“So are you going to tell me what happened out there?” she asked.
Flynn detailed the events that led up to his capture — the veiled threats against him, the television interview, how he muscled his way through security, and his showdown on the catwalk above the U.N.’s general assembly hall. He resisted the urge to embellish. The story seemed fanciful enough without him adding in unnecessary — and untrue — details just to make him look more like a real action hero. The truth worked fine, though he winced when telling her about his capture and how he let the shooter get a shot off.
Natalie shared the details of her abduction as well. She had gone to bed early that evening only to be awoken from a deep sleep by armed masked men who stormed into her room. They gagged and bound her before taking her outside to a waiting van. No one saw them as they left, her muffled screams absorbed only by the still night air.
After she finished, she asked the only question that mattered.
“So, how are we going to get out of here?”
“That’s a good question. Let’s see if we can find out what’s going on first.”
Flynn scooted across the concrete floor on his butt. He lay down and looked beneath the small crack between the floor and the bottom of the door. Natalie followed suit. Flynn counted three guards, none of whom appeared to be all that imposing to him. He strained his ears to hear what they were saying. Most of the conversation centered around the President’s condition. Only one of the guards appeared to speak English, as he listened to the broadcast and translated what the commentators were saying. President Briggs’ condition appeared to be worsening. And so was Flynn’s fate.
“ Это — позор, он никогда не будет жить, чтобы рассказать его историю,” said one of the guards.
“Did you get that?” Flynn asked.
“Yeah, I got it—‘It’s a shame he will not live to tell his story,’” Natalie answered, confirming what Flynn thought he heard.
Flynn needed to find a way out of there — and fast.
CHAPTER 29
Minutes ticked past like hours for Sandford as the clock struck ten on Friday evening, nearly eight hours since the assassination attempt. Updates from the hospital slowed as doctors settled in for the night to monitor the President’s vitals while in a coma. None of the latest reports were hopeful as the mood became one akin to a deathwatch.
Josh Pickens, the White House Chief of Staff, walked toward Sandford. The usually spry Pickens appeared dour and looked like he had aged several years in less than a day.
“I think you need to consider looking this over,” Pickens said, reluctantly handing Sandford a sheet of paper.
It was a copy of the 25th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution.
When the Constitution was first written, the language in Article I, Section 2, surrounding how the Vice President might assume office in the event that the President became incapacitated was vague at best. There needed to be a clear way to determine how the President would be declared unfit to lead — and there needed to be a designated body of people to make this happen. In 1967, the 25th Amendment was ratified, providing a clear path to the presidency in such an unlikely event. Today, the unlikely became reality.
Sandford stared at the memo, citing Section 4 of the 25th Amendment:
Whenever the Vice President and a majority of either the principal officers of the executive departments or of such other body as Congress may by law provide, transmit to the President pro tempore of the Senate and the Speaker of the House of Representatives their written declaration that the President is unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office, the Vice President shall immediately assume the powers and duties of the office as Acting President.
This is really happening. I’m going to be President.
“Mr. Sandford, some of the cabinet members are reluctant to move on this so quickly,” Pickens said. “They want to give it time to play out before they cede control of the office to you. But I don’t believe we can afford to wait, given some of the situations facing our country right now.”
Sandford nodded, but then questioned Pickens’ motives.
“Why are you doing this, Josh? Aren’t you supposed to be fighting for your boss to keep his job right now?”
“If the situation were any different, I would, Mr. Sandford.” He then leaned in close to add in a whisper, “But I agree with you on foreign policy. And we need your brazen leadership right now — or I fear something far worse than we ever imagined will happen.”
As Pickens pulled back, Sandford winked at him.
“I’ll try not to let you down,” Sandford said.
“Don’t just do it for me — do it for the American people.”
With that, Pickens vanished into the stream of staffers scurrying about the room.
Sandford smiled. He needed to draft a declaration. The office was almost his.
CHAPTER 30
While nearly every agent turned their focus on apprehending James Flynn, Osborne had a different agenda. If perhaps the Kuklovod were holding Flynn hostage, and if law enforcement found Flynn, then they would catch the real assassin. But Osborne knew how these things went. In a situation like this, nobody is innocent until proven guilty. The public, along with every politician and government agency wanting to claim an easy victory, will want to swing someone from the gallows first — and ask questions later. Restraint was lost in times like these.
Osborne mulled over what he knew. The President was shot, just as Flynn had predicted on television the night before. Flynn assaulted a Secret Service agent and took his gun. Flynn was caught on a security camera impersonating an FBI agent before vanishing into the crowd. Osborne admitted to himself that things looked bad for Flynn. If it couldn’t get any worse, the FBI found Flynn’s cell phone lying in a gutter near the U.N. All signs pointed toward a hit and escape plan — one that was premeditated if it included an FBI jacket and hat.
Without much else to go on, Osborne felt defeated. He only had one idea that could possibly turn around the investigation and point it to the right people. It could also result in a suspension or dismissal. Barksdale seemed irritable at best, and Osborne wondered if now was the time to present the only bit of evidence he had. After pondering every possible outcome, he decided to take a chance. Time was running short if every agency didn’t turn their focus on hunting the real assassin.
Osborne walked down the hall toward the command room serving as the operational headquarters for this manhunt. Barksdale snipped at an analyst and shoved a paper into his chest before turning to his next victim. Though Barksdale’s irritable mood made this an inopportune time, Osborne wondered if there ever was a good time to bring something to the deputy director.
“I think I have something you might want to see,” Osborne said, tentatively offering a folder to Barksdale.
“If it’s not a report on the capture of James Flynn, I don’t want to see it,” he barked.
“Sir, I think you really need to take a look.”
Barksdale flipped open the folder and saw the surveillance camera footage of Ivan talking with Flynn several days before at The Liaison in Washington, D.C.
“Who is this guy with Flynn?” Barksdale asked.
“That’s Ivan the Terrible. He’s one of the Kuklovod’s top operatives.”
“Well, thank you, Mr. Osborne, for more evidence to throw at James Flynn. Conspiring with the Kuklovod, the same group he accused of being behind the JFK assassination. No wonder he knew they were going to attempt to shoot the President. He was working with them.”