Operation Assassination

by Anne Fox

  Again, seven fists tapped seven sets of knuckles on the table.

  “That’s all I have for now,” Doc Andy concluded.

  Hank took a glance at her watch. “Good. I’ve got to help Edge with dinner.”

  “You’re kidding. Edge is cooking tonight?” Spud said. He looked in Edge’s direction to see him grinning.

  She gave him an annoyed look. “It will be simple. Spaghetti.”

  “He burns spaghetti,” Spud protested.

  Hank stood and put a hand on one hip. “He won’t burn it tonight, and you will all be there to eat it. If anyone dares to not show up, I will hurt you.”

  She could almost hear five little voices within the brains of their masters saying, Oh, shit.

  “I don’t smell anything that smells like charred food,” Edge heard Amigo say as the other team members started arriving for dinner. He looked over at Hank.

  “Don’t mind them – they’re idiots,” she said.

  “Even Spud?”

  “Don’t tell him I said it, but he can sometimes be the biggest idiot of all.”

  “I heard that,” Spud said, coming into the cafeteria.

  “Good.”

  The five other team members looked over the offerings.

  “The salad looks great,” Cloud remarked.

  “It should,” Hank began. “Because unlike the rest of you, Edge now knows that you don’t cut lettuce with a knife.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because the cut edges will turn brown. You tear lettuce, you don’t cut it.”

  “So that’s what does it.” Cloud put some salad on his plate.

  Spud was giving the pasta a sniff. “Doesn’t smell burnt.”

  Hank shot him a look. “Because it isn’t burnt.”

  Spud scooped some up with a pasta spoon. “It isn’t all sticky, either.”

  “Because Edge knows a couple of tricks for keeping it from getting that way, including just how much spaghetti should be stirred while it’s cooking. Unlike some people I could mention.”

  “The sauce smells good, too,” Voice said, ladling some onto his spaghetti.

  “The sauce was easy,” Edge said. “Just pour it out of the jars and reheat it. But Hank says she’s going to teach me how to make it from scratch sometime.”

  “What’s the dessert?” Amigo asked.

  “Tiramisu.”

  “For real?”

  “Yes, for real. Except no Marsala wine. We had to improvise on that one.”

  “And you made all of this yourself?” Spud asked, sitting down with his plate at the team’s table.

  Edge turned red. “Hank told me I should wear this so you’d be convinced of it.” He stepped from behind the prep table in the kitchen, wearing the frilly apron. Seeing him, the entire team broke out laughing hilariously.

  “Oh my God,” Voice laughed. “Hal, store image, security camera K1.”

  “Hal, belay that,” Edge said.

  “Hal, override FT1. Store image,” Voice repeated.

  Edge went to speak again, but Voice stopped him. “It’ll be futile, Edge. Being I.T. and the lead programmer, Hal will obey my override command over yours.”

  “Fuck this shit,” Edge muttered, followed by, “I’m going to kill you, Hank.”

  “Go ahead and take it off now,” Hank said, smiling.

  “You don’t want me to,” Edge said. “If I do, I’ll strangle you with it.”

  “Why did you put it on in the first place?” Crow asked.

  “She threatened to hurt me if I didn’t.”

  “And the Krav Maga guy felt threatened by that?”

  “Do you know that woman thinks nothing of kicking you in the balls and then gouging out one of your eyes with her thumb?” Edge protested, shucking the apron and grabbing a plate.

  “You’re the one who taught me how to fight dirty,” Hank said through a mouthful of spaghetti. “This is good, by the way.”

  “Gotta admit,” Spud added. “Anyone have objections to my turning on the news?”

  Everyone else was concentrating on eating. “Have at it,” Amigo said.

  “Hal, turn on monitor C1, AmNews.”

  The monitor sprung to life. “...The President delivered his response to his removal from office to Congress today, citing evidence from recent physical and psychological examinations that he possesses no inability to continue exercising his duties as President....”

  “And here we go,” Spud muttered as the others stopped eating and looked up. “Something tells me this is going to get really interesting, really fast.”

  “He just resumes office, doesn’t he?” Hank asked.

  “He does. Unless the Vice President and cabinet members who asked for him to be removed originally go back to Congress and say he isn’t fit. Then Congress will take up the issue.”

  “How likely is it that Congress would sustain him being removed?” Amigo asked.

  “That’s really hard to tell,” Spud said. “It takes two thirds of the entire Congress to sustain his removal, and if you look at the House and Senate combined, Congress is nearly evenly split between Republicans and Democrats. So, if it went on party lines, Congress would probably not sustain his removal.” Spud shook his head. “What this is doing to the office of the Presidency is unbelievable. We might as well take Article Two of the Constitution and just shred it.”

  “Alright. Your turn this time.”

  Hank held the rubber knife at the ready in her hand, facing Edge in the gym. Lunging, she slashed at him wildly, feeling the fake blade connect, as well as his blade connecting on her.

  “How many times did I get you?” she asked.

  “Five.” Edge began drawing his hand over his body, showing where he recalled the rubber blade slashing at him. “This one right here?” he said, indicating a slash across his stomach. “I’m a dead man. How many times did I get you?”

  “At least as many times,” she said. “You got me a good one across my neck. So if I’m not dead already, I’m bleeding out fast.”

  Edge stood straight and asked, “So what’s the moral of the story?”

  “No one wins a knife fight.”

  “Unless you’re the only one with a knife. Now do you understand why I say escape if at all possible? All that fancy shit you see in videos on the Internet aren’t worth shit, fancy or otherwise. Now let’s try this again. I’ll be the aggressor with the knife, you use whatever means you want to get me subdued.”

  Edge stood, knees flexed, his rubber knife in his hand. He lunged, and Hank dodged, running to one side while drawing a ‘blue gun’ from a holster and aiming at him. “Bang, bang, bang,” she said.

  “And knowing you, that’s two to my chest and one to my head.”

  “Or at least as close as I could get to those,” she replied.

  “Let’s try it again,” Edge said. He held out his rubber knife and began circling her. Looking for her avenue to escape, she realized too late that he’d worked her into a corner. He lunged and stabbed at her repeatedly.

  “Don’t ever let someone with a knife get you into a place where there’s nowhere to run,” Edge admonished. “Let’s try it again.”

  This time, he stood close, keeping her pinned in the corner. She fell onto her back, and with her gun in hand and secured against her waist while pointing at him, said, “Bang, bang, bang.”

  Edge fell on top of her. “Depending upon where those shots went, I’m either stabbing you to death or bleeding all over you while I die,” he said.

  “There had better be a good explanation as to why you’re on top of my wife,” Spud said, having come into the gym and standing behind him.

  Hank laughed while Edge explained, “She just shot me to death and that’s where I fell.”

  “More hand-to-hand training, Spud,” Hank explained.

  “I figured.” He helped the two of them up from the floor. “I just came looking for you because I thought you might like to know: the Vice President and the cabinet have r
esponded back to Congress regarding their contention that the President is unfit to serve. Now the decision to remove him or keep the President in office falls on Congress.

  “And it’s having some serious repercussions. There are already protests and riots breaking out across the country.”

  “Shit,” Hank said. “Is the whole country just going to go mad now?”

  “Looks that way.”

  “This is one of those times I wish I was still a Special Agent,” Hank said. “There’s going to be a need for a lot of people in law enforcement to keep the peace.”

  “This is one of those times I wish I was still in the Marines,” Edge said. “Not only because we could be called on to help keep the peace, but also because this is the sort of event that might make our foreign enemies decide it’s a good time to attack us.”

  “Congress has twenty-one days to decide. I’m expecting, given what’s happening around the country, that they’ll act on the matter quickly,” Spud said. “The more time they take to deliberate, the more violence we can expect in the streets. I’m not sure that Congress wants to see martial law be declared.”

  “Ready for this one?” Cloud asked.

  “Sure.”

  Hank and Cloud flew the Seneca into their chosen area for practice.

  “Today, you’re going to learn what happens when one of your big fans out there decides to give up the ghost. Before I do, describe for me what a critical engine is.”

  Hank considered briefly and responded, “The critical engine is the engine which, if it becomes inoperative, will have the greatest adverse effect on the flight characteristics of the airplane.”

  “Did you memorize that? Because that was a good description.”

  “I actually had to think about it a bit, because one of the features of a Seneca is that it doesn’t have a critical engine,” Hank said.

  “And why is that?”

  “Because the props are counterrotating. The left goes clockwise, the right goes counterclockwise.”

  “So, why does that result in the plane not having a critical engine?” Cloud asked.

  “Because in ordinary operation, the thrust being produced by the downward-moving propeller blade on either engine produces thrust at the same distance from the airplane’s centerline, meaning the effect of the yaw produced when one engine quits will be the same as the effect of the other engine quitting.”

  “You know, Hank, one of the things I like about you is that you really work at this. I can tell you’re taking time to really nail down your understanding of things, in spite of everything else you’re doing.” Cloud took a look around the area to ensure they would be safe while maneuvering, then said, “Let me give you a little demo first, and then we’ll see how quickly you can pick up what you need to do.”

  Cloud went about setting up the Seneca for the demonstration he wanted to do, then demonstrated to Hank the effect of the loss of one of the Seneca’s engines by reducing throttle on one of them. The aircraft obligingly yawed to one side, with the wing on the other side rising. Talking through the demonstration, he noted, “The mantra is dead foot, dead engine. If you’re trying to keep the airplane straight, then you will use rudder to keep it flying straight and dip the rising wing to keep it flying level. Confirm which engine is dead by reducing throttle on the dead engine, then feather the prop for that engine to reduce drag. Want to give it a go?”

  How hard can this be? All I have to do to know which engine is the ‘bad’ one is look at the throttles, Hank thought.

  She was about to get a surprise. Instead of raising his hand toward the throttles, Cloud lowered his left hand between the seats. Hank could tell from the sound that one engine was no longer producing full power, and watching the nose of the Seneca swing to the left, applied right rudder to straighten it. Then she reached up and pulled back the right throttle. Things instantly got much quieter in the Seneca’s cockpit.

  “Shit,” she muttered, and reset the right throttle, then pulled back the left one.

  Cloud chuckled. “It gets really quiet when you get the wrong one, doesn’t it?”

  Hank could feel herself turning red.

  “Dead foot?” Cloud asked.

  “Dead engine. And I should have remembered those stinking fuel selector valves,” Hank added.

  “Thought you could cheat, didn’t you?” Cloud asked, smiling.

  Hank mumbled under her breath.

  “Don’t tell Edge. I haven’t pulled that one on him yet.”

  Well, at least I don’t have to hear him brag about not being fooled, Hank thought.

  The two continued to practice maneuvering the twin on one engine, alternating left and right, until Cloud felt Hank could correctly respond to the loss of an engine in flight.

  “Let’s go back home,” he announced. “Think you can land it on one engine?”

  “You won’t let me kill both of us, will you?”

  “Of course not. Spud would piss on my dead carcass if I did.”

  Hank laughed. “Probably true.”

  “You’ve been landing this thing like a pro ever since you first flew it, so I have no doubt you won’t botch it, even with an engine at idle,” Cloud said.

  “I’m glad you have so much confidence.”

  “Your sight picture will be the same as landing in a crosswind. Once you’ve got one main on the ground, just let the other settle in and then the nosewheel settle in. Piece of cake.”

  Says you.

  Landing the twin with only one engine developing full power turned out to not be as challenging as she had imagined, and she smiled a bit that she was able to do so acceptably well.

  “I really love this plane.”

  “Wait ‘til you get to the Latitude,” Cloud said. “I’ve flown a lot of aircraft, but the Latitude is one very nice bird. You’ve noticed the wing on it. That upsweep makes it handle like a dream. It’s responsive, it’s comfortable – even for the pilots. You know the joke, don’t you?”

  “What one’s that?” she asked, parking the Seneca and shutting down its engines.

  Cloud leaned his head as far over to the left as he could. “I’m the first officer of that bizjet over there,” he said. Then leaning his head as far to the right, he added, “And I’m the captain. Some cockpits are so narrow that you feel like you’re a sardine crammed in an aluminum can. I used to get asked by linemen why the tops of my shoes were always scraped up, and I’d say, ‘You ever sit in one of these things?’ No head room and no room for your feet, either. That’s not true in a Latitude”

  As they drove back to Quantico, Cloud asked, “What do you think about all this crap with the President?”

  “I think it’s a fine way to tear a country apart,” Hank replied.

  “I have to ask: What does Spud think about it? Given he worked Presidential Protection.”

  “I think it’s a fine way to tear my husband apart, too,” Hank replied. “You’re a former Army officer. What you might not know is that those of us in federal law enforcement take the same oath you do. ‘I do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely...”

  Cloud joined her in the rest: “...without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter, so help me God.’ Funny how nearly everyone I know who has taken that oath remembers it word for word. And we’ve taken it twice.”

  “I’d remember it even if I’d only taken it once,” Hank said. “If you’re a Special Agent, your central duty is to the law of the land. And the central document that describes the law of the land, and the one on which all other laws are built, is the Constitution. Our duty in the unit is to the Constitution.

  “Spud’s sworn duty is also to the Constitution. He sees his sworn duty to the Presidency, because it’s part of the Constitution
, but he has serious doubts about this President. He likes him just fine when he’s lucid, but he has real problems when the guy slides downhill.

  “And I have to admit that when Doc Andy suggested the President might be taking some sort of drug, it put a truly nasty taste in my mouth. My brother nearly destroyed our family over drugs, and got himself killed over them. I really wanted to make drug cartel taskforce before the unit approached me. A President on drugs? I’m having a hard time with the idea.”

  Cloud parked the car in front of the BEQ and the two of them made their way down through the hidden access and stairwell into the unit’s facility below. They could hear animated discussion coming from the cafeteria.

  “They could make a determination that fast?” Edge was saying, disbelief in his voice.

  “They probably felt they had to,” Spud said.

  “What’s happening?” Cloud asked.

  “Congress has just announced their determination that the President possesses no disability that will keep him from exercising the powers of his office,” Spud said.

  “For real.”

  “Yup.” Spud looked at where his hand lay on the table. “There was a majority who opposed, but not the two-thirds required to sustain his removal. The President is once again the President.”

  “What’s the reaction of the masses?”

  “The protests are continuing, but some of the violence has settled down a bit,” Voice said. “No telling whether that will last or not.”

  “Any word from the President?” Cloud asked.

  “He’s supposed to hold a news conference tomorrow morning,” Edge said. “Which should be interesting.”

  The entire team sat in the cafeteria, eyes glued to the monitor. “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States,” announced an aide.

  The President came forward, shaking hands with members of Congress who were in attendance as he did so.

  “I’m pleased to be with you this morning after the momentous events we’ve seen over the past few weeks,” the President said. “I have been in full cooperation with Congress, and provided them with the detailed reports of the doctors who examined me during the time when my fitness to conduct the responsibilities of my office were in question. At every step, the provisions of our Constitution have allowed for an orderly investigation of this issue, and I am grateful to our Congress for having the... the wisdom in not... jumping to hasty conclusions regarding... regarding my fitness to serve.”