“That would be bad. Which one is your car?”
He watched as she clambered into his car, resisting the desire to smile. This was almost too easy. And too delicious. Another minute and he would be free. Then he would pick up his little parcel. And he and his newfound friend would travel together to their destination.
But only one of them would leave.
Good thing he had thought to take Agent Gioia’s gun.
They might’ve stopped the missiles, but they couldn’t stop him. He would fulfill his final mission.
And he would take his revenge against Kincaid, too.
“Zimmer!” Ben shouted. “He’s missing!”
Barely a second later, Agent Zimmer was inside the small briefing room. “Where’s Rybicki?”
“Exactly.”
Zimmer crouched down beside his fallen comrade. “Gioia’s not dead. Just unconscious. Rybicki must’ve had some kind of weapon. Or improvised a blunt instrument. Picked up a paperweight or something. Probably what he used on the breaker box, too.”
Zimmer opened another door and entered the small foyer that led to the elevator. “He must have gone topside.”
“You’ve got men up there, don’t you?”
“Yes. But they don’t have any reason to stop the secretary of defense. He has clearance to pass through the building as he wishes.” Zimmer barked orders into his headset. Ben was impressed once more at how levelheaded Zimmer was. Even a snafu of this magnitude didn’t faze him.
“He’s left the premises,” Zimmer updated him. “I’m sending people after him. There’s not much he can do now that Zuko has lost control of the missiles.”
“Unless he gets his hands on that nuclear suitcase.”
“Wasn’t he planning to use that in the Persian Gulf?”
“He was. But he can’t do that now. God knows what he might try instead.”
Zimmer frowned. “I’ll double the detachment looking for him. Don’t worry. We’ll find him.”
And Ben knew they would find him. Eventually. The question was whether they would find him in time.
President Kyler entered the room. “What’s going on? Where’s Rybicki?” He saw the bloodstained body on the floor. “What in the name of—?”
Ben filled him in as best he could as Zimmer continued to receive updates over his headset.
“We have to find that madman,” President Kyler said.
Ben agreed. “But our first priority has to be the recovery of that suitcase.”
Kyler nodded grimly.
“We have another problem,” Zimmer said. He was frowning, which might be the most emotion Ben had seen him register all day.
“What’s wrong?” Ben asked.
“I’m not quite sure how to tell you this. Probably best just to get out with it. Your wife was upstairs. At the rear receiving gate.”
Ben’s eyes bulged. “Christina? Where is she now?”
Zimmer swallowed. “She went with Rybicki.”
Ben seized him by the arms. “What? Why?”
Zimmer shook his head, still listening to words streaming in from the other side. “I don’t know the details. Sounds as if he offered to take her to you.”
“Christina? With that… that lunatic? The one who thinks he can solve the world’s problems with a bomb?” His voice fell. “The one who still has a bomb stashed somewhere nearby?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Ben opened the door to the corridor and walked outside. A moment later he punched the elevator button. “I’m going up.”
Zimmer stepped in front of him. “I can’t allow that. We haven’t gotten the all-clear signal yet.”
“The president believes the crisis is over. The one from Colonel Zuko, anyway.”
“If there’s a potential nuclear threat, I can’t—”
“The president needs to stay down here. I don’t.”
Zimmer held his ground. “Ben, I’m sorry, but I can’t allow you to endanger yourself”
“I’m sorry, Zimmer,” Ben said, looking him straight in the eye, “but you can’t stop me, unless you’re planning to draw your weapon. Is that what you’re going to do?”
Zimmer’s hand went to his holster.
“Really?” Ben asked. “After all I’ve done down here? You’re going to pull a gun on me?”
Zimmer hesitated. “Mr. President?”
Kyler looked at Ben sternly. “I can’t authorize the premature release of anyone from the bunker. I can’t be held accountable if some tragedy should occur.”
Zimmer pulled out the gun.
“Please,” Ben said. “Just let me—”
“On the other hand,” the president continued, walking back toward the main room, “I’m not in charge of Robert Griswold’s legal staff. I can’t keep track of everyone. How am I supposed to know what some renegade lawyer does?” He closed the door behind him.
Zimmer put the gun back in the holster.
The elevator doors opened. Ben stepped inside.
“Thanks,” Ben said breathlessly.
“Godspeed,” Zimmer said quietly as the doors closed between them.
Ben stood outside the Lincoln Memorial, desperate to get inside. The authorities had cordoned off the building. Sirens were wailing. Any nonessential personnel were being hurriedly whisked away. Ben wasn’t sure who was in charge—the CIA, the FBI, the local police—and he didn’t really care. All he knew for certain was that he wanted in. And he also knew why he couldn’t get in.
He’d had enough experience to know what this was. A hostage scenario.
Christina was in there. He was certain of it.
“Mr. Kincaid?”
Ben turned and saw a tall, strong-looking middle-aged man with sun-baked skin and a turnip of a nose. He was wearing a padded flak jacket. The strap of a holster on his shoulder told Ben he was armed.
“Mr. Kincaid, I’m Seamus McKay. I’m with the CIA.”
“I know,” Ben said, taking his hand. “We’ve met. When I was a senator.”
“That’s right,” McKay said, arching one eyebrow. “I wasn’t sure you would remember.”
“The president mentioned you earlier today. Spurred my memory. I’m glad you’re involved. Looks like your people have responded quickly.”
“They’re trained to do just that. Ever since September eleventh. No choice, really. As soon as I notified my people of the target, they set up this containment operation.”
And that was enough of the pleasantries and small talk. “Is my wife in there?”
Seamus’s shoulders heaved. “Yes. I’m afraid she is. How did you know?”
“An educated hunch. Rybicki mentioned Lincoln twice today. He even quoted from the inscription above the statue of Lincoln. ‘In this temple as in the hearts of the people.’ It’s obvious the monument was weighing on his mind. He probably planned on using this as a backup target all along, in the event he couldn’t get the suitcase out of the country. No doubt he sees some vast symbolic reason for the selection—freeing Americans from the slavery of crude oil, or some such insane rationale.”
“But why take your wife?”
“That,” Ben said grimly, “was probably done out of revenge.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. We’ve got Rybicki in custody. Caught him leaving the building. The president called in an arrest order. Unfortunately, he had already triggered the countdown on the bomb. With your wife attached to it.”
“Can you get her out?”
“No. There’s a problem.”
“The nuclear suitcase.”
Seamus nodded grimly. “It’s set to explode in less than nineteen minutes. She’s handcuffed to it, and to the base of the statue.”
Ben’s lips parted. No.
No!
“Can’t you get her out of there?”
“They tried without success. Then they were ordered out, along with everyone else. We have a bomb squad on the way. They haven’t arrived yet.”
“But can’t you cut her loose in the meantime?”
“No. Rybicki says the cuffs are made of titanium alloy.”
Ben’s brow creased. “What does that mean?”
“It means you’re not going to cut through them with a blowtorch. And you’re not going to pick the lock with a paper clip. And to make matters worse, Rybicki says that if we detach her from the laptop control device, the bomb goes off immediately.”
“And you believe him?”
“I’m afraid so. I’ve seen this type of trigger mechanism before.”
“There must be something we can do.”
“We’ve been in contact with bomb squads across the country, but so far no one knows how to stop it from detonating. Apparently Rybicki rigged it so the countdown could be stopped by typing in a password—presumably as a safeguard in the event of premature detonation or his failure to escape. But no one knows the password.”
“And Rybicki isn’t talking.”
“He’s pretty damn stubborn. I tried some serious interrogation techniques.”
Ben didn’t ask what they were. He didn’t want to know.
“But he didn’t talk. And I didn’t have enough time with him.”
“Can’t you just type some stuff in?”
“We had some people trying that. They did all the obvious ones. Happily, there’s no penalty for a wrong guess. The countdown just continues. We’ve tried all his children’s names, his wife, his dog, his favorite college professor. So far we haven’t hit the right code word.”
“There must be something you can do.”
“Yes, but…” Seamus’s voice trailed off. “Not in nineteen minutes.” He glanced at his watch. “Seventeen now.”
“You have to try!”
“We’ve already begun emergency evacuation procedures. Happily, the Mall was cleared this morning. But this bomb has a much wider range. Radiation fallout could affect people for miles around.”
“You have to stop that bomb from exploding!”
“Believe me, Mr. Kincaid, I’m as frustrated as you. I’ve been chasing this suitcase all day. The good news is, in the process, I managed to stumble onto Colonel Zuko’s satellite control station and booted him out of our computer system.”
“You’re the reason the missiles didn’t launch!”
“Well, I had help. But the bad news is, I never found the suitcase. The operative I’ve been chasing since early morning left it at a predetermined location for Rybicki to pick up.”
Ben looked at the monument. “I want to go in there.”
“I can’t allow that. Not even for a little while. It’s too dangerous.”
“I don’t care. That’s my wife in there. I have the right.”
“I’m sorry, Ben. No. We have interrogation specialists working on Rybicki. Maybe they’ll be successful.”
Ben clenched his hands into fists. “Can you at least take me in there? So I can hear what’s going on?”
“That much I can do. Follow me, please.”
Seamus winced as he took the first step. He inhaled deeply, then started over again, clutching his right side. “Sorry. It’s been a hell of a day. And I still haven’t had much time with the medics.”
Ben followed as Seamus led him through the cordon and into a makeshift headquarters at the base of the tall marble steps leading to the memorial. The interrogation area was just a concrete barricade and an impressive array of communications equipment. One agent was talking into a telephone. Two were huddled around what appeared to be a blueprint of the memorial and the surrounding areas. A video monitor showed the scene inside—Christina chained to the base of the statue of Lincoln.
“Christina,” he said breathlessly.
“I’m sorry,” Seamus said. “If I could do—”
“Can I talk to her?”
An African American woman dressed in a jacket like Seamus’s answered. “I’m sorry. Not at this time. We don’t have a communications device down there.”
Seamus explained. “This is Special Agent Beldon of the FBI. She’s the tactical commander for this operation.”
Ben shook her hand. “Good to meet you.”
“We have someone working on Rybicki. We’re optimistic.”
Ben pursed his lips. “I’ve heard the man rant. I’m not.”
“Well, give it a chance.”
Ben glanced at a nearby blackboard. “I see you’re still employing the same four steps for hostile negotiation. Trust, contain, reconcile, resolve.”
“We’re treating this like a hostage negotiation—even though technically the hostage is not currently within his control. He knows the password that can save her and everyone else in the area, so it amounts to the same thing. You’ve been involved with prior scenarios?”
“Once or twice. What does Rybicki want? His plan is finished.”
“He hasn’t made any demands. I think he just wants the bomb to explode. It’s possible he might change his mind, but…”
She didn’t have to finish the sentence. It was evident that she very much doubted he would. And Ben very much doubted it, too.
Ben and Seamus followed as Agent Beldon led him to the area where they were interrogating Rybicki. His eyes narrowed when he spotted Ben.
“Kincaid. So nice to see you again.”
Ben didn’t answer. This wasn’t his show. The interrogator, a tall, thin man with a badge that said Smithson, was talking from prepared notes. “Secretary Rybicki, I want to help you. I will consider any reasonable requests. And I won’t lie to you.”
Ben realized Smithson was trying to work his way through those key negotiation steps. But Rybicki wouldn’t even let him get to first base: trust.
“There’s only one person I want to hear from. Kincaid.”
Smithson kept trying. “Sir, I know what you’ve been going through.”
“No, you don’t. How dare you say that when you don’t. You couldn’t possibly!” His voice sounded crazed, bizarre. “You don’t know how desperate it is, how close we all are to the end. You can’t know how frustrating it is to have the answer but no one will listen!”
“Mr. Rybicki,” Smithson continued, “I want to help. I want to give you any reasonable thing you want or need to make sure no one else gets hurt by that bomb.”
“Tell Kincaid his wife is going to die!”
“Sir, I know you’re scared, confused. You don’t know what’s going to happen. You need someone you can trust. You can trust me. Make me your hostage. Let Ms. McCall go.”
“No deal.”