding. The branch he was on had to be at least ten feet off of the ground. It swayed from her son’s weight. More shots came from across the road. A moment later, Josh tumbled from the tree, landing with a thud in a tangled heap on the rocky ground, unmoving. Karen’s thoughts went black.

  He’s been shot—he’s dead—Josh!

  She tried to scream, but no words came out. A noise from across the road drew her attention: not gunshots, but footsteps. She watched Josh, hawklike, praying he would move. Shock and panic eclipsed every thought, but still she had the wherewithal to realize something of possible importance. Josh had landed in the middle of a fairly deep culvert. Her father had dug the ditch years ago to keep rain runoff from flooding the road. From her vantage point, Karen could see Josh lying down there, still as the dead, but the shooter could not. He was drawing him out!

  A second later, the gunman emerged from the shadows, seeking his target. Karen sighted him right away—dark clothes, long flowing hair, a thick beard. The instant his head caught the moonlight, she fired. Blood, like black raindrops, sprayed out from a bullet hole placed in the center of his forehead. The shooter’s knees buckled as he fell forward. With no brain function telling him to brace for impact, he landed face-first on the dirt road, arms at his sides.

  Off to her right Karen heard another sound—it was Josh whistling for her attention. Her heart leapt when she saw him push to his knees. She rushed to him, her hand covering her mouth, overcome with exquisite relief. She dove into the culvert and wrapped her arms around her son.

  Mischief glinted in Josh’s eyes. “Nice shooting, Ma.”

  * * *

  MAUSER HAD his rifle slung over his shoulder and his namesake C96 pistol in his hand. He had wanted the Mauser gun to do the killing, but Lee gave him no chance to aim, so he fired blindly. He might have hit pay dirt, or maybe not. The big man did not seem to slow. He fired again, but a second later it was Mauser on the ground with Lee on top of him. Blood dripped into Mauser’s face and mouth. Oh yeah, he had hit something all right. A blow to the side of Mauser’s head seemed to come from out of nowhere. He felt a tooth loosen, his jaw suddenly on fire.

  Mauser aimed to take another shot, but Lee had smartly pinned his hand to the ground. He bucked and kicked to get free; the strength of Lee’s grip surprised him. With his free hand, Mauser clutched Lee’s throat and squeezed. Lee rolled onto his back, wheezing and gasping for air. Mauser rolled with him. On top now, Mauser squeezed harder, digging his fingers into the sides of Lee’s neck. He tried to reposition his gun, but Lee pushed back with surprising counterforce.

  Mauser felt the pulse beating in Lee’s veins start to weaken. Soon all his strength would be gone. He increased the pressure, choking the life from Lee. He would have kept going, but several weak blows struck the back of his head. It was the woman, whoever she was, attacking him from the side. Mauser let go his grip on Lee’s throat to uncork a vicious, rising left hook that caught the woman square in the jaw. She fell backward and might have struck her head on a rock or root, because her body went limp when she hit the ground.

  Using his left hand again, Mauser punched Lee in the side of his head—once, twice, three times, hard blows, all of them. Lee finally let go of Mauser’s wrist to clutch his injured throat, gasping for air. Mauser scrambled to his feet and aimed his gun at Lee. The twitching girl had gone still, but she was moaning, moving slowly. The other woman was breathing, but still unconscious.

  This was the end for all three.

  Take the bull out first, Mauser decided, before getting the cow and calf.

  * * *

  LEE HAD been too weak to shield his head from the blows, his arms too heavy to move. The pain from the gunshot wound to his shoulder pulsed angrily. His throat felt on fire. A bitter taste filled his mouth. Blood thrummed in his ears, his chest. Death now. The repairman took aim with his strange-looking gun. No choice but to die—and then Susie and Valerie—all three would soon be gone.

  An odd feeling washed over him. Was it peace? It was an unfamiliar calmness, whatever it was. His clinical mind understood he was in shock. Hormones flooded his bloodstream. Cortisol and adrenaline pumped from the adrenal glands spiked his heart rate and quickened his pulse. An infusion of glucose should have given Lee the energy to run, to evade, but to where? The repairman was practically hovering over him. There was no place to go. By the sound of it, Karen and Josh were engaged in a battle of their own. Nobody was coming to the rescue.

  Lee’s instincts took over, and his body went perfectly still. It was what all animals did when faced with death, when there was no place to run, no means of fighting back. They froze and hoped the threat would simply go away. But the repairman was not going anywhere.

  The face of his son—of Paul—of Karen—those came to him. It won’t hurt, Lee promised himself. He was just so sorry he had failed everyone.

  “Why?” Lee managed to squeak out the word. “Why?”

  The repairman steadied his aim at the same instant a tall shadowy figure loomed up behind him. The shadow’s arm came forward with speed as if throwing a ball. There was a horrible cracking sound, bone breaking, and the repairman crumpled to the ground clutching his head, howling like a wounded animal. In an instant, Lee became unfrozen and he pounced for the gun the repairman had dropped. Incredibly, the repairman had managed to scramble to his feet, and was coming at Lee with rage in his eyes, blood streaming down his face. Spinning on his back, Lee picked up the gun, pulled the trigger, and fired three shots at close range, all of them into the repairman’s chest. This time, when the repairman went down, he stayed down.

  Lee stood shakily, ignoring the intense pain in his shoulder and the steady ache in his throat. His eyes searched all directions for the shadowy figure who had saved them all, but he was gone.

  He searched again.

  “Please. Come out. Please.” Lee’s voice was barely a rasp. “We won’t hurt you.”

  Rustling in the trees drew Lee’s attention. There was movement in the brush nearby. Lee dropped the gun to the ground. “We won’t hurt you,” he said again as a figure emerged from the shadows and stepped into the moonlight.

  Lee’s eyes went wide. His mouth fell open.

  It was Cam.

  CHAPTER 56

  Thank goodness they had built a hospital in the woods.

  Valerie had suffered a terrible blow to the head. She was badly disoriented, unsure where she even was. She looked normal enough when Lee examined her, and moved normally too, but she was definitely in a daze, and probably concussed. They would have to get her to a more robust facility soon, possibly for a CAT scan, but nobody was going anywhere just yet.

  Josh’s hands and knees were badly scraped from his fall, the right ankle sprained and swollen, but overall he was in fairly good shape. He was mo
re than a little relieved Susie was safe.

  “I got the idea to play possum when Dad thought I got shot,” Josh had said in describing his ordeal.

  Lee was in need of treatment himself. In addition to his many cuts and contusions, he’d been shot in the shoulder by the repairman. The bullet, luckily, went clean through, but according to Josh, had the shooter used his AR-15 instead of the Mauser handgun (an odd choice of weaponry, Josh observed), he speculated the outcome might have been far worse. The AR fired bullets with twice the muzzle energy in foot-pounds as the antique Mauser gun, and it would have shattered Lee’s bones and shredded his flesh.

  Karen applied a field dressing, following Lee’s instructions on how to properly clean and dress the wound.

  “I know how to do this, Lee,” Karen said, her tone playfully snarky. “I’m trained to provide emergency medicine to the president, after all.”

  “You’re trained to do a lot of things,” he said.

  He was thinking about the dead guy out front. They had searched him and the van, found more guns, ammo, even rope, but nothing of real value—no IDs, no hint of who they were, or who might have hired them.

  Nobody had called the police, but that was life in rural Virginia for you. The last thing Lee or Karen wanted was Marine One landing out front, joined by an armada of federal agents and thousands of reporters. The dead guys weren’t going anywhere, and Karen thought it was best to get in touch with the first lady and the president before taking any action.

  Lee got Ellen on the phone, and she said something rather surprising.

  “I’m glad you’re all safe. Don’t bother calling the president. I’ll tell him myself. I’ll be there in a few hours.”

  She sounded calm, oddly detached, and nothing about their conversation sat well with Lee. Karen did not know what to make of it either, but they followed her instructions anyway, figuring answers would come soon enough.

  Karen was giddy with excitement. Lee could tell her adrenaline rush was still going strong. They were alive, and Cam was safe. He was with them. But what was he doing at camp?

  Cam had refused to answer any of their questions. He sat quietly at the kitchen table, obviously nervous, staring at his clasped hands, remaining tight-lipped.

  “Please, Cam,” Karen pleaded. “Tell me what you’re doing here. How did you even get here?”

  Susie came over to the kitchen table and took a seat next to Cam. She was weak, moving slowly. Her face and clothes were dirty.

  “Please, Cam, talk to us,” she said, looking him in the eyes. “Whatever you’re doing here, whatever secret you have, you can let it go now. You’re safe with us.”

  The way Cam looked at Susie made Lee think the boy might speak.

  “I think you and I have a lot more in common than the TPI,” Susie said. “I never talked to you there, but I wish I had. I was always too nervous to say anything.”

  “Why?” Cam asked.

  Susie laughed as if it were obvious. “Because you’re the president’s son.”

  “I get what you mean,” Cam said. “But I’m no different than you.”

  Susie nodded like she got it—she understood him.

  “Do you like it? Having your talent, I mean, being so good at what you do?”

  “You’re good at what you do,” Cam said. “Do you like it?”

  Susie gave this some thought. “Sometimes yes,” she said. “Sometimes no. I don’t like the pressure.”

  “Believe me, it’s a lot less pressure than living in the White House.”

  She laughed sweetly. “Do you have what I have?” she asked. “Dr. Blackwood called it Genius disease.”

  Cam shrugged. “I don’t think so. I don’t have that red spot in my eye, I know that.”

  Lee decided it was time to interject. Susie had worked her magic. Cam’s barriers were coming down.

  “Cam, please, talk to us. Who brought you here?”

  “She did,” Cam said, pointing at Valerie, who was resting and recovering in Susie’s hospital bed. Valerie screwed up her face, searching for a memory.

  “Me?” Valerie sounded confused.

  “I don’t understand,” Lee said.

  “Call my mother back,” said Cam. “She’ll tell you everything.”

  * * *

  THEY DID call back, but Ellen said an explanation could wait until she arrived. Josh left to drive Valerie to the hospital. He would tell the admissions nurse Valerie had a slip and fall, possible head injury. Susie was taking a nap upstairs. Her myoclonus attack had left her completely drained.

  Cam maintained his silence. Ellen showed up hours later in a black SUV driven by Woody Lapham. She burst into the cabin and clutched Cam in a tight embrace. They broke apart and Ellen dabbed at her eyes, where tears had formed.

  Karen went over to Lapham. “Where’s her entourage?” she asked. The first lady would never travel all the way out here with only one Secret Service detail.

  “The president knows where we are,” Lapham said. “He wants this quiet. We all want this quiet. Cam goes home tonight. The story is going to be that he called us and arranged for a pickup. Secret Service went and got him. We’re not saying where he went, or what he did while he was gone. He’s back home and that’s all that matters. He’s safe. End of story.”

  “What about the bodies? I have two dead guys on my property.”

  The cabin suddenly lit up as bright lights streamed in through the front windows. Karen flinched, thinking attack, but Lapham showed no concern. Glancing outside, Karen saw a small fleet of black SUVs and sedans driving down the road to camp.

  “We’re going to clean it all up,” Lapham said. “These are people we can trust.”

  Karen nodded. To her knowledge, the FBI did not employ cleaners, but the CIA did.

  “Talk to us, Ellen,” Lee said, joining her and Cam at the kitchen table. “We’re in the dark here.”

  Karen came over, bringing four glasses of water with her.

  “I was afraid for Cam’s life, Lee. Truly afraid. Honestly, it’s as simple as that.”

  “I suspect there’s a bit more to it,” said Lee.

  Ellen said, “I thought whoever was after Susie was coming after Cam, too, and somehow they’d infiltrated the Secret Service. I tried to get Geoffrey to fire everybody, start fresh, clean house so I could feel safe, but no, it couldn’t happen, not on my timetable, so—I guess—I guess I snapped. That’s the only explanation I can give you. I wanted Cam somewhere where he’d be safe until we figured everything out, until we vetted every damn agent we employed.”

  “So you brought him here?” Karen sounded incredulous.

  “Why not here? Should I have brought him to Camp David, where there’d be more government types I couldn’t trust watching over him? No, there was only one person working for me I trusted completely, who I trusted all along. You, Karen. It was you.”

  A realization seemed to come to Karen’s face. “You told me to come here to watch over Susie because you knew you were going to bring Cam here, didn’t you? That’s why you pushed for him to go to school that day.”

  “Cam would be taken care of,” said Ellen. “He’d have the best Secret Service agent, along with a trained nurse, someone Lee trusted, to monitor his health. All bases covered.”

  “So you got in touch with Valerie,” said Lee.

  “I’m paying her salary, I knew how to contact her. When I told Valerie what had happened to Cam and what I wanted done to protect him she agreed to help. She fed him, cared for him, checked his vitals, all that, and all under the condition she not tell a soul—not even you, Karen.”

  “All those walks Valerie started to take make a lot more sense now,” said Karen.

  “I thought she looked extra stressed,” Lee added. “Poor thing, she was shouldering a terrible burden. What made you think she’d go along with this?”

  Ellen eyed Lee slyly. “I’m the first lady of the United States. Let’s just say I can be … persuasive.”

 
; “How did you pull it off?” asked Karen. “We were watching the school. We were on heightened alert.”

  “Cam knew the blind spots. He went online and figured out the places where there weren’t any surveillance cameras. We put together a disguise he brought to school in his backpack—a wig I bought him, dark glasses, and some baggy clothes—and then he took a bus to a place where I had a cab waiting. The cab drove him out of D.C., where Valerie picked him up. She got him settled in one of the cabins. And that’s where he’s been ever since.”

  Of course Valerie could get through that perimeter alarm, thought Karen.

  “Good thing, too,” Cam said. “When I heard the gunshots, I went through the woods to get to your cabin, thinking you might have to help me.”

  “Turned out to be the other way around,” said Lee. “What about New Jersey?”

  “What about hacking a router at some coffee shop and sending out an e-mail so people thought it came from there,” said Cam. “Yeah, I fooled the NSA.” He said it with pride.

  “I had to get word to Geoffrey that Cam was all right,” Ellen added. “But I couldn’t give away his location for obvious reasons.”

  Karen shook her head in dismay. “Ellen, you’ve caused … a nightmare. The search effort alone, my damn job. Think of what you’ve done!”

  “When you’re absolutely convinced the alternative is to bury your son, you can overlook quite a lot,” Ellen said with attitude. “So forgive me for not giving a damn about the consequences.”

  “Black Bear,” Lee murmured softly.

  “And now?” asked Karen.

  “Now, I think Cam’s former doctor needs to give us some real answers.”

  “Gleason?” Lee was baffled by her statement.

  “You do know he’s been arrested on fraud charges, don’t you?” Ellen said.

  Lee sent Karen a confused look, while Ellen appeared contrite.

  “Oh, my bad,” said Ellen. “I know Woody told you, Karen, so I figured—”

  “I keep my secrets when asked,” Karen answered quickly. “I’m loyal like that.”

  “We all keep secrets,” Ellen said. “Especially Dr. Gleason.”