He'd said, “We'll go tomorrow afternoon. I know just the place, Monkey Face. Perfect! I want to fly over Camp David, where the President goes to stay I want to look down on President Byrnes's retreat. I want to drop an imaginary bomb on his ass.”
Sam Harrison already knew a great deal about Camp David, but the view from the air could be useful anyhow. An attack on the presidential retreat was a very real possibility in the future -- especially if the Secret Service continued to keep President Byrnes tightly under wraps, as they had for the past few days.
Everything about Jack and Jill was so much harder now, but he had expected that. It was why they had several plans, not just one. The President of the United States was going to die -- it was just a matter of when and where. The how had already been decided. Soon the when and where would be taken care of as well.
“Isn't this risky, flying so close to Camp David?” Sara asked.
He smiled at the question. He knew that she had been biting her tongue as they floated north from Frederick, inching closer and closer to the presidential outpost, closer and closer to danger, maybe even disaster.
'So far, it's not too risky. Sailplanes and hot-air balloons do it all the time. Catch a distant peek at where the President stays.
He's not here right now, so they're not as paranoid on the ground.
We can't get too close, though. Ever since that plane landed at the White House, this airspace is protected with missiles. I doubt they'd shoot down a sailplane, but who knows?'
They could see the buildings at Fort David below, just a little to the northeast in Catoctin Mountain Park. There were three Army Jeeps left in the open. No one seemed to be out on the well-wooded grounds today, though. Camp David itself looked rather odd: a strange cross between Army barracks and a rustic vacation place. Not too formidable. Nothing they couldn't work with, if need be, if the final plan demanded it.
“Camp David. Named after Eisenhower's grandson,”Jack said.
“Pretty good president, Ike. Generals usually are.”
Jack touched the holstered Beretta on his ankle. The gun was reassuring. But nothing was going to happen to the President right now, or to Jack and Jill. No, the game was about to go off in another direction. That was the beauty of it -- no one could predict where it would go. It was a game, designed as one, played as one.
He felt Sara's hand lightly touch his cheek. “How much longer do we have?” she asked. He suspected that she didn't want the sailplane ride to end.
“They'll never catch us,” he said and smiled.
“No, the ride, silly,” she laughed and patted his arm. “How much longer do we have up here?”
“You're not bored already? We're nowhere near the world's altitude record -- about forty-nine thousand feet, if I recall. Need a hell of a wave lift for that.” Suddenly, he seemed concerned that she might not be having a good time. That was just like Sam.
“No, no,” she laughed and put her arm around his neck. Sara held him tightly “I love it up here, love flying, love being with you. Thank you -- for everything.”
“You're welcome, Monkey Face,” he whispered against her cheek.
Two incredible killers.
Jack and Jill.
Flying over the President's famous retreat at Camp David.
See you soon, Mr. President. There nothing you can do to stop this from happening. Nowhere you can hide from us. Trust us on that.
Haven't we kept all of our promises so far?
ON THE HOUR-LONG DRIVE back to Washington, Sam seemed distracted and distant. Sara cautiously watched him out of the corner of her eye. It was as if he were still up in the sail-plane.
His brow was furrowed, his deep-blue eyes set on the road ahead.
He could get like this sometimes; but then again, so could she.
Sara the worrier. Sara the drudge.
They both understood and mostly accepted the good and the bad points about each other. The game of Jack and Jill was getting much tougher now for both of them. Every move was chancy and fraught with danger. They could be caught before the mission was completed. The hunters were all over the place.
One of the largest manhunts in history was under way. Not only in Washington, D.C., but everywhere around the world.
“I was just thinking about the game and how it's going, an honest evaluation. I was considering- a game inside our game,” Sam finally said. “Something more sophisticated. Completely unexpected by our trackers.”
Sara watched him detaching from his reverie, coming away from it, coming back to her.
“Yes, I could see that you were somewhere other than here on the beltway with me and all of these commuters. That much was pretty obvious.”
Sam grinned. “Sorry. You probably smelled the wood burning, too.” He was incredibly self-effacing -- something else she enjoyed about him. He didn't seem to realize that he was something special; or if he did, he kept it to himself. God, it was so easy when they were together, so hard when they were apart.
Sara wondered how she had survived before she met Sam. The answer was, Basically, she hadn't. She had been alive, but she didn't have a life. Now, she did.
“You're concerned about the progress of the game from here on, the exact sequence,” she said. “It's furrowed your brow. Poor dear Sam. What's your idea?”
