Petrov waved him off. “Crazy world we live in, but I wouldn’t dismiss them so quickly. It doesn’t take much to make a comeback in today’s terroristic environment.”
“You would know, wouldn’t you?”
She didn’t look up, tapping slowly on her phone’s screen. After a few seconds, she stopped and proceeded to sit at the table.
As Doblestort joined her, his attention was arrested by a buzzing phone. He picked it up and glanced at the screen. His eyes widened before he turned his focus toward Petrov.
“Why?” he said, holding up his phone. “Why would you do this? I already said I would help. This isn’t right.”
“Just making sure everyone marches to the same beat, Heinrich,” she said. “We can’t have people making their own rhythm if this is going to work.”
“I can’t believe you would do something like this.”
“You can’t? A few moments ago you seemed to suggest that I was little more than a terrorist myself.”
“I said that in jest, but now I see I was right all along.”
Petrov smiled and laughed softly. “Well, you do whatever you like, but if you don’t want to embarrass that pretty little wife of yours and those five beautiful children you have, I suggest you put this plan into motion.” She slid a file folder across the table at him. “It’d be a pity if those pictures found their way to the internet, catalogued for the world to see for all of eternity.”
He grabbed the papers off the table and responded tersely. “I’ll get right on this, your highness.”
CHAPTER 3
Washington, D.C.
J.D. BLUNT CHEWED ON A CIGAR as he climbed aboard a Segway. The motorized device rolled forward smoothly before Blunt stopped it and spun around to face his entourage. Hawk, Alex, and Samuels stared back at Blunt with slight smirks.
“Would any of you mind telling me what you’re laughing at?” Blunt asked.
Alex spoke up first. “Nothing, sir. It’s just that—” She stopped, unable to contain her laughter any longer. Hawk and Samuels joined her.
“So, you think it’s funny to see an old man on top of one of these machines?” Blunt asked. “I’ll have you know that you’ll all be wishing you had one of these in a half hour when we’re still walking.” He zipped the machine around in the opposite direction. “Now, come along.”
Blunt powered the machine forward, and with a slight lurch began his journey toward the White House’s secret meeting room buried beneath the bowels of Washington.
Just before the Library of Congress was completed in the late 1800s, the famous architect Edward Casey was brought in to oversee the final stages of construction. Casey’s father had served as a brigadier general in the the Army Corps of Engineers—and it was at his request that a network of tunnels were constructed between the library and several key government buildings in Washington in case high profile officials ever needed to escape a siege. One of those buildings was the White House.
“What kind of excursion is this?” Hawk asked after following Blunt for nearly a half hour through narrowing tunnels that seemed to darken with every step. “Is this one of your life lessons?”
Blunt chuckled. “I can assure you that I prefer to teach my life lessons on a boat in the open water while holding a glass of scotch. This wouldn’t be my preferred way.”
“So, this trip has a purpose?” Samuels asked.
Blunt nodded. “Indeed it does.”
“I don’t remember reading about this in any of the documents you gave me before I joined the team,” Samuels said. “I’m getting a little uncomfortable with this, sir.”
“Geez, Samuels. You must be a ton of fun at parties.”
“The life of them, sir,” Samuels said matter of factly. “It’s what seeing the world does for a young man. It gives him a sense of purpose and meaning in life, not to mention some kick ass stories to share around the punch bowl.”
“Punch bowl?” Alex asked incredulously. “Blunt, where the hell did you dig this guy up? And why did you place him on our team?”
Blunt gnawed on his cigar for several more seconds before taking it out of his mouth. “I’m going to let someone else explain all of that to you in just a few minutes. Not much farther now.”
True to his word, Blunt finally came to a stop and climbed off his Segway in front of what appeared to be a dead end. The narrow tunnel had widened just before it ran out, leaving his companions in a bewildered state.
He smiled and asked, “So, anyone want to make fun of my wheels now?”
All three were quiet.
“I didn’t think so.”
Alex spoke up. “So, this was one of your lessons? Just drag us through a bunch of tunnels and wear us down while you simply roll along on your little Segway. I’m not sure what the lesson is here, sir, but it certainly seems like a cruel one.”
Blunt crammed his cigar back into his mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry, Alex. Were you under the impression that we had arrived at our final destination? I’m afraid we still have to walk a little bit more.”
He walked toward the wall and put his hand on it. Seconds later, a panel slid open, revealing a dashboard of electronics. Blunt leaned in and opened his eyes wide.
“Oh, a retinal scan,” Alex said. “Standard in most Washington tunnels from what I hear.”
Blunt watched the doors in front of him open. “More than you know, Alex.”
He strode ahead, glancing back at the trio to make sure they were following. The new section of the tunnel was state of the art, clean, and flanked by small rooms off to the side.
“What is this place?” Samuels asked.
“It’s where they make the manuals,” Hawk deadpanned. “But you better not touch anything, per item T, section three on page forty-seven.”
“Ha ha,” Samuels said. “Real funny, Hawk.”
“Oh, so he does understand sarcasm,” Alex said as a wry
