“Everything must seem real. The illusion can never be discovered.”
“You worry too much,” Kaashif chided. “Enjoy life a little.”
“I don’t have time for that. Neither do you. That is not why we were put on this earth. We will enjoy ourselves in the next life.”
“Ah, you don’t know what you are talking about. So, how are my ‘mother and father’ doing?” Kaashif asked sarcastically.
“They went to the police this morning and filed a missing persons report. Just as concerned parents would do. As I said, the illusion must seem real. We will arrange for a reunion scene tonight. The story will be that you ran away from home for a few days because they are so strict. Everyone will believe it, most important the agents who interrogated you. They will believe you are too afraid of them to tell anyone the truth about what happened. It will be good.”
“They said they would be watching me. Well, they will see me go into the high school in the morning and come back out in the afternoon. But they will have no idea what I do at night. And then one morning soon I will go into the school, but I will not come back out. Not the way I went in, and they will never know how I slipped away. It will be exactly the way I did last week to see Imelda. That went off without a hitch, and no one ever knew I was gone from school for most of the day.” Kaashif laughed again, this time very loudly. “And they will never find me after that. I will be gone forever.” He nodded. “I will have beaten them, and hell will be raining down by that time. I can’t wait. I can’t wait to trample them. I only wish I could see their faces when the hour is upon them.”
“Just do your job. Don’t look at this as a competition.”
“Everything in life is a competition.”
“Keep your focus, Kaashif. Don’t make me—”
“Do you think the U.S. authorities will arrest the two who are playing my parents?”
The driver’s eyes narrowed. “I would, if I were they.”
Now it was Kaashif who checked his mirror. “And the attacks?” he asked. “What of the attacks?”
The driver smiled for the first time since he could remember. “As we speak, Kaashif, as we speak.”
Kaashif glanced over at the driver as his eyes widened. “The hour is upon them?”
“Yes. The decision was made this morning. Hell is already raining down.”
“I’m sorry for all that, Bill.” The president nodded at the door Baxter had just slammed shut. “Stewart can be downright unfriendly sometimes. I know it. But he’s what I need right now.”
“I understand,” Bill answered solemnly.
Troy had never seen his father like that. For a few seconds it had looked like Bill was going to come out of his chair at Baxter when the COS hit him broadside with that thing about Jack — and then piled on with the Rita Hayes reference. If Bill had, Baxter would have been sorry. Even though his father was more than three decades out of the Marine Corps, he was still in excellent shape. His father didn’t get angry often. But when he did and his temper was unleashed, things didn’t go well for the object of Bill’s fury.
“I did not ask him to run G-2 lines on you guys,” Dorn said. “In fact, I didn’t even know he had. You are obviously both above that kind of thing,” the president said, gesturing at them. “It won’t happen again. I promise you.”
“It doesn’t make me comfortable that your chief of staff is so against Red Cell Seven,” Bill said stoically. “But what makes me even more uncomfortable is that he knows about it at all. You promised me—”
“Don’t worry about Stewart. He doesn’t get this. And that’s putting it politely.”
“What have you told him?” Troy asked.
“Nothing. And I will tell him nothing. I made a promise to your father,” Dorn said, gesturing at Troy, “and I intend to keep it.”
Troy glanced at Bill. He didn’t want to be disrespectful, but there were people risking their lives out there every minute. They had to come first no matter what.
“I’m serious,” Dorn continued when he saw doubt in Troy’s expression. “Basically, all Stewart Baxter knows about RCS is its name. That’s all I told him.” The president hesitated. “But remember, he’s been around Washington a long time. Knowing Stewart as well as I do now, it wouldn’t surprise me if he had another source. He seems to have sources on everything.”
That didn’t sound good. In fact, it sounded like an easy way for Dorn to absolve himself of any guilt for giving Baxter information he wasn’t supposed to. There wasn’t any way Troy or his father could confirm or deny it, either. Baxter certainly wasn’t going to admit it if they asked him.
“Any chance Baxter could have set up listening devices in here?” Troy asked, looking around.
The president smiled wanly. “You guys really are para—”
“Any chance?” Bill interrupted. “I’m going out on a very long, very thin limb just by being here. I am violating procedure, and believe me, there are people watching this meeting from the cheap seats who question my view on this. But I’m confident it’s the right thing to do.”
The president shook his head. “No chance of any bugs. The Secret Service swept the office thirty minutes before you got here as part of their new routine since the assassination attempt. They found nothing, and I’ve been in here ever since.” Dorn began coughing hard, and Bill started to get up to help. But Dorn waved him off. “I’m okay,” he said as Bill eased back into the chair. “I need to know everything about Red Cell Seven. If you guys are more comfortable getting out of the West Wing and going into the private residence to talk about it, I understand.”
Troy and Bill glanced at each other and nodded.
“Let’s do that,” Bill said. “I’m sorry if that seems like overkill, but we have to be very careful.”
“No, no, that’s fine. I understand.” Dorn grinned. “Can one of you guys give me a push?”
“Let’s go, Harry,” Travers urged as he climbed back into the passenger seat. He and Boyd had stopped to fill up the van at a gas station outside Wilmington, Delaware, on their way back from Philly. “If we hustle we can make DC by seven.”
“Relax,” Boyd retorted as he opened a three-pack of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and gulped the first one down whole. “Man, that’s good,” he muttered, licking his lips as he reached forward to turn the key.
“You better cut down on that stuff, Harry. You’re starting to get a little heavy in the—”
Travers cut his jab at Boyd short. Something didn’t seem right. It was nothing he could put his finger on, but his sixth sense was suddenly going crazy. Trust your instincts. Then, through the windshield, he saw two young men sprinting for the van.
CHAPTER 6
“Isn’t this one of the places President Clinton brought that intern?” Bill asked. The large room was piled high with cardboard boxes identified by country name with black marker.
The three of them had ridden an elevator up to the third floor of the White House — from the kitchen on the ground floor — and then headed to this storage space, which was in a corner of the building. Troy had pushed Dorn’s wheelchair from the West Wing to the residence with three Secret Service agents hovering around them the whole way, including the ride up in the elevator.