“Roger that, boss,” Novak responded, before starting the engine.
Grant got in the Dodge. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Reilly unhooked a mike from the Motorola Micor Radio attached under the dash. In the trunk was a multi-band transmitter, with two whip antennas attached outside.
“Reilly calling guard house. Over.”
“Go ahead. Over.”
“Departing with two guests. ETA ninety-minutes. Out.”
Traffic leaving D.C. was still heavy. Oncoming headlights remained constant, while in front of the Dodge, red taillights became a blur. Once Reilly turned on Highway 270, traffic thinned. He pressed the accelerator and picked up speed, but was mindful of staying within the posted speed limit.
The three men kept up a steady conversation, talking military most of the time. Grant noticed that not once did Reilly take his eyes from the road, except to glance in the rear- and side view mirrors, nor did he question the purpose of this evening’s trip.
“Excuse me a minute, sirs.” He reached for the mike again, reporting ETA in forty-five minutes. He’d make the same call three more times.
Thirty-five minutes later, they were on Park Central Road, a dark, winding blacktop, leading deeper into Catoctin Mountain Park. Posted at the entrance was a sign: Closed December — March. Official Vehicles Only.
With high beams lighting the way, the vehicle eventually turned right onto an unmarked road. Signs warned they were entering a U.S. military installation with restricted access.
Turning off the high beams, Reilly left parking lights on and slowed down. Bright overhead spotlights provided enough light at the guard house, where two Marines waited at the entrance, with one stationed at the exit. All had rifle straps slung over their shoulders, and weapons in side holsters.
Two guards stepped closer as Reilly rolled down his window. He was a familiar figure, having made this same trip many times over the past six months.
Grant and Adler handed over their IDs. The Marine leaned toward the open windows, comparing the two faces to the IDs. As he did, the second guard casually walked around the vehicle looking in windows. The inspection was made only in a cursory manner, since all details had been delivered earlier in the day. The guards knew who and how many to expect.
Returning the IDs, the guard gave a quick salute, then waved them through.
No more than fifty yards past the guardhouse was a perimeter road that circled the entire property, with a chain link fence outside it. Just beyond was a sign: Camp David.
Chapter 5
The Dodge started up a slight incline, leading to the front of Holly Cabin. Nestled in the trees, the one story, gray-colored building was once the original Laurel Lodge where presidents held conferences and greeted dignitaries from throughout the world. Small pole lamps lit up a blacktop path leading to a screened porch. Interior lights glowed from every window. Smoke, rising from a brick chimney, permeated the air.
A Secret Service agent, wearing a black raincoat, came from inside the screened porch. He spoke softly into his wrist mike. “Visitors have arrived.” Posting himself on the path, he stood with his hands folded in front of him.
Reilly got out, nodded toward the agent, then hurried around to the passenger side, opening both front and rear doors. “The agent will escort you from here, sirs. I’ll be waiting whenever you’re ready to leave.”
“Thanks, Staff Sergeant,” Grant said. “C’mon, Joe.”
The two walked up the path, both curious and anxious about the upcoming meeting with President Andrew Carr.
With only a brief nod, the agent led them onto the porch, knocked, then opened the cabin door. Once Grant and Adler had entered, he posted himself directly outside the door.
The President greeted them from across the room. “Captain! Lieutenant! Great to see you both!” He walked toward them with his arm extended.
“Mr. President,” Grant said, smiling, as he shook Carr’s hand, returning the firm grip.
“Mr. President,” Adler said.
“Take off your jackets. Just hang them in that closet, then join me,” Carr said, motioning with a hand toward a couch. Normally dressed in a suit, this evening the President wore a pair of dark blue slacks, an open-collar white shirt, and a dark, red cardigan sweater.
A wood fire blazed in the stone fireplace opposite the couch. A brass, three-panel folding screen was on the brick hearth, keeping burning embers at bay.
As Grant and Adler walked to the couch, Carr said, “Sit, please.” The two men complied. “‘Captain’ and ‘lieutenant’ are pretty formal, gentlemen. Would you mind if I called you ‘Grant’ and ‘Joe’?”
Grant nodded. “We wouldn’t mind at all, sir.”
Carr pointed to a tray on the coffee table that held a pitcher of water, glasses, and a bucket of ice. “How about something to drink? Maybe some coffee.”
“Not for me, but thanks,” Grant responded.
Adler followed Grant’s lead. “No thanks, sir.”
Carr sat on a wooden, hand-made rocker. His eyes went from Grant to Adler as he spoke. “Gentlemen, let me thank you again for the remarkable job you did with the China incident. God only knows how many lives you saved, including the Vice President’s. By the way, have you talked with or do you know how those two SEALs are doing?”
Grant responded. “We haven’t spoken to them personally, but understand they’re with their Team, ready for another mission.”
“Typical for you SEALs, right?” Carr laughed.
“Yes, sir. Always ready,” Grant responded.
Carr rocked back and forth slowly, with an expression that changed almost immediately. “I’m sorry you had to come out here, but I felt this was the safest place for us to discuss a … situation.”
“Fewer ‘eyes and ears’?” Grant asked, now more concerned than ever. If the President didn’t feel comfortable talking in the White House, something very “heavy” must be going down.
“Exactly,” Carr responded. “What we’re about to discuss is top secret.”
“Excuse me, sir, but before you begin, will we be able to bring in the rest of the Team, or will only Joe and I be involved?”
“Why don’t I tell you first, then you decide what’s best.”
“Very well, sir.”
Carr’s worry was evident. “First let me say that there are only two other people who are aware that I’m talking with you tonight. NSA General Prescott and SECDEF Daniels.”
He let out a breath, then started rocking. “Gentlemen, we are confident there’s a traitor within the DoD.”
Grant and Adler gave each other a quick look. How many times during their Navy careers did they wonder if their involvement in finding and capturing a traitor — or foreign mole — would be their last time? But it was happening again, this time on U.S. soil.
Carr continued. “What we are dealing with has to do with a laser guided weapon developed by the Navy.” He held up a hand, palm facing the two men. “Now I know what you’re thinking. Laser guided weapons aren’t anything new. And you’d be correct. They’ve been around for years. Several countries already have them, even Russia. But this particular weapon is special.” He reached for a folder on the coffee table, stamped with red letters TOP SECRET, then handed the folder to Grant. “Take a look at those photos and drawings.”
Adler scooted closer to Grant as Grant opened the folder. The photograph showed a weapon, similar to a rifle, slightly more compact, but unlike any rifle either one of them had ever seen.