But it didn’t matter. The connection had ended.
Tom worked his way through checking the two MP5 submachineguns they brought with them. He cocked his head to the left and made a wry smile. “That didn’t sound like it went too well.”
“It didn’t.”
“What do you want to do about it?”
Sam set his jaw and gripped his MP5. “We’re just going to have to save Congressman Grzonkowski ourselves.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
The Secretary of Defense stared at the image of Washington, D.C. taken via their high-altitude surveillance drone.
A large contingent of tanks and armored personnel carriers were heading east along the Curtis Memorial Parkway toward the Theodore Roosevelt Bridge. She increased the magnification and noticed that they were accompanied by two teams of special forces.
They are going to attempt to breach the capital!
She picked up the phone — a direct line to the Joint Chiefs of Staff in the Presidential Operational Command Center beneath the White House.
Her eyes fixed on the fast-moving war machines heading toward her capital. A man answered on the first ring. “Yes?”
Normally calm and unruffled, the Secretary was seriously pissed off. Her no-nonsense voice barked, “Who the hell gave the damned order to breach?”
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Congressman Peter Grzonkowski stared out the giant glass windows.
He was standing on the fourth floor of the United States Peace Institute, where he and his colleagues had taken refuge. He had to laugh at the irony of being bunkered down in such a place during what was shaping up to be potentially the worst attack on U.S. soil since winning Independence from the British Empire on July 4, 1776.
He wasn’t afraid to die. His father, a World War II Veteran, had instilled in him the devout and sacred belief, in the doctrine of self-sacrifice and service to his country. With a loving wife, and three children, he certainly didn’t seek his demise, but nor was he going to dwell on that which he couldn’t control.
Instead, he feared the past — and more importantly, how it would affect the future.
Did someone know that he’d met with Joseph Finney all those years ago?
He closed his eyes, tasting bile in his mouth. He searched his own conscience, and his throat constricted by what he saw. It wasn’t fear. It was remorse, for not being true to a friend.
Once Joseph Finney disappeared, all he could do was assume the worst — that someone had killed him to prevent the truth from becoming known. He should have gone on to reveal what he knew. To open up a Congressional Hearing.
But without evidence, what choice did I ever really have?
He opened his eyes and promised himself that if he survived the attack on his nation’s capital, he would arrange a full Congressional Inquest into what happened during those dark days at the end of World War II. That was when a new — albeit much more clandestine — war was only just beginning.
His eyes swept the landscape ahead from left to right. The Potomac River glistened in the warm summer’s day. Birdlife, blissfully unaware of the troubled world around them, played in the water between the Arlington Memorial Bridge and the Theodore Roosevelt Bridge.
The bridge — normally full of joggers, walkers, and tourists, was now deathly empty.
His view settled on the Curtis Memorial Parkway in the distance and his lips curled into an upward smile. He felt his heart race and exhaled a deep breath, because a large convoy of military vehicles were approaching.
And that meant, the good guys were finally coming.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Alex Goodson sat down at his gaming station.
Was it all, really too late?
He un-paused his game and thought about what Sam Reilly had told him. His breathing was even. His pulse, steady. His eyebrows narrowed as he studied the gaming map toward the top-left hand corner. It provided an almost cartoonish image of a small urban city. The one he focused on was named, Washington, D.C.
His eyes swept the entire map, from Capitol Hill through to the Potomac River, landing on a large convoy of military tanks and armored personnel carriers.
Had it gone too far to quit?
If he’d been normal, his adrenal system would have gone into overdrive at this point. His natural fight or flight response would be taking over, clouding his judgement, and helping him act with sharp and immediate instincts.
But Alex wasn’t normal. Never had been. Instead, he felt calm. His piercing blue eyes fixed on the Theodore Roosevelt Bridge with an icy conviction. He adeptly moved his players into place, quickly, setting everything up for whatever may be.
The tanks were getting closer.
There was still time to stop.
From the east, a civilian Sea King helicopter was flying over Capitol Hill.
Alex sighed.
He was never going to quit. It just wasn’t the way he played the game. Never was. He scrolled down on his computer gaming console until he reached what he wanted. It showed a cartoonish image of a coyote depressing a T-shaped dynamite detonator from Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner.
Alex clicked on the image.
A warning message came up on the screen — ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO DETONATE?
Alex grinned and pressed enter.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
The Sea King had her nose angled downward taking off some altitude in preparation for landing. Sam studied the military convoy approaching the Theodore Roosevelt Bridge. What the hell are they thinking? He picked up his cell phone and frantically tried to call the Secretary of Defense.
She answered the call, and he didn’t wait to speak. “You have to stop the convoy from breaching the city! I need more time!”
“I’m sorry, Sam. There is no more time. I can’t stop them. Someone from the Joint Chiefs of Staff has given the order and the President has approved it.”
“Alex isn’t going to respond well to breaking the rules.”
“You still think it’s him, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s hope you’re right,” she said. “We have a team of FBI agents working surveillance at his house right now. The kids just playing some stupid computer game.”
“Oh yeah, what’s the name of the game?”
“How the hell would I know, Sam? Last report, he was playing some sort of nerdy urban warfare game. There was a river and a bridge and tanks…” she broke off mid-sentence and swore. “I’ve got to get someone to stop him!”
Sam didn’t know if the Secretary of Defense was able to get through to the commander of the armored convoy or not, but it no longer mattered. Genevieve spotted the curved sail-shaped roof of the United States Institute of Peace. On the east rooftop, were the speckled shapes of five men. The Secretary of Defense had already told them to expect a ride from the roof.
Genevieve dipped the Sea King’s nose, and then brought it to a hover just over the western edge of the roof top. In the back, Tom swung the sliding doors open and one by one each of the four men climbed on board.
“Everyone’s in!” Tom shouted.
Genevieve didn’t have to be told twice. She pushed her right foot on the anti-torque pedal. The helicopter rotated sharply on its axis, so that her windshield now faced the Potomac.
Sam exhaled a sigh of relief. They had retrieved Congressman Peter Grzonkowski. With him safe, and the secrets he knew capable of exposure, he was confident Alex would withdraw the threat to end the game.