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moving!” Garret slammed the phone down and headed for the door. On his way through the main living room he ran into Special Agent Terry Andrews. Andrews was the Secret
Service agent who had been carrying the President’s bulletproof trench coat when they boarded Marine One. Garret approached him and said, “Andrews, I don’t want any crap, just straight talk. What in the hell happened while we were airborne, and how did they know which bird we were on?” The tall ex-Marine looked down at Garret and replied, “We don’t know how they knew which helicopter we were on, sir.”
“What about missiles? Were there any missiles launched?”
“We’re not sure at this point, sir.”
“What do you mean, you’re not sure? You get ahold of your boss and tell him I want some answers, and I want them quick!” Without waiting for a response, Garret turned and left.
The SCENE AT THE CHAIN BRIDGE WAS INTENSE, TO SAY THE LEAST.
THE media, the Metro Police, the Virginia State Police, and the FBI had all descended on the scene within minutes of each other. McMahon arrived shortly thereafter with an FBI
special-response team and ordered that the media be moved back with whatever force necessary, short of shooting them. The Virginia State Police closed off the west end of the bridge, and the D.C. Metropolitan Police were manning the east end. Traffic was being diverted, and the FBI had taken over the crime scene.
Two Park Police helicopters were busy warding off the media helicopters that came swooping in like vultures, trying to get live footage of whatever was so interesting to the
FBI. Skip McMahon stood looking over the south edge of the Chain Bridge, watching
Kathy Jennings and two other agents carefully inspect the devices they’d found.
McMahon had decided to send only Jennings and two other agents down until the special evidence team arrived with their equipment. The fewer agents the better for now. Until they knew exactly what they were dealing with, there was the chance of contaminating evidence. Jennings was pointing at the ground and one of the agents was taking photos, while the other one stuck small yellow flags into the ground. McMahon heard the sound of an approaching helicopter and looked up to see one of the shiny green-and-white
Presidential VH-3s approaching. The large helicopter swung in over the bridge and descended, its churning rotors blowing sand into the air. McMahon turned away, shielding his face from the flying debris. When the bird touched down, the pilots cut the engines and the swooping sound of the blades lessened. The swirl of sand started to subside and McMahon turned to see Jack Lortch approaching.
McMahon extended his hand and greeted the younger man. “I’ll bet you’ve had better days, Jack.” Lortch shook his head and frowned.
“This ranks with the worst of them.” McMahon grabbed Lortch by the shoulder.
“Come on, let me show you what we’ve found.”
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McMahon led Lortch over to the side of the bridge and pointed down at Jennings and the other two agents. “My agents found a small, gray metal box with a dish attached to the top and a piece of wood with some vertical tubes. Both have batteries and transponders attached, so it would appear that they were activated by remote control.
Which of course means the people we’re after are long gone.”
“Can I take a look at the stuff?.” asked Lortch. “Not yet. I have a special evidence team and a mobile crime lab on the way. I want to keep the area as sterile as possible until they get here.” Lortch nodded and McMahon changed gears.
“Jack, how did they know which helicopter he was on?”
“I have absolutely no idea. We didn’t even know until just minutes before he took off.”
“How did they know which route he would take to Camp David? Don’t you guys send all the choppers along different flight paths?”
“Yeah, they all fly in different directions, but this was not the route they were supposed to take.” McMahon had a confused look on his face.
“Well, how did they end up down here?”
“Right now we think they were forced to fly into the river valley.”
“How?”
“Do you have a map of D.C.?” McMahon said yes and the two walked over to the car.
Skip retrieved a map from the glove box and spread it out on the trunk, using his gun, handcuffs, and digital phone to weigh down three of the four corners. Lortch pointed to the White House and said, “The squadron commander tells me that when the group left the White House, they were lit up by fire-control radar from the south. About ten minutes ago my people found a small, gray box with a radar dish.
It was concealed inside a Washington Post newspaper box on the corner of
Fourteenth and Constitution.” Lortch tapped his finger on the spot .just a block to the south of the White House. “The group took evasive maneuvers and fled to the north.
About ten seconds after they were lit up by radar to the south, they were lit up again by radar to the north and east. The helicopters headed west away from the threat, and as they approached the Potomac, they were lit up again from the west.
The squadron commander tells me his boys are trained to head for the weeds when something like this happens, and that a river valley offers the perfect protection because they can dive below the radar and an
