Michael nodded.
“Oh, I can believe it. They only have one thing on their mind, Erik—how they’re going to win the election next year.”
“You are absolutely right, and I’m sick of it.”
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“What are you going to do about it?” asked Seamus. “I’m going to give the President a week to put together a new budget with some real cuts in it, and if he does, I will sign on.”
“What will you do if he sends this current one to the House?” asked Michael. “I will expose it for what it is-a sham.” Michael felt a wave of confidence rush over him. With
Erik taking the lead on this, the President would be forced to make real cuts. The senior
Senator looked down at his watch and said, “Damn! My committee meeting starts in five minutes.” Olson looked up for their waiter, who was nowhere in sight.
Next he reached for his wallet and Seamus placed a hand on his arm, stopping him.
“Don’t worry, Erik. After what you’ve just told me, I’ll be more than happy to take care of the bill.” Olson stood and grinned.
Slapping Seamus on the back, he said, “You’re a pain in the ass, Seamus, but I love you. You have a unique and refreshing way of putting things into context. We could use a couple more of you around here just to keep the rest of us on our toes.” Michael shook
Olson’s hand and said, “Anything you need, call me.” Olson nodded and left.
Michael and Seamus watched him leave and then Seamus paid the tab. As they walked out onto the sidewalk, the sun was just starting to peek out from behind the clouds. Michael had told Seamus of his meeting with Scott Coleman.
Seamus’s only response was, “Stay out of the man’s way. If he’s behind it, we should all be grateful.” Michael thought his grandfather was carrying it a little too far, but for the time being he agreed that it would be best to give Coleman room. If Coleman was behind the assassinations, which Michael had little doubt about at this point, then his fake missile attack on the President’s helicopter was ingenious. He had sent a clear message that no one was out of his reach. Now if Erik could exert enough political pressure on the White
House, everything would fall into place. They stopped at the first intersection and were waiting for the light to change when Michael turned and saw Senator Olson’s limousine pull out of the underground parking garage a half block down the street. The large, dark car turned toward them, its powerful engine roaring as it pulled out into traffic. Michael watched as it approached, then the high-pitched whine of a motorcycle caught his attention. The sleek black bike broke away from the rest of the traffic and raced toward them. The driver and his passenger were both wearing dark helmets and black leather pants and jackets. The limo approached the intersection and stopped as the light turned red. The other pedestrians started to walk and then stopped as the high-pitched whine of the motorcycle’s engine reverberated off the surrounding buildings.
Michael stuck his arm out in front of Seamus and focused on the motorcycle as it raced up the street. The dark bike and its riders darted in between the rows of cars that had stopped for the light and continued to accelerate. The bike approached the Senator’s limousine, and then, suddenly, the man riding on the back leaned out and tossed a dark
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bag onto the roof of the limo. The bike continued on, skidding into a hard right turn and slicing through the lanes of traffic.
Michael looked at the bag and instinctively turned to shield Seamus.
The noise was deafening. The roof of the limo imploded, and the tinted windows blasted outward, propelled by bright orange and red flames.
The explosion rocked the entire block, throwing the O’Rourkes and the other pedestrians violently to the ground.
PRESIDENT STEVENS WAS PRESIDING OVER A CABINET MEETING WHEN
JACK Lortch entered the room and walked up behind him. Lortch bent over and whispered into Stevens’s ear. Without warning, Stevens slammed his fist down on the table and shouted an expletive. The President stood so quickly he almost knocked his chair over. Pointing at Mike Nance, who was sitting at the opposite end of the table, he yelled, “My office, right now!” On his way toward the door, he slapped Garret on the shoulder and said, “Come on, Stu, you too.”
Stevens, Garret, Nance, and Lortch filed out of the room, leaving the wide-eyed cabinet members wondering what was going on. The distance between the Cabinet Room and the Oval Office was less than thirty feet.
Stevens was walking fast and shaking his head. When he reached the door to his office, he abruptly stopped and started back in the opposite direction. Lortch, Nance, and
Garret stopped as Stevens pointed down the hall and said, “Let’s do this in the Situation
Room.”
As he passed Mike Nance, he pointed at him and said, “Get Stansfield, Roach, and
Tracy over here immediately.” No one talked as they followed Stevens down the stairs to the basement. A posted agent opened the door to the Situation Room, and the President, Garret, Nance, and Lortch entered. Stevens picked up a remote that was sitting on top of the large conference table and pointed it at the far wall.
As the wood panel slid to the side revealing eight television sets, the President looked at the TVS and muttered, “This is unbelievable.” Five of the eight TVS were broadcasting images of Olson’s charred limo.
Garret looked at Mike Nance, but Nance ignored him. Garret then looked at Stevens and tried to get a read on his temperament. Garret attempted to ask a question, but before he could get more than two words out, Stevens said, “Quiet. I don’t want to hear anyone say a word.” They all watched the TVS in silence. About five minutes later, Secret
