The Sentinel (45 page)

He pressed his mouth into the corner of his shirt and forced himself to breathe evenly. He lost track of time as he inched along slowly until he reached a ninety-degree turn to the right. If he remembered correctly from the advance security work he'd done at the Center, it was at this point that the duct crossed the edge of an employee locker room that hadn't been used in years.

He managed to pull his pocketknife from his trouser pocket, and began cutting the tape over a seam in the duct material. Breaking through the duct was harder than he'd anticipated. Perspiration ran into his eyes. With his hand trapped next to his body, he moved the blade back and forth, the duct swaying with his exertions. Suddenly, there was a sharp tearing noise. He was falling. He struggled to grasp something. The section of the duct he was in dropped through the acoustical board ceiling, and slammed violently to the locker room floor, the fall knocking the air out of his lungs. Gasping for breath, he crawled from the duct section. He was in the corner of the room, next to a bank of metal lockers.

Staggering to his feet, he crossed the room and put his ear to the door. He waited. Nothing. No one had heard him. Exhaling with relief, he checked himself in a wall mirror. His face and his clothing were covered with soot. Having brushed off his clothing and used his shirttail to wipe his face as best he could, he opened the door and peeked out.

He turned the doorknob and opened the door about an inch. Down a hallway to his right some Secret Service agents were engaged in conversation. Garrison closed the door and stood for a moment, going over in his mind the details of the Kennedy Center security plan he'd worked on during a previous Presidential visit.

Garrison pulled Flanagan's two-way radio from his belt. He pressed the transmit button. "Wintergreen to Thirteen Kennedy Security Room."

"Go, Boss. "

"I just saw some agents near Hallway Four Adam. Have them stand by at the tactical car."

"Roger."

Moments later, the agents received the requested radio message on the Kennedy Center radio frequency and headed down the corridor. Garrison picked up a chair. He opened the door and walked down the hallway a few feet to an air-conditioning vent. Placing the chair under the vent, he stood on it and pulled off the vent cover.

He was tackled from behind and thrown to the floor. He struggled. An agent put a gun to his head as two others held him.

****

CHAPTER 35

DURING THE FIRST intermission of
Long Day's Journey into Night,
the President yawned and stood to stretch. To him, the actors' words had been meshing together in a mishmash of melancholy and depression. He preferred musical theater to drama. His idea of an enjoyable night out wasn't watching the thrashing of a dysfunctional family. He had enough problems meshing together in his head. Eleanor stood to stretch. He thought the play was depressing, but he would not bring it up with her. She was already acting out of sorts, and no good would come from bringing up a downbeat subject.

"I want to go to the holding room," she said.

"Some of the party people will want to chat-"

"The hell with them. I'm making a phone call to China."

"Then I'll stay here and you go."

"No. The phone call is from Beijing. The cultural affairs person. I may need you to get on the line with me for a moment to convince them that I am representing your interests."

"Oh, for God's sake-"

"Please."

He shrugged. "Very well."

She took his arm as they moved past the other guests.

"I've had a migraine headache all day," Eleanor said as they walked out to the hallway. Two agents followed.

"I noticed you fidgeting in your seat. I thought it was the play."

"So depressing."

"Family situations can get like that, can't they?"

"Is that some kind of a personal dig?"

"Aren't we sensitive. The headache. Have you talked with the doctor?"

"I have pills, but they don't seem to do any good," she said coldly. "I just hope I can make it through the rest of this play."

They entered the elevator with the agents, who looked uncomfortable and avoided eye contact. The doors closed. The elevator descended. They got out and followed other agents to the holding room. An agent opened the door for them.

"Russell, do you remember what you told me that day we were sitting on that lovely verandah in St. Bart's?" she asked when they were alone.

"I remember the view-"

She glanced at her wristwatch.

"We'd been lounging there in the sun for hours. Your exact words were: 'It's the two of us forever, baby.' You used to call me baby. Then you said something very sweet. You told me that you would never disappoint me and that you would always be there for me. It was what I'd always wanted to hear."

"We were a beautiful couple, weren't we?" the President said.

She reached up and touched his face gently.

"You used to touch my face like that all the time, Eleanor. I miss it."

"We were a sexy couple, all right."

"You're making me wish you didn't have a headache," he said.

"A quick screw for old times' sake? How merciful of you."

"There you go again," he said grimly.

"Does
she
say things like that?"

"Can't we at least try to be civil to one another?"

"We've come a long way together. You were my man. I loved you. I used to dream about us being in the White House."

"They should have given you a part in that damn play."

There was a silence, and he wondered what it would have been like to marry a woman less demanding, one who wasn't so emasculating. Maybe things could have worked out, he told himself. But that was all over now. He had but one life to live, and the rest of it wasn't going to be with her.

"I know why you won't look me in the eyes," she said. "You can fool your Cabinet members, the entire House and Senate, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and the American people. But you can't fool your wife. You used me. It was nothing but a means to an end with a piece of ass thrown in. You seduced me because I had something you wanted."

"Eleanor, why do you persist in this self-torture?"

"Russell Jordan, President of the United States. What a damn joke. You're a nothing. A big zero. You'd be nothing without me."

"None of us are perfect, Eleanor."

"That sounds like a preface for some speech. Some of that insincere blather you're so good at spouting."

"You're a very demanding woman, Eleanor."

"I'm the woman you needed."

"True. But things would have been a lot easier if you hadn't rubbed my nose in it every day since we got married."

She gave him a glare he'd never seen before. She was looking through him.

"Is the truth that difficult to accept? When you look in the mirror, does it hurt to know that you couldn't have made it to this place without me? All I asked in return was to be your partner. But I guess that was too much."

"Drop it, for Christ's sake. Let's end all this."

She glanced at her wristwatch.

"It's ended," she said.

There was a tone of finality to her words, like the last remark made from the window of a train as it pulled away from the station; the final shout from the last fan at the end of the ninth inning.

"I'll be right back," she said.

"Where are you going?"

"The rest room."

"Okay. Do you feel all fight? You're acting a little strange."

There was a knock on the door, and then it came open. It was Agent Squires.

"Mr. President, we have a security problem-"

"Don't bother us," Eleanor said.

"This won't wait."

"Go away!"

"What is it?" the President said.

Squires walked in and closed the door.

"We just apprehended Pete Garrison. He claims there is a bomb planted somewhere in this building that is set to go off at 9:15."

"Where is Wintergreen?"

The door came open. Wintergreen rushed in. Squires grabbed his arm.

"Mr. Director, Garrison says there is a bomb-"

"I'm aware."

Wintergreen turned to Jordan.

"Mr. President, this building is bomb free. But to be extra safe, I think it best that you remain here for a few minutes while we search the Presidential box."

Squires got a pained look on his face.

"What's wrong?" Jordan said staring at him.

"Garrison said that Director Wintergreen planted the bomb."

Eleanor furrowed her brow. "Surely you don't believe your own Director could be involved in anything like that."

"Wintergreen was here after the bomb dogs had finished," Squires said. "Garrison said Agent Flanagan is also involved. And I can't find him. He also said the First Lady was behind it. I recommend that we evacuate the building."

"Bring Garrison here," Eleanor said.

"Why?"

"I'll get the truth out of him."

"If there is a bomb-"

"Russell. Tell him."

"Do as she says, Agent."

"Is that an order?"

"Do as she says. I'll straighten this out myself."

Squires departed.

"What the hell is going on, Eleanor?"

"Garrison is trying to confuse everyone. You'll look foolish if you go running out of here and this turns out to be a false alarm. The press will have a field day. It'll be like the time President Nixon canceled a trip to New Orleans because of uncorroborated threat information. He regretted it until the day he left office. Don't let them do this to you. It would he a humiliation."

Jordan stared at her and, for the first time, he saw a different person than the one he'd married. He saw their deal, their connection, and he saw everything that they had done to one another, and his knees suddenly went weak.

Squires pushed the door open. He and two other agents had Garrison between them, handcuffed.

"Mr. President, the First Lady paid Larry Wintergreen to kill you," Garrison said. "She had him plant a bomb here."

"Sit down, Pete," Eleanor said condescendingly. "I'll call a doctor for you. You'll feel better after you talk to him."

"It's almost 9:15," Garrison said. "Give the evacuation order! Your life depends on it!"

"If Eleanor knew there is a bomb here, why would she be with me right now?" Jordan asked.

"Because it would look odd for her to have remained at the White House. She was covering herself "