Holding Their Own IV: The Ascent (7 page)

“Good morning, Bishop. I hope you don’t mind my interrupting your exercise.”

“Good morning, Agent Powell. I was getting tired anyway. What can I do for you?”

“Why don’t I give
you a ride back to the officers’ quarters? We can talk on the way.”

Bishop considered the offer, but shook his head. “I’d stink up the interior of that expensive government vehicle. I’m good.”

Powell laughed, “It’s pretty common to sweat in here, Bishop—given the job and all.”

It was Bishop’s turn to chuckle. He nodded and opened the passenger door, a blast of cool air hitting his body. Agent Powel waited until Bishop was settled and then slowly began driving back to the main cluster of buildings at the base.

“Bishop, I understand we’re close to finding the next in line for succession. Before I can make the new president safe, I’ve got to fill in a lot of the missing pieces to the puzzle of what happened that day. I’ve read and re-read your deposition, but there are gaps we simply can’t fill in right now. Has anything else come to you? Anything popped into your mind?”

Bishop was silent for a bit, eventually clearing his throat and speaking. “No, sir. I’ve told you everything I can remember. The images I have of the firefight outside
the president’s office are blurry at best. It was dark, and the air was thick with smoke. Not to mention there was lead flying everywhere. Even the impression I have of the man holding the gun to the president’s head isn’t really clear. I didn’t have a lot of time to take that shot.”

Powell thought about his next statement, choosing his words carefully. “Bishop, I believe you, but there is still a mystery here. I don’t buy for one second that
the Independents could have organized that attempt by themselves. We found only the dead members of the president’s team and dead soldiers. No others. I haven’t found the head of the snake.”

Bish
op shook his head at the memory. “Look, I centered the dot on the guy’s ear. I can tell you he was holding a Beretta. The hammer was back. He was saying something to the president. I only saw his profile though. I could help one of those sketch artists like you see on TV draw a picture of the guy’s profile, but that’s about it.”

Powell knew the answer to his next question, but had to ask. “The bodies weren’t in the right places. Is there any chance the guy walked out of that room on his own?”

Bishop’s head snapped up, his eyes boring into Powell’s. “I can assure you he didn’t walk out of that room on his own. I had to take a headshot. I didn’t miss. I’m 100% sure. I told you where you could find his DNA. I showed you the specific patch of gore on the wall that belonged to the guy. I watched it splash there … I’ll be seeing that image for the rest of my life, Agent Powell.”

“Bishop, we don’t have DNA testing capability, and we definitely don’t have DNA matching right now. I’m sorry, but put yourself in my shoes. There was no corpse in that room lying in a position like you described. How did it get out or
get moved?”

“Well, sir, I’m no Sherlock Holmes. It was all so fast, Agent Powell. Maybe I’m not describing it well. Maybe my memory is hosed up. It could be that simple.”

Powell sighed. “There’s no way anyone could have carried that body out or moved the bodies around. Loyal troops were in that room within 20 seconds after you and the president left. Every exit was sealed within one minute. I still can’t identity the leaders of the coup, yet no one could have gotten out of that building.”

Bishop grunted, “I did.”

“Yes, you did. But there was an MP at the exit you used almost immediately after you got out. That was the last of the exits to be covered, at least according to our Army friends.”

“That’s true. That MP pulled up about 15 seconds after we bolted across the alley. Still, someone might have had time to move the body.”

They arrived at the guest quarters, Powell idled with the vehicle in park, a clear sign the conversation wasn’t over. “Assuming you’re correct, that means there is someone else involved that we don’t know about. Someone with internal access . . . hell, it could be another member of my own team.”

“
I suppose, but wasn’t there a lot of fighting going on after I got out with the president? I heard it took the army hours to round up everyone they thought was on the other side. As I understand it, a lot of them decided to shoot it out rather than be arrested. Maybe your missing man was one of those killed in the fighting?”

“Bishop, I can’t assume that. You wouldn’t if you had my job. My instincts tell me there’s more to this than just a bunch of rebel soldiers trying to knock off the
chief executive.”

The two men sat in silence for a few moments. Bishop understood Agent Powell’s dilemma and couldn’t blame the man for going with his gut. Such intuition had pulled his butt out of the fire more times than he could remember.

Powell broke the silence, “Could you come over to the HQ building today? We still have the area roped off. I’m hoping it will refresh something in your memory.”

Bishop grimaced, not wanting to return. The scene still burning in his mind, the visions extremely unpleasant
… memories of blood and smoke . . . the sounds of dying men . . . it all made Bishop’s gut hurt. The carnage had been off the scale horrific. Teams of highly trained professionals going at each other in such close quarters had resulted in a bloody, desperate battle.

I don’t need to go back and relive that … not again
, thought Bishop. Looking up at Powell, his tone remained firm. “Man, I’ve been back there twice already. I think if anything were going to pop into my head, it would’ve done so by now.  Besides, I’ve got to go see the colonel, deliver an answer to General Westfield’s offer, and spend a little one-on-one time with my wife. I’d say I’ve already got all kinds of opportunity for failure lined up for today, I don’t need another task to increase my odds.”

Agent Powell grunted, “I’ve seen your wife pissed. I know where I’d concentrate my energies.”
Powell cleared his throat, “Speaking of Terri, I’ve been rolling around an idea and wanted to bounce it off you.”

The mention of his wife caused Bishop to stiffen in his seat. “Go on.”

“You and Terri were the last two people to be with the president before his death. If the president recognized any of the conspirators, he might have said something to you or your wife.”

Bishop shook his head, “How many times are you going to ask me this question, Agent Powell? He didn’t say anything to me, and I think Terri would’ve mentioned something before now. Why don’t you stop by and ask her? During the depositions you guys took, I testified to everything I could remember. I’m pretty sure Terri did as well.”

Powell chuckled and gave Bishop a mischievous look. “Oh, I believe you. I don’t think the prez said a word to either of you. Given what we found at the scene of the assassination attempt, I believe his only thought was about his next breath. The chances of his figuring out one of his protection detail was on the wrong side are slim. No, what I’m thinking is to spread a rumor that Terri saw something. Get the word around, and then see who shows interest in the subject.”

“No fucking way!” Bishop tensed, his voice dropping to a steely whisper. “You want to tether a pregnant woman to a stake, out in the open, and see what kind of carnivore comes along to eat her? Are you sick? Over my dead body,
Agent Powell
.”

Powell had anticipated a reaction, but was still amazed. The animalistic ferocity of the man sitting beside him was impressive. The agent had been around his share of well-trained men, professionals who were
high-speed couriers of violence. But Bishop was different, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.

“Now, Bishop. Don’t go getting your panties in a testosterone-induced wad. I wouldn’t want to put you or your lovely wife in danger. We’d protect you. You know, we’re pretty good at that.”

Bishop glared, “How’s that all-mighty protection been working out lately?”

The remark stung. Powell had lost his President and had been struggling with the emotional ramifications ever since. It was his only professional failure, and it troubled him deeply. The only possible cure was to discover the turncoat on the inside. He could live with himself if that were
determined. He could sleep a little better if he caught and punished the traitor.

“Bishop, we have to know if someone on the inside played a role in all this. We can’t have a rogue individual threatening our next
president. He’s going to be busy enough without having to look over his shoulder all the time. I’ve got to get to the bottom of this. Besides, I would think you, of all people, would grab at the opportunity to clear your name, if not your conscience.”

“Look, I understand that your job is to protect the new guy coming in. Believe me, I do. But you’re going to have to figure out
another way. Terri and I did our part—or at least we tried. It didn’t work out so well, did it? Find another way, sir. Leave us out of it. Besides, if Terri found out I agreed to something like that, I’d be the one needing your protection.”

Both men laughed and then fell silent. The Secret Service agent pulled the shifter into drive, indicating the conversation was over. “See ya later, Bishop.”

“Later.”

After exiting the SUV, Bishop strolled through the bleak lobby and down the hall toward room #11. He was a few feet away when the sounds of a commotion coming from the room reached his ears.
Someone is hurting Terri
, rushed through his mind.

On the balls of his feet, Bishop opened the door and moved inside, crouch
ing in a full combat stance and ready to fight. He was greeted by the sight of Samantha, David
and
Terri bouncing on the bed, hammering each other with government-issued pillows. Bishop exhaled and relaxed his shoulders, almost laughing at his overreaction. The relief was short-lived as Terri squealed and rocketed a pillow toward his head. Bishop ducked the projectile and dove at the three sets of unsteady legs hopping on the mattress. With arms spread wide, he managed to entangle at least one leg each, and the entire heap of pillow fighters collapsed onto each other, laughing.

Samantha landed almost squarely on Bishop’s back and immediately protested, “Ewwwwww … you’re all sweaty, Bishop,” while madly scrambling to get away.

Bishop rolled over and pinned Terri, privately whispering in her ear, “This wasn’t the type of bed action I had in mind.” His statement resulted in a sharp elbow to his ribs, quickly followed with a high velocity feather bomb to the ear. It was on!

Twenty minutes and tw
o busted pillows later, the warriors had retired, panting to their respective corners, exhausted smiles all around. Bishop was trying to figure out how he was going to explain the damaged room to Mother Green. By his inventory, one lamp had been busted and two large sections of paint were missing from one wall. It had been one heck of a battle.

Samantha, being the smallest, had sided with either Bishop or David, resorting to sneak attacks while one of the bigger
combatants was otherwise engaged. She was also the first to recover. “Bishop, are you going to visit Grandpa today?”

Bishop nodded, trying to gather the energy to head for the shower. “Yup, I sure am, Sam. How’s
the colonel doing this morning anyway?”

David answered for his sister, “He’s doing okay, but still can’t walk. He was teasing me about my flying skills, which I think is a good sign.”

Bishop had to agree. “You’ll never live that down, David. For the rest of your life, the colonel is going to repeat stories about how you almost killed him by crashing an airplane.” Bishop noticed the boy’s serious look, and added, “What you should also know is that as soon as you leave the room, he’ll tell the listener what a spectacular job you did landing that aircraft without any fuel on a makeshift landing strip. You don’t get to hear that part.”

David seemed to get it and smiled at Bishop. “I did okay, ya think?”

His sister joined in, “David, you did great! An airplane that you had never flown before, and we all survived the crash . . . errrrrr . . . I mean landing. If Grandpa gets too mean, you tell him to come talk to Samantha. I’ll set the record straight.”

To Bishop, that day seemed like a lifetime ago, even though it had been less than two weeks. So much had happened so fast. He glanced at his watch and announced it was time to get going, he had a busy day ahead of him. Samantha and David said their goodbyes and left arguing over who won
“The Great Feather War of 2015.”