“The Swiss ambassador is raising hell with the Secretary of State,” Martin said.
John frowned. He started to speak but stopped when Deion glared at him.
“The timing on this couldn’t be worse,” Deion said. “What about the media?”
“They’re running with it,” Martin said. “After the video of him”—he paused to point to John—“jumping from that hospital window? They think they’ve hit pay dirt.”
“That wasn’t my fault,” John said.
“No,” Deion said, “that wasn’t your fault.”
“Okay,” John said. “Get it over with.”
“What you did back there…”
“I didn’t mean to kill Gohl,” John said. “They activated the Implant. You just don’t know, Deion.”
They glared at each other until Deion finally said, “I know when the drugs hit—”
“You think you know,” John said. He sighed and turned away, staring at the lights at the end of the airstrip. “You just… you get amped up. It’s like fire in your veins. It makes you stronger. Faster. I only wanted to disable him. I didn’t mean to crush his larynx.”
“The training—” Deion began.
“It isn’t enough,” John said. “When the drugs hit, you can’t think. I knew I’d made a mistake when I hit Gohl, but the other two had their guns up. They were going to kill us. Isn’t that right?”
Deion bit his lip. “At that point, they were going to kill us.”
“I did what I had to,” John said. “It’s not just physical. Time isn’t the same. It’s like… living a month in an hour. I had to relive killing them hundreds of times before the drugs wore off.”
Deion frowned. Doctor Elliot had given him a small sample of the same drug cocktail. He had taken it with Eric one night so they could understand what they were dealing with.
Everything John said was true. They had felt unstoppable.
Invincible.
He remembered the blank look on John’s face when he’d put the bullet through Gohl’s brain. At that moment, John wasn’t the polite man they had trained under the mountains of Area 51.
At that moment, John was terrifyingly inhuman.
“You saved us,” Deion said. “It went sideways, but we’re here and not being hauled out for the cameras. It could have been worse.”
Martin raised an eyebrow, then grabbed John’s shoulder. “C’mon, John. Let’s get you strapped in.”
John nodded gratefully and followed Martin into the hold of the aircraft. Burton leaned in close and whispered, “How much of that was bullshit?”
“He did save us,” Deion muttered, “but he also killed those men. I’ll tell Eric it was necessary.”
Burton shrugged. “Better you than me, hoss.”
Barbara Novak turned north in Crawford, slowing as a tall man in a cowboy hat ambled across the street and entered the Red Bull Gift & Gallery. The rest of the town appeared deserted.
She remembered pictures of the former president hosting numerous dignitaries in Crawford, but with his exit from office, the town had clearly suffered.
She had never been to the ranch before, but it was easy enough to find. She approached the front gate, a simple wooden affair with a cutout of a cactus and wagon wheels on top, and was met by a hulking Secret Service agent in a black SUV. A few moments of negotiations, followed by a display of her Senate ID and a call to the main house, and she was following the dusty lane to the one-story house nestled among the boulders and gullies.
Another Secret Service agent waited for her in the roundabout. He tapped on the driver’s window, and when she rolled it down, he said, “You’re not expected.”
“I’m Senator Barbara Novak,” she said.
“I know who you are,” the agent said. “You’re not expected.” He glanced from her Lexus to the house. “Why are you here?”
“I know I’m not expected,” she said. “I just thought he could find the time for a quick meeting. Something casual.”
The man stared at her with an eerie lack of empathy. “Wait here.”
The man entered the house. Several minutes passed, and she was glad for the relatively cool temperature. Colleagues who had visited the ranch had said the conditions could head north of scorching and approach hellish during the worst parts of summer.
Finally, the agent exited the house and motioned for her. “He’ll see you.”
She got out and made her way aside. The house was surprisingly small, but tastefully decorated in a modern-meets-southwest desert theme, full of stone and wood and light tans, greens, and blues.
The agent escorted her into an office, where the former president sat on a stool, staring at an empty canvas. He held a brush and had a palette of colors next to the easel which he mulled over before glancing up. “Senator Novak. This is a surprise. What brings you out here?”
She had never been a fan of the man, certainly not when he was the Texas governor, and especially when he had campaigned for her opponents during the last two elections. The only positive thing was that he had kept his promise to disappear from public life and let the newly-elected president forge his own path.
“I thought we could talk.” She glanced at the Secret Service agent watching her with barely contained loathing.
The president smiled. “It’s okay, Steve. I’m sure the senator can’t cause me too much harm.”
The agent nodded and left, but only after giving her one last glare. She smiled gratefully at the president. “I’m not sure if you’ve seen the news…”
The president guffawed. “Not really. My time is over, Senator. I spend my days catching up with old friends and painting.”
“I didn’t realize you painted.”
The president snorted. “I’m not trained. I do it because I like it. It helps me relax.”
“Looks like you’re having trouble getting started.”
He smiled. “This is the second painting I’ve done today. My wife says I should slow down before I run out of canvases.”
“Is she here?”
“She’s at our house in Dallas. I came down for a few days. The kids are coming for a visit. I wanted to get here early and get some work done.”
She smiled. Unlike the president, she found his wife utterly charming. “Tell her I’m sorry I missed her.”
“I’ll do that.” His smile dropped a notch. “Now, Senator — why are you really here?”
“There was an attack in Switzerland.”
The president frowned. “Switzerland? You don’t say. That’s the last place I would expect terrorists.”
“It wasn’t terrorists. Not exactly. There was a bombing…” She trailed off, unsure of how to proceed. “The man that did it jumped from a hospital window.”
“I’m not following you.”
“He jumped from a six-story hospital window and rode a drone to the ground.”
The color drained from the president’s face. “They catch the guy?”
“Not yet, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time. Say what you want about the Swiss, but they take things like that very seriously.”
There was a knock at the door, and the Secret Service agent entered the room and whispered in the president’s ear. The president nodded slowly, then said, “Thanks, Steve.”
The agent left again, this time without looking her way. The president sighed. “It looks like there was another attack in Switzerland. There’s at least two dead.”
Her mouth dropped. “What? When?”
“A few hours ago,” the president said. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard. The Committee is usually briefed after one of these things.”