In America that wasn’t necessarily true anymore. Many of the pieces believed they were infinitely more important than the whole. Perhaps that incredibly selfish me-first and live-for-the-moment attitude that seemed to dominate American society was the bellwether signal of the nation’s ultimate and unavoidable demise. Maybe now he understood what the country was up against. Maybe the enemy wasn’t these people. Maybe the country’s true enemy was itself. He blinked several times. And how did you fight that?
“Have you ever heard the name Jack Jensen?” he asked as once more he leaned down with his hands on the arms of the chair so his face was very close to hers. It was time to end this. He had to get to North Carolina.
“Maybe.” Her tone was hollow now, almost robotic.
“Tell me the truth and I’ll make sure you die quickly. You won’t suffer.”
“I’ve heard the name.”
“Did your people kill him?”
The woman stared straight back into Maddux’s cold eyes. “I won’t tell you. You can do anything you want to me, but I won’t tell you.”
CHAPTER 14
“Hello, Dad.” Troy was just pulling away from the hospital in the backseat of a cab headed for Dulles Airport. He needed to get back on the G450 and get farther south. The other two men accompanying him on tonight’s mission were probably already in North Carolina. “How are you?”
“Busy.”
The number that had come up on Troy’s phone was his father’s private cell — Bill carried two at all times; however, not many people had the digits to this one. Still, Troy assumed Bill was calling from his corner office that overlooked Wall Street from ten floors up. He had a First Manhattan board meeting later this afternoon.
Last night on the flight up from DC, Bill had admitted that the funeral and all that was going on with Red Cell Seven hadn’t given him much time to prepare. He was worn out, physically and emotionally, so his drive to prepare wasn’t what it should have been. After they’d taken off from Reagan Airport, he’d reviewed a few files covering the bank’s performance but then quickly closed the laptop and shut it off. Typically, Bill used every spare minute to get things done, so it was unusual to see him do that, especially with the board meeting looming.
First Manhattan meetings weren’t chummy, softball-question-only affairs like they were at some big, publicly held companies. Bill had packed the board with tough independent thinkers. And the culture of striving for perfection from the top down was reflected in the firm’s consistently strong earnings. First Manhattan had become Wall Street’s gold standard, and Bill had driven the firm to that level with his unparalleled work ethic and steadfast determination. But the quarterly meetings were still stressful. He was held accountable by that board.
“I’m sure you are busy, Dad. I know those board meetings are tough.”
“Thorough,” Bill said tersely. “Did you hear about the latest attack?”
Troy grimaced. “No.” What was it this time? “I just left the hospital in northern Virginia. I saw that young woman who survived the Tysons attack. Now I’m heading for—” Troy stopped himself. “Well, you know.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So, what happened? They hit another mall?”
They’d discussed this possibility last night on the plane after Bill had turned off his computer. They’d both assumed the death squads wouldn’t wait long to strike again. Apparently, they’d been right.
“No. This time they attacked an elementary school in a quiet suburb of Springfield, Missouri.”
“Bastards,” Troy whispered. “They’re making a statement, Dad. They’re telling the world that everyone in America is vulnerable.”
“This is as bad as it gets.”
“What happened?”
“First and second graders were eating lunch when three guys in ski masks entered the cafeteria from a hallway and opened fire with automatic weapons. It was the same story as the malls except this was a school.”
“Was there a guard?”
“He was killed, shot through the back.”
“He was running away?”
“Yes.”
Troy gritted his teeth as he imagined the terrible chaos and the carnage. These were well-trained killers with automatic weapons. Some poor security guard with a pistol was no match for them. You really couldn’t blame the guy for running. “Anyone caught?”
“No. Apparently, these guys aren’t just excellent killers. They’re escape artists as well. Every individual attack is meticulously planned. They have lots of vehicles they’re willing to abandon, which don’t give us any clues when we find them. They must have plenty of places to hole up, too. My guess is they aren’t using hotel or motel rooms, because they’d be easy to spot at those places. They’re using apartments or, more likely, stand-alone houses they’ve been living in for a while, so people around them don’t notice anything different now that the attacks have begun. They may even have families with them who have no idea what’s really going on, or are plants and are in on it. Either way, it helps these guys camouflage themselves. The only positive I can come up with in all of this is that it’s a fairly big operation, which means there’s a meaningful money trail somewhere. There has to be.”
“There always is with something big.”
“And I’m in a uniquely good position to find it,” Bill pointed out. “I’ve already got people on it.”
“Have you talked to the chairman again?” Troy asked, using the code they always used — on landlines or cells — to refer to President Dorn.
“No,” Bill answered curtly. “And I don’t see any reason to. As always, we’ll go our own way. If he wants to talk, he knows how to reach me. Otherwise we stay independent, as we always have.”
Troy wanted to push. He wasn’t convinced David Dorn had really changed his view on Red Cell Seven the way he claimed, especially after Stewart Baxter had slammed them so badly yesterday in the residence right after word of the initial attacks had come down. Plus, Dorn had pushed so hard on the specific whereabouts of the original Executive Orders Nixon had signed. Dorn had claimed he wanted to make sure the cell wasn’t vulnerable. But his agenda could easily be exactly the opposite.
Troy wanted to push, but he held off. His father already had a full plate today. And cell phones could never be trusted.
“I bet the chairman’s meeting with his guy right now. I bet he’s telling his guy everything you told him yesterday. That guy’s a snake. Truth be told, I’m not so sure about the chairman, either.”
“Easy,” Bill cautioned. “We don’t want to assume anything.”
“Dad, I—”
“I hear you, son, and I’m running some deep-water G-2 lines as we speak. He did it to us. Now it’s our turn to do it. If anything’s down there in the depths, we’ll find it — and at the appropriate time, use it. I promise.”
“I don’t trust that guy or the chairman. I know I should because of who he is and where my loyalties should lie, given what I do. But I don’t, Dad. I fully understand and appreciate the oath I took six years ago. But I’ve got a bad feeling about all this, and I trust my gut.”
“As you should, son. What about your visit to the hospital?” Bill asked, switching gears. “How’d that go?”
Troy glanced out the cab’s window at the airport tower in the distance, aware that he’d hit a sensitive topic for his father. You were always loyal to the president as far as Bill was concerned. Full stop — which was what made that question he’d considered asking a few moments ago so compelling.
“It was kind of strange, in a couple of ways.”
“How?”
“The doctor said something interesting.”