“You’re probably right, Hawk,” Blunt said, shoving the tray to the side. “I need to get out of here.”
“We all do,” Hawk said. “But let’s don’t make this easy on Michaels. Alex, you’re with me. Samuels, you stay with Blunt. We’ll bring the SUV around. I’ll text you when to start heading downstairs so we can get the hell outta here.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Blunt said. “Better hurry.”
Hawk and Alex walked quickly down the hall, careful not to attract attention by breaking into a slight jog.
“You really think something is up?” Alex asked.
“Blunt always told me to trust my gut. And I’m not about to ignore his advice when it might be his life on the line.”
In less than five minutes, they made it their vehicle. Alex texted Samuels to let him know they were driving to the front.
* * *
“IT’S TIME TO MOVE,” Samuels said as he hurried across the room to help Blunt out of bed.
Blunt swung his feet around and planted them firmly on the floor. He winced as Samuels grabbed his arm.
“Be careful,” Blunt instructed. “It’s still tender.”
“I thought you were supposed to be battle-axe tough,” Samuels said. “Guess you never really know a man . . .”
Blunt groaned. “Let me shoot you through the chest and see how you feel.”
An orderly was stationed just outside of Blunt’s room and approached the duo.
“Would you like some help getting down?” the orderly asked.
“Absolutely,” Blunt said, wasting no time settling into the orderly’s wheelchair.
“Where to?” the orderly asked.
“The lobby, please,” Samuels answered. “And we’re kind of in a hurry, so if you can please speed it up, okay?”
The orderly nodded and guided Blunt down the busy corridor until they reached the elevators. Once inside, Samuels repeatedly hit the button for the lobby.
“You only need to press it once, sir,” the orderly said.
Samuels shot the orderly a sideways glance and stepped back from the control panel. Seconds later, the doors eased shut and the elevator began its descent.
Blunt twiddled his thumbs and watched the orderly’s hands. They were gnarled, likely from years of hospital work. But still, there was something about him. As the floors ticked past, Blunt studied the man’s hands. They appeared steady and calm, not the hands belonging to anyone who was anxious. And Blunt took that as a sign that it was all the more reason to be anxious.
Third floor, second floor, first floor.
Ding.
The elevator slowed to a halt and waited a couple of seconds before opening. Without hesitating, the orderly gestured for Samuels to exit first. But Samuels insisted on trailing.
“Suit yourself,” the orderly said as he pushed Blunt forward.
They exited the hospital and reached a small pickup area just outside.
“Is your car here?” the orderly asked.
“There it is right there,” Samuels said, pointing toward a black SUV.
Samuels hung back and intensely watched the orderly. Everything appeared normal until the orderly made a sudden move. He reached for a pouch attached to the back of the wheelchair and pulled out a syringe. Ripping the cap off, he tapped it to make sure it was flowing and prepared to jam it into Blunt’s neck.
In an instant, Samuels figured out what was happening and dove for the man. In the ensuing scuffle, the orderly lost his grip on the syringe and it bounded away down the sidewalk. Samuels kicked the man in the ribs before scrambling to get the needle. Using his fast reflexes, Samuels rolled the man over and rammed it into his neck. Samuels stood up and eyed the man closely.
“What have you done?” the man gasped.
Samuels watched as the man writhed in pain, grabbing different parts of his body and letting out shrill screams. A small crowd standing nearby had gathered and witnessed the debacle. The man twisted and turned before breaking into what looked like a seizure. Samuels knelt down next to the man and pretended to give him CPR.
“Who sent you?” Samuels asked, gritting his teeth.
The man attempted to flail around.
“I said who sent you?” Samuels asked again.
A second later, the orderly’s body fell limp.
“Damn it,” Hawk said as he rushed up to the scene. “He’s gone.”
Samuels looked up at Hawk and shook his head.
“All’s not lost, Hawk. Trust me on this one.”
The small crowd that had been watching the scene unfold buzzed with questions while one person ran off to get a doctor.
“Let’s get out of here before the circus arrives,” Hawk said.
Samuels and Hawk hustled toward the waiting SUV and drove off.
“We could’ve used him,” Hawk said to Samuels.
Samuels held up the orderly’s phone. “We weren’t going to get anything out of him anyway through conventional interrogation tactics. But at least we’ve got this.”
“Nice work,” Blunt said. “And by the way, thanks, Samuels. I’m pretty sure I would’ve been the one thrashing about on the ground until my death if you hadn’t stopped that man in time.”
“No need to thank me, sir,” Samuels said. “Just doing my job.”
“Speaking of our job,” Hawk said. “We apparently don’t have one at the moment. And based on what just happened out there, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to any of us. However, we do need a new plan—and fast.”
CHAPTER 7
Washington, D.C.
PRESIDENT MICHAELS DONNED a hat and sunglasses as a serviceable disguise. Knowing that the Secret Service wasn’t hovering over his shoulder or standing guard just outside the room was an enormous relief. While Michaels enjoyed the power and other perks that accompanied his position, he never understood just how intrusive a security detail could be. Without them around, Michaels felt human again for the first time in several years.
Finding a place in Washington where Michaels could meet incognito wasn’t easy. However, masquerading as a non-descript man going about his business through the vast network of the Library of Congress’ underground tunnels wouldn’t earn him a second glance. Employees mindlessly pushed carts along corridors that extended a quarter of a mile or more.
