“VD and Patch okay?”
“We’ll see,” Hobart said.
Cassie nodded. “Okay. If you got hit with an IED and there have been shots fired, haven’t the police responded?”
“This is DC. I heard all the units were responding to twelve dead bodies across the river.”
“Touché,” she said. “I’ve got a plan. You just need to provide overwatch.”
“Tell me,” he said.
And she did. Then she retrieved another syringe of Zara’s juice, rolled up her sleeve, and prepared to pump more of the liquid into her veins.
“I wouldn’t do any more of that,” Hobart said. “You’re pumped enough.”
He placed his hand on her arm.
“You haven’t seen anything yet.”
“You’re better without it,” he said. “Trust me. Rely on your Ranger skills. Not some juice that bitch gave you.”
She nodded, handed him the syringes of the concoction, slapped him on the back and then began running toward the row house complex. She reached the base of the townhouse row, one block east of the safe house, and knelt, leaning in the dark shadows of the end unit. Above her were two magnolia trees that stood barely over twenty feet high, but they still provided decent concealment.
Cassie thought about what Hobart had just said. He was right. She was better than needing some drug to perform at her best. She hadn’t needed drugs to get through Ranger School or combat in Iraq, Afghanistan, or Iran. She had relied on her instinct and intuition, her mettle and personal fortitude. She gutted it out on the long runs and ruck marches. She had escaped from the infamous Serbian special operations soldier Dax Stasovich, not once but twice, as he chased her across Jordan.
Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, Cassie regained focus and clarity. Zara’s entire purpose had been to disable her. And if that was true about Zara and potentially Jamie, then Biagatti had to be doing the same thing with Jake. Holding him close, keeping an eye on him, preventing him from having freedom of maneuver to see the big picture, which was what he did best.
She was a block away from the man she loved. Cassie shamed herself for ever doubting him, not that she had fully run with the concept that he could be aimed against her. She was certain the recordings that Jamie and Cassie had played for her were doctored. There were software programs that could mimic anyone’s voice nowadays. Terrorists the world over were using the app to filter their voices to avoid intelligence community voice match technology. It wasn’t a stretch that Jamie would have access to the tapes with her service on the Senate Armed Services Committee.
Safe house. An oxymoron if she ever heard one.
With renewed conviction and sense of purpose, Cassie stood and readied herself for the fight that she was sure she would join at the safe house.
CHAPTER 21
ZARA PERRO STEPPED INTO THE BASEMENT OF THE CIA SAFE HOUSE and looked at CIA Director Carmen Biagatti, who was talking to two of Zara’s assassins.
“Shoot anyone who tries to get in here, and shoot him if he tries to get out.” Biagatti pointed at Mahegan, who was secured in the Lexan-paneled container. The sheets of bulletproof glass were anchored by plate steel at the top and bottom, with large bolts secured into the ceiling and floor.
“We’ve caged the beast,” Zara said.
“But we lost Syd. He was a good man.”
“I had to kill him. He knew everything,” Zara said. “And I had no shot on Mahegan.”
“IED got half the team. Not sure where O’Malley is. There was a fight at the front door. I imagine he’s in the wind, but he doesn’t know for a fact what is happening. He may suspect, but he doesn’t know.”
Zara walked over, tugged on the heavy metal hasp, and locked eyes with Mahegan. She blew an air kiss to the big man with the hard eyes. She found it impossible to hold his gaze for more than a few seconds. The intensity of Mahegan’s eyes was penetrating. Instead of being the proverbial windows into his soul, his eyes were long, piercing daggers digging into your soul. She had heard this about him. Always on the attack. Never stopping.
Well, he was stopped now. Locked in a cage, where he belonged.
She turned to Biagatti. “Shall we go?”
“We’ve got two upstairs and two down here. I saved your best team to hold Mahegan. It seems Cassie got the best of several,” Biagatti said.
“I recognize them all. They were good trainees.”
Standing in the corner was Sarah Blackstone, whose legend was that of a rock climber from Colorado. Really, she had been in Leavenworth for three counts of murdering her children and husband. Beneath her black polypropylene shirt and cargo pants was a lithe, wiry frame. She wore her black hair cut short around her ears. Thin lips were pressed together beneath her slender nose and ice-blue eyes, which were staring at Mahegan. A zoo visitor admiring a rare species. Sarah had taken a beating in prison. Many had not expected her to live, but she was a fighter and the Valley Trauma Center had nursed her back to health, on one condition.
In the opposite corner with her pistol drawn was Emily De-louise, who actually was a former defense attorney and amateur skydiver. When one of her criminal clients didn’t appreciate the fact that she had lost his case and threatened her, she had methodically planned and executed the murder of Johnny Ray Smith. Charged and convicted of murder with the special circumstance of Lying in Wait, she had been serving time in Bedford Hills Correctional Facility for New York. Wise’s subtle outreach program had eventually landed her in the assassin training wing as well.
Syd Wise had employed FBI software to sift through the legions of female inmates around the country who had been convicted of murder or other first degree felonies. Biagatti had directed the effort, telling Zara and Wise that they needed twenty-five assassins to carry out the plan. Ever thorough, Wise had accounted for attrition and provided thirty-five. Zara had put the overage to good use by staging an attack on Biagatti’s house as a ruse. The assassins were, by definition, expendable. Each team had a purpose. Kill the president and vice president. Kill the Speaker. Create a ruse. Kill Cassie Bagwell. Contain Jake Mahegan and his team.
All were intended to open Jamie Carter’s path to the presidency, and they had succeeded.
“Emily, Sarah, you’ve got the mission here. I’ve been called to meet with the president,” Biagatti said.
The two assassins nodded.
Zara escorted Biagatti up the steps, where they reiterated instructions to the two assassins on the main floor. Both acknowledged their duties as they entered the garage and stepped into Zara’s BMW 5 Series.
“I know this is a step-down from your normal ride, but in a few minutes, you’ll have a motorcade all your own,” Zara said.
“Not soon enough,” Biagatti said.
They wound through the Capitol Hill East area and parked near the Russell Senate Office Building. Given the around-the-clock coverage of the coup, it didn’t matter that the time was approaching midnight. Television anchors were lined along the sidewalk, each with their own spotlights and camera crews shining on their live stand-up, reporting with the de facto White House in the background.
Because Jamie Carter was operating out of her office, the press was able to get much closer than they normally would to the White House. As they walked toward the building, they had to navigate a cordon of reporters that had formed.
“Director Biagatti! Any trace of Captain Bagwell? Is she responsible for the coup murders?”
Zara tried to pull her through the throng, but Biagatti stopped and said, “You’d have to ask the FBI, but the evidence certainly seems to indicate that.”
Sensing someone willing to answer questions, no less than fifty journalists packed around Biagatti. Zara suddenly was worried that they had not properly prepared to navigate the massive horde of protestors, conspiracy theorists, journalists, and basic curious citizens. But she couldn’t risk breaking away any of the four remaining assassins. They needed Mahegan to lure Cassie, and they needed Cassie to hold up
as the traitor who had engineered the coup. Wise had already fabricated thousands of e-mails between Cassie and the thirty-five assassins date-time stamped from the day she entered the Valley Trauma Center. The physical evidence placed Cassie at each of the assassination locations. The electronic evidence, meticulously crafted, supported the entire scenario that painted Cassie as the lead conspirator. They even had Hootsuite loaded to ignite social media pages for Cassie proclaiming her pride in dismantling the Smart administration.
“Are you being considered for a cabinet position?” another reporter asked. The throng was like a mosh pit at a concert, swaying as one. Two Capitol Police officers fought their way in and began to push the crowd outward, giving Biagatti room to maneuver toward the door.
“I’m here to brief the president on threats to our nation. They are both foreign and domestic,” Biagatti said.
Zara knew that had nothing to do with why they were visiting with Jamie, but Biagatti sounded authentic. Zara paused when she saw a recognizable military figure walk into the door of the Russell Senate Office Building. She nudged Biagatti, who looked up. They had effectively served as an unintentional diversion for General Bob Savage to sneak through the mass undetected.
What the hell is he doing here? Zara wondered. Savage was Jake Mahegan’s, and now Cassie’s, mentor and boss. The commander of the Joint Special Operations Command could only mean trouble for their plan.
She broke Biagatti free from the crowd and followed in the evaporating wake of General Savage. As they entered the outer chambers of Senator, now President, Carter’s office, Jamie noticed them and waved them both into her office. She seemed to be buzzing with energy.
“Director. Zara. Come in, please,” Jamie said.
They sat in the same seating area where they had been earlier in the day with Jake Mahegan and Cassie Bagwell, before everything blew up.
“Have you met General Bob Savage?” Jamie asked.
“We’ve met briefly,” Biagatti said stiffly.
Savage was dressed in a gray business suit, with a solid red tie against a white button-collared shirt. His steel-gray buzz cut offset his diamond-gray eyes. He had a ruddy complexion from years of hard fighting. His face was stern, giving no tell.
“And this is Zara Perro, my strategic advisor.”
He nodded at both women without saying a word.
“I’ve got a press conference in fifteen minutes. That’s why the crowd is so large outside. Not that it has been much smaller,” Jamie said.
Zara thought that she seemed positively energized. Perhaps she would make a good president. Rising from the ashes of this tragedy, Jamie seemed poised and ready to take on the world.
“What sort of announcement?” Zara asked.
“I’m naming Carmen here my vice president and General Savage my FBI director,” she said. Zara nodded. Jamie naming Biagatti as vice president was always part of the plan. But Savage? Where did that come from?
Slack-jawed, Biagatti said, “Does the general have the requisite experience to serve at such a high level?”
“I could ask the same question about you,” Savage said. His first words spoken were a burn on the serving director of the CIA.
“Seriously,” Biagatti continued. “Is this a position you would even want?” She directed her question at Savage.
“Director, I know it is your profession to pretend to know everyone else’s business and that you are a master at spycraft. Your clumsy questions toward me point to a lack of political skill and, frankly, manners. It’s no fucking business of yours what I want,” Savage said.
“Jamie?” Biagatti protested.
“That would be Madam President to you,” Savage countered. “The first thing about chain of command is knowing where you are in it. You have a boss. Act like it.”
“He’s quite right, Carmen. I’m all set to make you my vice president, but I must say, if out of the starting block you question my decisions like this, then I might reconsider my decision.”
“My apologies, Madam President,” Biagatti said. “My concern is only for your administration. I’m sure I’ll quickly learn to work with General Savage as the FBI Director.”
“He’s from North Carolina, my new home state, and will represent the state and the nation well. I appreciate your support, Carmen. Now, are we ready, or do we have more concerns?”
“I’m solid,” Savage said. He stood. A strong man, over six feet tall, Savage wore the suit well, Zara thought. If Jamie was truly making him the director of the FBI, the man would be able to pull it off based on his gravitas alone. While Jamie had not consulted her on this move, she couldn’t say she had a good reason to oppose the selection. It was entirely possible that she had chosen him in the vein of The Godfather Part II’s reminder: “Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.”
“Let me just do a quick change,” Zara said. She was still wearing the clothes she had on when she had put two bullets into Syd Wise’s spinal column. She excused herself, found a white shirt, navy blazer, and black heels that would work with the pants she was wearing. In less than five minutes, she had freshened up in the same bathroom through which Cassie had escaped earlier. She reentered the office, joined the group, and they walked through the masses lining the hallways. A page led them into one of the hearing rooms that the Senate staff had transformed into a quasi–White House Press Room.
“Zara, I’ve fired the White House press secretary. I thought she was utterly incompetent and a liar, so I’d like for you to make these introductory remarks,” Jamie said.
Zara took the piece of paper from Jamie’s hand as they entered a small room off to the side of the hearing room. It was outfitted with low blue sofas and wooden chairs. There were three coffeepots filled to different levels of what was certainly cold swill. She sat and glanced over the words Jamie had asked her to read, digested them, and then got into her CNN media mind-set. Focus, have three talking points to which she can pivot:
This is a terrible time for the nation.
Stability is critical.
Jamie Carter will lead us through this.
“Ready?” Jamie asked. Zara nodded and she walked through a back door into the conference room, following a page onto the floor in front of the dais. A large podium with a broad wooden base was centered in the room. Zara circled wide, almost stepping on the cameramen who were seated cross-legged on the floor. On the front of the podium, she saw the Seal of the President of the United States.
It was happening.
As Jamie, Biagatti, and Savage entered the room, a loud murmur rippled through the crowd. Camera shutters flickered loudly, long arms held smartphones high to video the first official press conference since the swearing in a few hours ago.
Zara felt the rush of excitement boil in her stomach. She smoothed her blazer and stepped to the microphone, tapped it; a muffled, amplified echo sounded throughout the room, and she began speaking.
“My name is Zara Perro and I am President Carter’s new press secretary,” she began. A roar rumbled through the crowd then quieted. “The president understands that this is a terrible time for the country, and we mourn the loss of our nation’s three highest-elected officials. President Carter will speak in a moment, but first wanted me to let you know that she has spent the entire day conferring with the National Command Authority, several allied heads of state, and some of the cabinet. In that vein, she would like for me to officially announce that CIA Director Carmen Biagatti will begin service as the vice president of the United States, effective immediately.”
The group erupted with unintelligible shouts and rumblings. Zara let the moment pass for about thirty seconds and then continued. She choked out the next line.
“Also, effective immediately, Major General Bob Savage, a soldier with four decades of public service, will serve as the director of the FBI.”
Another loud eruption, with several high-pitched questions of “Who is he?”
Savage was a discreet warrior by his
nature. It made sense that not many people would know who he was.
“And now, I’ll turn over the microphone to President Carter.”
Zara stepped away to the left and Jamie walked into the room, nodded at Zara, Biagatti, and General Savage, then stepped to the microphone, adjusted it—Jamie was six feet tall in heels—and began speaking.
“My heart goes out to the families of our fallen president, vice president, and Speaker of the House, as well as the many who died in their service. This has been a uniquely tragic day for America. Not since John Wilkes Booth entered the president’s box in Ford’s Theater, not even a mile from here, has the country seen such a nefarious conspiracy against our institutions of government. The president is dead. The vice president is dead. The Speaker of the House is dead. As the sitting Senate pro tem, I reluctantly accept this mantle of responsibility. But do not let my reluctance be mistaken for weakness. Do not let our vulnerabilities as a nation be mistaken for frailty. Do not let this moment of crisis in our country be mistaken for the norm. Rather, it is the exception that proves the rule of our democracy. We are strong and we will demonstrate strength. We will find and bring to justice those that committed these atrocities upon our nation and our institutions. And we will move forward out of these divisions together and unify as one nation focused on our collective future of prosperity. We have endured over two hundred and forty years of growing pains, and we will not let this day of outrage define us as a nation in the short term or the long term. Tomorrow I will occupy the White House and begin daily operations. Tonight, I’ll take a couple of questions, but it’s well past midnight and we all need to focus on repairing the damage.”
The crowd erupted with a thousand questions.
Jamie coolly pointed at a well-known CNN reporter in the first row.
“Yes, Jim,” she said.
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