Gladstone pointed toward the makeshift screen, which now displayed footage of a man stepping into the frame. The man took a few steps forward. His back was turned to the camera. But the moonlight and glow from streetlamps lining the walkway bathed him in a dim light. Those who knew Mackey could easily match the build of the man in the video to that of the senator.
Mackey took another step forward, and then paused and swung around so that he was facing Gladstone’s camera. The focus wasn’t sharp, but some in the chamber gasped at the man they knew was Mackey. He called out something, but there was no sound on the recording. The BlackBerry camera angle tilted down to capture the man trying, and failing, to pull open the locked exit door.
“Stop this at once!” Allaire cried out.
Several Secret Service agents charged down the aisle toward Gladstone.
Mackey took a step forward and raised his hands to shield his face. Just as the agents reached Gladstone and the projector, Mackey’s head snapped back. A spray of blood exploded from a lemon-sized hole that materialized on the back of his skull. The picture bounced wildly and then went dark.
The agents snatched the projector from Gladstone, then looked sheepishly at the president for guidance.
Ursula Ellis took that as her cue to act. She leapt to her feet and reached for her microphone.
“Mr. President,” her forceful voice boomed out, “I believe it is time for you to tell us the truth.”
CHAPTER 21
James Allaire and his advisors had absorbed a direct hit.
Flanked by Secret Service agents, he left the House Chamber to a chorus of appalled cries from those who had watched the murder of Harlan Mackey. Through the microphone, he had promised to provide a full explanation, but his words were nearly drowned out.
The moment he got clear of the lectern, he ordered Sean O’Neil to detain both Gladstone and Ellis for questioning. It was a decision Gary Salitas staunchly opposed.
“You’re going to divide the people into camps by doing that,” Salitas warned, “and not just by party affiliation. If you isolate Ellis, you’re just going to give her that much more power.”
Allaire grumbled under his breath.
“Well, what do you suggest I do, Gary?”
Salitas reaffirmed his loyalty by placing a gentle hand upon Allaire’s shoulder.
“I suggest we figure out a way to explain what that punk just broadcasted. But tread lightly here, Jim. Ursula Ellis is not someone to be underestimated.”
Allaire grudgingly rescinded his order. Then he bit back his anger at the House speaker, and returned with his team to the Hard Room. There were other pressing matters on which they needed to focus.
“So what you’re saying, Hank,” he said to the chief of the Capitol Police force, “is that you’ve rechecked the official attendance list for possible fraud.”
Tomlinson nodded.
“I have, sir.”
“And you found no anomalies, nothing out of the ordinary.”
“That’s correct,” Tomlinson replied.
“And the security cameras? You’re suggesting playback showed no suspicious activity inside the chamber prior to the start of my address.”
Again Tomlinson nodded.
“Yes, sir. There was no suspicious activity whatsoever.”
Allaire gritted his teeth. He felt his anger at Tomlinson growing, and drew in several calming breaths. WRX3883 could cause erratic behavior and even serious aggression. Was he just upset at Tomlinson’s lack of progress, or was he experiencing a physiological change? He shuddered at the possibility. Subtly, he checked for telltale markings on his palm.
Nothing.
What would he do if they suddenly showed up?
“Well, where does that leave us, Hank?” he managed. “These aren’t phantoms we’re dealing with here. These are real flesh and blood terrorists. We need to know what vulnerability of ours they exploited. It may be our best way of tracking them down.”
“My team is open to suggestions, Mr. President,” Tomlinson said. “We want to catch who did this as much as everyone here.”
Cameras monitoring the space outside the Hard Room picked up the arrival of Griff and Angie along with the six armed men accompanying them. Allaire motioned for Salitas to let the group inside. Griff and Angie entered, each carrying a box of what Allaire assumed would contain the collected blood samples. A sea of blue biocontainment suits followed Griff and Angie into the secret room. For several tense moments the hum of breathing apparatuses punctuated an otherwise silent gathering.
“What’s the status of C Group?” Allaire asked Griff.
Griff turned toward the president. Though Griff’s face was partially obscured by his suit’s visor and thick beard, Allaire could see the distress brewing in the man’s eyes.
“They’re starting to show signs of respiratory difficulty and disorientation,” Griff said. “No fatalities to report, but it’s still early.”
“And Admiral Jakes?” Allaire asked.
“He’s not well. None of them are.”
“Thank you.”
Griff hesitated a moment, then added, “I heard about what happened in the House Chamber. I heard about a video—”
Allaire raised his hand.
“Not now, Dr. Rhodes,” he said. “We’re trying to figure out how these terrorists got the virus inside the Capitol in the first place. You know this virus best. Any theories how it could have been done?”
“I’ve been trying to figure that out myself,” Griff said. “I have to believe there’s a connection between Genesis obtaining WRX3883 and my being framed for the theft.” Griff paused there. He and Allaire held an uncomfortable stare for a moment before he continued. “As to how they pulled this off, well, I have no good theories at this time.”
The president rose from his seat and turned his back to the room. Allaire stayed silent while his mind worked feverishly to concoct a plausible scenario. Then he spoke aloud, uttering a Latin phrase, one his medical school professors often quoted.
“What are you saying, Mr. President?” Tomlinson asked.
There were other confused looks.
“
Jordan Lamar appeared even more confused.
“I’m sorry, Mr. President. I don’t see how that helps us.”
Allaire turned his back again and walked over to a three-foot-high black metal filing cabinet. He opened the
