Lady Liberty

by Vicki Hinze

  She hesitated, listening, then her jaw went tight. “I don’t care if Dr. Stone told you it was confidential. This is a matter of national security, Mary. That supercedes Dr. Stone’s wishes, but if you feel sending the fax violates your ethics, I’ll be happy to send over a couple of officers with warrants and IRS agents to take care of it.” A pause, then: “I’d appreciate that.” She motioned to Jonathan to get her a fax number. “No, I’m not at the office. Just a second.”

  Jonathan gave her the number and she passed it along. “Thanks, Mary.”

  Sybil hung up the phone, her eyes gleaming. “The bastard was going to Beijing.”

  “About as far from here as you can get without renting a rocket.” Jonathan rubbed at his temple. “Who’s M. Kane?”

  “Madeline Kane Stone was Austin’s mother. He always travels under her name to get out from under my shadow. He has a real thing about my shadow”

  Sybil cocked her head. “If he was going to Beijing to get away from the missile, doesn’t it seem ridiculous that he’d target China in the first place? The latest target is Libya. Before then it was Pakistan. But the first target was China.”

  “He’s snowing us.” Jonathan grabbed the phone, dialed Conlee. He filled the commander in on developments and then offered a suggestion. “We need to check for time-delay implementation codes on the system reconfiguration and have the techs search for runners on the target. Austin Stone wouldn’t target China. He planned to live there.”

  Commander Conlee was still swearing when Jonathan hung up the phone. “If you weigh in Faust’s asylum countries and add in Austin’s, he isn’t left with many target options.”

  Sybil sat down, braced her hands in her lap, and thought through the matter. “He’s targeting us.” The moment she said it, she knew it was true. “He wouldn’t start a world war, and targeting anyone else would do that, Jonathan. He wants us humiliated and embarrassed. He hates me, and he hates David for having the Secret Service watch him and for not demanding my resignation. Don’t you see? He hates us most. He hates me most.”

  “He bombs us, and he hurts you.” Could anyone be that full of hate? “It feels right.”

  “I’m certain of it. If he’s going to blow up anything, it will be us.”

  “Call Conlee.” Jonathan passed her the phone.

  Sybil translated their deductions to Conlee, who brought the president on the line.

  She listened, then shared her views. “It’s possible, David. If he thinks he’s a cornered rat, he will attack. Maybe your way, he’ll think he’s gotten away with all this. We blame Faust, and Austin thinks he will walk away. If he believes that, he might stop the launch. Maybe. But I honestly think he hates us more than he loves his freedom.”

  “You could be right,” David said. “We need to bring the staff in and compare notes. Full briefing in the Situation Room in thirty minutes.”

  “I’ll be there.” At least Cap Marlowe wouldn’t be sitting in, tossing cutting remarks in her direction. He’d make up for it later, though, and thanks to Austin, he would have plenty of fodder. Cap would no doubt use it lavishly, both privately and publicly.

  “Sybil.” David sounded grave. “I hate to be the bearer of more bad news, but we just received a CIA report from the Caribbean.”

  She knew what was coming. The president had used that same tone when a terrorist attack had killed fourteen soldiers on a peacekeeping mission in the Middle East. “Linda Dean?”

  “She’s dead, Sybil. She and her children.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Saturday, August 10 First-Strike Launch: 06:30:22

  Sybil turned off the car radio and looked out through the windshield. “It doesn’t have to make sense, Jonathan. We’re discussing my feelings here, not something you dictate or legislate.” Gabby would be proud of that remark. “Logically, I know I’m not responsible for what Austin has done, but I feel responsible.” Seven dead on the plane. Linda, Kenneth, and Katie Dean. And only God knew how many under the current threat of death. Of course she felt responsible. “That’s why I have to offer to resign. Maybe David won’t accept it—I hope he doesn’t—but I have to make the offer.”

  Her feet and ribs hurt like hell, her bug bites itched— how long the swelling would take to go down, she had no idea—and she was as sore as she was scratched and bruised, head to heel. And tired. Never in her life had she been this tired.

  Jonathan signaled with his blinker, then changed lanes. “Think about the kids, Sybil.”

  That remark didn’t make a bit of sense. “I don’t understand.”

  “American adults are too cynical about politics. We’ve survived scandals, corruption, indictments for lying under oath, pardons that never should have been granted, dirty elections. We’ve been put in the position of having to explain oral sex to our kids, not because of Hollywood releases, but because they’ve heard all about it on the six o’clock news. Hell, you name it, we’ve endured it. We expect politicians to lie, cheat, and steal. We’ve lowered the bar so damn far on what we expect and what we’ll tolerate from them that it’s sickening.”

  Her jaw tightened, and it infuriated her that she couldn’t say he was wrong. Infuriated, and embarrassed. “I realize politicians have a sordid reputation, Jonathan, but I’m doing my best to change that.”

  “Yes, you are.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “That’s exactly my point. You and David are changing that, and others are following you. That’s why you can’t resign. Other politicians are following, Sybil. Americans look at you and see someone worth emulating. Parents can look up to you and teach their kids to look up to you. You revere and respect them all. With you the kids aren’t condemned to cynicism. They get a shot at the dream.”

  Her heart swelled in her chest. He admired her. He appreciated what she was trying to do. She stared at him, so moved she was unable to utter a word.

  Jonathan saw her stunned expression and grimaced. He had said too much. But, damn it, the woman had to know these things. “Tell me one person who fights harder for kids than you do. Just one. You can’t just walk away and leave them.”

  “Jonathan, I—I’m so touched. But I’m just one person. I don’t really make a difference in American society. Not like you’re suggesting. I wish I did, but I… I don’t.”

  “The hell you don’t. Every day, Sybil. Every day” He braked for a red light and looked over at her. “Good God, you’re serious.”

  She nodded.

  “You’re wrong.” Maybe he was blunt, but he was honest, too. “Listen, you said you always wanted to be a mother. Well, you’ve done that. You don’t change diapers or wipe snotty noses, but you make sure America’s kids have medical care, that they’re safe in child care centers and in their homes. Now you’re making sure they get the support money recovered from deadbeat parents. With you they get a shot at the American dream. If you’re not here, who’s going to watch out for them like you do? Marlowe? Do you think he really gives a damn about them?”

  Moved nearly to tears, Sybil stroked his face. “It’s okay, Jonathan. I understand now. Calm down.”

  “No, not as long as you’re talking about resigning. You can’t walk out on them, too, Sybil.” Despair edged into his voice. “Not you, too.”

  His mother dead. His father in jail. Jonathan had no one. He had been walked out on, and he didn’t want other children to go through that. “I understand what you’re saying, and every word is going straight into my heart. I swear it. But I have to make the offer. I’ve cost David a lot, and he’s trying so hard to restore integrity to the office. For all the reasons you’ve just given me, I can’t cost him more.”

  Jonathan expelled a frustrated sigh. “You’ll take heat, but it won’t last. You know it, and I know it. It’s pride.”

  “It’s not pride or even the humiliation. I swear it’s not. I hope David won’t accept my resignation but, at the end of the day, I have to look into my own soul, and I have to be comfortable with what I see there. I have
to offer.” She smiled up at Jonathan. “If David accepts it, maybe I’ll send you over for a chat.”

  “Don’t patronize me.”

  “I wasn’t,” she insisted. “I was dead serious.” When he cast her a doubtful look, she leaned over and kissed him deeply, with tenderness and heat.

  Separating their mouths, she looked into his eyes, her own soft and warm and welcoming. “In my whole life, no one has taken up for me like you just did, Jonathan. I love many things about you, but, well… This is the nicest rose petal I’ve ever been given.”

  If there had been one remark holding him on the edge of loving her, that one would have pushed him over the top. Considering he’d fallen long ago, it was the remark that carried acceptance instead. He loved her. He might as well just resign himself to saying to hell with the odds, take his hits about not fitting into her plans, forget liking or not liking it, and accept it, because either way, love was here to stay. “Obviously, I love a lot of things about you, too.”

  “Do you hate it?”

  “No, not anymore.”

  “I’m glad.” She stroked his face. “You matter to me, Jonathan. You always have.”

  Mattered wasn’t love, but it wasn’t indifference, either. Mattered had possibilities and potential. Mattered could modify plans. Maybe.

  She loved him. She might not want to love him. Loving him might screw up her plans, but she did. She loved him. His heart played Ping Pong with his ribs and the words he’d wanted to say since he had first held her by the quicksand pit nearly tumbled out of his mouth. But good sense prevailed. She wasn’t ready to hear them. Not yet. It was going to take a while for these concepts and emotions to sit easily on her shoulders. And that was fine. For her, he could be a patient man. She loved him but hated loving him. Eventually she’d come around. Maybe by the time their first kid was born, or when he graduated from high school. Surely by then. Or maybe by the time they had a second one. He could wait. Images of her face when he finally told her he loved her flashed through his mind, lingered, and the thought of them making love, building a family and a life together had him hard and hot and kissing her again.

  A horn sounded from behind them.

  The light was green. Begrudgingly, Jonathan stepped on the gas and headed to the briefing. But it was the memory of that kiss, and not the crisis, that lingered in his mind.

  Finally he mattered.

  A dozen men sat around the conference table. Sybil knew most of them, though there were some strangers in the group.

  The president briefed them on where they were globally, which sounded grim. In short, if the missile launched and targeted any other country, then that country and its allies would retaliate. The best of the news was that a majority of the world leaders believed this crisis was a terrorist attack and empathized. After all, if the proverbial shoes were reversed, they’d be walking down this same path. Their bottom line was that they couldn’t put their own countries at risk. Since Sybil would follow the same line of thinking, she could hardly fault them for their positions.

  “Commander Conlee?” David nodded for Conlee to report.

  “Agent Westford suggested we check for time-delay implementation codes, and we found them programmed into the system the same day Austin Stone last accessed A-267. That was two months ago, not six. He also deleted evidence and the record of his access but, now knowing what to look for, our experts have recovered both. Agent Westford also recommended we check for bogus cycling on random targets. He was right about that, too. Regardless of what the loop tells us, the target is A-267. The missile will detonate in position. It will take out all of A-267, D.C., and most of the surrounding states. If we hadn’t discovered that information, it also would have destroyed all evidence of Austin Stone’s involvement in this crisis.”

  Crushed by betrayal that ran so deep she couldn’t tell where it began or ended, Sybil passed Commander Conlee the fax from Austin’s travel agent, Mary. “A copy of Austin’s ticket.” She looked at the president. “He booked a flight for Beijing tonight. Apparently he’s established an alliance with PUSH as well as Ballast.”

  “I have to say” David commented, “I couldn’t see Faust strategizing a world war.”

  “I believe his objective was limited to stopping the peace talks with Peris and Abdan, sir,” Sybil said. “So he could continue selling arms to both sides.”

  Barber interceded. “Do we know whether Dr. Stone has shared his technology and designs with the Chinese?”

  “We do not,” Conlee said. “Our engineers have to project the potential cause and effect of every action before taking any, Mr. President. We’ve got all qualified personnel on every facet of this situation, but we could run out of time before completing the investigation. It’s going to be close. If Dr. Stone believes he’s caught, he has no incentive to stop the launch. As it is, we have positioned him to where he can walk out a hero—short term—by finding a miracle solution to the crisis.”

  David heaved a sigh. “He’s playing cat-and-mouse games with Faust to bring the U.S. to its knees.”

  “And to humiliate me.” Sybil hesitated and then added, “As long as I didn’t return from the swamp, he was above suspicion. But in letting me live, Faust compromised Austin.”

  “Faust let you live?” Barber asked. “You mean that figuratively right?”

  “No. One of his men looked me in the eye and said he was letting me live because of a negotiation tactic I implemented with Peris and Abdan, but the next time we met, he’d kill me.”

  “That proves Faust didn’t want a world war, either,” David said. “I’m sorry about Austin, Sybil.”

  “Me, too.” She forced strength she didn’t feel into her voice.

  A silver-haired man with laugh lines in his face and gnarled hands gained David’s attention. “May I say something, Mr. President?”

  “Senator Jamison is filling in for Cap Marlowe,” David told the group. “Go ahead, Senator.”

  “It’s about Captain Dean, sir. Now, I know it looks bad for him, since he was the second chuter and all, but his family being murdered gives one pause, and him aligning with that Ballast bunch doesn’t fit his psychological profile.”

  Barber cleared his throat. “Intel reports they thought Linda had been on the island waiting for Ken Dean, sir, which is why they’ve suppressed information on him. He has been confirmed as the second chuter. That makes him a traitor.”

  “He wasn’t, Richard.” Sybil refused to believe it. “Ken Dean was a good, honorable man. There’s no way he would have put his family in jeopardy, not willingly. I’ve thought about this a lot and I’ve spoken with Agent Westford about it. He’s known Ken Dean for fifteen years. We believe Captain Dean was acting as a rogue agent. He exceeded orders and put himself in the position of appearing to be a traitor, but he acted in our best interests.”

  “A pilot acting as a rogue double agent?” Barber grunted. “That’s hardly credible, ma’am.”

  “The captain broke protocol, Barber. He dropped altitude, depressurized the cabin, and warned Agent Westford to get me off the plane. He facilitated our safe exit before the explosion. That’s credible—and fact.”

  “And his family?” David asked, his expression noncommittal.

  “They were killed,” Winston said. “Maybe Faust abducted them to force Dean to do what Faust wanted done.”

  “And once Dean was dead, there was no need to continue to hold them,” Barber said. “At least that part of this scenario sounds reasonable.”

  It was reasonable; grim and grisly, but reasonable. “Look, I know I can’t prove all of this,” Sybil said. “I may never be able to prove Captain Dean’s innocence. But without his intercession, I am sure I would have died and Austin would have gotten away with treason and murder. Ken Dean did not commit treason, David. He was a hero.”

  David lifted a VCR tape. “Your suppositions might not sound credible, but they are right. I received this copy of a tape from Grace about an hour ago by special messenge
r. She said Captain Dean gave her the original just before she was kicked off the flight. Captain Dean told Grace that if there was any trouble with the flight to put this tape in my hands.”

  David set the tape down on the conference table. “Austin Stone and Faust had agreed to act long before they decided when to act, or on what specific situation they would act. Ken Dean put himself in the line of fire without authorization or orders to try to stop Faust. Our resources, as well as those of our allies, have repeatedly tried and failed to capture and convict him. Ken thought, working from the inside out, he could succeed.”

  “Do we have supporting evidence backing up Dean’s tape?” Barber asked.

  “Not yet,” Conlee answered.

  David looked at Barber. “How is the DNA cross-check coming?”

  “Slowly, sir. We’ve got everyone possible working on it.”

  David nodded. They were about out of time and everyone knew it. In less than six hours, the missile would detonate and millions would die.

  It was a small satisfaction that Austin Stone would die with them.

  Winston asked about public disclosure, and David responded that there would be none. Principal parties had considered a seventy-two-hour evacuation impossible. “This isn’t New Year’s Eve, Winston,” Sybil said. “The cruelest thing we can do is to tell people so they can spend every minute between now and then watching the clock and dreading midnight.”

  “Keep working, folks.” David stood up, ending the meeting.

  “I need a moment,” Sybil told him.

  “Sure.” He led her to a private room just down the hallway, sat down, and motioned for Sybil to join him. “I really am sorry about Austin, Sybil.”

  “Thank you. It goes without saying how sorry I am that he’s done this.”

  “No need. He has nothing to do with you.”