by Siegel, Alex
"Now I'm the one feeling performance anxiety," he said with a nervous laugh. "The Big Man just told me to show you a good time. Is He watching?"
"He's always with me."
He grimaced. "I didn't need to hear that."
She reached over and grabbed his hand. She pulled him into bed. He wrapped his arms around her thin body.
"We'll start slow," she said softly. "I'm not sure I even remember how to do this. Be my guide. OK?"
He nodded.
"And I'll try not to hurt you," she said. "If I get too rough, tell me to stop. I can be... impatient."
He took a deep breath. "This is the craziest night of my life. It started with my death. Then I flew in a bomber, met a child prophet, joined a secret society of holy warriors, entered an underground fortress, found out my own military wants me dead, and received a commandment from the Lord Almighty to have sex. Now I'm going to sleep with the guardian angel of the continent. And I thought being President was a wild job."
"Welcome to the Gray Spear Society."
Chapter Eighteen
Aaron opened his eyes. He was in a spacious gymnasium with exercise machines, free weights, tread mills, a basketball court, and gymnastics equipment. All the mats had been piled up to create two stacks. He had been sleeping on one, and Tawni was still sleeping on the other. Her peaceful face was beautiful in the darkness. A nightlight in the corner provided just enough illumination to see.
Blankets covered both of them. In complete silence, he peeled off his blanket and stood up. He walked over to a rack of basketballs and grabbed one. He returned to Tawni without making the slightest sound. He held the ball directly over her unprotected stomach. With a nasty grin, he dropped the ball.
She batted it away an instant before it struck her. Her eyes popped open. "Another test, sir?"
"A month ago, that ball would've hit you. You're improving very rapidly. You're months ahead of schedule in your training."
"You recruited me because I have talent."
"Nobody has that much talent," Aaron said. "God must be pushing you extra hard."
He went over to the door, opened it, and peeked outside. The white hallway was fully lit. Two sets of gray robes were folded neatly on the floor, one suitable for a commander and one for a regular legionnaire. He grabbed both and brought them inside. He tossed Tawni's robes to her.
She slipped out from under her blanket and dressed quickly. The style of her robes was simple and plain yet dignified. Aaron's robes were considerably more elaborate. Braided hems looked hand-woven, and the hood was layered.
Tawni rubbed the plush fabric on her arms. "I love these. I should wear my robes more often back in Chicago."
"No reason not to," Aaron said. "Just don't be seen in public dressed like that. Before we go out and meet the Washington team, I have something to say. Don't ask questions. Don't be nosey. Just visiting their headquarters is bending the rules enough. Likewise, if they ask about our team or our headquarters, be evasive. There's no reason for them to know a lot about us. It's not safe or appropriate."
"Yes, sir. What can I tell them?"
"Your name and maybe a little about your background. You can demonstrate your gift if you want. That's all. The most important thing is to never talk about the twins' project."
"Yes, sir."
They left the gymnasium and wandered through the headquarters. Aaron was struck again by how large the place was, but it didn't have windows or a roof with a helicopter. It was easy to get trapped down here. Living underground had its benefits and drawbacks.
He and Tawni eventually found the kitchen. A breakfast buffet had been laid out on a huge table with a granite surface. The large kitchen was already crowded with people. Aaron frowned when he realized he had slept later than almost everybody else. I needed it, he thought. Only President Haley was missing.
Aaron received some curious looks from the Washington team. It was easy to tell the legionnaires from the assistants by their bodies alone. He smiled politely in response.
He filled a plate with eggs, bacon, fresh fruit, and buttered toast.
Ethel and Neal were standing by themselves in the corner and speaking in low voices. They also wore their formal robes of office, and the legate's were the most elaborate of all. Gold thread was woven into the fabric. Holding his plate with one hand and a fork with the other, Aaron joined them.
He nodded to Ethel. "Good morning, ma'am."
She smiled broadly at him. On her face, that expression usually meant somebody was about to die. This time she actually seemed happy, even joyous. She's definitely in love, Aaron thought.
"Did you sleep well?" Neal said.
"Very," Aaron said. "Those mats are surprisingly comfortable, or maybe I was just very tired."
"We need a plan for today. This is my territory, but the legate asked me to defer to you for this mission. How do you want to proceed?"
"I was planning to use the black bus for my next gambit. Do we know where it is? It must be close by now. It's been travelling all night."
Ethel took out her phone and made a call. After a brief conversation, she reported, "The Pittsburg team is driving it. They'll be in the area in an hour."
"Perfect." Aaron nodded. "Let's have it park near the White House with news crews standing by. When the Vice President gets off that bus, I want it to be a big, public spectacle. The whole world needs to see he's alive. If he makes a speech, it will be even better."
Neal raised his eyebrows. "What will that accomplish?"
"Our enemies think he's dead. When they see he isn't, they'll do something desperate and stupid, and we'll be watching. It should be a very informative moment."
"An excellent plan." Neal's eyes gleamed in the midst of a mass of black facial hair. "What about the President?"
"Let's keep him safely out of sight for a while longer. No need to risk a king when a pawn will do."
As if on cue, a tired and bewildered President Haley walked into the kitchen. All eyes turned to him, and every conversation immediately stopped. He was wearing a gray business suit, different than the one he had worn last night.
His gaze locked onto a coffee machine. He hurried over to it.
"We need to talk about him," Neal said in a low, soft voice. "What is his role in the Society? He can't be a legionnaire. He's too old to begin the training."
"Sounds like he has to be some kind of assistant," Aaron said.
"Does he report to me? The White House is in my territory."
Ethel shook her head. "No. He'll be one of my special assistants, like my pilot or my bodyguard. He'll report directly to me, but he'll be available to you if a mission requires it."
"Yes, ma'am," Neal said.
"And don't be surprised if he asks for your help occasionally. He can search for God's enemies from the Oval Office, but he'll need you to do the dirty work."
"Of course, ma'am. I look forward to working with him."
A group of admirers was pestering Haley with questions from all sides. He had the smile of a seasoned politician, but the expression was brittle. He sipped his coffee as he fielded the questions.
"It's so strange seeing him here," Neal said. "It just feels wrong. Public figures should not be visiting our headquarters."
"You heard Wesley," Ethel said. "The rules are changing."
He faced her. "What did he mean by that? What's happening in Chicago?"
"We can't talk about it. You'll find out when it's time."
Aaron nodded. "Which will be in just a few months. December at the latest."
* * *
George Seferis' eyelids kept closing. It had been a very long night, and he hadn't slept at all. The bus seats weren't comfortable for one thing. They were just hard plastic with a thin layer of compressed foam padding. With so many people on the bus, it was impossible to stretch out and relax. The other reason for his lack of sleep was that he still hadn't found the traitor.
Morning sunlight was pouring in through the
front windshield. Seferis had glimpsed a few road signs and the names of towns were growing familiar. The bus had just passed Rockville, Maryland, which was a suburb of Washington, DC. Apparently, his captors were taking him home. This discovery had come as a pleasant and encouraging surprise.
He shook his head to wake himself up. He went to the back of the bus and found a can of caffeinated cola. He wanted coffee, but this wasn't a bad alternative. He opened the can and took several long pulls until it was empty. He put the can in a garbage bag which had grown full during the night, while the pile of snacks had dwindled to almost nothing.
He walked up the center aisle of the bus, looking for somebody to sit with. He picked out a female Secret Service agent named Julie Zimmer. The Secret Service didn't employ large numbers of women, and they were a real novelty on the presidential protection detail. Seferis usually avoided direct contact with Zimmer because he didn't want to be accused of sexual harassment. A man in his position couldn't be too careful.
He sat down and smiled at her in a way he hoped would be taken as professional.
"You finally got to me, sir," she said.
He raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"
"You talked to just about everybody else on the bus. I was wondering when my turn would come. I was starting to think you were avoiding me."
"No, not at all. It just takes time to get to everybody. I'm trying to be a good leader and keep the troops calm."
Zimmer had stiff, red hair, cut short. Her skin was pale and lightly freckled.
"I'm calm, sir," she said emphatically.
"Do you have any thoughts about what happened last night?"
"Obviously, somebody wanted to kill the President, and they didn't care who else died in the attack."
The sharp bitterness in her voice got his attention.
"The President must have desperate enemies," he said.
"So it seems, sir." She curled her lip.
"Do you have any theories about who they might be?"
She glanced at him and quickly looked away. "No. Do you?"
"Not a clue." He studied her freckled face closely.
"Somebody called the President two minutes before the attack and told him to get out. Did he tell you who called, sir?"
"No."
She furrowed her brow. "You'd think he would trust the Director of the Secret Service with that information. We're supposed to protect him."
And we did a terrible job, Seferis thought.
He decided to see if he could provoke a telling reaction. "The President has been paranoid ever since the bombing in the United Center. He trusts nobody these days, not even me."
"But we know who was responsible: Pure America. The evidence was clear, sir."
"Oh?"
"A Pure America operative was caught with dynamite in the arena," Zimmer said. "He could've easily planted another bomb in the lights before he was arrested."
Her great eagerness to blame Pure America made him doubt her loyalties even more. It was a desperate thing to say.
"Pure America was wiped out shortly after the first bombing. The real perpetrator killed them all. They were just a decoy. They certainly didn't attack us last night."
She stared at him with wide eyes. "Nobody told me that, sir."
"For obvious reasons, that information is confidential. It's clear we're dealing with people who have no regard for human lives. They'd kill their own operatives just to keep them quiet. Maybe that's why last night's attack was so indiscriminate. It was supposed to tie up all the loose ends at once. The assassins will try again once they find out the attack failed. I'd hate to be a spy working for them. No loyalty at all."
Zimmer looked down at the dirty floor of the bus. Her fear and anxiety were obvious.
Seferis maintained a calm exterior, but inside, he was boiling with anger. She was the traitor. Unfortunately, he couldn't arrest her yet. A suspicious conversation wasn't enough evidence. If this bus ride ever ended, he would launch a formal investigation.
He abruptly got up and said, "It was nice talking to you. I should move on." He forced himself to smile.
She nodded dumbly.
He walked off to find another seat.
* * *
"Are we ready for the show to begin?" Aaron asked.
"I believe so," Neal said. "My legionnaires are in position. All the bugs are working."
Aaron looked around to see if there were any objections. Ethel, Boreas, Tawni, and President Haley were standing behind him. Nobody spoke.
The group was in the large computer room of the Washington headquarters. The walls were gray, and white tile covered the floor. Tall racks against one wall held computers which made a constant hissing noise. The two hackers on the Washington team, Todd and a pudgy woman with braided, blonde hair, were at their computer workstations. Their fingers hovered above their keyboards, ready for action.
A grid of twenty monitors stood in front of Aaron. The displays showed surveillance feeds from bugs planted inside the Pentagon. He could view the interior of General Arnold Joseph's office from three different angles. The offices of his two co-conspirators were similarly displayed. Microphones would let Aaron overhear any conversations in those rooms.
Wesley entered the computer room followed by the four members of his protection team. The boy's unannounced arrival was a surprise to Aaron.
"I'm here!" Wesley exclaimed in a cheerful voice.
"Great." Aaron smiled, but he wasn't happy.
This mission was already tricky enough. Wesley's involvement could only add complications and tiresome drama. Nothing ever went according to plan when he was around. It wasn't that the boy wanted to cause trouble. Rather, trouble followed him like a pet storm cloud.
He walked up to Haley and said, "How was the sex?"
The President blinked at Wesley.
"Well?"
"It was fine." Haley put his arm around Ethel's shoulders and pulled her close. "It was great, actually."
Aaron couldn't get used to the sight of them together. He was accustomed to thinking of Ethel as an iceberg made of frozen rage. She was cuddling against Haley the way Marina cuddled with Aaron. The irony was delicious.
"I'm glad." Wesley smiled. "God told me he visited you last night."
Haley raised his eyebrows. "Do you often have conversations with the Almighty?"
"Once in a while." Wesley's tone was flat and factual. "He's excited these days. A lot of important stuff is going on." Wesley turned to the bank of surveillance monitors. "Are you going to start?"
Ethel nodded. "Proceed."
Neal took out his phone and made a call.
* * *
George Seferis' eyes were almost closed when a jostling woke him up. The bus was stopping.
He was sitting near the front where he had a good view out the windshield. He knew this location very well. The bus had stopped at the intersection of 17th Street and I Street in Washington, DC. It was just three blocks from the White House.
The driver and guards had changed a few times during the long trip from Chicago. At the moment, a man was driving, and a man and a woman were standing guard in front. As with all the others, they were heavily armed and dressed in gray and black.
The driver negotiated a tough turn and maneuvered the bus into a narrow alley between a hotel and an office building. Without a word, he and his two friends left the bus. They quickly vanished into the deep shadows of the alley. Seferis perked up.
A tall, attractive woman in street clothes boarded the bus. Her long, brown hair was tied back in a ponytail with a gray ribbon. A thin, faint scar ran down the right side of her face.
"Vice President Darrow," she called out. "Secret Service Director Seferis. Please come forward. I need to speak with you."
The two men went to the front of the bus. Seferis glanced at the Vice President and was shocked at how tired he looked. He was sixty years-old, but he seemed more like eighty now.
"You work for Miss Pickenp
augh?" Darrow said nervously.
The woman nodded.
"Where is President Haley?" Seferis said.
"In a very safe place," she replied. "I had breakfast with him this morning."
"He's in Washington?"
"Don't worry about him. He'll appear when the time is right. Here are your instructions."
"Wait!" he said. "Why should we do anything for you?"
"Because your enemies are still out there. There will be more attacks like last night, and the next one might succeed. We are trying to finish this mission today and get out of your life, but you have to cooperate."
Seferis wanted to argue the point, but after everything he had seen, he didn't have much ground to stand on. He nodded vaguely.
"As I'm sure you noticed," the woman said, "we are very close to the White House. There is a crowd of reporters waiting on H Street thanks to an anonymous tip from us. Mr. Seferis, you will drive the bus there. Then everybody can go home. Mr. Vice President, you will greet the reporters and give a little speech."
"About what?" Darrow said.
"Anything you want. You could thank the Secret Service for saving your life and protecting the leadership of the nation. Mention that the President is still alive and well. Let Mr. Seferis take all the credit. Our involvement must remain a secret forever, of course. Just keep talking in front of the cameras for at least twenty minutes."
"You want the assassins to know all of us survived?" Seferis said.
The woman nodded. "Exactly. Good luck." She got off the bus and walked away.
He looked at the unguarded door. If he wanted to leave, nobody would stop him.
Darrow put a hand on Seferis' shoulder. "When Miss Pickenpaugh wants you to do something, it's best just to do it."
Seferis sighed and sat in the driver's seat. The vinyl covering was still warm. The rumble of the big diesel engine was soothing.
He backed the bus out of the alley with some difficulty. Space was tight, and the beast was unwieldy. He left some black paint on the walls before finally escaping.
The drive over to H Street took only a minute, and finding the reporters was easy. A cluster of them had gathered on the sidewalk by Lafayette Park where trees provided some nice shade. There were at least three television crews. Seferis parked at the intersection with 16th Street in a totally illegal spot.