Land of the Gods

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

After an unknown time on the road, Alex heard the Escalade screech to a halt and the sound of the side door opening. She felt someone grab her by the arms and heave her up out of the footwell. His fingers bit into her arms as he pulled her from the car and told her to stop struggling. “Hey, take it easy! You’re hurting me!”

“I’ll do a lot more than hurt you if you don’t shut up!” he barked.

When the man dragged her from the car and swung her over his shoulder again, she knew instantly where she was. She smelled jet fuel and heard the whine of jet engines. She knew from her time with the ECHO team that it was a small, private plane — maybe a Gulfstream or a Citation. She couldn’t be sure, but maybe it mattered. With the bag over her head she couldn’t see the aircraft’s registration number, but she had to do whatever she could to try and identify the plane.

The man carried her up the airstair and then she heard the door slam shut behind her as he threw her down onto a chair. “You asshole!”

“Alex!”

Her father’s voice.

Thank God.

“Dad! Are you okay?”

“Not so much. I guess they have a bag over your head too, huh?”

“Yes. Where are we?”

“My best guess is Andrews, but maybe not.”

She felt a surge of pity for her father. He was a good man. A trustworthy, decent man, and he had been betrayed by those closest around him. Some of them, like that son of a bitch Faulkner would still be at the CIA if he hadn’t hand-picked him as a running mate before the last election.

“What’s going on, Dad?”

Now she heard McGee moaning in pain. At least she knew he was alive.

“It’s a coup d’état, Alex.”

She heard men laughing.

“It’s the legal removal of a treasonous President from his office.”

Was that Muston’s voice?

“You can call it what you want, Josh, but we both know I have not committed treason. The very idea is ridiculous.”

Alex felt like crying. “This can’t be happening.”

“What you call ridiculous, I call a great news cycle. Right now, images of the ECHO team murdering innocent Americans are plastered all over every news network, and the little ticker under those pictures is telling the public that you ordered them to do it — neat, huh?”

“You son of a bitch!” Alex’s heart was beating too fast now. A panic attack was on the way if she couldn’t fight it away and calm down.

“Easy, darling,” Brooke said. “Just take it easy. No one’s going to buy that bullshit. It’s a total crock and everyone knows it.”

Muston laughed and casually ordered the pilot to take off. “We’re go, Captain Richards. The President just gave the order to take off.”

“The President?” Brooke huffed out a cynical laugh. “That bastard couldn’t preside over a damn thing, never mind this country.”

“He seems to be doing fine so far,” Muston said. “He’s already ordered a full investigation into your criminal activities and has the full support of the Cabinet and the Congress. They were very interested in the documents linking you to the international terrorist force, ECHO.”

Alex recoiled at the words. “ECHO aren’t terrorists!”

Ger father was much calmer. “You mean the documents you forged to frame me.”

“You say potato, Jack…” he laughed.

Brooke’s voice hardened like steel, but stayed level and clear. Alex knew he wouldn’t give these men the satisfaction of knowing they had gotten to him. “When I get through this, and I will, you’re going to spend the rest of your life in a federal prison sewing laundry bags. I hope you understand that.”

A long pause. Alex had thought her father’s words had struck a nerve, but when she heard Muston’s voice as he returned from the cockpit, she knew the bastard had just walked off. “What was that, Jack?”

“I said I hope you’re ready for a life behind bars.”

“I’m not, and that’s because I’m not going to spend the rest of my life behind bars. Sadly, the same cannot be said for you.”

The plane finished taxiing and stopped momentarily on the runway as they awaited clearance for take-off.

“You live by sword, you die by the sword, Josh. Know that.”

“That’s very wise, Jack, but it’s you who’s going to die by the sword. You might be the people’s big hero, but the Presidency isn’t there to serve the people. No government is there to serve the people. Governments are there to serve something darker, something older and nastier that cares only about itself.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You wouldn’t understand, but know that we spend our lives stopping wholesome family men like you from reaching the top. Sometimes we screw up, the zeitgeist blows the wrong way and then you just have to go. It’s all very sad. If only people like you would accept there’s no such thing as democracy. Those of us behind the curtain know it, and now you do.”

“You sound like a madman.”

“Hey, you’re in good company.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Muston laughed, a loud cynical laugh. “What do you think it means, Jack? It means you’re not the first president we had to remove from office. If any of you guys get into the Oval and we don’t approve of you, or you won’t do our bidding, then one way or another you’re outta there.”

“Oh my God…”

“Right, you get it. Good. You’re a lucky son of a bitch, I know that. The history books were supposed to say you got killed in a terror strike on Air Force One over England, but Mr Nine Lives went and survived it. Then you were supposed to have been killed in a freak tsunami in Miami Beach, but yeah, you guessed it — Mr Nine Lives goes and gets out of that, too.” He paused a beat as the aircraft ripped off of the runway and shot up into the air. “Let’s just say that this time we took a different approach, a more nuanced approach, and this is where your nine lives run right the fuck out. You’re done, Jack. Washed up. Out for the count.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” Alex said.

“Take it easy, darling,” Brooke said.

“Believe it,” Muston walked over Brooke and leaned right over him. “And don’t you think about trying to get up off the mat or your next stop is a coffin, for sure this time. And your kid here goes in one, too.”

After hiding out in a side street out of the range of CCTV cameras for a short while, Kim, Camacho and Kamala Banks were now making their way across to a parking lot south of the White House.

“It’s right there,” Kamala said, pointing at a white Chevrolet Impala at the end of the parking lot. “Let’s hope Hank gave me the right keys.”

“Hank?” Kim asked.

“A friend of mine — works as a steward in the Residence. I ask to borrow his car just before the shit hit the fan because I figured they’d be looking for mine.”

“Smart move,” Camacho said.

“We’re almost there,” Kamala said. “Keep going! I have a way we can get out of the city but we have to get to my apartment first because I need to get some pills. They’re important and I can’t go on the run to some foreign country without them.”

“I didn’t know you were on medication.”

“No one does, but that’s a story for another time. Keep running!”

Kim’s lungs felt like they were going to explode. Never in her life had she run so fast, and now she was just about ready to collapse on the ground.

Kamala blipped the locks. “Thank you, Hank!”

They climbed in and she hit the gas, spinning the wheels and reversing the car at speed out of the lot. She spun the wheel hard to the right and the car surged forward. “We’ll be at my apartment in a few minutes. It’s not far.”

She navigated the Impala through the streets of a panicked city, using her knowledge of the backstreets to make fast progress. When they pulled up on her road, they had calmed down and reloaded their weapons.

“So what’s this idea about how we escape?” Camacho said.

“Yeah,” Kim asked, heaving the words out as she struggled to get her breath back.

Kamala was fitter, but still fighting to slow her heart. “If we can get to the airport my brother can get us out of the country,” Kamala said. “He works as a pilot for UPS flying cargo 747s. Goes all over the world. We just have to get to the airport and get through security to airside and we should be fine… for now.”

“How far is your apartment, Kamala?”

“Not far, we’ll be there in another five minutes.”

Kim checked the news on her phone. “Dammit, it’s already out there, guys. It says Brooke’s definitely been removed from office and arrested on charges of treason.”

Camacho and Kamala both turned to her and spoke the same word at the same time: “What?”

Kim showed them her phone. “See for yourself.”

“Holy shit!” Camacho said. “This is like a nightmare.”

“Only one you can never wake up from,” Kamala said, pulling her keys from her pocket. “We’re nearly there. It’s just up here on the right.”

Kim glanced anxiously around the neat, narrow street. She did not see the black Dodge Ram pulling up at the end of the road.

Kamala pushed the key in her front door and turned the lock. “All right, I’ll get the pills and then we’re out of here.”

Kim felt the bullet tear right through her heart and burst out through her chest leaving a hole the size of cantaloupe. She coughed, but no sound came out. She reached for the wound but there was just too much blood.

“Fuck!” Camacho drew his gun and crouched behind a parked car as he raised the weapon into the aim. “Kim? Are you okay?”

“Oh Jesus!” Kamala rushed to her and caught her before she fell over. “Hang on, Kim!” She skidded to her knees and cradled her friend’s head in her arms.

Camacho canned for the shooter, but saw nothing except the rear end of a black Dodge pickup slowly turning the corner at the end of the road.

Kim felt her body turn to ice, cold and stiff. She tried to move her head but nothing happened. Tunnel vision. Whistling in her ears. Looking up, she saw the kind, terrified face of Kamala Banks.

“I…”

Kamala swallowed hard and fought back the tears. “Hush, baby…”

“But…”

“You’re going to be okay, Kim.” But they both knew it was a lie. The sniper had completely blown her heart out.

Kim felt herself slipping away now. The ice had turned to water and she was numb all over. “Get… out… of… here…”

Her mind started to whir like a projector showing an old photo reel of her life.

Her father, her mother… but younger now — no lines around their eyes. The hopeful smiles of youth on their faces. She got it now. They were how she knew them when she was a little girl. She hadn’t seen them like this for thirty years.

Still cradling her head, Kamala craned her neck to scan for any sign of the sniper. “Where are you, you goddam son of a bitch!”

“I think he’s long gone,” Camacho said, scrambling over to his old friend. When he saw the wound, he almost stopped breathing. “You’re going to be fine, Kim… hold on.”

The fresh green grass of her back yard. A blue sky with not a single cloud. A kind, soft world bursting with possibilities. A yellow swing and a pink paddling pool. Her parents in each other’s arms, play slaps and stolen kisses. She smelled home cooking, and milkshakes. Laughter floated up into the air. Everyone was smiling.

Kamala had drawn her weapon and was still scanning the area for the sniper but could see no sign of him. “Stay with me, hun.”

When Kim’s mother stepped out of the kitchen, she was carrying a birthday cake.

And when her father kissed her on the cheek and said, “Happy Birthday, darling,” she smiled and closed her eyes forever.