THE 13: STAND BOOK TWO (23 page)

His plan was twofold. One side was to call the nation to unity and continued repentance, continuing to ask God for direction and committing to following His lead, no matter what that looked like. The second side was to introduce the proposal of the constitutional amendment. This would be an amendment in which the country would take some hard-line stances on some issues, many of which were major social issues the government had evaded or abdicated its responsibility for by continuing to implement policies that pleased the special interests, not the people. And most certainly did not serve God.

He had spent the last fifteen minutes praying about what this draft should say. He felt like he was ready to start writing. He grabbed his pen and a piece of paper, just as the phone on his desk rang. He grabbed the receiver. “Hello?”

“Mr. President, this is Dr. Simmons.”

The president’s personal physician.

“Yes, Dr. Simmons. What can I do for you?”

“Sorry to bother you, sir. But I’m afraid it is urgent.”

“Go on.”

“President Grant is awake, sir.”

“Yes, I heard earlier, from Kevin Jennings. That’s wonderful news, Doctor. How is he?”

Simmons gave a short laugh. “He’s astonishingly well, sir! He wants to see you.”

A myriad of emotions began to take hold of him. Thankfulness, joy, relief—and fear—all seemed to flood him at the same time. “What, now?”

“Yes, sir. He said—”

Suddenly, Walker heard the phone pull away on the other end, as if the doctor were holding it away. He could hear some discussion on the other end, but it was muffled. Then, the phone started clattering again. He held his own receiver out and looked at it. “Hello…Doctor, are you there?”

Finally, the rattling stopped and he could hear the phone being picked up, along with a faint “Give me that thing!” Walker smiled. He knew the voice.

“Hello? Gray, are you there?”

Walker smiled. His friend sounded like he hadn’t missed a beat. “I’m here, Calvin. You giving Dr. Simmons a hard time?”

“I’m going to give him something, all right.”

Walker heard his friend pull the phone away again. “I’m still your boss, Dr. Simmons. Don’t you give me any lip!”

This time Walker was laughing. “Good grief, Calvin! Give the man a break. You’ve been in a coma for four months. I mean, you got shot in the head—which, by the way, only proves what I used to tell you. That you are the most hardheaded man I’ve ever met.”

Now Grant was laughing on the other end.

The two continued on for a moment before Walker finally brought them back. “I’m glad you’re awake, Calvin. I’ve been praying for you.”

“So I’ve heard,” Grant said. “Listen, Gray, I want you to come down here and see me tonight.”

“I’d love to, Calvin. But I’m going to be giving a speech tomorrow—one that I think you would be proud of, actually. And I don’t have even the welcome written yet. I need to stay here and finish.”

“Actually, Gray, that’s exactly why I want to see you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Tess and I have spent quite a lot of time this afternoon, talking. She’s caught me up on everything that’s happened since…you know.”

“Did she tell you that she gave me your Bible that night?”

“She did.”

“I don’t know if I’d be the man I am right now if it hadn’t been for your notes and highlights, Calvin. I owe you a lot.”

“You don’t owe me anything. You just chalk that one up to God.” Then, “But if you really do think you owe me, then bring your rear end down here and see me tonight.” Grant followed that with a throaty laugh. Then, “Oh, oh…I gotta stop laughing like that. Makes my head hurt.” He started laughing again.

Walker heard the phone pull away again. “No, my head’s not really hurting! It’s an expression.” Then, back on the line, “Gray, listen. Simmons is about to make me get off. Needs me to go pee in a cup or something. Please, I know you’re writing your speech. And I know a million things have to be running through your head right now—the least of which is whether or not I’m going to kick you out of that chair in a couple days. Well, I’m going to tell you right now, I’m not. That’s your chair now. And you’ve done a good job with it. I just want to be there to help you however I can. And one thing I can do better than anyone in Washington is write a speech. Please, come see me. I would love nothing more than to help you put together what you’re about to go say to our country.”

Walker started to get choked up as Grant finished talking. He and Grant had been friends for a long time, though they had butted heads frequently in the past over political issues. He remembered when he’d first met Grant, how the man had inspired him. He’d always thought Grant had the type of character to aspire to. Deep down, he’d always wanted to be like Grant. He had just never allowed himself to be. At least until his back was against the wall. And in that moment, Calvin’s Bible—the highlighted passages and notes that Calvin had written in the margins—had been used to bring him to the place where he was willing to allow God to shape him into who he needed to be—who he was now. And he could think of no better person to spend an evening with, writing possibly one of the most important speeches in American history.

“Go pee in your cup, Calvin. I’m on my way.”

W
e have to go back, Eli. Right now.”

“And do what? Knock on the door and say, ‘Excuse me. I think I lost my ID in your backyard while I was snooping around your property. May I have it back?’ ”

Megan slammed her palm into the dashboard. “If they find it, they’ll know we were there. They could go completely underground—no pun intended. And we have no idea what they’re planning.”

“And that’s why we’re going to follow Sokolov. Whatever they’re doing, she’s going to be at the tip of it. Besides, you think finding your ID is going to stop them from whatever it is they’re planning?”

Megan had to relent. Eli was right. Hayes already knew they were looking into him. It just meant they’d have to be more careful going forward. “You’re right.”

They sat there for another few minutes with only a few cars passing by on the road. Finally, they saw a silver Toyota pass by.

“That’s her,” Eli said. He put the car in gear and eased out onto the road to follow.

“How do you plan on not getting made?” Megan asked. “This woman is a pro. If she turns more than twice, she’ll know something’s up the moment we follow her.”

Eli looked at her and smiled. He reached inside his pocket and pulled out a small device. “Ever seen one of these?”

Megan took the little box. It was no bigger than a cell phone and had a small screen on it with a blinking red dot. It looked like a GPS of some sort. “What is it?”

“That”—he said, pointing—“is an old-school tracking device. Works off radio signal. I just happened to slip it under the fender right before that bunker opened up.”

Megan had heard of them before but had never seen one. The technology was at least sixty years old. The way it worked was, the dot would blink faster or slower, depending on whether you got closer or farther from the transmitter. It wouldn’t give you exact coordinates, but it at least let the tracker know if he were getting hot or cold.

Eli stayed back at least a half mile while they were on the two-lane. At one point, a couple of other cars even pulled out onto the road in front of him. While it wasn’t ideal for following Sokolov, it helped them to remain unsuspicious. They continued following the Toyota all the way back into the city.

“Now it gets interesting,” Eli said.

“Why’s that?”

The Toyota was several car lengths ahead when they came to the first red light, as they entered downtown. Sokolov was in the center lane. That meant she had no intention, at least for now, of turning anywhere. Eli moved over into the right turning lane.

“What are you doing?” Megan asked. “She’s going straight.”

“You just watch the dot. I’m going to go one street over and run parallel with her. If that dot starts blinking slower, you let me know.”

Eli made the turn and went one block up. He turned left again to put them going the same direction they had been a moment ago. Megan looked at the tracker. The dot was still blinking rapidly.

As they came to the next light, Eli pulled over to the side of the road. Before going through the light, he told Megan he wanted to make sure the transmitter didn’t change pace. If it did, that meant Sokolov had turned. If she turned, the dot would either get faster, meaning she was headed right for them, or slower, meaning she turned the opposite direction. The light changed and the dot remained blinking at the same pace. Eli pulled back out onto the road and continued straight.

They did this for another eight blocks when, suddenly, everything went awry. They had been traveling west on New Bern Street, running parallel with Edenton—where Sokolov was—when the street took a small turn to the left. They followed the bend in the road as it came back around and straightened out. But as it did, they came face-to-face with a wall of city vehicles and orange cones. Apparently, a water main—or something—had burst. The entire street in front of them had been dug up and water was bubbling up from the hole, spilling out onto the street around them. The road in front was shut down. A man in an orange vest, holding a pair of orange flags, was waving them to turn south on South Blount Street. With nowhere else to go, Eli turned the wheel and headed south.

“How far is the range on this thing?” Megan asked.

“Not far. If she makes one turn and gets more than a couple blocks away from us, we’ll lose her.”

Megan pinched the bridge of her nose. This night was getting worse by the second. She took turns looking back and forth from the tracker to the road. Eli had gunned the car after turning away from Sokolov. They were looking for the quickest right turn they could find. Unfortunately, the water main must’ve been a massive rupture. The next four right turns were all blocked as well. Megan looked down at the tracker, which was no longer flashing. She was staring at a solid red dot. She slammed her fist into the dashboard again.

“You’ve
got
to be kidding me!”

Eli pulled the car over to the side of the road. “Well, it was worth a shot.”

Megan turned in her seat. “What is it with this woman? I mean, four months ago we had her in our grasp in DC and lost her. I track her halfway around the world to Dubai—with Marianne Levy—and kill her. And then she shows back up here, and I lose her again!”

Eli shrugged. “I guess she’s like your personal nemesis.”

“This isn’t funny, Eli! That woman is single-handedly responsible for President Grant’s assassination attempt. She worked with Chin and Levy to allow the Chinese to come across the border. And she almost killed Jon!”

“Megan, calm down. I wasn’t trying to make light of the woman’s résumé. I’m just saying that you can’t control everything.”

Eli was right again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. Heck, if it weren’t for your little tracker, we wouldn’t have even gotten this far.” Suddenly she had a thought. “Hey, what if she’s staying downtown in a hotel?”

“Makes sense. She’d be staying at a four-star hotel or better.”

She pulled out the map again and opened it up. “Why?”

“Because, bigger, nicer hotels have lots of floors, lots of rooms, and lots of hallways leading to lots of escape routes. She’d want to make sure she had at least three ways out if she got cornered. I know I would.”

“Okay. So let’s get started.”

The plan seemed to be a solid one. But after checking with the four biggest hotels in downtown, they had still come up empty. One of the desk clerks said he had seen someone that might fit the description, but that woman had been with a wealthy-looking Middle Eastern man. They looked like they were a couple.

Back in the car, Megan was frustrated. They were getting nowhere. It was getting late and they hadn’t eaten. “Let’s go grab a burger. We’ll figure out what we want to do from there.” She pulled away from the curb and took off.

They found a late-night drive-through and ate in the car, mostly in silence. When they were finished, Megan threw her bag and wrapper in the backseat and pulled the car out of the parking lot.

“Where are we going?” Eli asked.

“We’re going to talk with Milton Hayes again. I want to know what he knows.” She turned the wheel and hit the gas. “I don’t care if I have to take him into custody and all the way back to DC. He’s going to tell us what was going on at that farmhouse.”

Eli nodded. “Fine with me.”

Alex Smith walked arm in arm with Farid through the lobby of the Marriott Hotel in downtown Raleigh. While she had been at the farmhouse meeting, Farid had set them up with reservations at a nice restaurant. Afterward, they would visit a few more nightspots. But first, she had something to take care of. As they walked outside, she asked the doorman to hail a cab.

“What do we need a cab for?” Farid asked. “What’s wrong with the car?”

“Nothing’s wrong with the car,” she answered. “But I have an…
errand
to run first.”

“Seriously? Now?”