Phillips pulled back out onto the roadway and drove onward to the retail outlet.
Styles started walking and was just entering the parking lot as Phillips was entering the store. Immediately, too much noise was coming in over Styles's earpiece.
"Turn your volume down when you get the chance. Too much background noise," he said.
Within fifteen seconds, the unwanted distraction disappeared, and he listened as Phillips coughed to be sure he could hear her.
"That's good.
Phillips approached the customer service desk and asked to see the store manager.
"I'm the assistant manager. How may I help you?" a younger man, perhaps late twenties, answered.
Phillips, all business, asked, "Is your store manager available?"
"Yes, he is, but he's busy with a supplier at the moment."
Phillips flashed her official badge and identification. "Phillips, Department of the Presidential Office. Get your manger, now!"
The man looked at her badge and ID carefully and then said, "Yes, ma'am." Two minutes later, he returned with a short, chubby man in his midforties with a ruddy complexion.
"I'm Ted Longley. I've never heard of the Department of the Presidential Office."
"I'm Darlene Phillips, and I've never heard of Outdoor Hunting and Recreation Outlet, so I guess that makes us even." She handed him a card with the presidential seal embossed on the front. "There's a number on the front, a direct line to the Department of Justice, even though we're not part of them. They will confirm my identity if you have any questions. This is a matter of national security, and I don't have a lot of time and even less patience. Either make the call or shut up and listen."
Longley studied the card and the badge and then returned them. "How can I help you?"
Phillips held up a manila envelope. "You had a customer in here six days ago who bought some merchandise. I have a copy of his credit card receipt. I assume you have security cameras installed?"
"Of course," Longley replied indignantly.
"Take me to your office where your computer and camera equipment are placed. I need to do a search to try to match a face with this card."
"I'm sorry, Ms. Phillips, but I'm afraid that would be against our store policy to allow that."
Phillips's eyes blazed. "In two minutes, I'm either going to be in that office or you're going to be in the back of a federal agent's car, handcuffed on suspicion of aiding terrorism. You could be in GTMO before sundown. Which do you prefer?"
Longley swallowed hard. "Follow me."
The flight from the White House to the Baltimore Museum of Industry was to take just under half an hour. President Williams was going over his speech with Tommy DeLancy.
"I think you've got it down, sir," commented DeLancy.
"Not that much to get down. I want to be in and out of there in under an hour. I don't care what is going on, at the fifty-minute mark, you are to interrupt and tell me I'm needed back at the White House. Got it?"
"Yes, sir."
They were both looking out the windows of the president's helicopter. Off to the right were two identical aircraft, disguising which one the president was aboard. With less humidity than normal, it was a crystal-clear day, and looking out over the horizon, it was as though you could see forever. Four F-16 fighter jets were hovering three thousand feet above the president's craft. The three helicopters droned onward.
The president had returned to studying his speech, leaving DeLancy staring out the window. Suddenly, the helicopter flying the outside of the formation burst into a fireball. Stunned, DeLancy tried to yell to the president. Just as the words began to leave his throat, for a nanosecond, he felt extreme heat. He never had time to hear anything.
President Williams had just begun to look up from the noise of the first explosion, and then everything went black.
17
Vice President Herbert Lamar jolted from the sound of his chief of staff's panicked voice. "What?" Lamar asked. "What is it, Irving?"
Irving Vickers handed the vice president a cup of coffee with cream. "Take a couple of sips, sir, and wake up."
Vice President Lamar took the coffee, took a sip, and then said, "What the hell is it?"
Vickers sat down opposite the vice president. "Sir, I just got word that President Williams has been assassinated. His helicopter was blown up over Baltimore. All three helicopters were taken out."
"What?"
"President Williams has been killed. It happened about four minutes ago. You are now the acting president until you can be sworn in, which will be as soon as we land. We're forty-five minutes out." Right then, eight F-16s converged around the vice president's aircraft.
"It looks like they're worried about us."
"How?"
"Sir, I don't know the details yet. Sounds like some kind of rocket fired from the ground. All I know is that all three of the helicopters were hit. No chance of survivors. Everybody is scrambling. We've gone to DEFCON 3. Everybody will be at the White House by the time we arrive. You will be briefed then. After that, it will be your call, Mr. President."
"My God. Sweet Lord, what the hell is going on?" He downed the coffee even though it burned his tongue and throat. "Get me more coffee. I need to think."
"Yes, sir."
Minutes later, Irving Vickers returned to Vice President Herbert Lamar.
"Sir, we've been strongly advised to divert to an alternative destination to be safe."
"Where?"
"It's still being decided, sir, but probably Norfolk. We should know in the next fifteen minutes. We'll also pick up a military helicopter gunship escort when we get low and slow. Every available missile defense system has been deployed."
"Keep me apprised, Irving."
"Yes, sir."
Styles's cell phone rang. It was Starr. Styles heard tersely, "Have you heard?"
"Heard what?"
"The president's dead, killed about twenty-five minutes ago. His helicopter and the two decoys were all taken out by shoulder-fired rockets. Looks like they came from a boat that was docked by the museum where the governor's celebration was taking place. I don't know many details, but I deciphered that. Vice President Lamar is to be sworn in as soon as he lands, since he's on his way back from Japan. I'm not sure where he's landing; that's being withheld for security."
Marvin Styles was not a man who found himself absolutely shocked by news. Yet there he was. He was eerily silent. Then, "What's your thought?"
"He would want us to continue what we're doing," Starr answered, his voice heavy.
"I agree. We'll finish here and meet back in your room at the Holiday Inn. Does J. C. know?"
"I don't know. It's starting to hit the media. If he'd heard, he'd have called."
"Sounds right. You call him. We'll be back ASAP." No good-byes were warranted. He turned to look at some jackets and said to Phillips, "Did you catch that?"
"Yes," she said, her voice choking.
"Finish what you need to," Styles directed.
Phillips had been busy downloading pertinent information onto a flash drive. She had been able to match not only a photograph, but a driver's license to the credit card receipt. As soon as that downloaded, she was out of the office like a shot. She practically ran over the chunky little store manager without so much as a look in his direction, her black eyes radiating pure wrath.
She climbed into the rental car, a silver Ford Crown Victoria, and burned half the rear tires off leaving the parking space. She glanced at oncoming traffic as she approached the area's exit and gunned it. She slid up to Styles, who was inside the car in a flash, which was good, as she was moving before the door was halfway closed. They didn't speak.