Peter’s eyes briefly flashed in surprise before he nodded.
“I’m going to take care of this myself,” Kevin added.
End
Epilogue
Theodore
November 9, 10:00 A.M.
Theodore collapsed into the chair with a pained grunt.
“Are you sure you want to do this now, Mister President?”
That was the wrong thing to say. On so many levels. Private Fred Keensley was about to find out firsthand.
“I ain’t your goddamn president, so don’t call me that.” This was said without venom but with daggers thrown in a look. “And it’s not about wanting, son. It’s about what needs doing.”
The daggers disappeared, to be replaced by a look of conviction. It struck Fred like a slap.
“Besides, we don’t have any time to waste. We might be too late already.”
The conviction now faded into sadness. This affected Fred the most. He physically staggered.
“I—I’m sorry sir! Of course, let me help you.”
He eagerly reached to help the old man up, but Winston stepped in front of him.
“I got him.”
Fred backed away; his hands raised in submission. “Take him to that seat over there,” Fred said, pointing the way.
Winston turned to Theodore; concern etched on his face. “OK, sir, let’s get you up.” He helped the old general to his feet.
Ah, damnit. Why the hell did I sit down in the first place?
Getting up was painful. Theodore almost blacked out from the pain. Winston held him as he swayed. He nodded weakly, and Winston started half guiding, half carrying him to the radio operator’s chair.
That’s what a headwound will do, old man ... Theodore, you blind fool.
That wasn’t far from the truth. He’d lost an eye, his face was a mess of cuts, and he’d been shot. Twice.
It was your own damn fault. You sent the agents to spring the trap and left yourself undefended.
His wandering mind drifted.
Chapter 63
November 5, 12:30 P.M.
“You ever see Men in Black?”
Agent Thompson sat across the desk from Theodore in his dinky little office. The man had many qualities, but humor was not one of them; he treated the general to a flat stare. Theodore shrugged.
He looks the part.
A knock at the door prevented any more awkwardness.
“Come,” Theodore ordered.
Sergeant Harris stepped into the small office. His considerable bulk added to the sense of claustrophobia.
“Sergeant Harris. Please sit.” Theodore indicated the seat next to Agent Thompson.
The sergeant sat with a nervous look at Thompson and a hesitant smile for Theodore.
Theodore found out that Thompson was not one for ceremony or introductions. Or wasting time, as he started to deliver his report as soon as Winston shut the door behind him.
Already aware of the contents of the report, Theodore merely watched the sergeant for his reaction. He breathed an inward sigh at the genuine shock that played across Harris’s face.
The room fell silent once Thompson said his last. Sergeant Harris sat beside the agent, his head swivelling between the report, Thompson, and the General. Winston stood at the door. Theodore knew that Agent Swann stood just outside, ready to spring into action if needed.
The sergeant was at a loss for words. Which was good because Theodore had lots to say.
“We need to know if you’re with us, Sergeant Harris. If you are not with us, then all I can ask is that you seal your men into the communications center and not interfere.”
Oh God, I hope you’re with us.
Sergeant Harris shook his head in disbelief, his eyes on the tabletop. “It’s...” He looked up and met the determined-looking general. “It’s just hard to believe, sir. Senator Williams ... I always thought he was very patriotic.”
“With us, or not?” Theodore stared down the sergeant.
Sergeant Harris nodded hurriedly. “Of course, sir. I’m with you! Me and my men will stand with you.”
Theodore waited until the sergeant met his eyes. “Good.”
The sergeant sat just a little straighter. Theodore nodded at Winston, who opened the door and let in Agent Swann. There was barely any room to maneuver in the tiny office, so Winston came around the desk and stood behind Theodore.
Theodore introduced Agent Swann and the sergeant to each other. He also decided then and there to take over the office next door, which was twice the size of this one.
“Thanks to agent Thompson, we now know our enemy’s plans. And more importantly, we know where and when they are going to strike.” Theodore nodded at the agent.
Thompson sat stone-faced. Praise was lost on the man. “What are your orders, sir?” He looked at his watch, as if indicating that Theodore was wasting time.
So, they made a plan.
Harris needed time to inform his team, and they had some preparation to make. Winston helped figure out the logistics, which included ascertaining that no innocent bystanders were going to get in the way. Swann and Thompson were ghosts, flitting around everywhere and leaving little to chance.
Theodore felt useless, so he spent the afternoon moving his stuff into the office next door.
That evening they reconvened. The plan would be executed the next morning, hours before the enemy was meant to strike. It was a good plan.
It didn’t go off without a hitch, though.
THEY WERE GOING TO beat the bad guys to the punch.
Cut the head off the snake.
Agent Swann rounded up the last soldier and three radio operators. Swann wasn’t sure if the soldier was to be trusted, so he had his eye on the man as the newly formed squad marched down the wide corridor. Their target was Senator Williams’s residence. It was still three hours before the strike was to be launched and their only chance to stop the fight before it started.
The operation went smoothly. Not only were the senator and his daughter apprehended without conflict, but the soldier proved to be trustworthy. The leader of the opposition was behind bars. Sergeant Harris and four of his men had barricaded themselves in the security quarters. It would take an army to dislodge them.
Too bad they had apprehended the wrong guy.
The real battle started an hour later. Thompson and his
