Thorpe's Candle

GARGOYLES

“I have two pieces of bad news.” White House Chief of Staff, Nathan Templeton whispered into the President's ear as they smiled at the crowd of churchgoers and reporters. They stood beside the Episcopal bishop on the steps of Washington's National Cathedral. Behind them, fearsome gargoyles and stately flying buttresses formed an imposing backdrop for the weekly Sunday morning photo opportunity.

“It's always a pleasure, Mr. President,” the Bishop said as they shook hands. “Our prayers go with you.”

“Thank you, Your Excellency. I need all I can get.” The President made a practice of attending services at a different denomination each week. As he spoke, he felt Templeton's hand touch his arm.

Flanked by Secret Service agents, the President waved to the crowd and moved down the steps of the cathedral to the limousine and the line of black SUVs.

“What have you got, Nathan?” The President settled into the back seat.

“It's what I don't have, sir. Any contact with Harper and the Rangers since yesterday afternoon.”

“What's your best guess?”

“Captured or dead, sir.”

“This is exactly what I feared would happen.”

“I know, sir. I'm sorry.”

“What's the second item?”

“It's Dr. Thorpe. If you'll remember, we were told he was last known to be working for a Mexican pharmaceutical company. It turns out that a Colombian drug cartel owns the company — it’s a front for the production of illegal drugs. Thorpe disappeared about six months ago and is believed to be somewhere in South America working for the cartel.”

“About the time the Project Candle Power files were copied and erased?”

“Exactly.”

“I need you to brief the National Security Adviser so we can consider our options.”

“I understand, sir.”

The President stared out the window of the heavily armored Cadillac known as ‘The Beast’. Then he said, “Do you think all this is just coincidence?”

“No.”