She finally grabbed ahold of it, and started sucking on the straw.
“Good girl,” he said.
He retrieved the device from Petersen, then moved it over the implant. As the bar on the display filled the screen, he pressed the # and the 7 keys at the same time. The bar graph was replaced by a circle that began turning white in a slow wave, following an invisible second hand as it moved around the dial.
“Hold her still,” he said.
When the advancing white filled three-quarters of the circle, the words
“Mr. Lee. Mr. Jones. Are you coming?” It was Ms. Stanton again.
She was near the door, holding it open so the last of the greeters could head outside.
“Coming now,” Tucker said.
He slipped the phone into his pocket. As soon as he could, he’d dump it. He didn’t need it anymore. The triggering implant inside Iris was now active. Less than a minute after the girl got within twenty-five feet of the binary explosives, they would detonate.
“Sorry about that,” he said to Ms. Stanton as he stepped outside. “She’s fine now. Just needed a little juice.”
He smiled at her, but the look she gave back was less than approving.
God, he couldn’t wait to get away from all these kids.
The parking lot where they’d arrived in the bus was now devoid of all but a couple of government vehicles. But they wouldn’t be a concern. During the upcoming confusion, Tucker would simply be able to run out the gates like he was afraid for his life, then walk the few blocks to the car that had been staged for his escape. Less than thirty minutes after the spouses of the G8 leaders had been killed, Tucker and his men would be on the 101 Freeway headed south toward Los Angeles. And once in L.A., no one would ever find them.
“All those holding children please move to the center,” Ms. Stanton said.
Petersen glanced at Tucker.
“You know what to do,” Tucker whispered.
Petersen walked over to where the other child minders were gathering. His job would be to get one of the VIPs to carry Iris into the auditorium.
“The rest of you, split up so you’re in equal groups on either side.”
Tucker moved to the left and took position at the far end of the group, graciously declining offers to be closer to where the action would be.
“I’m just along for the ride,” he said. “You all did the real work.”
One of the agents walked over to the group.
“My name is Agent Dettling,” he said. “I’m in charge of the arrival. I just wanted to let you all know we’ve just received the five-minute warning. So please, no wandering around at this point. And when the cars arrive, Ms. Stanton will step out to greet the First Lady and her guests, but the rest of you should remain where you are like we discussed earlier. Now, are there any questions?”
There weren’t; most of those present were either too excited or too nervous to say anything.
“Great,” Dettling said. “Then everything should go smoothly.”
As he stepped away, the woman standing next to Tucker said something in a low voice.
“Excuse me?” Tucker said.
“What?” She sounded startled. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. I was … well, I was practicing what I was going to say.”
Tucker laughed. “No problem. Completely under—”
“Stop or I’ll shoot!”
Tucker whipped his head around, looking toward the voice. It had come from somewhere beyond the street.
A man dressed in dark jeans, black T-shirt, and a jacket had entered the parking lot and was walking toward where Tucker and the others were waiting, his hands raised in the air. Several Secret Service agents already had their guns drawn, and aimed at the man as they walked quickly toward him.
“Sir, you need to stop right where you are.” The voice was that of Agent Dettling, but it hardly registered to Tucker.
What caused him to freeze was the man with his hands in the air.
Jonathan Quinn.
“Fuck me,” Tucker said under his breath.
Quinn stopped twenty feet into the parking lot, his arms still raised above his head.
A quartet of Secret Service agents walked toward him. Each had a gun trained on his chest. Behind Quinn, back toward the exit to the street, he could hear at least as many police officers closing in.
Quinn focused on one of the men in front of him. “I need to talk to the agent in charge.”
