“Of course,” Black said. “A dummy’s not gonna leave prints.”
“But the working theory is that Hawk was shooting from both locations.”
Black shook his head emphatically. “There’s no way this sticks. Have you spoken with Blunt yet?”
“I have no idea where is he. In the midst of all this chaos, he could’ve been taken to the hospital, but I haven’t heard from him.”
“I’ll try to reach him,” Black said. “You just keep working on Walsh’s phone.”
* * *
BLACK STEPPED OUTSIDE the van and dialed Blunt’s number. The call went straight to voicemail.
He sighed and meandered toward the stage where an FBI forensics team worked to gather every shred of evidence. On the rooftop, Black spied a pair of suits strolling around and pointing at something on the ground.
Black contemplated his next move. The only silver bullet he had remaining in his chamber was to call the president. While Alex touted her relationship with him, Black knew President Young as well, executing several secret assignments for him when it came to gathering intelligence on his political rivals. Although hesitant to comply with the president’s requests, Black figured it might be able to earn him some political capital in the future. And if there was ever a moment to call in a favor, it was now.
Black called the president’s secretary and left a message. Two minutes later, Black’s phone buzzed.
“Please hold for the president,” a woman said. Seconds later, President Young joined the line.
“Titus, how the hell are ya?” Young asked.
“To be completely honest and get straight to the point, I’d be better if I wasn’t standing here watching this disaster unfold at the NSC dedication.”
“I was hoping you weren’t calling about that. My office is already trying to do damage control over that leaked footage someone broadcast during the introduction while hijacking the video system.”
“Well, it’s a lot worse for Brady Hawk,” Black said.
“Brady’s in trouble?”
“He’s been arrested as the shooter who fired on the stage.”
“That’s absurd.”
“Of course it is,” Black said. “But it’s pretty apparent this was an elaborate setup job by Obsidian.”
“This is getting out of control. If anything, we need Brady out there more than ever to track these people down, whoever they are.”
“I agree, sir. And the worst thing is we were making some progress, but the man behind the plot is now dead.”
“So Brady is just twisting in the wind right now?” Young asked.
“Unless you do something about it, he’s going to be in serious trouble. Even worse is that his cover might be blown if this gets leaked to the media.”
Young sighed. “I’m afraid right now that there isn’t anything I can do to help him.”
“Of course there is, sir. You can order the FBI to release him and make all record of his detainment vanish. All you have to do is pick up the phone.”
“Not now, not after the world just found out we actually negotiate with terrorists on occasion. Just think of how it would look if I wielded my influence now. It’d seem like I was trying to manipulate the situation for my advantage. That’s not politically expedient for me right now.”
“Are there any other backchannels we can work right now?” Black asked.
“I would suggest calling Fortner, but he’s not going to be of any help to you since he’s in a coma.”
Black shook his head. “I hadn’t heard that. I just knew that he had been hit and was going to the hospital.”
“It’s touch-and-go if he’s going to make it through the night.”
“This is really bad,” Black said.
“Your best bet is to prove his innocence and find a way to do that quickly.”
“Will do, sir. Thanks for your time.”
“Of course. I’ll be watching,” Young said before he hung up.
Black let out an exasperated breath as he looked skyward. He circled the area around the stage before wandering toward a bank of media vehicles, many of them with correspondents reporting with the investigation unfolding right behind them. He watched NBC’s Brittany Tillman wrap up her segment before dropping her mic and staring intently at her iPad. Sauntering up to her, he asked her what she saw.
She furrowed her brow. “Are you taking an official statement from me? Because someone else already did that.”
Black offered his hand. “Special Agent Grant.”
“Brittany Tillman on special assignment,” she said with a faint smile. “I was supposed to fly out of here tonight to the Dominican for my best friend’s wedding. But I’m stuck here for now.”
“Stuck?” he asked.
“Yeah, they’re not letting anyone leave, not that it’d matter. My editor isn’t about to let me leave this place until I have the real story about what’s going on. Any chance you can help me with that?”
Black shrugged. “Maybe. Depends on what you know.”
“Well, I don’t know much other than what we’re getting from media releases on social media. However, I do have some interesting footage of my own.”
Black’s eyes widened. “What kind of footage?”
“I just started filming on my tablet when the initial video began. I wanted to get a wide shot for my own personal records, so I set the device down and started making a few notes when the takeover of the video system occurred.”
“Can I see it?” Black asked.
“Sure, I guess,” she said. After entering the password, she opened up the footage and started playing the clip. Black moved the video along to the moment just before the shooting began.
“Would you look at that?” he said before his mouth fell agape.
“What is it?” Brittany asked.
“Look on top of the building about thirty seconds before the shooting begins.”
She watched the man on top moving around and then disappearing just before the first shots were fired.
“What was I looking at there?” she asked.
“Back it up and look on the other side of the roof,” Black suggested.
When she did, she put her hand on her mouth and then shot a glance at Black.
“The man on the right just running
