He needed to go down. He made his way to the end of the corridor and peered over the balcony. Another two men stood below him, chatting inanely about football.
“Get ready to move out!” The shout from below made it clear time was running out.
The men below split. One heading up and one down. One to tell the guys on the roof and the other to prep for leaving.
Sam slipped back towards the loft hatch and noticed a small alcove just to the right of it. He pushed himself back into the space and waited as the guard moved towards him.
As the guard was halfway up the ladders, Sam stepped forward and kicked them away. The guard’s legs desperately searched for some purchase in mid air like some childish cartoon. But gravity always wins and the guard crashed to the floor. It was only when he hit the ground that he realized somebody had deliberately removed the ladder. As he started to look around, Sam’s right fist hit him square in the jaw. 210 lbs of pure energy connected with the very confused guard and almost raised him back into mid air. He crumpled to the ground with little or no fight left. More cable-ties and another fresh sock secured and silenced him.
Three down, at least another two left, thought Sam — the one who shouted up and the guy who went down. Sam walked down to the second floor and quickly ascertained it also was empty. His guys had to be downstairs. Time was running out.
Sam had to make a quick decision. If he wanted these guys, this was his chance and it wouldn’t come again. Sam pulled out the Sig and chambering a round, he walked down the stairs as if he had every right in the world to be there.
The first guard he came across hardly gave him a second glance. Sam swung his pistol and brought it crashing into the side of his head. The guard had stupidly assumed his three colleagues above would have either stopped anyone coming in or warned them of any oncoming threats. The third option, that an intruder might get past them without warning, did not even figure in their range of potential threats. Sam had found, throughout his service, that arrogance about ability was just as dangerous as inability.
Sam heard voices to his right and walked towards them. A guard opened the door as he approached and unlike his colleague, he was obviously far less confident in his colleagues. His UZI submachine pistol was raised immediately in response to the threat. Sam pulled the trigger on his already raised Sig and two shells ensured the guard would never pull his trigger. His lifeless body fell back into the room behind him and from the screams, it was clear that Sam had found his prey.
“Good evening, Gentlemen,” he offered as he strode into the room. “I believe you’ve been looking for my brother and I?”
Chapter 71
Rebecca had made it back to the guesthouse without incident. She knew that the explosion was all bang and no power, nothing more than a glorified firework. However, it had been timed to perfection and coming from the Palestinian Embassy, it would look like a bomb that had failed to explode properly. It was therefore with some concern that she watched the news and discovered the President had been rushed to Walter Reed Hospital and was undergoing emergency treatment.
The more she considered the possibility, the more ludicrous it became. The explosion was miniscule and the President was in a vehicle that would stop a direct hit from pretty much anything. It just wasn’t possible.
“Ben, we have a problem.” She needed to know what to do. Killing presidents was way beyond her pay grade.
“What’s wrong Rebecca?” asked Ben, instantly worried by the sound of her voice.
‘I think I’ve really screwed up,” she offered.
‘Why?” he asked cautiously.
“I helped Sam tonight.”
“So?”
“The President was going to be there as well. As you said, I couldn’t let him get to the President. So I either stopped Sam or the President. I went with my heart rather than my head and went for the President and arranged a little diversion but I may have miscalculated.”
Ben began to laugh uncontrollably, to the point that Rebecca was furious.
“What??!!!” she screamed, forgetting where she was.
“I have it under very good authority,” he continued to laugh. “That President Russell was almost castrated this evening. It seems his Personal Assistant is very personal and while performing an oral act in the back of his limo, your little diversion caused him to jump and her to clench her teeth. She damned near took his dick off!”
“Seriously?”
“Yep, but obviously we don’t know anything about it!”
“Of course. Are they going to be OK?” she asked with genuine concern, failing to see the humor. Ultimately, she was responsible.
“They’ll be fine — he just needs some stitches and a couple of teeth removed while she needs her teeth replaced, if you know what I mean?”
“Unfortunately, yes!”
“How did Sam get on with the Horsemen?” he asked, changing the subject.
“The who?”
Ben kicked himself. “The four old men?”
“You said the horsemen?”
“No I said the four men.”
Rebecca could argue but she knew what she had heard. There was more to this than Ben was telling her. She dropped it but had every intention of coming back to it.
As she was about to reply, the door opened and Sam walked in, fresh as a daisy and threw her a huge smile.
“I’ll call you back Ben!” She hung up and rushed across the room to hug Sam.
“Well?” she asked, eventually letting go.
“Five down, two to go!” he answered simply and without explanation.
Chapter 72
Walter Reed National Military Medical Centre
President Russell insisted on leaving. He had a country to run and a few stitches weren’t going to hold him back. That was part of the excuse, the other part was that the embarrassment was killing him. Every time a doctor or nurse smiled at him, he assumed they were thinking of what had caused his injury. Nancy had accepted his offer the second he had made it. Honey would be taking a role elsewhere in government and a substantial ex-gratia payment would ensure her silence for ever more. Russell was tempted to make it more air tight with a call to Johnson but she was an exceptionally beautiful young woman and so had decided against it.
Nancy sat by his side on the journey back to the White House, tut tutting at the state of his diary. It was going to take her the rest of the week to sort it out. The irony of his assistant actually running through his diary with him, following his previous car journey, was not missed as he accepted and declined a number of requests that had come in. His driver and his agent, the same ones as before, also noted the screen remained firmly down between themselves and the President.
“Saturday we have you going to Corpus Christi for the unveiling,” said Nancy.
Russell didn’t need to be reminded, it was down as the unveiling of a memorial, commissioned by the former President and in memory of the victims of the nuclear atrocity. It was rather ironic that it fell on the same day as a new atrocity was planned. However, it offered Russell an excuse to get out of Washington, just in case, and would
