Flynn thought hard. He needed a signal for Lexie.
“No, Sydney, that’s not how this is going to go,” Flynn said. “I thought it might go something like it went in Cameroon.”
Before Sydney could respond to Flynn’s cryptic answer, Lexie swung into action. She spun hard to her left, exposing Sydney’s back to Flynn. He released Buscape for a moment, only to fire off a short burst toward Sydney, striking her in the left shoulder. It was enough to incapacitate her for a few minutes and give Lexie the chance to help him gain the upper hand.
Lexie snatched a knife off Sydney, and she was able to cut herself free. After that, she grabbed Sydney’s gun. Meanwhile, Sydney screamed out in agony as she writhed around on the floor now coated in her blood.
“Let’s tie them up,” Flynn said.
“Go for it,” Lexie answered, tossing him a handful of rope and duct tape she found laying on a desk at the far end of the room. “I’ll give you some cover.”
Flynn tied up each man as quickly as possible. The time sped by but he secured Buscape, Ivan, and the remaining men within five minutes. He then turned his attention to Sydney.
Sydney lay still on the floor. He wasn’t even sure she was still alive until he checked for her pulse and found it. Maybe it was shock or trauma from the loss of blood — but she was out. Nevertheless, Flynn wasn’t taking any chances. He wound the duct tape tight around her wrists, securing her arms behind her back then her feet as well.
Flynn checked the clock. Twenty minutes.
“Let’s move, Lexie. We don’t have much time.”
As Flynn stood up, he looked at his former partner. No longer was the gun trained on their fellow hostages. Lexie was pointing her gun at Flynn.
CHAPTER 61
Diane Dixon sat in the private waiting room with Bethany Briggs. The First Lady did her best to hold it together in public, but now she was away from the watchful eyes of reporters and television cameras. Alone with her thoughts and a trusted friend, Bethany’s tears flowed freely.
Diane watched as Bethany buried her head in her hands and heaved sobs of deep grief. It pained her to watch a woman so sophisticated become unraveled, no matter how justifiable it was. She reached out to hold Bethany’s hand. It was clammy and cold, nothing like the warm touch Bethany usually exuded when she welcomed someone politely with her stately handshake.
Standing by her husband through years of diplomacy, Bethany understood how a politician’s wife should act — and she played her part well. Always looking flawless for the cameras, smiling and waving, performing an inordinate amount of charity work. Diane admired that about her, though at the same time pitied her for the role. With Bethany’s diplomatic skills and compassionate wisdom, Diane believed Bethany was better suited for the Oval Office than her husband. And whenever some wonderfully crafted idea emerged from the President’s desk, Diane suspected it originated elsewhere.
But now, Diane watched Bethany turned into a heap of bitter tears. While her husband may have lacked the guts the hawks in America demanded, Arthur Briggs was beloved by most. President Briggs believed the nation needed healing from a string of presidencies bent on dividing a torn country. His selection of Gerald Sandford as his running mate proved how it was possible to work politically with someone who shared far different values and ideas. Compromise was a touchstone of Briggs’ presidency — and the American people prospered because of it.
When the war drums began to thump, Briggs’ strength became his weakness. The unified front splintered, forming various factions that stood both for and against the war on many varying levels. Some groups wanted to send nuclear bombs into Russia. Others wanted to simply send a message. While still others insisted that there was no cause for concern and America should ignore the missile silos being erected in Siberia. The peace crowd saw it as typical Russian grandstanding rather than a saber-rattling move. In the end, Briggs was left with a mess, one that looked like someone fired a missile into his staff. While he lay unconscious in the hospital, Briggs never would have guessed his cabinet would take divisiveness in American politics to another level. Nor would he have ever guessed that Sandford would ignore his wishes and angle to strike first against Russia.
Diane watched Bethany’s anguish as her sobs turned to wails.
“Why Arthur?” Bethany cried. “He’s such a good man!”
Diane withdrew for a moment, uncomfortable at the outburst of raw emotion. She let Bethany simmer for a few moments before speaking.
“I don’t know what to say, Bethany,” Diane said, clutching her friend’s hand again.
Bethany closed her eyes and shook her head. She didn’t say a word, but the message was conveyed: Diane didn’t need to say anything.
The blurry-eyed women sat motionless for several minutes, save the streaks of mascara oozing down their faces. Briggs wasn’t dead yet, but to Diane it felt like the death of his dream for his beloved country.
Suddenly, Dr. Grant burst into the room.
“Mrs. Briggs, Mrs. Briggs, come quick!” he said, motioning to Bethany to join him. “Your husband is awake!”
CHAPTER 62
Flynn gazed at the mess next to him on the cold floor. Sydney Sandford’s wound continued to ooze large amounts of blood and showed no signs of stopping. He estimated that she would bleed out within the next two minutes if she didn’t get some type of medical attention. Though he wasn’t on an officially sanctioned CIA mission, he realized it was a near epic fail. Losing the Kuklovod’s missiles and gunning down the Vice President’s daughter made him look like the agency’s most inept operative of all time. Yet there was still time to change all that and avoid CIA infamy. It just wouldn’t be easy.
His first issue was escaping the zip ties Lexie used on his hands and feet. In her haste, she neglected to anchor him to a large object. Flynn knocked the bottom heel of his boot three times in succession to release his emergency knife. It was his new favorite feature of all the equipment Osborne had given him. He grabbed it and quickly sawed through the ties on his feet. Then he did the same with his hands.
With his pack strewn in one corner of the room, Flynn grabbed a first aid kit and got to work on Sydney. He began applying pressure to the wound after he poured a disinfectant over it. Within a half a minute, Flynn finished bandaging her up and headed after Lexie.
Then he turned back to Sydney.
“I’m really sorry about all this — you’ll be fine,” he said.
Flynn’s momentary compassion vanished. He needed the same thing Lexie needed to gain access to the missiles — an eye and a corresponding security card. Flynn suspected Ivan’s would suffice.
The process was almost as painful for Flynn as it was for his nemesis. Detaching the eyeball of a living person made Flynn feel like a monster — but it would pale in comparison to knowing he could’ve stopped millions of people from dying yet didn’t have the stomach to perform a simple extraction. At first Ivan writhed in pain, showering Flynn with his vicious hate. Unmoved, Flynn decided the more humane thing would be to incapacitate him first — so he shoved a handkerchief loaded with chloroform onto Ivan’s mouth before he began to root out Ivan’s eye. It didn’t take long. Flynn snatched Ivan’s access card and began his pursuit of Lexie.
Flynn raced through two doors before finding the cache of Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles in a large holding facility, just as the blueprints had revealed. As he opened the door, he heard Lexie’s feet scuffling across the floor. Then, the door clicked behind him, giving away the element of surprise. The shuffling noise stopped.
Concrete walls held the missiles in a staging area. A mechanized loading system lifted the missiles into the silos for launch. It was in the process of securing one of the missiles into a launch position before it stopped. Aside from the five remaining missiles in the corner of the room, the rest of the space was filled with hydraulic lifts and small construction vehicles. Plenty of hiding places made securing the facility Flynn’s nightmare at the moment.