Capitol Betrayal

44

N o one moved. No one spoke. They had known that missiles were on their way for two hours now, and yet, with the knowledge that they must have actually been fired, the horror of the situation struck home with an impact they had not yet experienced.

To Ben’s surprise, the former president was the first to break the silence. “Is there any way to get confirmation about what has happened?” Kyler asked.

“Not until we get power, or a report from someone who’s gone above,” Zimmer said into the darkness. “I’ve sent agents topside to investigate. I assume they’ll come down with information about any recent developments.”

“How long will that take?”

“Hard to say, sir. My guess would be around ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes of not knowing,” Kyler said softly. “My God, how will we survive?”

“Is there any doubt about it?” Swinburne asked. “Zuko told us what he would do. He’s a violent dictator, not a poker player.”

“And how many people did he say would die?” Sarie asked, her heartbreak evident in her voice. “Thousands?”

“Tens of thousands,” Rybicki reminded them all.

The room fell silent again.

“I guess there’s nothing we can do but wait for information.”

“For the moment,” Zimmer said.

“And we can pray,” Cartwright added. “We can still pray.”

Ben felt certain that, at least for that one brief moment in time, everyone in the bunker, whatever their race, creed, or color, lowered their head and said a little prayer to anyone they believed might be listening.

45

(SEVEN MINUTES BEFORE)

Seamus gritted his teeth and raised his eyes to the ceiling. He was bleeding in so many places he couldn’t keep track of them. It had all merged into one gigantic hurt. He had tried to hold in the pain, but he couldn’t stop himself from bleeding, or screaming, or crying. He hated that. Not because it was a sign of weakness. Because it gave Scarface so much pleasure.

Raising his eyes upward was not simply an expression of his desperation. It was an old spy trick. You look away from whatever you don’t want your assailant to see.

He had managed to pull one of his legs free from the cords that tied him to the cot. If he could loosen the other one, he just might be able to improve his situation.

Or die trying.

“You seem not so bothered anymore,” Scarface said with unmitigated glee. “I miss the lovely sound of your screaming.” Perhaps we need to try somewhere else.” He removed Seamus’s belt and jerked down his slacks. “I think the American testicles might be a good place to try next. Do you think you will feel my pliers on your American testicles?”

Seamus didn’t withhold his contempt. It wasn’t going to make any difference anyway. “I think you’re going to do whatever pleases you. If you didn’t have a strong sadistic streak, you wouldn’t be doing this. You tell yourself you’re doing it for some noble cause, but the truth is you’re only doing it to gratify your own desire to inflict pain.”

Scarface jabbed him in the stomach with the pliers. Seamus lurched forward. He felt his gorge rising. If he had eaten anything lately, he surely would have lost it. He thought it was possible he had broken another rib, but he had so much pain radiating from that region it was impossible to know with any certainty.

Scarface thrust the pliers between his legs. “Prepare to feel the pain of your own manhood slipping away from you. And then to lose life itself.”

Seamus squinted his eyes shut, preparing for the inevitable.

Then he heard the crash.

He opened his eyes. Through the window, back in the main room with all the computer equipment-a car had just crashed through the north garage door opening. The car had been battered mightily by the crash, but it had made it through and it was still moving. It was traveling at a tremendous speed, which probably helped it get through. It-

Wait a minute.

It was Seamus’s car.

Scarface whipped his head around. “What in the name-”

As soon as he looked in the other direction, Seamus made his move. Both legs free now, he pulled them upward. Using his ab muscles hurt like hell, but he ignored that and kicked back ferociously under Scarface’s chin. The terrorist went reeling backward, stunned.

Guard One, obviously caught by surprise, raced forward. Seamus hoisted his legs up again and wrapped them on each side of the man’s head. He hadn’t been doing those thigh workouts for nothing. He held the guard’s head in a lock and twisted it harshly around much further than necks were designed to move. Seamus heard a sickening crunching sound that told him this guard wouldn’t be getting up again.

Scarface staggered to his feet, took one look at the situation, and ran.

Good. That would simplify matters. In the next room, Seamus could see his car was still speeding around the large open room, sending the personnel fleeing and crashing into the obscenely expensive machinery, from which sparks flew every which way. Good. This station wouldn’t be controlling anything for some time.

He twisted around and, using his now free feet to push against the cot, pulled his arms free of the cords. They burned and tore his skin, but all that mattered was that he got himself unpinned from the cot. He fell to the floor in a heap, shrugged off his torn shirt, and ran.

The guards appeared to have fled-except for a handful who were lying on the ground after being smashed by a rampaging Dodge. The three computer operators, including the woman in the white shirt, were huddled beside the main computer, trying to stay out of the path of the car.

The Dodge squealed to a stop, and a moment later Arlo rolled down the driver’s-side window.

“Seamus! Are you okay?”

Why would he ask that? Perhaps because he was limping and bleeding from a dozen places? “I’m fine, kid. Nothing the medics can’t fix. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Um, trying to get you out before they kill you?”

“I told you to stay put!”

“No, you told me not to leave the car.” He smiled. “I didn’t.”

Seamus bit down on his lower lip. Couldn’t argue with the kid’s logic. He flipped open his phone. “Zira? Send in the troops.”

“Are you kidding? I did that a long time ago.”

“I thought you needed confirmation.”

“You sent me a photo of the base, remember? That was good enough for me. Especially after you stopped responding.”

What do you know? Maybe Zira wasn’t as totally useless as he thought. “When they get here, have them come in through the north side. I don’t think they can miss it. There’s a big hole in the wall.”

He snapped the phone closed. He did a quick perimeter search but didn’t find anyone. The toughs must’ve realized the jig was up and exercised the better part of valor. Smart on their part-treason was still punishable by execution, according to the U.S. Constitution.

“Nice work with the car, kid,” he told Arlo. “That took some guts.”

“Well,” he said, “you can’t spend your whole life playing computer games.”

“True enough.”

“Comes a time when a man has to stop simulating and try the real thing.”

“And you picked exactly the right time to do it, too.” Seamus grinned. “You can get out of the car now.”

“Oh. Right. Thanks.” Arlo opened the car door and slid out. “I think we should get you to a hospital.”

“My people are on their way. They’ll have a medic.” He walked back into the debris that once had been a high-powered satellite control station and found the three computer operators still huddled together, hands over their heads, as if they were ducking and covering for a fifties nuclear bomb drill. “All right, you clowns. Stand up.”

The woman was the first to speak. “We didn’t want to do it. He made us!”

“Uh-huh. What’d he do? Threaten to withhold your tax-free treason stipend?”

“My mother is sick. We need money to-”

Seamus held up his hands. “Save it for the prosecutors. I just want to make sure this computer crap is totally disabled.”

“It’s history,” the man who used to sit beside her said. “Smashed to smithereens.”

“No more chance of interfering with defense computers?”

“None. I think they were maybe fifteen minutes away from booting us out anyway.”

“So there’s no way this stuff can launch a missile?”

“No, not-” He stopped, froze.

“What?” Seamus said. “What is it?”

The man swallowed. “This equipment is toast. But the satellite is still up there.”

“And the satellite can still launch missiles?”

“Yes, but only if it gets a signal to-” His eyes widened. “They can launch everything at once. There’s a fail-safe.”

“What? Where?”

“It’s on the dish. The satellite-” He thrust his arm out and pointed. “Stop him!”

Seamus whirled around.

Somehow Scarface had crept up behind him. He was making a beeline for the satellite dish.

The red button on the base of the dish.

Seamus instinctively realized he could not let that sadistic madman get to the button, so he dove across the twelve feet that separated him from his torturer. Scarface kept moving.

Seamus fell a little short but managed to grab Scarface’s right leg on the way down. He thudded down to the concrete slab floor with an impact that sent his whole body into spasms. His battered chest and ribs screamed out in protest. But he clung to the man’s leg. Scarface had his arm stretched out as far as it would go. He was only inches short of the button.

Seamus’s fingers slipped. Scarface edged forward a bit. Seamus dug in with his fingers and held him back with all his remaining strength.

“Arlo! Help!”

He heard the kid running up behind him, but in the meantime, Scarface kicked back. His boot caught Seamus hard on the nose.

The intense agony of compressed sinuses and bent cartilage radiated through his face. His eyes watered, but he gripped the leg as tightly as he could.

Scarface managed to gain another inch. He reached out-

He pushed down the red button.

“Oh, no,” Seamus murmured. His head fell to the floor. “Oh, my God, they actually did it. They actually launched the goddamn missiles!”

46

“This should help a little,” Zimmer said, and a moment later the bunker was filled with a bright illumination. “Glow sticks,” he explained. “Which someone had the foresight to put down here with the first-aid kit.”

Ben was amazed at how much a little light did to alleviate the pervasive gloom. Not that the circumstances hadn’t left him massively depressed. If anyone could confront this tragedy with anything less, they must be missing the empathy gene. But being able to see a few feet around him, however indistinctly, left him feeling somewhat less vulnerable.

“Thank God,” Ruiz said, standing cautiously. “I couldn’t stand one more moment of that. I could’ve sworn something was crawling up my leg.”

“The bunker is hermetically sealed,” Zimmer explained. “It’s actually not even possible for insects to get in here.”

“Tell it to my leg,” Ruiz groused.

“Any word yet?” Swinburne asked impatiently, if not desperately.

Zimmer shook his head. “I promise I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something.”

“You can see how we might be anxious!”

“Yes, but I’m sure you can see that my first priority is restoring power to the bunker.”

“Damn it, man, do you understand that you are talking to the acting president of the United States? I want to know if the missiles have been launched.”

“Whether they have or haven’t,” Zimmer said firmly, “there’s not a thing you or I can do about it-unless I get power back to this communications station. So that takes top priority.”

Swinburne folded his arms across his chest and frowned.

Ben was amazed at how still everyone else in the bunker was, as if somehow the thought of the great tragedy had frozen them all in place. It was enough to immobilize anyone. And yet…

Something caught his eye on the other side of the bunker. The door to the adjoining room was cracked open a little bit. Ben was certain it had not been that way before the blackout.

Had someone slipped over there after the lights went out?

Or for that matter, someone probably could have done it during the tumult of the verdict and Swinburne’s frenzied attempt to call the colonel. Who would’ve noticed? Ben knew his attention had been focused elsewhere.

Ben remembered seeing a circuit breaker box in there during his previous huddle with the president. It was readily visible on the wall. It did not appear to be locked.

Could someone have slipped over there and sabotaged it?

And then Ben recalled another item of note he had observed in the other room. Slowly the pieces of the puzzle began to come together.

Ben scanned the room, making an inventory of all the parties.

He hated relying on his own memory, particularly when he had been so busy and so much was happening at once. But he was almost certain one person down here was not sitting where that person had been sitting before.

That would have to be the person who had taken a trip next door. But why?

It seemed incredible, unbelievable. But all the evidence, everything Ben had seen and heard, all pointed in one direction.

“Agent Zimmer,” Ben said, “there’s a breaker box in the next room.”

“I know, but-” His head jerked up suddenly. “Hasn’t everyone been in here?”

“Better check it out. It may have been… damaged.”

“If that’s what happened, it’ll be a good deal easier to fix than anything else would be.” Zimmer walked briskly into the other room. Ben didn’t have to wait for news for more than ten seconds. “You’re right, Ben.”

“Breakers thrown?”

“Worse. Looks like someone loosened the panel and ripped up the wiring. But I think I can repair the damage. I’ve got a box of wire and tools in here.”

He stopped talking, but Ben knew that was because he was hard at work.

“What are we talking about here?” Swinburne said. Even in the darkness, Ben could see that he was squinting. “Sabotage?”

“That’s what it looks like,” Ben said.

“But-that’s incredible,” Secretary Ruiz said. “Who could’ve done it? No one could’ve gotten down here without being spotted.”

Ben nodded. “The only person who could have possibly done this is one of us.”

Sarie gasped. “Impossible.”

“Apparently not,” Ben replied. “Remember, I told you earlier there had to be a mole down here. Someone who was in cahoots with Colonel Zuko.”

“I don’t believe it,” Cartwright thundered.

“It doesn’t matter who believes it,” Ben said. “It’s a fact.”

“What are you trying to start here, Kincaid?” Swinburne said. “Some kind of witch hunt? You want us to start tearing at everyone’s throats?”

“Not everyone’s,” Ben told him. “Maybe one.”

Secretary Rybicki said, “Are you saying that someone intentionally shut off the power? Someone intentionally tried to prevent Swinburne from calling Zuko? Someone wanted the missile to be launched?”

“It is starting to look that way, isn’t it?” Ben replied grimly.

“But that makes no sense!”

“That, I suppose, depends on what exactly is your ultimate goal.”

“I refuse to believe it,” Ruiz said. “It just isn’t possible there could be a traitor at this level. Everyone in this bunker has been thoroughly vetted and investigated.”

“And yet,” Ben replied, “even the FBI can’t investigate the many dimensions of the human heart.”

“Balderdash!”

From the next room, they heard a cry. “Eureka!”

A brief moment later, the lights came back on.

“Thank goodness,” Swinburne said, rising. “What about communications?”

“Powering up,” Zimmer said, returning to his station. “Give it about two minutes and we’ll be back in business.”

“Two minutes!” Swinburne bellowed. “We don’t have thirty seconds!”

“If I could snap my fingers and make all this computerized equipment come online any faster, believe me, I would. Unfortunately, violating the laws of physics is one of the few things still outside my power. And yours,” Zimmer said angrily.

Ben looked away. Nothing worse than seeing a newly minted president totally humiliated.

The lights came up on Zimmer’s laptop. One by one, all the lights on the communications station returned. Zimmer slipped the headset on and started pushing buttons.

“Are we ready yet?” Swinburne asked. “Get me Colonel Zuko. Immediately!”

“No can do,” Zimmer said tersely.

“Why not?”

“Not sure. But I don’t have an intercontinental connection yet.”

“Damn it, man, time is critical here!”

“Yes, I know that, but I’m still going to need more time.” Zimmer pushed a few buttons. He listened intently into the headset. “Yes, I’m here,” he said to some unknown correspondent. “What have you got?”

Zimmer listened to his headpiece for the next twenty seconds. Everyone else in the bunker hung on pins and needles, waiting to hear what he was learning.

A few seconds later, Zimmer addressed the room. “I have some good news for you all. My people on the outside tell me there has been no detonation or launch of a missile. Repeat: no missile.”

A loud cheer went up in the bunker.

“But,” Ben asked, “why not?”

“We don’t know. But for whatever reason, it hasn’t happened.”

“Thank God,” Swinburne said. “Have you got Zuko yet?”

“Still waiting for a connection.”

“Can you get me the Joint Chiefs?”

“That I can do.” Zimmer began pushing buttons, putting through the call. “Message?”

“Tell them I want to withdraw the troops. Immediately.”

“From Kuraq?” Zimmer asked.

“From the entire Middle East region. All of them. And begin dismantling the bases. Iran, Iraq, Kuraq. Even Saudi Arabia. Everywhere.”

Kyler rose to his feet. “Are you out of your mind? You want to talk about insane-that’s insane!”

“Just shut up, you insufferable has-been,” Swinburne barked. “There’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I think maybe there is,” Ben said.

“And I’ve had about enough of you, too, Kincaid. We put up with your little charade. We jumped through your hoops and took two hours to do what should have been done in five minutes. But the end result was the same. You lost. Kyler is out of power. And I’m withdrawing the troops.”

“I can’t let you do that,” Ben said.

“Can’t let me?” Swinburne said incredulously. “As if there were anything you could do about it. I don’t need your permission! I’m the president of the goddamn United States!”

“But that’s just it,” Ben said. He stood up, steadying himself with a hand on the table. “You’re not.”

47

Seamus sprang to his feet, even though the sudden movement reminded him how much of a beating his body had endured over the course of this very long day.

He grabbed Scarface by the collar and jerked him to his feet.

“It is too late,” the terrorist said, his face cracked with contempt. “Your people will pay the price for the arrogance of their president.”

Seamus wanted to hit him, wanted to so badly it was like a primordial drive, but he held himself back. He wasn’t going to descend to that level. Instead, he tossed the man into a nearby desk chair. He removed one of the cords still dangling from his wrist and used it to tie the man down.

“Is there any way to stop those missiles?” Seamus asked as he restrained the murderer.

“None. Once the signal is given, the rest of the process is instantaneous. Soon the East Coast will be in flames!”

Seamus tightened the cord around his wrist-probably tighter than was strictly necessary. “Is that right, Arlo?”

“Well, it’s true that once the signal is given, it can’t be countermanded,” Arlo answered. “But the signal can’t be given if the dish is unplugged.”

“Wha-”

Seamus whirled around. About ten feet behind him, he saw Arlo standing with a self-satisfied expression on his face. He was holding an electric cord.

“You unplugged it?”

“Well, it seemed a lot simpler than flinging myself across the room like you did.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I tried. You seemed to be kinda wrapped up in your own thing.”

Seamus ground his teeth together. “Kid, next time you’ve saved the world from the apocalypse, tell me!”

“Got it, chief.”

A few moments later, the reinforcements arrived-just as soon, Seamus groused silently, as they weren’t needed anymore. They fanned out on foot and in helicopters and managed to catch most of the scattered personnel. The computer handlers were taken away for interrogation.

And a few minutes after that, Zira arrived. In person.

She took care of herself, Seamus gave her credit for that. She had to be fifty if she were a day, but her skin was smooth and wrinkle-free. He didn’t know what kind of skin care products she used, but Seamus would be willing to bet her nighttime ablutions took at least an hour. Her hair was probably dyed-hair just didn’t come in bright yellow at that age-but who cared? If he were dating her, he’d probably think she was swell.

“Did I miss the party?” she asked.

“Pretty much. I’ve got everything under control.”

Her forehead creased. “I would hardly say that.”

“Why?”

“You may have prevented the missile launch, and we’re grateful for that. But several of the men got away, the scarred man appears to have been physically abused, and the computer experts tell me that you interrogated them without Mirandizing them first. We’ll be lucky if we can prosecute anyone.”

“I thought the first order of the day was saving lives.”

“That was part of your job. Not the only part.”

“And if you want to talk about abuse,” he said, “take a look at what that bastard did to my chest.”

She did not appear interested. “I’m sure there will be time for full reports and debriefing later. I want you to head back to Langley immediately.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Zira looked as if talking to him were a chore that required infinite patience. “Please feel free to refresh my memory.”

“The nuclear suitcase.”

“A nuclear device was stolen today and you think I’ve forgotten all about it? I can assure you that I have not forgotten about it, Seamus. But what does it have to do with the matter at hand?”

“Colonel Zuko was behind that, too.”

“You have proof of this?”

“I do. And there’s more. We’ve got a mole somewhere inside the government.”

“I suspected as much. But we had no evidence.”

“Now we do. This computer invasion would have been impossible without inside information. And if you find out who had access to that information, you might be able to figure out who your Benedict Arnold is.”

“I’ll get people right on it.”

“And your other possible source of information,” he said, stopping her, “would be my close personal friend Scarface here.”

“His name is Abdul Minoz. He was a lieutentant in Colonel Zuko’s military when Zuko seized control of Kuraq.”

“Thanks for the trivia. I feel better now.”

“I’ll have my people interrogate him thoroughly.”

Seamus stopped her. “I’d like to do that myself.”

She shook her head. “Sorry. You’re too close to this. I can’t trust you to behave appropriately.”

“Zira. Look at me.”

“No, thank you.”

“Look at me!” He grabbed her arm, spun her around, and forced her to look at his tattered chest.

He was torn in half a dozen places. Dried blood caked his skin. There would be permanent scarring. There was no question about that.

“I think I’ve earned this,” he said, looking deep into her eyes. “Give me a shot.”

“I can’t allow you to hurt him.”

“Understood.”

“I mean-not at all. Not even a tiny bit.”

“Can I scare him a little?”

She tossed her head. “I don’t think that violates any Company protocols.”

“Thanks, Zira.”

“You’ve got ten minutes. Find the suitcase.”

He nodded. “I will.”

48

“What in God’s name are you talking about?” Swinburne demanded. “Of course I’m the president now. Were you asleep when that verdict came down? Let me send you a memo: you lost.”

“I’m aware of that,” Ben said, stepping right into his airspace. “But the trial was invalid because someone here was tainting the evidence. Someone was engaging in fraud, which invalidates any verdict. I’m demanding a new trial. And until that new trial takes place, President Kyler remains president, because the trial you won was invalid.”

Kyler seemed just as baffled as everyone else in the room. “Ben, what are you doing?”

“And what are you accusing me of?” Swinburne said. “Where are my security people? I want this man arrested!”

A few of the Secret Service men inched forward, but Zimmer held them back.

“I didn’t specifically accuse you of anything,” Ben said. “I just said the trial was fraudulent. Because it was.”

Cartwright stood. “I think you’re going to need to explain yourself, Kincaid. Because as the judge, I think I’m the only one who can set aside the verdict. At least for now.”

“True enough.”

“So tell me what you know.”

“I will. Because you see, we’ve all been proceeding from a false assumption. We assumed that the president’s behavior is an indicator of his sanity. But it isn’t necessarily so.”

“What are you babbling about now?”

“I’m saying it isn’t fair or accurate to condemn President Kyler for his unusual behavior when the fact of the matter is that he’s been drugged. Against his will. For some time now.”

“What?” All eyes focused on Ben. Not for the first time today, he seemed to have the complete attention of everyone in the room. Even Agent Zimmer turned, removing his headset.

Kyler looked at him with eyes wide.

“What are you babbling about, man?” Swinburne demanded. “Is this some pathetic lawyer trick to try to undermine the verdict? Because let me tell you something, now that I’m in charge, I won’t stand-”

“But you’re not in charge,” Ben said firmly. “And you will listen, because you know as well as I do that if someone has been drugging the president-the real one-that invalidates everything.”

Cartwright interrupted the debate. “What proof do you have of this, Kincaid?”

“Well, I’m short on proof, but I’m long on common sense and deductive reasoning, which are the best tools at our disposal so long as we’re trapped in this bunker.” He hesitated. “I’m hoping to collect the evidence as we proceed.”

Swinburne was not placated. “I don’t know what your game is, Kincaid, but I’m not going to have it. We indulged you once and gave you your little trial. We’re not going to waste any more time on you. Don’t you understand that we’re in a crisis?”

“I know that, for whatever reason, the missile was not released. And I know that if I stand by and allow you to take over the government, it could result in a disastrous foreign policy scenario. I speak because I cannot remain silent.”

“That’s very poetic,” Swinburne barked, “but I’ll have you put behind bars before I’ll-”

Cartwright held up a hand. “I think we can hear the man out. If he’s brief.” He glanced at his watch. “Kincaid, I’m giving you five minutes to explain. If you can’t do it in that amount of time, I’ll allow Swinburne to talk to the Joint Chiefs.”

Swinburne was enraged. “You’ll allow me? I’m the president.”

“Maybe,” Cartwright said. “Well revisit that question in five minutes. Kincaid, go.”

“I’ve suspected for some time that the president might be drugged,” Ben began cautiously. “How else do you explain these sudden bursts of bizarre behavior that come and go without explanation? I come from a medical family, and I’ve been exposed to mental illness, but nothing I’ve witnessed looks anything like what we saw in here today. I’ve represented people with mental illnesses before, including those suffering from schizophrenia or bipolar disorder, conditions that might cause sudden irrational episodes. But I’ve never seen anything like this, certainly not from someone who otherwise seemed so sane. More than that-highly competent. And productive. It just didn’t make any sense. But when I heard Sarie talking about the president up on the roof, longing to be free, talking about flying, it occurred to me that that sounded like nothing so much as someone under the influence of a hallucinogenic drug.”

“Hallucinogenic?” Secretary Ruiz said aloud, but Ben noticed that he didn’t say it in a way that suggested he was rejecting the idea out of hand.

“Yes. Mind-altering.”

“What drug did you have in mind?” Cartwright asked.

“I’m not a doctor,” Ben replied. “Or a pharmacist. But my suspicion would be that someone’s been slipping the president something.”

Ben was pleased to find there was no immediate reaction. No one screamed “Of course!” but then, no one reached for the hanging rope, either. But Roland Kyler looked intrigued. What Ben said evidently made a lot of sense to him.

Dr. Albertson was batting a finger against his lips. “I suppose you’re suggesting a mild dose-to explain why these episodes come and go without ever lasting too long.”

“Exactly. It’s as if he gets a little jolt to his system, he runs amok for a few minutes, and then it wears off. Not a major acid trip. Just enough to affect his behavior for a brief time.”

Albertson looked more concerned than anyone, which Ben supposed was understandable under the circumstances. “Just one minute, Mr. Kincaid. I monitor everything that goes in and out of the president’s bloodstream. There’s no way he could be infused with something.” He hesitated for a moment. “At least not without the president’s participation.”

“Or yours,” Ben said pointedly.

“What the Sam Hill does that mean?”

“I’m just making a point,” Ben said. “There’s always a way to tamper, but it would require the participation of someone very close to the president. Like, basically, anyone in this room.”

“Okay, Sherlock,” Ruiz said, “explain to us how it was done.”

“There are several ways it could have been done. Believe me, I’ve been taking notes. I just didn’t think any of them were really workable-until I finally figured it out a few minutes ago.”

“Don’t keep us in suspense,” Cartwright said. “You’ve only got five-” He made a check, then corrected himself. “Three and a half more minutes.”

“I noticed right away that the president was using an inhaler, as I’m sure you all did. So he was ingesting whatever was in it. That could have been tampered with. Could’ve been infused with a hallucinogen.”

“I keep that inhaler on me at all times!” Albertson cried.

“Exactly. So that wasn’t a possibility-unless you’re the traitor.”

Albertson looked as if he were staring into the headlights of an oncoming car.

“The same is true,” Ben continued, “of the insulin injections. How easy would it be to fill that syringe with a little something extra? Easy as pie. But once again, since Dr. Albertson keeps close watch over that operation, he’s really the only one who could be the poisoner.”

Dr. Albertson’s lips clamped close together. “Kincaid, I have not betrayed my president. Or my country.”

“And I haven’t said you have. Yet. Please let me continue.”

Albertson’s face was red and he was breathing noisily, but he held his tongue.

“There was at least one other possibility,” Ben continued. “Twice today I’ve watched Agent Zimmer bring the president his coffee.”

Over at the door, Agent Zimmer slowly removed his headset.

“And I get the impression it’s something he does fairly often. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s just convenient, since he’s almost always around and not participating in the policy decisions. Maybe it’s a standard protocol to make sure no one else has the opportunity to tamper with it. At any rate, I’m sure I don’t have to explain to this august body how easy it would be to lace someone’s drink. Particularly something as strong as coffee. The harsh, bitter taste of hot black coffee could mask any number of additives.”

Zimmer cleared his throat. “I’ll step down pending a further investigation. Agent Gioia, you’re in charge.”

“I appreciate your cooperation,” Cartwright said, “but I’d just as soon you didn’t do anything. At least till we’ve got this thing figured out.” He turned back toward Ben. “You got anything more, or is that it?”

“Of course I’ve got more,” Ben said. “If I didn’t have more than that, I would’ve kept my mouth shut. I’m only speaking now because I figured it out-eventually. Took way too long, I know. But I didn’t pick up the key clue until a few minutes ago. When I saw something I never expected to see.”

“What’s with all the dramatic pauses?” Ruiz said. “Just get on with it!”

“Right, right,” Ben said, nodding. “Sorry. I’m used to being in the courtroom. Here’s the thing. I’ve theorized about the president being exposed to foreign substances in all the ways I just described. But so far as I could tell, none of them led to one of these episodes. But a few minutes ago, I saw the president taking something. And not ten minutes later he plunged into the latest irrational scene-while he was testifying.”

“What are you talking about?” Secretary Rybicki asked. “What did you see?”

Ben took a deep breath, then continued. “I saw the president smoking.”

Lips parted. Brows knitted. Sarie was shaking her head.

“It’s true. I was as shocked as anyone, because my wife reminded me earlier today that the president had given up smoking as a promise to his wife. No one wants to break a promise to his wife-or for her to know that he has. Which explains why he has been sneaking around so much lately. Seeking privacy-away from his wife.”

Ben took the general wordlessness as a good sign. They were all processing this new information, running it through their brains, trying to make all the pieces of the tangram fit together.

“I never meant to hurt anyone,” Kyler said softly. “I just… couldn’t quit.”

“You’re not the first person to have trouble giving up smoking,” Ben replied.

“If I had more time to focus on it, maybe,” Kyler added. “But I don’t.”

“Exactly. And you’re under enough stress already, without the added stress of trying to wean yourself off nicotine.” He turned toward Dr. Albertson. “This is what you meant when you referred to the president being under the added stress of giving up bad habits, isn’t it? You were talking about the difficulty he was having giving up this addictive substance. Nicotine.”

Dr. Albertson frowned. Ben knew he still wasn’t exactly on the doc’s top ten list. “I was aware he was having trouble with it, yes.”

“And this also explains why you kept ditching your security detail, doesn’t it?” he asked Kyler. “You’d sneak off for a cig in the little boys’ room or wherever. And that in turn would lead to another hallucinatory episode. So by the time Sarie found you, you would be in the midst of another crazy-seeming episode.”

Kyler looked up at him, his mouth gaping. “I never put the two together. I just thought… well, I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know what was happening to me. I was afraid…” He hung his head down low.

“I can imagine your worries,” Ben said. “You were losing control of yourself-and you didn’t know why.”

“Speculation is all well and good, Kincaid,” Cartwright said. “Do you have any proof of this?”

“Not yet. But Mr. President-and yes, I am talking about President Kyler-can you loan me a cigarette?”

With considerable reluctance-and embarrassment-Kyler reached inside his coat pocket and withdrew a cigarette.

Ben handed it to the doctor. “Dr. Albertson, could you examine this, please?”

“You trust me?”

“I do.”

Albertson opened his doctor’s bag and withdrew a small scalpel. He laid the cigarette on the black table and slowly cut it open.

The cigarette fell apart, spilling its contents. Ben saw lots of tobacco, a filter, and, when he looked closer, tiny white granules.

“Any idea what that is?” Ben asked.

Albertson touched a finger to a few of the granules, then touched it to his tongue. “Just an educated guess,” he answered. “But I’m thinking it’s LSD.”

The reaction in the bunker was electric.

“That’s lysergic acid diethylamide,” Albertson expounded. “A psychedelic derived from ergot, a grain fungus that grows on rye. It traditionally produces effects such as the extreme reduction of inhibitions, a sense of time distorting, and irrational reasoning.”

“In other words, exactly what President Kyler has been experiencing.”

“Yes. It’s normally ingested orally on an absorbent surface, such as a sugar cube or blotter paper. It can also be taken in liquid form. Inhaled as a crystal, like this, it would probably be less potent-but it would be enough to create the brief episodes the president has experienced.”

Kyler slowly rose to his feet. His face was as stony as granite, but Ben sensed lava boiling beneath that surface.

“I want to know who did this,” he said succinctly. “And I want to know now.”

“I think we all do,” Admiral Cartwright said. “Can you help us out here, Kincaid?”

“I can. Mr. President, where do you keep your cigarettes?”

“I have a silver cigarette tray-a gift from the British prime minister-that I keep tucked away in a desk drawer. I take a few out each morning and tuck them into my coat pocket.”

“Is the desk locked?”

“Not during the day.”

“So anyone with access to the Oval Office could have planted tainted cigarettes. Anyone in this room, to be blunt.”

“But why?”

“That’s a factor to consider, too,” Ben continued. “Because I don’t believe anyone would commit a crime of this magnitude for money. Or revenge, love, extortion, the desire to humiliate, or any of your traditional motives. It has to be politically motivated. Nothing else makes sense.”

“Someone wants us out of Kuraq. Badly,” Secretary Ruiz said.

“Or perhaps,” Ben said, “out of the Middle East altogether.”

Swinburne pressed a hand against his chest. “What are you saying? Are you accusing me of being the traitor? Is that what you’re saying?”

“You don’t have to speculate,” Ben said. “If I decide to accuse you, you’ll know it.”

“How about it, then?” Secretary Rybicki asked. “Do you know who it is?”

“I do,” Ben answered. “I’m surprised no one else has figured it out. I told you all a long time ago that we had a mole among us. I would’ve imagined everyone was trying to figure out who it was.”

“Frankly,” Cartwright said, “I thought you were just trying to stir up trouble. Playing typical lawyer games.”

“Well, then, your infantile prejudice against lawyers prevented you from stopping a potential national catastrophe. That might be worth remembering in the future.”

Cartwright looked appropriately chastised.

“Here’s the thing,” Ben explained. “Someone gave Colonel Zuko inside information. They told him the president was in the bunker, or was on his way there, and then later told him that the vice president was down here, too.”

“I’m the president now!” Swinburne insisted.

“Oh, give it up already,” Ben said. “You’re not. Anyway, who was tipping Zuko off? No one could know the vice president was here until he was, and by that time we were all stuck down here. Cell phones don’t work. Only Agents Zimmer and Gioia had access to the communications station. But would they have had access to the cigarettes? Doubtful.”

“So how did the mole get the word out?” Sarie asked.

“Only one way possible. When Agent Zimmer gave three of us the chance to make a short phone call to the outside world. To comfort our loved ones.”

He could see eyes rolling upward as everyone struggled to remember who had made a call.

“I was one of the three, but I knew it wasn’t me, so that left two. And I’m certain it wasn’t Sarie. For one thing, I think our spy gave Zuko the computer codes and passwords that helped him hack into our defense system. As chief of staff, Sarie would not have access to top-secret defense information. She was our eyewitness, the one who told us about the episodes she witnessed. If she had been the mastermind behind all this, she would have told far more dramatic stories. She would’ve said she wrestled the gun from the president’s head, or had him threatening to blow up Australia or something. No, she was cast in the role of the observer, the one who would report all that she had seen-and her testimony would be all the more tragically believable, because everyone knows she loves and is devoted to this president. No, it couldn’t be her. So that only left one other person who could have tipped off Zuko. Who could’ve made the cigarette substitution.”

“Spit it out, Ben,” Kyler said. “I want to know.”

“Don’t you remember?” Ben said. “The only other person who has had contact with the outside world was our dedicated secretary of defense, Albert Rybicki.”

49

Christina had reached her limit.

She had tried to be patient. She had tried to be calm. She didn’t want to be one of those strident, pushy wives who were always keeping tabs on their husbands. But at the end of the day, she wasn’t exactly the stay-home-and-knit type, either.

It had been hours since Ben had called her. Hours since she had heard any useful news. All she knew was what she heard on CNN, which wasn’t much. She almost pitied those poor commentators. They had so much time to fill and so little to say. A dollop of information was buried in a mountain of pointless chatter. The news had turned into speculation and gossip, and now she wasn’t sure what it was.

And now she was railing against the media when of course that wasn’t really what was bothering her. She was worried about Ben.

She pushed herself out of her chair. She had waited here long enough. She was going to get out there and do something. Shake some bushes. She’d been in Washington for a while now and, as Ben’s chief of staff when he was a senator, she had developed a pretty good rep as someone who could get things done.

So it was time she got something done.

Ben hadn’t told her his exact location-probably wasn’t allowed to tell her. But he said he hadn’t left the White House. So that was where she would start. She had provisional White House clearance. She could get to the back door. After that, she would just have to take it one step at a time. Bully her way through. She’d done it before. Granted, not at what was perhaps the most heavily guarded private residence in the entire world… but she never shrank from a challenge.

She was going to find her husband, damn it, and make sure he was safe. And she had nothing but pity for anyone who got in her way.

50

The two men were back in the side room where Scarface had tortured Seamus. It was tempting to pin the man up on the wall and get out the pliers. But Seamus resisted the urge. Zira would never approve, and even if she did, he didn’t have enough time. He would have to find his own way to instill terror.

He held Scarface-that is, Minoz-down by his throat and watched his face turn blue. Zira had said he couldn’t hurt the man-which, translated into CIAese, meant: he couldn’t leave any marks. So he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t even punch the man in the neck, the usual target when you wanted to do maximum damage without leaving a mark. In his experience, strangulation had a strange way of getting tongues wagging.

Minoz’s arms flailed about uselessly. He was pinned down like a bug and he wasn’t getting up until Seamus decided to let him. It didn’t take him long to discover that. He only made a halfhearted effort at pushing Seamus away. Lying flat on his back, he just didn’t have the leverage.

Seamus pressed down hard on his trachea. “You already know how I feel about you. So let’s not waste time with the part where I convince you I would kill you. You know I would kill you. You know I want to. And I will if you don’t tell me everything you know.”

Seamus let up on his throat for a second. Minoz gasped for air, but before he had gulped it all down, Seamus reapplied the pressure. The resulting sucking noise even sounded painful. “I want to know where the nuclear suitcase is. I will give you one second to answer. If you do not answer-immediately-I will choke you until you are dead. Understood?”

He took the eyes-wide expression for a nod and let go of the man’s throat. “Talk.”

“I do not know.”

Seamus started to clamp down.

“I had it! I admit that. You know I had it!”

“Whom did you give it to?”

“I do not know his name.”

Seamus squeezed his trachea tightly in his fist. Minoz squealed.

Ten seconds later, Seamus let up slightly. “Tell me!”

“I never knew his name. Colonel Zuko was the go-between. After we failed at the Washington Monument, I took the suitcase to a computer expert to have the triggering mechanism altered. Programmed with a fail-safe password. Then I left it at the designated drop-off point. I don’t know who picked it up later.”

“You left a nuclear device for a man you did not know?”

“I did what the colonel told me to do.”

“What did Zuko call him?”

“He never used a name.”

Seamus pressed in with his fingers.

“Wait! Wait, I do remember a time. It stuck in my memory because it was so odd.”

“What?”

“Someone-not the colonel-referred to him as a secretary.”

Secretary? Seamus’s eyebrow knitted together. Colonel Zuko was working with someone’s secretary? Perhaps a high-placed military advisor’s, or-

Wait a minute. In these politically correct times, you couldn’t call a secretary a secretary. He’d be an executive assistant. In this town, a secretary could only be-

Good God. Was it possible? Did Zuko have a cabinet-level informant?

Seamus felt cold fingers tickling at the base of his spine.

“What was the password your boss had programmed into the suitcase?”

“I don’t know. That had nothing to do with me.”

Frustrating, but probably true. They wouldn’t tell anyone who didn’t need to know.

“Listen to me, Minoz. This is very important. If you expect to go on breathing, you will provide me an answer. What is he going to do with the nuclear device?”

“He’s taking it to the Middle East. Zuko said his clearance level is so high he can take anything anywhere.”

Not anymore. As soon as he told Zira, every member of the cabinet would be grounded. If they weren’t already. “Did he have a backup plan? If he couldn’t get the bomb overseas?”

To his surprise-and horror-Minoz smiled.

Seamus wrapped his hand around the man’s throat. “Tell me.”

“I will tell you.” The sadistic pleasure in the man’s eyes told Seamus that this was going to be something he did not want to hear. “I will tell you because there is nothing you can do about it.”

And then he told.

Seamus shoved the man aside and ran as fast as he could back to the main room.

“Zira! Quick! We have an emergency situation. Divert all troops. Immediately! Divert all troops!”

51

“Me?” Secretary Rybicki said, pressing his hands against his chest. “You’re accusing me? Seriously?”

“I am,” Ben said. “Because you did it.”

Rybicki stood on wobbly feet. “I don’t believe it!” He looked at Kyler. “You’re not buying this crap, are you?”

Kyler looked pensive. “I’m listening.”

“This is an outrage. I’m glad you’re so fond of lawyers, Kincaid. ‘Cause I’m going to have a dozen of Washington’s best shoved right up your-”

“I doubt it,” Ben replied. “I think you’re going to need all the legal talent for your defense.”

“It’s preposterous!” Rybicki insisted. “I’m the secretary of defense!”

“Which makes you one of the few people in the nation in a position to help Colonel Zuko hack into our defense computers. And, of course, your position gave you access to the Oval Office-and the president’s cigarettes-anytime you wanted them.”

“I’m not listening to this,” Rybicki exclaimed. “It’s insane.”

“As if that weren’t enough,” Ben added, “you were the one who snuck next door and sabotaged the breaker box. Pity you forgot which chair you were sitting in.”

“I noticed that he had moved, too,” Secretary Ruiz said. “I just didn’t put the pieces together.”

“Passing me the note about Secretary Ruiz’s connection to Apollo was a nice touch,” Ben added. “It directed my suspicions to him-and diverted them from you. Briefly.”

“This gets crazier by the minute,” Rybicki said. He was pacing back and forth, practically wearing a hole into the carpet. “Why would I do such a thing?”

“I’m guessing you want the colonel to detonate another missile on American soil and inflict serious casualties. Because that tragedy will lay the foundation for whatever dramatic foreign policy shift you want.”

“And what might that be? Since you have all the answers.”

“I think you’re in a better position to explain than I am,” Ben suggested. “But it would appear to me that, like the vice president, you want America out of the Middle East. Altogether. To give the colonel what he wants.” He paused. “But Swinburne wants us out because he thinks our foreign entanglements are compromising our national security. I don’t know what your motive is-but it’s more than that.”

“So just tell us already,” Kyler said. His teeth were tightly clenched. “I trusted you, Rybicki. And I for one would like to know what made you go rogue.”

Rybicki sputtered. “But-but-”

“Damn it, man,” Cartwright said sharply, “we all know you did it. It’s written all over your face. So tell us why!”

“But I-I never-”

“Goddamn it!” Kyler bellowed, slapping his hand against the table. “We want to know why!”

“I-I-I-” Rybicki looked helplessly from one face to the next. “I just want what’s best for the country! In this temple as in the hearts of the people!”

“I thought as much,” Ben said. “What is it you were after?”

“I want the same thing you want, Kincaid.”

“I very much doubt that.”

“It’s true. Don’t you think the United States needs to commit to alternative energies? To end our addiction to oil?”

And all at once, Ben could see the whole picture all too quickly. “Oh, my God.”

“Why do you think we’re in the Middle East, anyway?” Rybicki asked.

Kyler answered. “To protect Israel. To give us a foothold closer to Asia. And, of course, to ensure the steady supply of oil.”

“Yes, and let’s face it, the last one is the one that really matters. That’s the reason we keep invading over and over again. We need oil. We endanger our security and we enrich some of the most dangerous people in the world to feed our dependency on a rapidly diminishing fossil fuel. It’s insane! And yet nothing stops us. Carter urged restraint, slower driving, energy conservation-and we practically impeached him for it. Americans think they are entitled to all the oil they want. Even when the price of oil went sky-high in 2008, consumption barely dropped. We simply can’t quit. We’re addicted!”

“So you were going to force our hand,” Ben said.

“It’s the only way! We can supply our own needs if we just practice conservation and make the relatively simple conversion to natural gas. So why don’t we? Why aren’t we seriously pursuing solar energy, wind, water? We’ve been talking about these alternatives since the seventies, but we’re still not making any significant progress. Because the oil companies are too entrenched, too well connected. Because oil is cheaper.”

“So you were going to fix all that?” Kyler asked.

“I wanted to make America safe again. In this temple and in the hearts of the people.”

“I’m not following this,” Ben said. “If that’s your goal, why do you want our troops out of the Middle East?”

“So they won’t be hurt.”

A long line creased Ben’s brow. “Hurt? How?”

For the first time, Rybicki smiled, and the smile sent chills up Ben’s spine. “So I see there’s at least one thing the brilliant lawyer didn’t quite put together. That makes me happy.”

“I still don’t understand,” Ben said. “What did I miss?”

“You’re operating under the assumption that Zuko is the one who engineered the theft of the nuclear suitcase in Arlington. But you’re wrong.” A full-out grin spread across his face. “It was me.”

52

“You’ve got the nuclear suitcase?” Kyler said incredulously. Rybicki smiled defiantly. “I used Zuko’s people. But there was a quid pro quo: I helped them get into the defense computers, and they helped me get the suitcase. And they did.”

“What were you planning to do with it?”

Rybicki opted not to answer the question. His hands were twitching. “I don’t believe I care to answer that question. I want a lawyer.” He paused. “And I don’t mean Kincaid, either.”

The president nodded. “Did you seriously think you could get away with this?”

No response.

“Does this betrayal mean nothing to you? Are you so self-righteous you believed you were justified in endangering thousands of lives?”

Rybicki looked away.

“Fine.” The president’s frustration rippled through his face. “Agent Zimmer, I think you can forget about stepping down pending an investigation. There’s not going to be an investigation-of you. I’d like the secretary of defense placed in custody pending formal charges.”

“Yes, sir. Gioia?”

The agent stepped forward. “Right here.”

“Take the secretary of defense into the next room and restrain him until we get the all-clear signal to leave the bunker.”

“Will do.” Gioia took Rybicki by the arm and led him away. Ben was relieved to see that he did not resist.

“Mr. President.” Zimmer had his hand pressed against his right earphone. “I’ve finally been able to contact Colonel Zuko.”

“I’ll take it,” Kyler said.

“Wait just a minute!” Swinburne whined. “I won that trial. You have been relieved-”

“That trial was invalid,” Cartwright said, “based on fraud tainting the verdict. I’m setting that verdict aside. If you want to institute more proceedings at a later time, you can-though I wouldn’t recommend it. For now, Roland Kyler remains president.”

Swinburne sputtered nonsensically.

“Oh, be quiet,” Kyler said, shoving him aside. “And just in case you haven’t guessed, I want your resignation on my desk tomorrow morning.”

“But-but-”

“Just do it,” President Kyler said. “You’ll be saving yourself a lot of embarrassment. Now put the colonel on speaker.”

Ben couldn’t help smiling as Kyler stepped up to the communications station. He seemed strong, back in control, and-best of all-presidential.

“Mr. President,” the colonel said in his usual taunting tone, “I have given you some leeway on your deadline, but no more! If you do not remove your troops immediately, I’ll-”

“You won’t do a thing,” President Kyler interrupted, “and we both know it. You’re not the forgiving type, colonel. If you had the ability to launch a missile, you would’ve already done it. I don’t know exactly what happened, but I have to assume that one of my operatives succeeded in his mission and took down your petty little terrorist operation. And just in case you’re wondering, yes, we know Secretary Rybicki was helping you. It won’t happen again.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” the colonel fumed. “I can detonate your missiles at-”

“Yeah, sure you can. Now listen up, Colonel, and listen good. Our troops are going into your country, but they’re going in for two purposes only: to rescue the people who went down in that helicopter, and to wrest control of Benzai. You are not going to occupy that territory, and you are not going to exterminate its people. If you stay out of our way, we’ll accomplish our mission and go. If you try to interfere in any way-any way whatsoever-we will not stop until we have seized control of your entire nation, pulled you off the throne, and put you under arrest. I’m sure the entire world would rejoice to see you standing trial for crimes against humanity. And that’s exactly what’s going to happen if you don’t stay out of our way. Do you understand me?”

Several seconds passed before he replied. “I understand. But-”

“Good.” Kyler made a slashing gesture across his neck. Zimmer cut off the communications line.

“That was absolutely brilliant,” Cartwright said. “You have my congratulations. I wonder what that sick buzzard will try next.”

“Let’s hope nothing. Is he trying to reconnect, Zimmer?”

The agent shook his head. “He seems to be done. I think you put him in his place but good, sir.”

“Let’s hope this means the crisis is over. I think we could all use a breather.”

Ben couldn’t have heard happier words. “Does that mean we can leave the bunker? Make a phone call?”

“Not just yet,” Zimmer said. “I need an official all-clear from the CIA and the military task force investigating the missile crisis.”

“How long will that take?”

“I don’t know, Ben. But I’d rather keep you down here too long than not long enough.”

A valid point. “I think I’ll visit Secretary Rybicki. I still have a few questions I’d like to ask him.”

“He won’t talk.”

“I’ve heard that before. You never know.”

Ben crossed the room, opened the door, and entered the small adjoining room.

And gasped.

Agent Gioia was lying on the floor. A slow trickle of blood flowed from the side of his head.

Secretary Rybicki was gone.

53

Secretary Rybicki slowed as he approached the gateway to the north rear parking area. He didn’t want anyone to know he had been running. But he knew that if he didn’t get off the premises before the boys downstairs noticed he was gone, then he never would.

The 17th and Pennsylvania vehicle entrance was restricted to a limited few with clearance, and then only after passing through a series of gateposts and checkpoints. Of course, as a cabinet member, he had the magic blue sticker on the dash of his car that meant he didn’t have to put up with any of that.

He smiled at the two marines stationed at the door without stopping. Just as he always did. Friendly, but not too friendly. Recognizing that they were there, but not too much. He was the secretary of defense, after all. Marines were under his supervision, not the other way around.

He had texted ahead so that they would bring round his car. As he walked down the steps, he saw an attractive redhead walking toward him.

Could it possibly be…?

Someone up there must love him after all.

“Ms. McCall?”

Christina looked up.

“I’m Albert Rybicki. Secretary of defense? We met at the Press Club-”

“Of course.” She smiled. “I’m sorry. My mind was elsewhere.”

“That’s understandable. This has been a very trying day. For everyone.”

“I’ll bet. Were you down in the bunker?”

“I was, yes.”

“Can you get me in? I want to see Ben.”

“Oh, Ben.” His brain was racing. “Well, that’s just the thing. He isn’t there anymore.”

“He’s not?”

“No. He was released about a hour ago. To a… secret location.”

“And he didn’t call me?”

“I doubt they would let him.”

She looked put out, but it was probably more worry than anything else. “Is there any way I can see him? Or at least get a message to him? There’s something I really wanted to tell him. It’s important.”

“Maybe I could take a message.”

“No. I want to tell him myself.”

He snapped his fingers. “Well, I’m headed to the safe house right now. I don’t think anyone would object if I brought you with me.”

“Really?”

“You’re married to a member of the White House staff. You already have provisional clearance, don’t you?”

“How else could I be here?”

“Exactly. Hop in my car. We’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“I could just follow you in my car.”

“Um, no. If someone saw you tailing me, they might send a fighter plane to take you out.”

“That would be bad. Which one is your car?”

He watched as she clambered into his car, resisting the desire to smile. This was almost too easy. And too delicious. Another minute and he would be free. Then he would pick up his little parcel. And he and his newfound friend would travel together to their destination.

But only one of them would leave.

Good thing he had thought to take Agent Gioia’s gun.

They might’ve stopped the missiles, but they couldn’t stop him. He would fulfill his final mission.

And he would take his revenge against Kincaid, too.

54

“Zimmer!” Ben shouted. “He’s missing!”

Barely a second later, Agent Zimmer was inside the small briefing room. “Where’s Rybicki?”

“Exactly.”

Zimmer crouched down beside his fallen comrade. “Gioia’s not dead. Just unconscious. Rybicki must’ve had some kind of weapon. Or improvised a blunt instrument. Picked up a paperweight or something. Probably what he used on the breaker box, too.”

Zimmer opened another door and entered the small foyer that led to the elevator. “He must have gone topside.”

“You’ve got men up there, don’t you?”

“Yes. But they don’t have any reason to stop the secretary of defense. He has clearance to pass through the building as he wishes.” Zimmer barked orders into his headset. Ben was impressed once more at how levelheaded Zimmer was. Even a snafu of this magnitude didn’t faze him.

“He’s left the premises,” Zimmer updated him. “I’m sending people after him. There’s not much he can do now that Zuko has lost control of the missiles.”

“Unless he gets his hands on that nuclear suitcase.”

“Wasn’t he planning to use that in the Persian Gulf?”

“He was. But he can’t do that now. God knows what he might try instead.”

Zimmer frowned. “I’ll double the detachment looking for him. Don’t worry. We’ll find him.”

And Ben knew they would find him. Eventually. The question was whether they would find him in time.

President Kyler entered the room. “What’s going on? Where’s Rybicki?” He saw the bloodstained body on the floor. “What in the name of-?”

Ben filled him in as best he could as Zimmer continued to receive updates over his headset.

“We have to find that madman,” President Kyler said.

Ben agreed. “But our first priority has to be the recovery of that suitcase.”

Kyler nodded grimly.

“We have another problem,” Zimmer said. He was frowning, which might be the most emotion Ben had seen him register all day.

“What’s wrong?” Ben asked.

“I’m not quite sure how to tell you this. Probably best just to get out with it. Your wife was upstairs. At the rear receiving gate.”

Ben’s eyes bulged. “Christina? Where is she now?”

Zimmer swallowed. “She went with Rybicki.”

Ben seized him by the arms. “What? Why?”

Zimmer shook his head, still listening to words streaming in from the other side. “I don’t know the details. Sounds as if he offered to take her to you.”

“Christina? With that… that lunatic? The one who thinks he can solve the world’s problems with a bomb?” His voice fell. “The one who still has a bomb stashed somewhere nearby?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Ben opened the door to the corridor and walked outside. A moment later he punched the elevator button. “I’m going up.”

Zimmer stepped in front of him. “I can’t allow that. We haven’t gotten the all-clear signal yet.”

“The president believes the crisis is over. The one from Colonel Zuko, anyway.”

“If there’s a potential nuclear threat, I can’t-”

“The president needs to stay down here. I don’t.”

Zimmer held his ground. “Ben, I’m sorry, but I can’t allow you to endanger yourself”

“I’m sorry, Zimmer,” Ben said, looking him straight in the eye, “but you can’t stop me, unless you’re planning to draw your weapon. Is that what you’re going to do?”

Zimmer’s hand went to his holster.

“Really?” Ben asked. “After all I’ve done down here? You’re going to pull a gun on me?”

Zimmer hesitated. “Mr. President?”

Kyler looked at Ben sternly. “I can’t authorize the premature release of anyone from the bunker. I can’t be held accountable if some tragedy should occur.”

Zimmer pulled out the gun.

“Please,” Ben said. “Just let me-”

“On the other hand,” the president continued, walking back toward the main room, “I’m not in charge of Robert Griswold’s legal staff. I can’t keep track of everyone. How am I supposed to know what some renegade lawyer does?” He closed the door behind him.

Zimmer put the gun back in the holster.

The elevator doors opened. Ben stepped inside.

“Thanks,” Ben said breathlessly.

“Godspeed,” Zimmer said quietly as the doors closed between them.