Red Cell Seven (23 page)

“Maybe not,” Baxter disagreed gently. “If we have one of them, we’ll know what we’re dealing with, and I believe we’ll be able to prove that RCS is effectively unconstitutional. Remember, history has not been kind to Richard Nixon. We may be able to get that Executive Order overturned simply on the basis that it was he who wrote it. Most people around the world regard Nixon as a criminal. I’m willing to bet the current members of our Supreme Court will, too.”

The president smiled thinly and nodded. Baxter was very good at this kind of thing. Despite the man’s notoriety for being a consummate prick, he was incredibly valuable. Down deep, Dorn didn’t like the man very much, though maybe his feelings were starting to change based on this conversation. “You’re probably right.”

“Here’s the other thing, sir,” Baxter continued. “According to Maddux, one of the original documents may be lost forever anyway.”

“Why?”

“It was the document Roger Carlson kept for himself, the one he always kept close by. According to Maddux, Carlson never told anyone where he kept it, so it may be lost permanently.” Baxter held up his hand, indicating that he wasn’t finished, when Dorn began to speak. “But we may be able to find the other one.”

“How?”

“Maddux told me that RCS agents greet each other with two phrases. One of them, the first one, is
‘Decus septum.’
”

“Honor to the seven,” Dorn spoke up.

“You obviously took Latin in college.”

“It was high school, Stewart, and I saw that phrase penned in some of the files Bill gave me. There was another phrase written in those files, usually just after
Decus septum
.”

“‘Protect the peak,’” Baxter said.

Dorn nodded. “Yes.”

“Maddux told me that ‘protect the peak’ is the second part of that traditional RCS greeting.”

A chill raced up Dorn’s spine so fast and furiously it almost hurt as the meaning dawned on him. “The hiding place of the second original document.”

“Yes.”

“Where is it?” Dorn asked breathlessly.

“Maddux couldn’t tell me.”

The disappointment was palpable for Dorn. He’d felt they were suddenly so close. Now they were back to being miles away. “You mean wouldn’t tell you. His desire to be your confidant clearly has its limits.”

“I don’t think so, sir. I really don’t think he knew where it was when we spoke.”

“Maybe no one does. Maybe that secret died with Carlson as well.”

Baxter shook his head. “Maddux believes that one other person knows where it is, which peak the phrase refers to.”

“Why does he think that?”

“Carlson told him.”

Dorn gazed across the desk at his chief of staff. “It’s Bill Jensen.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dorn shrugged. “What do we do? Arrest and interrogate him?”

“On what charges?”

“I don’t know, Stewart. I was counting on you to figure that out.”

“And do you really think he’d tell us anything if we did arrest him?”

The president shook his head. “So you’re saying we’re dead in the water. We’re an inch from destroying them, but once again they slip away.”

“Not necessarily,” Baxter replied.

“Talk to me.”

“I have another confidant.”

“Who?”

Dorn smiled when he heard the name. He’d definitely made the right choice for chief of staff. “You know, Stewart, maybe we should search Carlson’s townhouse in Georgetown just to be thorough.”

“His wife, Nancy, still lives there. She rarely leaves.”

“So?”

Baxter nodded. “All right, I can take care of that.”

Dorn relaxed into the wheelchair for the first time in fifteen minutes. Until now he hadn’t realized how tense he’d been during this conversation. “Where are we with the attacks, Stewart? Is there any new information in terms of leads or clues?”

“Nothing credible, sir,” he answered in a low, frustrated tone. “Thousands of crazy tips from terrified civilians, but nothing we can use. Not as of an hour ago, and I spoke to everyone before I came in here.”

Dorn shook his head and glanced out the window into the sunshine of the new day. His relaxation had been short-lived. “They will strike again,” he said as he looked back at Baxter.

“Undoubtedly.”

“Why can’t we find them? Why can’t somebody do
something
?”

Baxter exhaled heavily. “I hate to admit this, Mr. President, and not because you were right but because it’s such a terrible reality for all of us to face. I think you were absolutely on the mark the other night. George W. Bush couldn’t find the DC Snipers for three weeks even though every law-enforcement official in this area was looking for them. And as you pointed out, the DC Snipers were just two incompetent idiots. What we’re facing now in this country is a hundred times worse. These are trained killers with tremendous resources who are absolutely committed to a common cause.”

“It’s guerrilla warfare by zealots. It’s the nightmare scenario.”

“Here’s something else you should hear, sir.”

Dorn looked heavenward for divine intervention—or something that would take the edge off. “More good news, I’m guessing.”

“Economists are already estimating that the attacks are taking approximately four billion dollars a day out of the economy. That’s one-point-five trillion dollars annualized, and that’s three hundred billion dollars in federal taxes. And that’s now. The longer the attacks go on, the worse it’s going to get, sir. We’re already in recession territory, and it’s only been a few days. If these guys stay out there much longer and keep hitting us, it’ll be catastrophic for the economy. Obviously the loss of life is the most tragic thing, but”—Baxter hesitated—“what’s happening to our economy isn’t far behind. If things keep going like this, it’s going to be far worse than what happened with the real estate and mortgage debacle of a few years ago. It’ll make that look like a speed bump, and a small one at that.”

President Dorn turned to stare out the window again as Baxter’s words faded. He needed a break, and he needed it fast. Very soon the country was going to start wondering about his ability to lead, even though he’d almost been murdered a few weeks ago. The country had a short memory, and in this ADD world the mantra was “What have you done for me lately?” no matter who you were—even a president who’d almost been killed.

He muttered to himself, suddenly furious. The bastards had finally figured it out.

CHAPTER 26

“H
OW ARE
you feeling?” Troy asked as he moved across the hospital room toward her.

Jennie smiled up at him sweetly and appreciatively from the bed, which had been raised so she could sit up. “Much better. Thanks.”

There was a book on the nightstand, he noticed, with a page marker in the middle. “I understand you had a pretty rough trip to the mall the other day.”

She laughed softly. “Yeah, I heard there were a lot of sales going on. You know, because of the holidays. But honestly, I didn’t think the prices were very good.”

Jennie had a sense of humor even when she was hurting. He liked that.

Her smile faded. “Look, a lot of people had a much worse trip that day than I did.”

He liked that, too. She kept things in perspective. It wasn’t all about her.

“I’m Troy.” She reminded him of Lisa. That beautiful smile of hers was a perfect replica. “I’m with the Feds.”

She nodded. “I know. One of the guys outside told me you were coming. Thanks, by the way.”

“For what?”

“For having those guys posted outside my door twenty-four/seven.”

“Well, I don’t want somebody trying to finish what he started.”

“Neither do I, believe me.”

The bandages on her shoulder were obvious, even beneath her pajama top. But he couldn’t see evidence of anything on her chest. If the bullet had entered her back where Dr. Harrison claimed, it must have come through her chest somewhere. And it amazed him that she could be sitting up like this so soon after being shot. She was tough. He liked that, too.

He’d confirmed that two other people in the mall had been shot from close range, execution-style, after taking a bullet from an automatic weapon in the initial burst of fire. They’d both died. As Dr. Harrison had said, Jennie Perez was a very lucky young woman.

“How’s your shoulder?” he asked.

“Dr. Harrison says I’ll be okay eventually.” She grinned. “But I won’t be playing tennis anytime soon.”

Troy chuckled. “And your back?”

“Fine.”

“The bullet came out of your chest, right?”

“Um, yeah.”

“It didn’t stay in there.”

“No.”

“A one-in-a-million wound.” She didn’t touch herself anywhere on her chest when he’d asked that. She hadn’t even looked down at the spot. Most people would have. Maybe it was nothing. He glanced at the end of the bed, then around the room. No charts anywhere.

“That’s what he keeps telling me.”

He was so suspicious of everything, a function of being in RCS for six years. “You’re a hero. You saved that little girl.”

“I just did what anyone else would have done.”

Troy gazed at her for several moments. He was attracted to her, he couldn’t deny it. “I’m not sure that’s true,” he said softly, reaching out to take her hand. It was a very forward action, but he liked it when she squeezed his fingers. “I’m not sure everyone would have been that brave. That little girl owes you her life.”

“Thank you. That’s nice of you to say.”

She squeezed his hand again with her warm fingers, even more tightly this time. It felt good. “Did you see the men who did this to you, Jennie?”

She nodded. “I saw them, but not up close. I was facedown on the mall floor when the guy shot me from close range. I was lying beside the little girl. After that I don’t remember anything.”

“You didn’t notice anything at all about him? Shoes, a smell, his voice, something he said?”

She shook her head as she pulled her hand away and glanced at the other side of the room. “No.”

She didn’t seem comfortable with the question. Maybe it was too hard to think back on those moments. He could understand that. “Well, I—”

“Hello there.”

Troy turned quickly. It was Dr. Harrison. And over the doctor’s shoulder, he noticed Travers standing by the door. The major had gone to his place in the mountains to retrieve his phone while Troy had taken care of several things in downtown Washington, and then hopped a taxi here to northern Virginia and the Fairfax County Hospital. Troy wondered how long the major had been standing there at the doorway.

“Hello, Dr. Harrison.”

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” Harrison said as they shook hands. “I would have appreciated that.”

“Sorry.”

“Ms. Perez is still recovering.”

Troy glanced at Jennie and grinned. “She seems to be doing pretty well.” She smiled back, but it didn’t seem as sincere this time.

B
ECKY
K
IMMEL
gazed up at the golden dome of the university’s main building as she walked across the God Quad—crowded by students at this hour—with her friend Vanessa. One more early class, and she was going home to San Diego for a few weeks of sun and fun. Just like all the other kids around her were headed home today. She couldn’t wait to hit the beach. It had been brutally cold in South Bend during the last few days, especially for a Cali-kid.

Becky and Vanessa didn’t make it much farther. Three men came around the corner of the main building, in the shadow of the statue of St. Mary that topped the dome, and opened fire on the God Quad.

The bullet that struck Becky pierced her lung fatally. As her life quickly ebbed away, she gazed at Vanessa, who was lying beside her and staring at her with doll eyes. Vanessa had taken a round directly in the middle of her forehead. She was already gone.

Three more universities, four churches, and two more restaurants were hit during the course of the day—including the University of Richmond by the northern Virginia squad. All of the attacks were well away from the big malls that had been hit initially, and they were all in smaller towns. The squads were spreading out, and the country was shutting down completely.

E
VERYTHING WAS
playing out exactly as Daniel Gadanz had anticipated—and prayed for. His father would have been so very proud.

He nodded to the pair of naked women, and they approached the man who was seated in the uncomfortable chair before his throne. The man would have them for a few hours and then be killed for stealing. The man was in charge of distribution in three southern states, and he was holding back more than his share of the take. His bookkeeper had squealed, and action was about to be taken. But not before Daniel enjoyed watching the women pleasure the man.

Daniel took a deep breath as he watched the scene unfold. If Jacob hadn’t been Daniel’s brother, he would have been murdered as well. The bloodline had provided him one more chance. But that would be it.