DeLoach backhanded her across the face.
She let go of the shovel and fell to the ground.
"You idiot," DeLoach said. "I told you I had ensured we could never be caught. If you needed money, you should have spoken up."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Arthur." Zula Mae pleaded. "You're an old man and won't live many more years. What happens when you die? What will I do when you're gone? How will I survive? I'm too old to look for another job. I was only looking out for myself."
"You should have brought your concerns to me," DeLoach said. "Now look what you have done."
Jake started to get up. DeLoach was fast with the gun.
He turned the gun back at Jake. "Stay on the ground and keep your hands where I can see them," He said. "Now, who are you?"
"I work for President Rebecca Rudd. She knows I'm here, as do several others. There is nowhere for either of you to go. If you turn yourselves over to me now, I will help you work out a deal with the President."
From the corner of his eyes he saw Zula Mae move. She grabbed the shovel and swung it at DeLoach. The tool struck him in the back of his knees. The old man collapsed to the ground. Jake's gun tumbled behind a gravestone covered in darkness.
"You will never hit me again, old man," she yelled. Zula Mae slammed the back of the shovel across the old man's forehead then jammed the blade into his throat.
In the darkness, the moonlight shimmered off the blood gushing from the man's neck.
Jake wobbled when he tried to stand. The woman raised the shovel above her head and charged at him. The blade of the tool came crashing down toward him. He rolled sideways as the shovel blade smashed within inches of his face.
He kicked the shovel from her hands, bounded to his feet, and lunged at the woman's midsection tackling her to the ground. She landed against a stone marker with a grunt and fell to the grass.
Jake landed on top of her pinning her to the ground. Her arms swung wildly at his face. He blocked her swings with his arms and yelled, "Lady, stop fighting."
"Okay." She was winded and spoke in choppy words. "Just get off of me."
Jake pulled himself off of her and took a step back. He moved toward DeLoach when Zula Mae kicked out and made a leg sweep, knocking his feet out from under him. He fell to the ground and the woman pounced on him.
They rolled on the grass grappling to gain the advantage. She kicked at his crotch and missed. She turned her fingernails into weapons and scratched his face. He pushed her away with his left arm and landed a punch with his right fist across her jaw. "I said stop fighting. I don't want to hurt you."
She didn't listen and started swinging her fists at him. He dodged the first jab but her second attempt landed a blow to the side of his head. His already throbbing head pounded harder. Every heartbeat felt like a drum beating against the side of his brain.
He'd had enough. He realized he would have to end this with brute force.
He knocked her away with a heavy push, sprang to his feet, and stepped away from the woman.
She pulled herself to her feet still full of rage. Apparently unwilling to stop, she lowered her head and charged him like a bull ready to gore its victims. He sidestepped her approach and with both hands together, fingers interlocked, he clubbed her in the back of the neck sending her crashing headfirst into a monument. Her head thudded against the stone. She fell to the ground and didn't move.
"Damn, you're one crazy-ass bitch." He looked down at her then pulled out his penlight and searched behind the stone marker where his gun fell. After he found it, he tucked it back in his holster. He walked toward DeLoach's body and flashed the beam from his penlight onto DeLoach's face. He saw the old man's throat gaped open from the blade of the shovel. A pool of blood soaked into the grass under the man's head.
Jake leaned over and checked the old man for a pulse.
Arthur DeLoach was dead.
Jake didn't hear as much as felt her vibration through the ground. The same vibration he felt when the deer charged only softer. He turned and the woman was rushing at him with a knife in her hands. The moment called for a split second decision. No more fighting.
He stepped behind the stone marker of Michael Patterson Roundtree, withdrew his handgun, and leveled it at her charging silhouette.
He fired two shots into the center of the target.
Zula Mae staggered and fell to her knees. She sat on her heels. He remembered the Special Forces mantra his old friend Gregg Kaplan always recited—Two in the chest, one in the head works 100 % of the time.
He took aim at the woman's head.
His finger tightened on the trigger.
He stopped, then relaxed his grip and lowered his gun.
Overkill, he thought.
The woman fell over.
Zula Mae, President Rebecca Rudd's blackmailer, was dead.
EPILOGUE
Jake Pendleton, Francesca Catanzaro, and Elmore Wiley sat in the Executive Conference Room located inside the Situation Room in the West Wing of the White House. Francesca had a bandage on her forehead and, since the last time he'd seen her in Nashville, had dyed her hair black. Wiley's arm was in a sling from the injury to his shoulder.
Rudd came in, sat down, and scanned through the documents in the folder. She didn't speak, not even a cordial greeting, just read in silence.
Tonight, the dark circles beneath her eyes were her most prominent feature. A lot had transpired over the past three days. The summit meeting was hailed a historic success. The resultant agreement considered a major step forward in the peace process by world leaders and a needed shot in the arm for the global economy. Rudd's public approval rating rose another ten points overnight. This first woman President now held the highest approval rating any President had ever received.
"Elmore," Rudd finally spoke, "I've always trusted your judgment. You've never steered me wrong. I did what you asked of me in Nashville." Rudd paused. "But now I've had time to consider the recent events and its impact on my Presidency. I have always held this job to the highest standards of honesty and dignity. To remain in office would be tantamount to a gross breach of power."
"Breach of power?" Wiley said. "Ms President, you need to look at the big picture. This country needs you. Right now, the world needs you. You are, hands down, the most influential person in the world. Even our enemies respect you and all that you've accomplished. To give up now would be to betray the trust every American has placed in you."
"Trust I do not deserve," Rudd said.
"Not true, ma'am." Jake spoke up. "Trust you have earned. You are the same woman you were one week ago. You still have the same passion and leadership that put you in this office."
"Under false pretenses, I'm afraid."
"How do you figure, ma'am?" Francesca said. "When you ran for office, were you aware of anything that would disqualify you as a candidate?"
"No, but I have that knowledge now, and it makes me ineligible to be President. And that's all that matters…I know. That's what I have to live with. If I don't step down, I would be in violation of my oath."
"With all due respect, Ms President, you're wrong." Wiley's voice sounded angry. "Why is that Constitutional requirement for presidency bothering you after three years in office? After everything you've accomplished, it doesn't make sense."
"You wouldn't understand," Rudd hesitated, and then continued. "I am no longer who I thought I was. I love this country and have always been proud to be an American…and now I've found out that it was all just a lie. Not only am I not a citizen of the country I love, my biological father was one of the worst murderers in history."
"Are you seriously going to contend that the natural-born citizen clause, something many feel is outdated, is so important that it trumps all the good you've done? Stepping down now is the wrong decision. Nothing good would come from it, only harm. Ms President, this is one of those times where you need to mindfully consider what is best for the country you serve. Put away your personal feelings of recent discoveries and focus on the positive things you have accomplished…and those you have yet to accomplish."