The handler, a woman in her late 20s, looked Flynn up and down and then smiled. She appeared feisty. Flynn thought maybe she was eyeing him.
“Is this how you handle all your assets?” Flynn asked, trying not to enjoy her attention. “I’m not a piece of meat, you know.”
“I didn’t think you were,” she shot back. “I was just wondering how cold you’d be when you jump out of this plane.”
Mouth gaping, Flynn stared at her.
“Did you just say what I think you said?” he asked.
“You didn’t think we were going to touch down at the local airport and just stroll into the Kuklovod’s headquarters, now, did you?” She shot him a wink before adding, “Good luck, conspiracy man. Better you than me.”
With that, she gave Flynn a little shove toward the plane and started walking away.
Flynn began a mild protest. “Osborne never said anything about jumping out of a plane. This has got to be some kind of mistake.”
“Let’s go,” barked one of the co-pilots standing at the top of the plane’s stairs.
Flynn continued to look stunned.
“Osborne knows I hate heights,” he muttered to himself.
“Buckle up,” the co-pilot said as he prepared to enter the cabin. “It’s going to be a long and bumpy ride.”
Flynn slumped into the chair and stretched out his legs before buckling his seat belt. He hung his head in disbelief at the revelation that his exit from the jet wouldn’t be the conventional way. If Osborne was here right now…
Flynn’s phone started buzzing. It was Osborne.
“Why you little jerk!” Flynn answered, despite Osborne trying to say something. Flynn just kept talking over him. “You said nothing to me about jumping out of a plane. You know how I hate heights.”
When Flynn finally took a breath, Osborne broke in.
“Will you just shut up for a minute and listen to me?” Osborne said.
“What is it?”
“It’s Ivan. I’m at your house — and he’s gone.”
“Don’t worry. He won’t get far.”
CHAPTER 44
When Gerald Sandford walked into the cabinet meeting, the room roared with raised voices. Finger pointing, head wagging, and fist pounding dominated the non-verbal communication. He didn’t need to hear an actual word being said. Ain’t democracy great? He sneered as he surveyed the room before choosing his next words.
“Quiet!” Sandford said as he walked toward his chair. “Everyone sit down and shut up!”
He relished the moment. The room was littered with people he dreamed about putting in their place one day. Now he was the President. Who cared what little stunt Diane Dixon was trying to pull? This was going to be a bare-knuckled street brawl if necessary. And he wasn’t about to pull a single punch.
With the room silenced, Sandford finally addressed everyone.
“We’re here today because Diane Dixon has learned that the President has somehow made a remarkable recovery in such a short period of time and is now fit to lead — and that he was never unfit. She wants all my actions declared void over the last 24 hours, claiming that we skirted constitutional rules in promoting me in an acting capacity for the office of the President.
“But let me be clear about one thing: I’m happy to relinquish the chair as long as I know the President is fully coherent and making his own decisions instead of being a puppet for his closest advisors. I will not stand for such treason and will make every effort to strike down any such attempts.
“With that said, Ms. Dixon, you have the floor.”
Sandford sat down in his chair and leaned forward, hands clasped in front of him. He felt powerful and he wanted to look that way. More than anything, he wanted to intimidate anybody who thought they could dupe him out of a position that desperately required genuine leadership at the moment. Briggs would be squirming in this seat if he were here right now, asking everybody what he should do and never coming up with an idea on his own. Pathetic. It was what Sandford detested most about Briggs. Ultimately, it was what got Briggs elected. Plenty of special interest groups delighted in the opportunity to pull the strings in Washington. It was the same game U.S. Presidents had been playing for years, kowtowing to those who helped put them in office. They cared little about their accomplishments but about being the most powerful man in the free world for eight years. Sandford knew the real power rested elsewhere, but at the moment, the power that accompanied the presidency was all he wanted. He needed that seat to pay back the Russians, maybe he even save his daughter.
For the next twenty minutes, Diane shared what she knew and fielded objections from the cabinet. She managed to convince enough of the cabinet that President Briggs was fit enough to lead, forcing a motion to vote on his reinstatement. She needed a majority to make it happen — and the vote finished tied. Sandford was asked to break the vote.
“Well, it seems like we’ve got quite a predicament here,” Sandford began. “You know I’d be happy to give this chair back to Arthur Briggs if he’s truly fit to lead. However, I’m not going to take the word of some letter. I want to know that’s he functioning on his own. I’ll need to take a visit to see him and talk it through. If I’m satisfied that he’s well enough to continue leading, I’ll give him his chair back. But until then, I’m going to have to decline to begin the reinstatement process.”
Diane stood up and defiantly smacked the table with the healthy-sized folder in her hands.
“You’re making a mockery out of the system,” Diane said. “And here I thought that you were a patriot.”
Sandford then stood too. He pointed his finger at her as he responded.
“Oh, no. Don’t think you’re going to get away with that on me,” he said. “If there’s anyone trying to make a mockery out of the system, it’s you, Ms. Dixon. I’ll bet this signature isn’t even the President’s. You probably got someone to forge it. In fact, I’m going to take this to a handwriting expert to be analyzed. You better pray this is real or I’m coming after you with everything I’ve got.”
Diane stormed out of the room, which erupted into another noisy argument upon her exit.
Sandford seethed as he sat in his chair. He didn’t know how smart of an idea it was to call her bluff — especially if she wasn’t bluffing. But none of that mattered. He merely bought himself a little bit more time to get everything together to attack Russia. It wouldn’t be long now.
He exited the room and pulled out his cell phone.
“Get me General Hill. We need to discuss launch procedures.”
CHAPTER 45
Ivan locked himself in the special needs restroom at the Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport. He hated the airport, mostly because of who it was named after. If the world loathed Hitler, true communists equally detested Reagan. The Kuklovod saw his time as President as a promising opportunity to spark a world war, but Andropov and Chernenko lacked the fortitude to strike first. And so did Reagan. It was an era of posturing for the public — a chance considered wasted by the Kuklovod. Ivan found sadistic irony in the fact that this particular airport would serve as his port of departure.
He sifted through the handful of passports in his hand, trying to decide who he would be before he matched his hairstyle to the selected passport. Ezekiel Egwu. Perfect. Ivan would play the part of a British Nigerian anthropology professor going to do work on the Khanty people in the Urals. Egwu was his favorite alias since it required a dreadlocks wig — and in this case, it made the most sense as a cover.
He affixed his wig and put on his thick black glasses for a more scholarly appearance. It was time to escape this country, a place he detested for how it arrogantly squandered its wealth and power on meaningless things. They will soon learn what’s most important in life. He smiled at the thought. It was time to find a flight and buy a ticket.