Angels Mark (The Serena Wilcox Mysteries Dystopian Thriller Trilogy) (12 page)

“You are not in any trouble, Ma’am, the President just wants to speak with you,” said Rick.

“Please come with us now, “ said Nancy.

Tom and Serena exited the backseat, taking hold of their children’s hands, even though Carrie was a young adult. The five of them looked ready to break into a musical number as they walked hand-in-hand into the White House. It was only after they had been walking down one corridor after another for several minutes that they relaxed enough to release their grip.

The unlikely procession was headed up by Nancy and the Meadows family, followed by Rick escorting Paul, Clyde, and Bryce. The massive drivers of the other two vehicles brought up the rear, sporting ear pieces and ready to tackle anyone who looked at them wrong. They trudged along silently, all of them brooding over what would happen next.

15

President Ann Kinji waited in her office for the unlikely cast of characters to arrive. She
was briefed on each individual and was intrigued by them all. Sensing that at least one of them was certifiably nuts, she requested that a team of psychiatric experts be on hand in the conference room. Each of her guests would have a private meeting in that room before seeing Ann. Those evaluations were now finished and the indicator light on her screen flashed.

Dr. Malik’s face appeared in the primary frame. “Madam President, I examined each individual as requested. I found tendencies toward narcissism in both Bryce Otto and Paul Tracy. Both are also prone to delusional, grandiose visions of themselves.”

“Are they dangerous?” Ann asked.

“Not usually, not alone. They are easily manipulated and can be dangerous when paired with someone else who is.”

“Is that what we are dealing with here?”

“Yes, quite likely so.
Clyde Tracy pulls Paul’s puppet strings. Clyde, as we already knew from background investigation reports, has sociopathic behavior. He gave us confirmation, tentative of course without further testing, that he is indeed a sociopath.”

“He is dangerous?”

“Yes, probably so.”

“And Bryce?
Who is his puppeteer?”

“President John Williams, Madam President.” There was a long silence that Dr. Malik broke by clearing his throat and adding, “I make no political statement. I am merely reporting my findings.”

“I understand.”

“Tom and Serena Wilcox and the children are all cleared. We found no reason to suspect mental health issues in any of the five.”

“The children? Why are children here?” Ann was alarmed. She’d had no idea that children might be caught up in all of this.

“I don’t know the answer to that.”

“I want the children moved to a secure location, set them up with pizza and movies, anything they want. Get Breyana on that. Send the others in after President Williams arrives. You can babysit them until then?”

“Yes, of course, Madam President.”

“Dr. Malik, thank you and your team for your service. It should go without saying, but this is confidential.”

“Of course, Madam President.”

“Of course,” whispered John from the Listening Room his secret staffers had set up for him. He sounded the alarm. Within minutes he had five covert professionals staring back at him. He didn’t know where they came from, or who they were – he didn’t need to know. His people handled all of that. Whoever these men were, they operated completely off any records. He wasn’t sure they were even fully human.

John’s phone lit up. “Yes? No, I’m unavailable. I don’t care what you tell her. I was available, and now I’m not.”

Breyana brought that message to her boss. “He says he’s not available. He’s not coming.”

Ann felt shivers running down her spine. Something seemed off about this, what could it be? Could he know what was going on? If so, how did he know? She gasped. He was listening. She was sure of it. The more that horrible thought sank in, the more she realized that she never felt alone in her office, even when she was alone. That had to be it.
Bugs.

“Madam President?”
Breyana looked worried.

Ann scrambled for a pen and paper, hard to find these days, since she seldom wrote anything with real paper. She managed to find a notepad with her Presidential seal on it. She scribbled: “Be careful what you say.
Bugs in here.”

Breyana’s
eyes flew open wide. She nodded. “Do you need for me to reschedule your appointments now that President Williams can no longer make it?”

Aloud Ann said, “Yes, please postpone the meetings until the President can make it.” Silently, she wrote: “Get them out NOW.
Undisclosed location, secret service.”

Breyana
nodded. Aloud she said, “I’ll move those appointments around after I check in with President William’s staff.” Then she grabbed Ann’s notepad and wrote: “You too?”

Ann nodded. “Thank you,
Breyana,” And because she couldn’t resist, and knew he was listening, she added, “I hope that John isn’t ill. I don’t know how we’d do without him.”

Breyana
paused at the door, but Ann waved her to go. It took only ten minutes for Breyana to get the message to the secret service detail, and another ten minutes for the group to be loaded back up in the three sedans.

All passengers were seated comfortably, all but Bryce, who was instructed to lie down in the backseat, even though the windows were tinted, should he be seen through special ops glasses. Hiding Bryce from prying eyes was successful, but the twenty minutes it took to move the group was too long.
Deep in the pit of the White House parking catacombs lurked five hulking men.

16

The five men watched the three vehicles.
Everyone was accounted for, and orders were to kill them all. They were ready, and were waiting for the vehicles to start moving. At that moment a fourth sedan pulled up.

“Who is this? You know about this?” grunted one of the hulks.

“Williams said three.”

“I don’t like surprises.”

“What the? There’s kids in there. I don’t do kids.”

As they watched, scopes to their eyes, the Meadows children exited the fourth sedan and climbed into the first sedan in the row, reuniting with their parents. The fourth sedan pulled away, leaving the original three vehicles, but not for long. Two more unexpected sedans pulled up.

“The President is in there!”

“Why is he here?”

“No, not him. The other one.”

“Abort.
Call John.”

The hulks confirmed that John wanted the mission called off. He agreed that it was too complicated now that Ann was involved. He could have sacrificed the kids, but covering up Ann’s death would have caused him too many headaches. The investigation into that woul
d have led straight back to him, sooner rather than later.

He’d have to go about this a different way. How? He didn’t know. But getting rid of them before they talked to Ann wasn’t going to work – his window of eliminating them without a connection to himself had closed.

What did they know anyway?
Nothing they could prove, nothing they could tie back to him, and, best of all, their credibility as witnesses was shaky: two con artists, one or both of them mentally unstable, and a family who had been on the run.
Did they have any hard evidence?
He thought not.

 
John would keep a tail on them and send the team to take them out if necessary – it might not be necessary. If they didn’t  know anything important, he was trigger happy on this one. He’d find out soon enough when Ann talked about what happened, whether in her office, on her computer, or on her phone – all had John’s ears.

The five hulks became phantoms as soon as they confirmed that the mission was aborted; the convoy proceeded unhindered. No one from John’s team was following them yet; for the time being they would track them through their phones. With so many cell phones in play, it would be easy to pick up their trail. Meanwhile, they’d let them go for now. The White House underground exits were too vulnerable – a tail would be spotted by many trained eyes.

The convoy reached the last bend of the White House catacombs and then stopped. Nancy and Rick got out of the first sedan. They went to each vehicle and asked for all cell phones, even President Kinji’s phone, surprising her with the request.  Ann quickly understood and relinquished it.

The last sedan in line carried no passengers. The driver loaded all seven cell phones, including the President’s special line, into the trunk of the vehicle. When the convoy reached the end of the catacombs, the last sedan drove in the opposite direction from the other four sedans, carrying their cell phones to an undisclosed location separate, and far away from, President Kinji’s undisclosed location destination.

The convoy didn’t drive for long- the undisclosed location was Air Force One Plus, Kinji’s plane (William’s was Air Force One). Air Force One Plus did not share a tarmac with William’s plane, and security was tight. Kinji knew that Williams did not have access to her plane, but nonetheless, she had the plane swept for bugs before they boarded. Nothing turned up.

Nor were cameras easy to hijack, but she had her team check and double-check just to be sure. She trusted her people, and after a short security briefing, she felt secure in her choice.

Everyone boarded the plane and waited for something to happen. Two secret service agents guarded the cockpit, others were at the exits. President Ann Kinji remained standing, facing her captive audience. Seated in the front row was the Meadows family. Seated in the second row were Paul, Clyde, Nancy, Rick and Bryce. The remaining rows were used by the rest of the secret service detail.

President Kinji began, “Thank you for putting up with this cloak and dagger routine. Together we’ll get to the bottom of this. To start, I’d like to say that I know about the e-mail from the Iranian woman. I also know that the former President and President John Williams knew about the attacks before they happened. What I want from all of you is anything you can add to that.”

Serena raised her hand.

“No formalities
here, go ahead,” Ann said.

“President Kinji, I’m sorry, but I think you know everything that we do. We have only that e-mail.” said Serena. She was impressed with herself, how she was able to talk with the President, a woman she greatly admired, as if it were a normal everyday occurrence.

In person, President Ann Kinji was even more amazing. She was beautiful with her shiny black locks and intelligent dark eyes, coupled with a commanding presence and a strong speaking voice. Charisma, confidence and charm were only part of the package; there was a hard-to-define quality that made President Ann Kinji genuine, someone to trust. She was intimidating, and Serena was pleased that she held her own without stammering all over herself.

“But we could get you more,” said Paul. “Our plan was to meet with John and record our conversation.”

Ann laughed. “Don’t you think he’d see that coming?” Her eyes turned up in a smile.

How could she be so jovial and social in such a pressure cooker situation?
Serena’s respect for Ann went up another notch.

Clyde, however, took offense to the President’s amusement. His face flushed crimson and he stood up, causing six secret service officers to also rise. He looked behind him, hesitated for a few tense seconds, and sat back down. He said, “We have high tech ways of recording that can’t be detected by bug sweeping.”

“Even so, I don’t think anything can be gained from that. John wouldn’t talk to you, not the truth anyway,” said Ann.

“He talked to me!” Paul protested.

Ann’s attention was riveted on Paul. “When did he talk to you? Where? What did he say exactly? Leave nothing out.” Ann gestured toward two of her staffers who had been standing near the secret service detail in the cockpit. She wanted everything noted, recorded, witnessed. A flurry of activity resulted, followed by silence as all waited for Paul to speak.

Paul glanced around him, suddenly aware that he had the floor. He relaxed, feeling his social grin transforming his face. He might not be doomed after all:
what if Kinji was starting to see him as an asset? Would she toss him aside then?
This was where he was born to be: in the spotlight, important people hanging on his every word.

“Paul, please,” said Ann.

“They took me onto his jet, like you’ve done. He said they ‘have ears in Kinj’s office’.”

Ann blanched at that confirmation of what she already suspected. She had not had her team sweep her office, not wanting Williams to get wind that she knew. “Go on,” she prodded.

“He asked how I made that picture, the photo, um, you know the one. I’m sorry about that…”

“I don’t care about that right now, keep going.”

“He said ‘It’s good work. I want to use it.’ I told him that nobody owns me, but he threatened me.”

“Threatened you how?”

“He was going to bug me, follow me, make sure I did what he wanted.”

“He likes his bugs. What exactly did he want?”

“He wanted me to bring that photo to the media. He agreed that he wanted to embarrass you and that making trouble for you keeps you off balance.”

President Ann Kinji drew up her full height and took a deep steadying breath. All of her martial arts training came back to her. She felt her body go into “ready position” even while appearing outwardly to not move a muscle. “So far this is nothing more than dirty politics, smear campaigns, intimidation.
Same-o, same-o. I need proof that John knew something about the Big War.”

Clyde said, “He broke the law, you could get him for that. And then interrogate him.”

“I don’t think I could get anywhere with nothing but the word of a known con man,” said Ann.

“Don’t take my word for it, get his records. He has a folder with everything in it, even references to the Academy and good old Mrs. Mason, may she rest in peace,” said Clyde.

Ann took notice. “What records?”

“He, um, wanted to talk about my, as he put it, ‘fear mongering’ about the Identity Chip bill, the reason why I wanted to work for you, why I brought that doctored photo to you for leverage,” said Paul.

“You would have never been able to leverage me, but go on,” said Ann.

“I wanted to work for you so that I could influence that Identity Chip bill. I wanted it to pass so that people would buy Clyde’s Angel Mark technology,” said Paul.

“You’re losing me, what does anything of this have to do with records?” asked Ann.

“I’m getting to that. He said, ‘you didn’t think I knew all about your operation?’
And told me ‘my guys briefed me about your whole life in fifteen minutes. It’s all right here.’ He had a brown folder.”

Ann laughed, “No! He wouldn’t have anything on paper. You expect me to believe he had a brown folder!”

Paul protested, “He did! He even said, ‘I could read it on one of those gadgets, but I like paper.’ He said he
likes
paper. He has a paper trail. We can find it.”

Ann’s hopes were raised, but she didn’t want to get too excited. “Hmm, I’m not convinced.”

Paul said, “He said that someone would pay me, and the money in my account would be, and I quote, ‘Untraceable to this office’. But I know that Clyde’s lab could crack whatever code they have.”

“Clyde’s lab of child hackers?
This isn’t going anywhere,” said Ann. She sighed.

“Wait, wait!” Paul said. “
He
was there!” He pointed at Bryce. “He heard everything, and he works for John.”

“Bryce was there?” Ann smiled.
“Interesting. We’ll be getting to Bryce, but have you told me everything you know? Everything John told you? Everything you saw?”

Paul shook his head slowly from side to side, like a small boy interacting with his kindergarten teacher. “I can’t think of anything else.”

“Okay then, what we’ve got so far is the possibility that President Williams has paper records that may or may not incriminate him. I hope Bryce can offer us something more substantial than that,” said Ann.

All eyes were on Bryce. He said, “What makes you think I would tell you anything? He’s not only my uncle, he’s my President.”

President Kinji glared at him and took a few steps toward where he was sitting. She said, “One word:
treason
.”

Bryce made a dramatic
ppft
sound and said, “How can it be treason to protect my President? That’s the epitome of loyalty, not grounds for treason.”

“Your loyalty is to your country, and your people, not to any one President. You knew about this e-mail—you are the very person who shared it. You knew that President Williams was involved in acts against our country, and you said nothing. You even perpetuated this massive cover-up, and whatever it is that John is trying to do,” said Ann in a quiet, controlled, voice. Slow, steady, and smooth, like talking to a rabid dog.

Bryce tried a new tactic, “How do you know that the e-mail isn’t a fabrication?”

Serena interjected, “I know it isn’t. My friend
Karyn is the original recipient of that e-mail. I saw it on her computer, and I even have the flash drive with the entire history of her correspondence with Farideh on it.” She waved her flash drive, jingling the crowded key ring that the flash drive keychain was attached to.

Ann said, “I was going to get to you next, Serena, but I’m going to go straight to you right now.” She clucked her tongue, her eyes turning up at the corners to match her grin. “Amazing, you have something we can actually use.
Oh most definitely!” She clapped her hands together and said, “Nance, take that flash drive from her, would you please? Get everything off of it.
Now
we’re getting somewhere!”

“Uh oh, I’m afraid that’s really all I have,” said Serena.
“Although I did have a thought. We knew back in 2011, when the Iranians shot down our spy plane, that Iran was getting close to having the technology to make weapon-grade uranium for nuclear weapons.”

“Yes, Tehran’s nuclear program, the Fordo uranium enrichment site. What’s the connection to John?” Ann said.

“Well, obviously some of their actions since then led to the Big War, and there would be records of those actions. I am thinking that John may have been deeply involved in those talks. Maybe you can follow that all the way up to the days leading up to the bombings,” Serena offered.

Ann frowned. “I don’t think those records would be revealing. Anything sinister would have taken place outside of recorded meetings. I need John’s personal files, and I want you to get them, Bryce.”

“Even if I wanted to help you,” said Bryce, “I can’t get to his files without being seen. I mean, if people saw me, they wouldn’t think twice, but I’d leave an identity mark that would sound off an alarm. No one but Uncle John, uh, President Williams, can authorize or access his office or computer. They’d have those files from me before any of you ever saw them.”