Call to Treason (44 page)

    Senator Orr agreed, at least until security could be organized for him to go downstairs. He felt it was important to talk to his people as soon as possible, to let them know that he was all right and the convention would go on. Kat said she would see to that. Her second call was to Pat Simcox, head of security. She wanted to make sure he stayed at his post outside the senator's room and did not join the detail searching for Admiral Link. Simcox said he had no intention of leaving. He told her not to worry. If this were a plot against the USF, no one would get through to the senator.

    She believed him. The truck driver turned security man was tough.

    The elevator arrived, and guests streamed out. There were concerned looks and questions for Kat. She told them the senator was all right, then excused herself and entered. On the way up, she was joined by Kendra Peterson.

    "Eric called to tell me what happened," Kendra said. "I just spoke with the senator. He said you suggested he stay put."

    "I did. Is there a problem with that?"

    "No," Kendra insisted. "I think that's a good idea."

    "Good."

    Kat was glad. She did not feel like having it out with Kendra over this issue. The elevator opened, and Kat went to the senator's suite.

    She knocked on the door, and it opened. She stepped through.

    Into something she did not expect.

    Pat Simcox was standing in the entrance of the suite. He was pointing a 9 mm Glock model 19 handgun at Kat Lockley. A Gemtech SOS silencer was fixed to the barrel.

    Kat stopped. Her eyes snapped from the gun to Sim-cox's brown eyes.

    "Pat, what are you doing?" she asked.

    "Welcoming you," he replied.

    "Why the gun?" she asked.

    "Just go in!" Kendra snapped.

    Kat turned angrily. "What the hell are you doing?"

    "We'll discuss that when Eric gets here," Kendra said.

    Kat walked into the living room. Senator Orr was sitting on a divan near the terrace. He was staring ahead, his breathing shallow. His arms were hanging limp, his hands lying palm-up in his lap. There was a glass-topped coffee table in front of him. An open bottle of ginger ale sat beside a half-empty glass. The senator's bodyguard was standing nearby.

    "Senator?" Kat said. "Is he all right?" she asked the bodyguard.

    He did not answer. Kat ran to the senator's side and squatted in front of him. She took one of his hands in hers. It was cool. "Senator Orr, are you all right?"

    "He can't answer," Kendra said. "Mr. Simcox put several drops of sodium thiopental in his drink."

    "What is that?" Kat asked.

    "A mild anesthesia," Kendra replied. "It should keep him still for about ninety minutes."

    "Why?" Kat demanded.

    There was a knock at the door. Kendra waited. The knock was followed by two others. Kendra opened the door to admit Eric Stone. The young man walked in. His expression was serious but unworried.

    "How is everything?" he asked.

    "Perfect," Kendra said. "What is it like downstairs?"

    "Mild disorder and growing," Stone replied. He walked over to Simcox and took the gun. "Get him dressed please, Thomas."

    "Yes, sir," the bodyguard replied.

    "Thomas?" Kat said.

    "Thomas Mandor," Stone replied. "A longtime acquaintance of Admiral Link."

    "What is he, an assassin?"

    "No, Kat. We do not want to kill the senator," Stone assured her. "We want to get him away from here and have a long talk about William Wilson and about the future. We want to make sure we all have an understanding."

    Kat rose and approached Stone. He held up his free hand for her to stop.

    "Eric, what is this?" Kat asked. "What are you doing?"

    "We are helping to save the country," he replied.

    "What are you talking about? The senator is a patriot. And what about Admiral Link? You know him "

    "The admiral is not the issue. What concerns me right now is Donald Orr," Stone said. "He is a killer, a belligerent nationalist who appeals to the basest fears of the electorate. He nurtures the kind of suspicion that will one day make us turn on ourselves, on anyone who is different than he is."

    Mandor returned with a hat, sunglasses, and wind-breaker. He began putting them on the senator.

    "Please," Kat said. "Stop this. Stop before it's too late."

    "We are." Stone moved closer to Kat. "My question to you is this.

    Will you come with us, or do we leave you here?"

    "Come with you where?"

    "That is not important," Kendra interjected.

    "Away from here, ostensibly to keep the senator safe," Stone said. "Yes or no, Kat? Are you coming or staying?"

    Kat looked at the gun. "You wouldn't shoot me. Not here, not now."

    "No one will hear," Stone assured her. "Your answer, please."

    The woman did not know what to say. The silent barrel of a pistol was more persuasive than Stone's arguments. The sight had a way of short-circuiting the brain and weakening the legs. It was one thing to believe in an ideal. It was quite another to perish for it. But there was a stubborn part of her soul that did not want to be bullied.

    Especially when she and the senator had worked so hard to get here.

    The brief, internal debate was resolved a moment later when a third option presented itself.

    One that no one had anticipated.

    

    San Diego, California Wednesday, 4:44 p.m.

    The low hum, more tangible than audible, came upon them suddenly. The windows began to wobble before anything else. That caused the drawn drapes to shake. A few moments later, everyone felt the vibrations.

    The nearly sixty-foot-long AH64-D Apache Longbow helicopter lowered itself sideways beside the hotel. The sun threw its stark shadow against the drapes. The Longbow looked like a mosquito, with its slightly dipped rotors and stubby wings set against a long, slender body, a large General Electric T700-GE-701 turboshaft engine mounted high on each side of the fuselage.

    The helicopter rotated slowly so that its 30 mm automatic Boeing M230 chain gun was pointed toward the room.

    "Christ in heaven," Stone muttered as the aircraft turned.

    He started toward the door just as the knob and lock popped loudly, and the door flew in along the hinges. Mike Rodgers stepped through the acrid smoke of the C-4 blast. He was followed by a small complement of marines. The marines were all carrying MP5-N assault rifles. Several of them moved toward Thomas Mandor and Kendra Peterson. They directed the two toward the bedroom. Neither of Stone's companions protested.

    Two of the marines remained with Mike Rodgers.

    "Put your weapon down!" Rodgers ordered as he walked toward Stone. He had to shout to be heard over the beat of the Apache that had ferried them to the rooftop. Rodgers expected to be using it again shortly.

    The USF officer hesitated, but only for a moment. He turned the gun from Kat to Senator Orr.

    "Don't!" Kat screamed.

    "You are leaving me no choice!" he replied.

    "I am," she said. She edged toward the senator. "We can talk about your concerns. We've done that before, all of us."

    "It's too late," Stone said.

    "Eric, have you actually killed anyone?" Rodgers asked as the marines filled the room.

    "No," he admitted.

    "Then don't start now. I know you think there's no other choice.

    People in an emotional situation often think that. But it isn't true."

    "You don't understand!" Stone said. He gestured angrily at Orr with the gun. "This man is evil!"

    "This man is a United States senator, and you are not his judge!" Kat yelled.

    Slowly, the woman sat beside Orr. She was obviously attempting to place herself between the handgun and the senator. That was a sweet gesture, but at this range, Stone would take both of them out before Rodgers could reach him. That left just one option, and the general did not want to use it.

    "Kat is right," Rodgers said. "You may get jail time for whatever you've done till now, but it beats having these boys cut you down."

    "You tell me not to kill by threatening to kill me?" Stone laughed.

    "You're as twisted as Orr!"

    Rodgers continued to move closer to Stone. The young man was standing sideways, the gun aimed down. He scowled, angry, cornered. In hair trigger situations like this, it was important to be determined without being overly aggressive.

    "Let's stop thinking about who can kill who," Rodgers suggested. He extended his left arm slowly and opened his hand. "Let's do as Kat suggested and talk this thing over. Give me the weapon so we can start to ratchet this thing back."

    Stone said nothing. Often, that meant the individual was ready to capitulate. It was usually noticeable in a softening of the tension around the mouth and eyes, in the sinew of the neck. Unfortunately, none of that was happening here. The thumping of the helicopter probably was not helping Stone to think straight.

    "I'll tell you what, Eric," Rodgers said. "I'm going to have Lieutenant Murdock, who is standing right behind me, get on the radio.

    He'll send the helicopter away. It will be easier to talk."

    "I don't want to talk!" Stone cried. "I want to finish what we started!"

    "What who started?" Rodgers asked.

    "The admiral, Kendra, and myself."

    "What did you start?"

    "The counter process Stone said. "That was the code name the admiral devised. It was his idea, and it was the right idea!"

    The young man was under both internal and external stress. More than intent and desire, physical strain could cause the handgun to discharge. Rodgers had to take precautions. He held his right arm straight down, the index finger pointed toward the floor. That was a sign to the marines. If the general crooked his finger, that meant to ice the target. If he raised his arm again, it meant to stand down.

    "Talk to me about the counter process Rodgers said.

    "It was conceived to work within the senator's plan."

    "Like a virus or a mole," Rodgers said.

    "Yes."

    "What was the senator's plan?"

    "To kill his enemies," Stone replied.

    "That's a lie!" Kat shot back.

    "Let him talk!" Rodgers cautioned.

    Rodgers watched Stone's grip on the handgun. There was no change. The general continued to walk toward him.

    Stone turned slightly to address Rodgers directly. "Killing William Wilson was Orr's idea," Stone said. "Kat fleshed it out. It was a way of drawing attention to a problem and solving it at the same time."

    "The problem of anti-American economic activities," Rodgers said.

    "Exactly."

    "How do you know the senator was behind the killing of Mr. Wilson?"

    Rodgers asked. He wanted to draw Stone deeper into conversation, focused on him and not on the senator.

    "Orr told the admiral, and the admiral told me," Stone said.

    "Did you ask the senator yourself?" Rodgers asked.

    "Why bother? He would have lied to me. Anyway, the admiral never lied. Not to me."

    Rodgers was just a few paces away. "If this is true, I need you to tell me everything. Then I can pass it along to Op-Center."

    "Op-Center!" Stone snarled. He turned a little more. "They were the ones who screwed this up for all of us "

    Rodgers saw an opening and took it. Stone had raised his arm slightly so the Glock was pointed away from both Donald Orr and Kat Lockley.

    Rodgers reached across Stone and grabbed the man's right wrist with his own right hand. He forced the gun toward the floor as he simultaneously swung his left hand toward the gun. Rodgers pressed left with his right hand, against the back of Stone's forearm, and right with his left hand. Stone's wrist snapped audibly. The gun hung loosely in his trembling fingers, and Rodgers snatched it.

    The marines moved in. One of them secured Stone by pushing him facedown on the carpet. The other ran to look after Kat and the senator. He told Kat to call downstairs for the hotel physician.

    Rodgers picked up the Glock.

    "You don't know what you're doing!" Stone said.

    "Saving you from death by lethal injection, I think," Rodgers replied.

    He motioned for the marine to let Stone sit up. Then the general crouched beside him. "Where is Admiral Link?"

    "I don't know," Stone replied.

    "I don't believe you," Rodgers replied. "You were filibustering outside the hotel while his limo was being hijacked. You wanted to keep me from seeing anything."

    "That doesn't mean I know where he went," Stone said.

    Rodgers shook his head. "Don't you get it? The counter process is over. Whatever it is, whatever it was supposed to be, this whole thing is done. Cooked. The only way you save any part of your own ass is by cooperating."

    "I believe that what we have done is right," Stone replied. "And I won't rat out my boss. Neither will Ms. Peterson."

    "This gentleman says he will," said a voice from the bedroom door.

    Rodgers looked over. The other male member of Stone's party was standing there. His short marine guard was behind him, the assault rifle lowered. There was something contrite in the manner of the big man.

    "Who are you?" Rodgers asked, rising.

    "Thomas Mandor, sir."