19
Three hours after the assassination, now president Herbert Lamar was sitting alone in the Oval Office. My God, what is happening? Lord knows I've always wanted to be president, but not like this. Dear God, please give me the strength and confidence and your help in guiding me through the coming days.
He summoned his chief of staff, Irving Vickers.
"Sir?"
"Get hold of Laura Green. Have her assemble everybody. I want the entire cabinet and all the directors of the security and law enforcement agencies to meet me at the White House in ninety minutes. No excuses — everybody. We'll probably have to use the White House briefing room. I don't want any media anywhere." What the hell do I say?
Twenty seconds later, Irving Vickers was on the line to Laura Green, President Williams's chief of staff. "Laura, I don't know what to say." The two had known each other on the DC conveyer belt for almost ten years. It was Irving who had suggested Laura Green replace Andrew Ladd after he'd been exposed as a traitor.
"There's really nothing to say for the moment, Irving. I've been expecting your call."
"The president wants everybody available for a meeting in ninety minutes, probably in the briefing room." He proceeded to list who was required to be there. "He and I haven't talked about it yet, but my feeling is no major changes will be made immediately. I wanted to ask you to stay on as my co-chief. I would suggest that you keep most of your staff, at least those you deem indispensable. We will have to work very closely in the coming weeks. Laura, this is going to take an exceptional effort to get through all of this, and I believe we are the key."
"Irving, my staff and I will do everything humanly possible to help in every way we can. I agree with your assessment."
"Laura, I don't even want to have to bother with swapping offices and all that shit. The president will obviously move into his new position, but for the moment, I strongly believe we need to keep the disruption to a minimum, if that's even possible."
"Just keep me posted as to what you need."
"Will do, and thanks."
"You are welcome, Irving."
Vickers returned to the president. "Sir, I've spoken with Laura Green, and everything will be set. I told her that it was my thought that we wanted to keep interruption to a minimum. I took the liberty of asking her to stay on as my co-chief for the time being. We are all going to need help during this time."
"Of course, Irving. I respect Laura tremendously. I thought she was an excellent choice after that mess involving Ladd. Make sure she knows she has full authority to keep whatever staff she might want."
"I've taken care of that, sir."
President Lamar smiled. "That's what I like about you, Irving. You anticipate well. Prepare yourself for some long hours ahead; this is not going to be easy."
"I realize that, sir. I have a comfortable sofa in my office."
"Good. You'll be using it."
Six hours after the assassination of President Williams, Nazir al-Hadid surfaced ten feet away from a splendid 110-foot ocean-traversing yacht at anchor.
It was just after dark, and al-Hadid's GPS unit had worked perfectly. The yacht was not overly lit up, not in the manner one would usually expect.
Two men were awaiting a different type of craft, one that would arrive silently. They had been on station for perhaps forty-five minutes when something surfaced ten feet away. It made its way to the platform. The two men reached down and hauled the underwater scooter aboard and then the man piloting it.
Nazir al-Hadid removed his swim mask and threw it into the ocean. "I never want to wear one of those again," he snarled. His swim fins followed.
Asobe Sydar hugged him. "You have done it, Nazir. You have done it." Then he noticed Nazir was alone. "Where is Sirhan?"
The second man handed Nazir a bottled water, which he eagerly accepted. He held up a hand while he gulped the entire contents.
"You would not believe it. From what I saw, it appeared like he was grabbed by a large fishhook. He was just yanked from his scooter, and then he was out of sight. He was right there, and then he was gone. A medium-size boat had just passed overhead. I saw a flash under his shoulder, along with a fish against him, and then he vanished. It can be the only explanation."
The second man, known only as Zahaar, questioned, "Was he dead?"
Nazir al-Hadid was in a foul mood after the nearly six-hour underwater trek. "How the fuck do I know, you idiot? It all happened in two seconds. You think I can swim faster than a boat?"
"No, I do not. I am only concerned if he were to be caught alive."
Al-Hadid realized his concern was appropriate. "Zahaar, I do not know. It seems unlikely if someone was hooked like a fish at such speed, I think he would probably drown, but I do not know this for a fact."
Zahaar added, "We can only hope. If the Americans were to capture him, they have ways that would certainly make him talk. We will have to closely monitor their news media for any information. Should we not call Ryyaki Ali?"
"No. We will not cause alarm without reason. If we find out definitive information, only then will we inform him. Do we have to stay in these waters?"
"It will not be a problem. We cleared customs without any problems. The Americans have no reason to check us again."
Nazir al-Hadid was not convinced. "Zahaar, I have just killed the American president. You do not think they will be checking every boat in the area?"
"Let them check. They will find nothing. Now strip off your wet suit. We will sink everything right here. Then we will cruise back into the harbor and find a nice anchorage. The Americans would expect a boat to be leaving, not coming closer."
"I hope you are right," he said as he stripped out of his wet suit. Everything was gathered into a large nylon net, including the underwater scooter. It was weighted down with over a hundred pounds of lead and then pushed overboard. It immediately sank out of sight.
"Nazir, go take a hot shower, and then join me for a fine meal. You have earned it. Asobe, inform the chef we will be eating in one hour."
Left alone, Zahaar looked at the spot where the net had sunk. Less than an hour before, another preceded it containing the body and paper documents, including a passport, of a crew member that al-Hadid now replaced. All the new paperwork in the same name but featuring Nazir al-Hadid's photograph was in place. He was confident that the yacht would easily clear any scrutiny should such need arise.
Captain Richard Starr was sitting up front in the cockpit of their supplied jet, always paying attention to better learn the operation of the aircraft.
Phillips was busy working three computers at once, and Styles spent the time staring out the window when he wasn't doing push-ups.
After takeoff, Christman had an unusual conversation with flight control. When finished, he explained to Starr.
"We have the option to change transponder numbers, which identifies us as a federal agency plane on an emergency mission involving national security. It lets us run faster without the FAA getting their panties in a wad. Whenever they see a plane going supersonic and it's not military, it won't be long before military fighters show up."
"How fast are you planning on taking us?"
"Nine hundred miles per hour, perhaps a bit faster. We have a tailwind, so our ground speed will be around a thousand. It'll cut our travel time by at least a third."
"Good thinking."
Christman got on the microphone to inform Styles and Phillips. "Hey, guys, we're going through the sound barrier in a minute, so prepare." Christman climbed to forty-five thousand feet and leveled off. "Here goes." He pushed the throttles forward. Six hundred, six twenty-five, six hundred fifty miles per hour, then… Boom… eight, eight fifty, nine hundred, nine hundred fifty miles per hour. The plane was performing flawlessly; the last time they had gone this fast was when they had to leave the Middle East being chased by fighter jets. Christman looked over at Starr and grinned. "She's smooth as silk. Those engineers did a hell of a job with these performance modifications. Last time, I didn't have time to enjoy it."