later about getting here on time. This isn’t a Burger King we’re guarding.”
“Excuse me, sir,” Andre interrupted. “But I’m not interested in working at the White House. This assignment suits me just fine.” Captain Reasons looked puzzled. “Now, son, every officer in this core wants to work the White House. It’s the Big Show. I know you might be a bit nervous, but relax. I’ve got a good feeling about you.” Andre knew his old friends at the KGB would’ve busted a gut at the scene. However, his cover wasn’t good enough to withstand a White House screening.
“I understand that sir, but working for you is just fine for awhile.” The Captain smiled. “Tom, I’m flattered, but I’ll never get there if I don’t send over the best people when requested. Now get your stuff and get moving. That’s an order.”
Andre felt the dagger he’d brought with him, press up against his stomach, and the weight of his gun on his side. Perspiration dotted his upper lip. He slid his hand down to his side, next to his government issued automatic.
“Something’s happening at door SC5,” snapped Jeff, pressing buttons on the control board.
The 27” screen above them switched from a hall shot to SC5, the buildings front entrance.
Andre watched Robert and Thorne argue with the guards, trying to get inside. Jeff activated the hidden microphones and turned up the volume.
“We need to see Justice Patrick right away! Tell her it’s Robert Veil and Thorne, and you need to contact her immediately!”
“Calm down, sir, calm down. I need you and the lady to step over to the side,” a guard told them.
“We don’t have time, goddammit,” yelled Thorne. “Get your asses in gear and call her now!”
“Gun,” screamed one of the guards, pointing to Thorne. “Both of you down on the floor!” They disarmed Thorne.
“I’ve notified the D.C. police and FBI,” said Jeff. “They’re on their way.”
Andre looked at the fax again. In her office on the first floor.
“Tom,” Jeff said frantically. “Get on the radio! We need more men down there right away!” Andre picked up the radio. This is it. It’s time. He stood, pulled his gun, and shot Captain Reasons in the head.
Jeff jumped up. “What the hell!” He went for his weapon. Too late.
The first shot hit him in the shoulder, the second right between the eyes.
Andre glanced up at the screen. Veil and Thorne were sprawled out on the floor, hands behind their heads. Good. I have time. He picked up Jeff’s automatic and took extra clips from the dead guard’s belt.
He left the room and ran up the stairs to the first floor, heart pumping, face wet. He reached Fiona’s chambers and a guard approached.
“Flagg, what are you doing up here?” Andre shot him in the chest, setting off a wild frenzy.
He tried the door. Locked. He stepped back and kicked it open.
Fiona’s secretary dove under her desk and screamed. Andre helped her out of her misery.
Gunshots splattered the wall and he hit the floor. He shot back at the guards, reloaded, and fired again. He tried the inner chamber door. Shit!
It’s locked! He fired again. Heavy fire returned.
“Careful! We don’t want to hit the Justice,” he heard one of the guards shout.
Andre reloaded. Don’t worry, she’s safe with me.
39
Robert and Thorne lay spread eagle on the cold marble floor. Guards surrounded them, guns drawn. Robert wanted to get up and make a break for it, but he’d be shot on the spot.
“He’s here,” Robert barked. “The Bear is here! Check with the White House! Call her house! I’m her bodyguard, dammit, she’s in danger!”
“Robert,” shouted Thorne. “Listen!”
Robert shut up and listened close. As if following the same orders, the guards listened too, their jaws on the floor.
“We repeat, we repeat. Assailant is on the first floor at Justice Patrick’s chambers! We have three men down! Send paramedics! We repeat! Three men down! Assailant is armed and barricaded inside Justice Patrick’s chambers!”
“Get up there,” Thorne yelled. The guards scrambled. Another radio call came over the air.
“We’ve got two down in the control room,” a quivering voice said.
“One is Captain Reasons. I repeat. The Captain is down.”
“My God,” one of the guards said, in a hushed voice.
Robert nodded to Thorne. She snatched two guards down to the floor and beat them unconscious. Robert pushed himself up and disarmed the two that remained, tossed a gun to Thorne, and took off toward the gunfire.
They ran to Fiona’s chambers and saw two guards shooting inside, bullets streaking back at them, splintering the doorpost and walls. One of the guards took a shot to the throat and fell backwards to the floor.
Dead.
“Thorne, take the other side of the door,” Robert yelled, and they joined in the fight.
A barrage of bullets exploded from the office. The remaining guard hit the ground dead.
Robert took his position and peeked inside. More gunfire exploded against the doorframe just above his head. He caught a glimpse of the Bear stooped behind a flipped over desk and fired, sending Andre sprawling to the floor.
“The swat team’s here. Pull back, but keep him contained,” a voice screamed through one of the dead guard’s radio.
“I repeat, pull back. The swat team’s here, and the negotiator is on his way.”
Robert looked over at Thorne. “This asshole’s not the negotiating type.”
“My thoughts exactly. How do you want to play it?” Robert heard a loud crash. Fiona screamed. He looked inside. The Bear kicked in the inner-office door and rushed inside.
Robert erupted and tore inside with Thorne right on his heels, both pointing their weapons. Robert saw Fiona duck down behind her desk.
“She’s in the line of fire, Thorne!”
They hesitated. The Bear fired. They rolled inside her office on opposite sides of the room.
“Stay down, Fiona,” Robert screamed.
He rushed Andre, staying low. The Russian fired, missed, and Robert body slammed him to the ground. Both lost their weapons as they hit the floor.
Robert gave Andre a head butt in the mouth. Thorne screamed for him to move. He did. She pulled the trigger. Empty.
Andre caught Robert in the jaw, knocking him backwards. Thorne dove on top, but he flipped her over and sent her crashing into a table.
He jumped up screaming in Russian, crazed, frothing at the mouth, a long silver knife in his hand. Fiona ran to the back of the office and stood against the wall.
Robert and Thorne scrambled to their feet and circled.
Andre continued to rant in his native tongue. Robert didn’t understand what he said, but understood he wanted to kill Fiona. He wanted to see her dead.
Robert charged. Andre sliced his arm. Thorne came up from behind, bear-hugged him, and reverse slammed the Russian to the floor.
The Bear scrambled to his feet, still gripping the knife. Thorne tried to take him. He stabbed and slashed, holding her at bay.
Andre looked at Fiona, mouth frothing, eyes red. He screamed and rushed toward her. Fiona raised her hand, which held Robert’s gun, and fired, hitting him in the shoulder.
Andre stopped and admired the wound, smiled, and rushed again.
