Stan gazed out the window to the east. They were descending into a valley surrounded by mountain ridges, down to the Boundary County Airport just north of Bonners Ferry, Idaho. At that moment, one of the mountains erupted like a volcano.
“ Jesus! ”
The entire mountaintop was engulfed in a huge fireball of red-orange flames of a kind White had seen only once before when the Army had demonstrated for the FBI Terrorism Task Force the destructive capacity of napalm.
Agent Devereaux’s voice came from behind: “Kingdom come, Stan.”
They were driving across the Moyie River Bridge; Gracie’s head was in Ben’s lap. He was stroking her face. He reached inside his overalls, unbuttoned his shirt pocket, and pulled out the Silver Star and chain. He pressed it into the palm of her hand. Her hand closed around it, almost like a reflex.
Gracie is standing on the threshold of double doors as they slowly open to a bright world beyond, a beautiful world beckoning to her. She steps forward-but something shiny on the ground catches her eye. She bends over and picks it up, a Silver Star on a silver chain-and the doors close.
She opened her eyes. The light was too bright; she squinted. Something shielded her eyes. After a moment, her vision cleared and she saw Ben’s face. She smiled.
“I knew you’d come,” she said.
FBI Special Agent Jan Jorgenson pulled open the double doors leading into the sanctuary of the Catholic church. The pews were packed. She searched the congregation, but she could not spot Mrs. Brice from her location.
She walked up the center aisle.
Her legs were trembling and tears were welling up in her eyes. Heads turned her way; she realized she was still wearing her raid jacket with FBI in big gold letters. She neared the front and spotted Mrs. Brice, second pew from the front, on the aisle. The Brice boy and the grandmother sat next to her. Jan came to Mrs. Brice and stood there, tears running down her face.
Elizabeth’s gaze was locked on the big crucifix above the altar when she realized the priest had stopped short the Mass. Her eyes moved to him. He was looking directly at her. The altar girls were looking at her. Everyone was looking at her. She turned to Kate; her hands were over her mouth, her eyes were wide, and she was looking in Elizabeth’s direction, but not at her-at someone behind her.
Elizabeth spun around and saw Agent Jorgenson, tears rolling down her face. Elizabeth’s heart froze with fear. She stood and stepped out of the pew. Jorgenson wiped her face. And she smiled.
“Gracie’s safe.”
All strength left her legs, and Elizabeth dropped to her knees. Tears flooded her eyes. She again looked up at the crucifix. Their bond with evil had been broken.
But who had to die to break that bond?
“There’ll be a full investigation, Mr. Brice!”
FBI Director White and his entourage had arrived within minutes after Gracie had been brought into the hospital. Now the short bald man was pointing a finger at Ben.
“That’s Colonel Brice,” Agent Devereaux said.
“You obstructed an ongoing federal investigation!”
They were standing outside Gracie’s room-Ben, the director, the sheriff, and Agents Devereaux and O’Brien. John and the doctor were in with Gracie.
The director turned on Agent O’Brien.
“O’Brien, you had the camp staked out. What the hell happened?”
FBI Agent Pete O’Brien did not blink in the face of the director’s lethal glare. Pete had learned that morning the difference between right and wrong. He had learned that even the Federal Bureau of Investigation could be wrong and had been wrong. Now, he had an important choice to make: tell the truth, which would normally be the right thing to do, in which case Colonel Brice and John Brice would likely be arrested and charged with murder and those terrorists would live on in the media, which would be a bad thing; or, lie, which would normally be the wrong thing to do, in which case the Brices would take Gracie home and live happily ever after and the terrorists’ barbecued bodies would rot on that stinking mountain, which would be a good thing. His decision came easily.
“Shit, Chief, all I know is I’m sitting up there and suddenly there’s this huge explosion. I mean, I thought it was a goddamn volcano! I hightailed it down the mountain. These men gave me a ride to town. They must’ve gotten wind we were on to them, so they blew themselves up, committed suicide.” He shrugged innocently. “Another Waco, Chief.”
The director blinked. “Unh-hunh.”
Ben turned as the doctor came out of Gracie’s room.
“Are you the FBI Director?” the doctor asked White.
“Yes,” the director said.
“You may want to hear what she has to say.”
They followed the doctor into Gracie’s room.
“What is it, Gracie?” Ben said.
Her voice was quiet. “What day is today?”
Ben said, “Easter Sunday.”
“They’re going to kill the president.”
The director nodded. “They were plotting to kill McCoy. We wanted to insure that we had all the players, but your grandfather took care of that.”
“There’s another man,” Gracie said. “Red hair, with a black rifle. He’s going to shoot President McCoy at Camp David on Easter Sunday. Today.”
The director’s head swiveled around to Agent O’Brien.
“No one with red hair was in that camp,” O’Brien said.
The director looked funny at Gracie. “How do you know this?”
“I saw him,” Gracie said. “In Wyoming. They said something about making it look like Muslims did it.”
The director checked his watch.
“Mister?”
“Yes?”
“Hurry.”
The director ran out the door, followed by the other agents.
Sheriff J. D. Johnson was standing just inside the door to the girl’s room. Doc Sanders and the colonel and the father were over by the bed. Doc turned and came to the door. He was smiling.
“She’ll be fine,” he said as he opened the door and left.
The colonel leaned over the bed and kissed the girl, and then he came over to the sheriff. He seemed a bit pale; he was probably just tired.
“Trick to life, Colonel, is living long enough for life to work out.”
The colonel collapsed to the floor. J.D. yelled for Doc Sanders. He knelt and unzipped the colonel’s overalls and saw his bloody shirt. He heard the girl’s shrill scream.
“ Ben! ”
