I have orders.”
“Yes,” coughed Edward, holding his stomach “ My orders. Kill them, Vernon. Kill them.”
“I’m afraid that’s not quite in the plan either,” Vernon continued, waving one of the masked men over. “Cover Mr. Rothschild. If he even so much as farts, kill him.”
Edward looked at Vernon in shock. “What the hell is this?” Vernon smiled and pulled a cell phone from his inside jacket pocket.
Robert struggled to make sense of what was going on. Thorne looked just as puzzled.
“It’s me, sir,” Vernon said into the phone. “No, sir, we haven’t. Yes, right away, sir.” He motioned to one of his men and pointed to the casket. “Open it.”
One of the men put a crowbar to the casket. Robert felt a mix of aggravation and dread, helplessness and relief.
The agent pried at the lock. It didn’t budge. He worked at it for over ten minutes, leaning down on the crowbar so hard his feet lifted off the ground. The lock snapped. Robert and Thorne stepped closer, ignoring the guns at their heads.
“Let them come forward,” ordered Vernon.
Edward straightened up, his face ashen. Vernon grabbed the casket’s lid and lifted it back on its hinges.
“Empty,” Edward whispered. “Absolutely, empty. ”
“Check and see if there’s a hollow bottom,” ordered Vernon. The agent pawed and knocked on the bottom of the box, then shook his head in the negative.
A chill hit Robert’s spine. Fiona!
Vernon walked to a corner of the barn whispering into the phone.
The agent continued to examine the casket, tearing away its lining.
Edward, frozen in one spot, mumbled, shaking his head.
The men behind Robert and Thorne drifted closer, straining to get a better look. Robert watched them. Closer. He looked over at Thorne. She smiled. Now!
They dropped to the ground and swept the legs of the man closest to them. The agents fell backwards, feet in the air, firing into the ceiling.
Thorne disarmed her man first, and wounded the agent in front.
Edward fell to the ground and cowered next to the casket. Vernon ducked low in the corner, whispering into the phone.
“Throw down your gun or we’ll kill your pals,” Thorne shouted, aiming at the two embarrassed men lying at their feet. “I mean it!
Throw it down, now!”
Vernon stood up, hands in the air, and nodded. The agent tossed his gun at Thorne’s feet.
Robert picked up two machineguns, unloaded one and threw it into a stall. “Get up and walk over to the others,” he told the agents lying on the ground.
He and Thorne slid back to the door. Robert, pulsing with rage, stared at Edward, and aimed.
“Robert,” called Thorne.
His head snapped.
“Don’t do it. You were right. We’re not like them.” Robert raised the barrel and fired into the ceiling, sending everyone to the ground. They ran outside and made a break for the truck. Hurtled the fence, and rolled to the ground for cover.
They waited, but nobody came out of the barn.
They jumped in the truck and sped off.
“What the hell?” said Thorne.
Robert looked back again. Still nothing. “It’s not like those guys.
They’d chase down their mother.”
Thorne looked over at Robert. “The house or the court building?”
“The court building. She’s probably already there.”
37
U nbelievable, Edward thought. What happened to the evidence? How did things go so wrong? “Why did you let them go?” he bellowed, struggling to recapture his composure.
“I have my instructions,” said Vernon.
“Instructions! What instructions? I give the instructions around here!”
Vernon looked smug and arrogant. “Not exactly.”
“Look Vernon. Don’t let this little setback go to your head. I’m still running this show. Now, let’s get back to my office.”
“There’s nothing left to take care of, Edward. It’s over.” Edward felt his strength return. He walked over to Vernon and stood face to face.
“Are you coming or not? We have work to do. Don’t forget, you owe me everything you have, even your stinking life. Now, for the last time, are you coming?”
“I’m afraid not, Edward.”
Enraged, Edward whirled around and stormed toward the door. “First you blow it and let Veil get away, now this. I’ll…”
“Stop Mr. Rothschild and bring him back,” Vernon ordered.
Two agents blocked Edward’s path.
“I’m sorry, sir,” one of them said. “You’ll have to stay inside.”
“Get out of my way,” Edward snapped, trying to force his way by.
“Dammit, let me by!”
One of the agents strong-armed him back to Vernon and threw him to the ground in front of the casket. Edward jumped to his feet.
“Vernon,” he exclaimed. “What the hell is going on here? Let me out or you’ll curse the day you were born!” Vernon looked at his cell phone. “I already dread that day.” He handed Edward the phone. “It’s for you.”
“Who in the hell is this? He placed the phone to his ear. “Hello.” He heard only silence.
“Hello. Who’s there?”
“I guess you’re not at the top of the food chain after all,” the familiar voice said.
Edward felt dizzy. His legs wobbled. President Claymore!
“I really wish you’d found that evidence, Edward. It would’ve given me great pleasure to take it and have you tried for treason, murder, and anything else I could come up with.”
Edward couldn’t speak. He looked over at Vernon, who stared back with a blank face.
“I know this comes as a shock, Edward. I wanted to stop you sooner, but my directions were to let you find the evidence first. By the way, Ian Goldberg and your other Cosmos Club cronies send their regrets.”
“Mr. President,” said Edward. “There’s no evidence I’ve done anything.” His head reeled. He struggled to regroup. “Although I may have, Mr. President, been out of line from time to time.”
“Yes you have, and I’m sure you know things will be extremely different from here on out.”
“Yes, Mr. President. I agree. Things will have to be different.” There it is. The weakness. He’s going to let me go.
“You know, Edward, I can forgive almost anything. You’ve been a thorn in my flesh the entire time I’ve been in the White House, and you’ve done some pretty despicable things.”
“Mr. President, I’m sure…”
“You tried to have me killed, you bastard!”
“Mr. President, it wasn’t me. It…”
“Don’t deny it Edward. Your friends in the Middle East gave us all the details. Suraya was especially accommodating. He says you hired the death squad. Something about oil, remember? Vernon verified everything.”
Edward looked at Vernon. The Director smiled.
“Mr. President, there’s been a mistake.”
“Yes, not taking care of you a long time ago.” Edward hung his head, closed his eyes, and took a long, deep breath.
“You’ve got me, Mr. President. I admit my intentions concerning the oil, but I did not hire anybody to kill you.”
“What about President Kennedy, Edward? What about him?” Edward looked at the empty casket. “I have no knowledge of President Kennedy’s killers or conspirators, Mr. President. I’m just as curious as you. I wanted to find the truth.” President Claymore didn’t answer.
“Mr. President. Sir. Mr. President.”
“Listen, you self-serving son of a bitch,” snapped the President.
“You took something this country will never get back. You didn’t pull the trigger, but you killed him just the same.” Edward gritted his teeth. “Sir, the country was never that innocent, and neither was Kennedy.”
“No, Edward. No he wasn’t. But whatever he was, he did
n’t deserve assassination.”
“Who deserves to die is a question for those who have power over life and death, Mr. President. Those in power decide. Who are we to criticize? Who are we to complain?”
“Edward, I have no hope for men such as you, but life and death are God’s decisions.”
“Men are instruments of God, sir.”
More silence.
“Goodbye Edward. I hope hell holds the answers for you.” The phone went dead and Edward handed it back to Vernon. So I won’t get the oil fields. So what.
“I’m going to my office, Vernon. Remember, you’ve disappointed me, and I won’t forget it.”
Edward tried to force his way past the agents but was pushed back.
He spun around, angry. Vernon pointed a gun at his head. “Leave us,” the Director said, calm and matter-of-fact.
“Vernon, what’s going on?”
The men left. Vernon steadied his aim. “Don’t look so surprised Edward. You played the game and lost. You know the rules better than anyone. In this game losers die.”
“You were there too! You’re as guilty as I am!”
“True,” said Vernon. “Life’s a bitch, huh?” Edward watched Vernon’s finger flex back on the trigger. He saw a flash, and something burned in his throat. He grabbed at it with both hands, elbows out, and dropped to his knees, choking and struggling for air.
He looked up at Vernon, pleading, begging. The gun discharged again, and the bullet tore through his skull.
He saw his father and grandfather, standing in a fog just a few feet away. Edward reached out for them, but they turned their backs.
You’ve failed.
38
“Hey partner, ready to get started?” a jovial voice asked.
Andre looked up from the control board. Jeff Christian, his partner in the control room, looked down with a big country grin.
“More than ready,” said Andre. “And you’re late.”
“All that good lovin’ at home has a man hooked. You know, newlywed stuff?” He winked at Andre, slapped him on the back and laughed, a gesture the Russian hated.
“I know what you mean, but you better get your butt in gear.”
“Hey, if I’m gonna get fired, good lovin’s just as good a reason as any.
Anything exciting going on so far?
“No, but I see our new Justice is settling in.”
“I’ll say. They say she got here at six this morning. Surprised everyone. Captain Reasons counseled her on calling when she wants to come in early. They all do it when they first start. Eagerness, I guess.”
“I guess,” echoed Andre. “Any changes to her schedule?”
“Yes. I picked up The Watcher on my way down.” The Watcher, a daily report circulated to security throughout the building, outlined the details of every Justice’s schedule.
“It says Justice Patrick will be leaving for a luncheon at Georgetown University and be back here late this evening. But it hasn’t been confirmed. We’ll get a final update to the report soon.” Andre grimaced, then caught himself. If she intends on keeping that lunch date, she’s sadly mistaken..
“Where’s she now?”
At an orientation with the Chief Justice, then back to her office to unpack.”
The phone rang, Jeff answered, and from all the yes sirs and his respectful tone, Andre knew Captain Reasons was on the other end of the line. Jeff hung up. “Captain’s on his way down. He wanted to make sure you were here. Said it’s important, and for you to stay until he arrives.”
The fax machine buzzed, and paper filled the tray.
“Really,” said Andre, his heart pounding. “Wonder what that’s all about?”
“Probably wants to give you a raise, promotion, and use of Air Force One.” Jeff laughed so hard his face turned red. “I guess I really better start coming in early, good lovin’ or not.” Andre laughed. Have I been found out? How? Who? He took the fax from the tray and read it. It’s the revised schedule. She’s in her chambers.
The door opened and Captain Reasons bounded in, all smiles and backslaps.
“Tom my boy,” he exclaimed. “Good news. Wanted to tell you myself.”
Jeff pretended to focus on the screens in front of him. Andre mustered an inquisitive look. “Good news, sir?”
“Yes. It seems they want a new face over at the White House.
Someone with electronic surveillance experience. I sent your file over and they’re reviewing it. The Secret Service wants you over there right away for screening and questioning. So pack up and move out.”
“The White House,” Jeff exclaimed. “No kidding?” Captain Reasons glared at Jeff. “And I’ll be talking to you later about getting here on time. This isn’t a Burger King we’re guarding.”
“Excuse me, sir,” Andre interrupted. “But I’m not interested in working at the White House. This assignment suits me just fine.” Captain Reasons looked puzzled. “Now, son, every officer in this core wants to work the White House. It’s the Big Show. I know you might be a bit nervous, but relax. I’ve got a good feeling about you.” Andre knew his old friends at the KGB would’ve busted a gut at the scene. However, his cover wasn’t good enough to withstand a White House screening.
“I understand that sir, but working for you is just fine for awhile.” The Captain smiled. “Tom, I’m flattered, but I’ll never get there if I don’t send over the best people when requested. Now get your stuff and get moving. That’s an order.”
Andre felt the dagger he’d brought with him, press up against his stomach, and the weight of his gun on his side. Perspiration dotted his upper lip. He slid his hand down to his side, next to his government issued automatic.
“Something’s happening at door SC5,” snapped Jeff, pressing buttons on the control board.
The 27” screen above them switched from a hall shot to SC5, the buildings front entrance.
Andre watched Robert and Thorne argue with the guards, trying to get inside. Jeff activated the hidden microphones and turned up the volume.
“We need to see Justice Patrick right away! Tell her it’s Robert Veil and Thorne, and you need to contact her immediately!”
“Calm down, sir, calm down. I need you and the lady to step over to the side,” a guard told them.
“We don’t have time, goddammit,” yelled Thorne. “Get your asses in gear and call her now!”
“Gun,” screamed one of the guards, pointing to Thorne. “Both of you down on the floor!” They disarmed Thorne.
“I’ve notified the D.C. police and FBI,” said Jeff. “They’re on their way.”
Andre looked at the fax again. In her office on the first floor.
“Tom,” Jeff said frantically. “Get on the radio! We need more men down there right away!” Andre picked up the radio. This is it. It’s time. He stood, pulled his gun, and shot Captain Reasons in the head.
Jeff jumped up. “What the hell!” He went for his weapon. Too late.
The first shot hit him in the shoulder, the second right between the eyes.
Andre glanced up at the screen. Veil and Thorne were sprawled out on the floor, hands behind their heads. Good. I have time. He picked up Jeff’s automatic and took extra clips from the dead guard’s belt.
He left the room and ran up the stairs to the first floor, heart pumping, face wet. He reached Fiona’s chambers and a guard approached.
“Flagg, what are you doing up here?” Andre shot him in the chest, setting off a wild frenzy.
He tried the door. Locked. He stepped back and kicked it open.
Fiona’s secretary dove under her desk and screamed. Andre helped her out of her misery.
Gunshots splattered the wall and he hit the floor. He shot back at the guards, reloaded, and fired again. He tried the inner chamber door. Shit!
It’s locked! He fired again. Heavy fire returned.
“Careful! We don’t want to hit the Justice,” he heard one of the guards shout.
Andre reloaded. Don
’t worry, she’s safe with me.
39
Robert and Thorne lay spread eagle on the cold marble floor. Guards surrounded them, guns drawn. Robert wanted to get up and make a break for it, but he’d be shot on the spot.
“He’s here,” Robert barked. “The Bear is here! Check with the White House! Call her house! I’m her bodyguard, dammit, she’s in danger!”
“Robert,” shouted Thorne. “Listen!”
Robert shut up and listened close. As if following the same orders, the guards listened too, their jaws on the floor.
“We repeat, we repeat. Assailant is on the first floor at Justice Patrick’s chambers! We have three men down! Send paramedics! We repeat! Three men down! Assailant is armed and barricaded inside Justice Patrick’s chambers!”
“Get up there,” Thorne yelled. The guards scrambled. Another radio call came over the air.
“We’ve got two down in the control room,” a quivering voice said.
“One is Captain Reasons. I repeat. The Captain is down.”
“My God,” one of the guards said, in a hushed voice.
Robert nodded to Thorne. She snatched two guards down to the floor and beat them unconscious. Robert pushed himself up and disarmed the two that remained, tossed a gun to Thorne, and took off toward the gunfire.
They ran to Fiona’s chambers and saw two guards shooting inside, bullets streaking back at them, splintering the doorpost and walls. One of the guards took a shot to the throat and fell backwards to the floor.
Dead.
“Thorne, take the other side of the door,” Robert yelled, and they joined in the fight.
A barrage of bullets exploded from the office. The remaining guard hit the ground dead.
Robert took his position and peeked inside. More gunfire exploded against the doorframe just above his head. He caught a glimpse of the Bear stooped behind a flipped over desk and fired, sending Andre sprawling to the floor.
“The swat team’s here. Pull back, but keep him contained,” a voice screamed through one of the dead guard’s radio.
“I repeat, pull back. The swat team’s here, and the negotiator is on his way.”
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