The Entity Game: An Aurora Donati Novel

by Lisa Shearin

  While I didn’t blame her, I wished she would have reconsidered just this once.

  I’d always been confident in my skills, but I didn’t want to be put to this level of test.

  The meeting at the UN with President Archer and the European leaders on Monday had been uneventful. So was our search for Elias Halverson. Since I’d flipped him off on Sunday, he’d gone to ground. It was now Tuesday, the day of the presidential address.

  “They told her what Elias Halverson is?” I asked Berta.

  She nodded. “Hudson said the president and her personal detail were given all available facts.”

  “Did they laugh?”

  “I don’t know.” She lowered her voice. “But they were also told that Halverson killed Senator Pierce and Alan Coe with cardiac arrests, and Senator Dalton with an aneurysm. If that didn’t stop the giggles, it should have.”

  “And she’s still speaking tonight.”

  “She is.”

  And that was why I’d asked Gerald not to let Grandad watch the address on TV.

  There would be checkpoints to ensure every invited guest was who they said they were. They had all been cleared by the Secret Service ahead of time. The streets around Capitol Hill were closed. The Secret Service was in charge of security. However, they worked with the military, parks and local police, Capitol Police, and the FBI. There were committees and subcommittees, drills and training exercises to counter any type of attack.

  Except a psychokinetic assassin.

  I was surprised to see that some members of Congress were already there when we’d arrived in the House Chamber just before noon.

  Berta noted my reaction. “It’s first come, first seated.”

  “They camp out?”

  “Pretty much. It’s a free-for-all, especially this year with the first woman president.”

  “See and be seen. If only they knew.”

  Elaine Pierce would be here tonight. Normally, as a member of Congress, she’d be seated in the lower seats with her colleagues. But because she was Julian Pierce’s daughter, President Archer was giving her a seat of honor in the front row of those lower seats directly in front of the rostrum. I’d wanted to warn her, but Hudson had nixed it. Elaine wasn’t in danger, unless she drew attention to herself, and if she knew her father’s murderer was in the same room with her, she would be scanning the crowd just as I would. I didn’t like having her here, but I agreed with Hudson.

  Rees had told me that security for the State of the Union address or a presidential address to a joint session of Congress was planned months in advance, and last-minute additions were frowned upon.

  I was a last-minute addition.

  It’d taken the insistence of ADC Williams, FBI Director Montgomery, and CIA Director Patrick to get me and Gabriel Marshall inside. We were credentialed as FBI security consultants.

  Part of that agreement had been to let the FBI disguise my appearance to protect me from Halverson. I didn’t have a problem with that. Yes, he knew what I looked like, and I’d rather he didn’t. But mainly, I didn’t want the FBI, Secret Service, Capitol Police, and every security consultant and expert to know what I looked like. My job was to point out an assassin and I planned on doing it quietly, but crap happened.

  I was wearing a short blond wig and glasses, and the FBI makeup artist had lightened my skin to porcelain doll levels. To blend in further, I was wearing a dark suit like most of the other FBI agents. When I’d looked in the mirror after she’d finished, I didn’t even recognize myself. If different hair and glasses worked for Clark Kent, why not me? The irony of Elias Halverson disguising himself to kill Julian and Alan wasn’t lost on me. I hoped payback would indeed be hell.

  Marshall, Berta, and I were standing in the back of the room for the noon security briefing.

  Every photo, sketch, and security video still of Elias Halverson had already been distributed to those who would be stationed inside the Capitol during the address. That included his Nate Baxter disguise. I couldn’t help but notice that some of the Secret Service agents were impressed.

  “Elias Halverson is five ten,” said the agent giving the briefing. “He has a lean build, meaning he could be disguised as either a man or woman of any race, age, or physical condition.”

  Halverson wouldn’t need to move quickly to escape. In fact, it would be in his best interest if he didn’t. He would attract less attention by staying right where he was and acting as stunned and horrified as everyone else. Then he could simply leave inside the protection of the herd like a wolf among the sheep.

  “His most likely location will be in the gallery,” the agent was saying, “but we can’t afford to ignore any location or group, even President Archer’s personal guests, or lesser known members of Congress. We believe this attack has been planned for at least a year, so no one person can be eliminated with any confidence.”

  After the briefing, Berta led us to our perch for the evening. I needed to be able to see the entire House Chamber while not being in the room itself. I knew Elias Halverson’s presence better than I would’ve liked, but I was grateful that I did. I hoped to be able to pick him out from the hundreds of people in the room with him.

  Not all the people in the gallery would be guests, and those seated on the main floor were members of Congress. The Secret Service and FBI had agents seated in every section.

  The doors to the gallery would remain closed for the duration of the address, but there was an attic-type space that began above the gallery doors and extended through the ceiling. It was mainly used for ceiling light maintenance. What appeared to be large wallpaper-covered panels concealed screens that allowed for a great view down into the room. I was behind and above the rostrum where President Archer would be standing, with the vice president, and Speaker of the House seated behind her.

  I would be able to see everyone in the room watching her. Everyone’s eyes would be on Catherine Archer, but not with Elias Halverson’s intensity.

  I’d never had to locate a killer in a room full of people, but I’d had several contacts with Elias Halverson and knew what I was looking for. Rees had seen to it that I had some serious binoculars. I’d also been equipped with comms that let me speak directly to Rees and the four takedown team leaders. My job was to point out Halverson. The Secret Service and FBI would take it from there.

  Rees had set me up with a tablet and I was flipping through the photo IDs of all the guests and media who would be there. This wouldn’t help me identify Halverson, but it did give me a way to distract myself from the nearly overwhelming pressure.

  I wasn’t eliminating anyone, including the FBI and Secret Service agents. Grigori Dementiev wanted it to look like the CIA had created a psychic assassin to kill the three most important people in the US government. How much better would that be for Dementiev—and more humiliating for the US—if the assassin had infiltrated the FBI or Secret Service guarding the president?

  Rees had taken me on the rounds so I could scan each and every Secret Service agent who hadn’t been in the noon briefing. Every man and woman had been professional, dedicated, and hyper-focused. It wasn’t possible for a human to be more alert than they were.

  None of them were Elias Halverson.

  The closer we got to the time of the address, the more likely it appeared that Halverson would use the cover of a guest.

  There was one guest who was not in my photo lineup.

  Director Montgomery had arranged for Dr. David Barrington to be in attendance.

  Barrington insisted that since he had worked with Elias Halverson for nearly a year, he knew him better than anyone. I knew he felt responsible for every one of Halverson’s kills, especially Julian, and while there was nothing he could do to make it right, he desperately wanted to help bring Halverson down. Director Montgomery relented, but insisted that Barrington be seated with an FBI agent on the gallery’s top row close to a door.

  With less than an hour until
the address started, I saw Barrington and his FBI escort taking their seats. Barrington’s only disguise was a wig.

  “I don’t like him being here,” I said.

  “Neither do I,” Berta said, “but if he can help. . .”

  “That’s not what I mean. I’ll take all the help we can get, but if Halverson realizes he’s here—”

  “Halverson won’t touch him,” Marshall said. “He’s pro. He has his mission. He won’t let a personal vendetta get in the way, either Barrington or you. This is a performance for him, a show. He won’t risk anything that might stop the president’s speech. He’ll need all his strength and focus. If his practice sessions in Franklin Square are any indication, he’s going for a hat trick.”

  I just stared at him, mildly horrified. “Assassins use that term, too?”

  “No, I’m a hockey fan.” He raised his own binoculars back to his eyes. “Go Caps.”

  “This is a game to you, too.”

  “I’m a hunter. This is what I do. Anyone I hunt deserves to have me after them—especially Elias Halverson.”

  This may have been partially a game for Marshall, but he wasn’t enjoying himself.

  David Barrington had said that a taser would be an extremely effective countermeasure against Halverson’s chip. Concentration was critical. Hit him fast enough or hard enough and his focus was shot. A high-charge shock would literally scramble his circuits, albeit temporarily. The decision had been made. I would locate Elias Halverson, and he would be immobilized by taser, removed, and blindfolded. Select medically trained agents were standing by to render Halverson unconscious until he could be locked behind steel doors. Hopefully, all this could be done without disrupting the speech. But if necessary, Secret Service agents would be ready to immediately get the president, vice president, and Speaker down and out of Halverson’s line of sight.

  Rees told me there had been talk of Barrington operating on Elias Halverson one last time—to remove the chip.

  Gabriel Marshall favored a more direct solution.

  I agreed with him.

  CHAPTER 40

  The emotional waves flowing back and forth through the House Chamber were overwhelming and sharply divided along party lines. Relief. Derision. Pride. Scorn. Satisfaction and happiness. Resentment.

  The FBI and Secret Service agents nearby weren’t any better. These men and women were Type-A alphas. They’d trained for this, and now that they knew POTUS was about to enter a room with an unknown assassin waiting and ready, their aggressive and protective instincts had kicked into overdrive.

  To me, the emotional volume was like a stadium full of screaming fans.

  I held out my right hand. It was shaking.

  Dammit.

  I couldn’t get the agents to take it down a couple dozen notches, but I could do something about a certain CIA agent beside me. Maybe if I could get at least a bubble of calm around me, I could concentrate.

  “Marshall, I need you to dial it back.”

  “Excuse me?”

  I decided to be polite. “You have a strong presence. You either need to dial it back or leave.”

  “A strong presence,” he mused. “I think I like that.”

  “Told you so,” Berta said.

  “You’re a perceptive woman, Agent Pike. However, I have two jobs tonight. Protect Rory from Halverson and kill Halverson.”

  “Killing isn’t part of the plan,” I reminded him.

  “That’s the FBI’s plan. Besides, I didn’t say I would be doing it tonight. I’m a patient man.”

  I let it go. That wasn’t a battle I was going to win, or even one I was interested in fighting. “Fine. About your first job. You don’t need to worry about me. Yes, he wants me dead, but he wants to be up close when he does it.” I pulled a taser out of my jacket pocket. “Berta gave me a present, and I really want to use it.”

  Five minutes later, President Catherine Archer entered the Hall of the House of Representatives.

  There were cheers from some and applause from all—though it was more enthusiastic or restrained depending on the party affiliation. When I was in the room with a killer, I instinctively wanted all my senses on full alert, but this was more than I could take.

  This was precisely why I avoided crowds. It was overwhelming.

  I was here to find Elias Halverson—and now I had serious doubts that I could do it. If I failed, three people died. I couldn’t even let myself think that they were the three most important people in the US government. World wars had started over less.

  Find Halverson. That’s it. That’s all you have to do.

  I was surrounded by FBI and Secret Service agents who were all too eager to take it from there.

  It sounded simple, but nothing could be further from the truth.

  I stepped up to the screen and scanned the gallery, then the floor seats. David Barrington was seated in the left section of the gallery with his FBI escort.

  I couldn’t pick out any one person. It was one huge emotional roar to my senses.

  Panic was building in my gut.

  What if I was wrong? What if he wasn’t even here?

  You’re not wrong. He is here.

  “Barrington’s scared to death,” I told Berta. “He shouldn’t be here.”

  Neither should I.

  I shook my head. “There’s too much going on. I can’t—”

  “Stretch out with your feelings, Luke.”

  I shot Berta a dirty look, though it probably looked more like raw terror.

  “Humor always helps,” she said.

  “Except when it doesn’t.”

  Berta slipped her arm around my shoulders. “If he’s not here, it’s a good thing. But you’re right and you know it.”

  “Thanks, Obi-Wan.”

  She gave my shoulder a squeeze. “It’s what I do.”

  I tried again then shook my head. “This isn’t working for me. I need to get closer to the people in the gallery.” I took a deep breath. “I need to go in.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  I looked around. Our little trio was down to a duo. “Where did Marshall go?”

  Berta muttered a curse. She hadn’t seen him leave, either. “We probably don’t want to know.”

  Berta walked with me to the back of the gallery. I selected the door that would put me behind the center section of seats directly in front of President Archer. If Halverson had his preference, he would want to look straight at her, eye to eye.

  Don’t fight the crowd, Rory. Use it. Look for the one who doesn’t belong. The quiet one. The hunter.

  I opened the door and slipped into the gallery. All eyes were on Catherine Archer.

  I leaned against the wall and bowed my head so I was looking at the carpet. The only sound was the president’s voice.

  Take a breath. Let it out. Relax.

  I wasn’t going to find Halverson with my eyes. I let my vision soften until the carpet and everything around it was a blur.

  I acknowledged my fear of failing, embraced it, then gently pushed it aside. I stood absolutely still and waited.

  There. To my right.

  Breathe in…and out.

  Two sections over.

  In…out.

  In the exact middle. A wolf hiding among the sheep.

  I opened my eyes and slowly raised my head. The gallery was steep, and even though I was two sections away, I could see him.

  Dark suit, thinning brown hair, and probably wearing a pad around his waist to give him a middle-age spread. The perfect average of nearly every man here.

  And he had an earpiece in his left ear. An accomplice?

  Like me, Elias Halverson was holding himself utterly still. Instead of the strobe light I’d hoped for, he was a laser pointer.

  Because of me.

  He knew he was surrounded. He knew I was here and what I was capable of, so he wouldn’t allow himself to think of what he was about
to do until the instant he did it.

  Everyone else was focused on Catherine Archer and her words, her message.

  Elias Halverson didn’t hate the president. He wasn’t listening to her speech. He couldn’t. He was like a serpent under a rock shelf, coiled and waiting. Even if he wanted to listen, to choose the most significant moment in her speech to strike her down, he couldn’t.

  The timing of his attack had been decided long before now. His was a waiting game now.

  I continued to control my breathing. Halverson couldn’t pick up emotions as I could, but he was keenly attuned to prey or another hunter, whether in front of him or behind.

  Don’t be hunter or prey.

  My earpiece was silent. They were watching me, and I was watching Halverson.

  During the next round of applause, I slipped out through the nearest door. Rees, Berta, and a Secret Service agent were waiting, the one who had given the briefing. I couldn’t remember his name. There was still no sign of Gabriel Marshall.

  I went to the door for Halverson’s section. I cracked it just enough to peer through. “This section. Fifth row down. Sixth seat from the left. Dark suit, receding brown hair, and wearing an earpiece in his left ear.”

  The briefing agent smiled. “We have a man at the end of that row.” He spoke into his mic, and things moved very quickly. These people trained every day for the worse-case scenario. They hoped it never happened, but they were in their element now. They lived for this.

  I just hoped none of them died.

  The lights flickered. President Archer said something I couldn’t make out and nervous laughter went up from the chamber.

  The lights flickered again and went out.

  No.

  At least with the lights out, Halverson couldn’t see to kill.

  But the Secret Service couldn’t see to capture.

  There was a sharp report from inside. It could have been a microphone hitting the podium, or any number of things striking wood, but it only took one person to panic.

  “Gun!” someone screamed from the gallery.

  “Shooter!”

  Emergency lights came on, flickered, and died.