Cunningham tensed. “And?”
“And… The European found them in a suite at Caesar’s. He advised he was proceeding with the hit.”
“So, what happened?”
“We heard nothing, so I sent a small team to recon the area. They arrived there a few hours ago. They found The European dead on the floor, his neck snapped. They also found…” He closed his eyes momentarily, knowing what he was about to say would not be well received. “…They found General Matthews there, too, sir. He was slumped on the floor with a hole in his head and his brains all over the wall.”
Cunningham put a hand over his mouth and processed the information. “So… what? The European took out Matthews, and then Adrian took him out?”
Atkins shook his head. “No, sir. We checked surveillance footage from the hotel’s security feeds. Matthews walked into the suite where Adrian Hell was staying before The European made his move. He was holding a briefcase…”
Cunningham looked over at Heskith, worried. He said nothing, remaining silent in order to stop the flash of anger inside him from bubbling to the surface.
Heskith stepped forward. “Dennis, was there any sign of the briefcase in the suite?”
Atkins took a deep breath, understanding the implications of his next statement. “No, Gerry — it wasn’t there.”
“Fuck!” yelled Cunningham, taking both men by surprise. “Fuck!”
In a fit of rage, he turned and grabbed the first thing he saw from his desk, which was a paperweight made of thick glass in the shape of a globe. He spun back around and launched it across the room. It smashed against the back wall, just to the left of a portrait of Thomas Jefferson.
Heskith stood still but held his hands out in front of him — the universal gesture to try calming someone down. “Sir, you need to relax. This isn’t—”
“This isn’t… what?” he challenged. “As bad as I think? The only man alive who could feasibly ruin this has in his possession every last shred of evidence that will help him do just that. You tell me how this isn’t as bad as I fucking think, Gerry!”
Heskith swallowed hard. “Sir, I was going to say, this isn’t worth worrying about… yet. We don’t know for certain that he has the briefcase. Or, if he has, that he’s realized exactly what it contains.”
Cunningham looked at both men in turn, disbelief and fury etched on his face. “Right now, Secretary Fielding is in the Situation Room organizing this nation’s armed forces, preparing to launch a counterstrike against the North Koreans. That will happen tomorrow. When it does… when we officially declare war, our allies across Europe are going to rally behind us, looking to our country — to me—for leadership. If there’s a chance, no matter how miniscule, that Adrian fucking Hell could jeopardize that support, jeopardize this entire country, by bringing to light what we’ve done here, we have to stop him. Do you understand me?”
Atkins stepped forward. “Sir, let’s think about this for a moment. Let’s say he has the briefcase, and he knows exactly what’s inside it. What could he do with it, really?”
“The Director’s got a point, sir,” added Heskith. “He can’t go public with it — the media will easily find out who he is, and when they see he’s still wanted by every government agency in the United States, anything he says will immediately be disregarded.”
“Exactly,” agreed Atkins. “And there’s no sense giving it to GlobaTech, because they’re too busy fighting a war for us. If we’ve learned anything about this man it’s that he’s smart. He’ll know these things, and he’s likely frustrated because he’ll feel he has a magic bullet but no gun to fire it from. I think any concern is unjustified at this point, and we shouldn’t let this distract us from the mission.”
Cunningham took a few deep breaths, moved around his desk, and sat heavily in his chair. He leaned forward and clasped his hands together in front of him. He stared absently at the Great Seal imprinted on the carpet.
Just then, the phone on his desk rang. He stared at it and frowned before picking up the receiver.
“President Cunningham…”
25
We’re standing outside Veronica’s house in a tight circle at the edge of the sidewalk, next to the Mercedes. The sky has clouded over and the wind’s picking up. Our disguises are in place, and each of us looks drastically different than normal. Ruby’s friend is exceptionally talented, no doubt about it.
I can barely feel the fake nose on my face. I’ve shaved my head, so my hair is back to its usual length. I quickly stroke my smooth chin, which feels strange. I had become somewhat accustomed to the coarse beard I had grown over the last couple of weeks. I looked in the mirror when Veronica finished, and it was like looking at a photo of a stranger.
The others look very different, too. Oscar especially. He’s not a thin man — a fact he would happily admit himself — but the way she’s applied makeup to his face, he looks twenty pounds lighter.
I asked Veronica to take some pictures of us with our makeup in place. I left them attached to a blank draft e-mail for Josh. He’ll use them for the ID badges we’ll have as part of our disguise.
Ruby and Jonas are dressed appropriately in business attire for their journey to the State Department. Ruby can look great in just about anything. And absolutely nothing, as I’ve found out on more than one occasion… But Jonas looks uncomfortable in a suit. I suspect he feels a little restricted, especially with his bulky frame.
Veronica has kindly donated her ride to our cause — a small two-door city car with a barely there back seat, which will be carrying them to Washington. Oscar and I will take the Mercedes to Annapolis.
We’re about to split up and go our separate ways, but there’s something I need to do first. I take out the cell that belonged to the former CIA director.
“Okay, listen up. I’m gonna turn this on and make a quick call. It’s a safe bet that they’ll be scanning for the signal, so we’re about to become very visible to the bad guys.”
Jonas frowns. “If that’s the case, why do it?”
I smile. “Because it’s time they knew what they’re up against.”
I switch it on, enter the code Matthews gave me, and dial a number I found in his briefcase.
“Everyone, stay quiet,” I say as it starts to ring. “Let me do the talking.”
I put it on speaker just as it’s picked up.
“President Cunningham…”
Everyone’s eyes go wide with surprise, and they exchange glances that silently ask if they can really believe it’s him on the other end.
I smile. “Hey Charlie.”
“Who is this?”
“I’m the ghost of Christmas future, asshole.”
“Do you have any idea who you’re talking to? Or how much trouble you’re in? How did you even get this number? I can have this call traced and—”
“Yeah, yeah, save it, will you? I know exactly who you are. And I got your number from a mutual friend — General Matthews.”
There’s a moment’s silence on the line.
“Adrian Hell, I presume?”
“Guilty. So, how’s your day going, Mr. President?”
“You’ve got some nerve, calling me. Do you have any concept how quickly I could have you killed? Have you squashed like a bug hitting a windshield? Because that’s all you are, Adrian. You’re an insect. An insignificant speck of crap on my shoe. You’re in way over your head.”
I exaggerate a yawn. Oscar hangs his head with disbelief. Ruby smiles. Jonas simply raises an eyebrow.