The Value Of Valor - KJ3 (18 page)

“With one rogue Secret Service agent?”

“No, Kate. I wish that was all it was. The Commission has spent years getting ‘soldiers’ into place. They’ve used blackmail, coercion, bribes—anything you can think of. They have people everywhere, in every walk of life, ready to do their bidding.”

“Including the Secret Service.”

“Yes. I’m guessing either Hawthorne or the vice president or both are part of the Commission’s network.”

It was inconceivable to Kate that men at the very pinnacle of politics could be convinced to play with the balance of power in the world on behalf of a few selfish businessmen. “How do you know all this?”

“My boss is one of their pawns. I found a detailed diary he kept on the network. I think he was hoping to turn the tables and use it against them someday.”

“I take it you got caught snooping.”

“Unfortunately, yes. I barely managed to escape. Kate, you have to get this information to the pres—Charlie—before it’s too late. I think
Lynn Ames

something is imminent.” His eyes implored her. “With my cover blown, I couldn’t risk going to him directly. I thought maybe there was still a chance I could get the information to him without them knowing.” He looked again in the Secret Service agent’s direction. “I can see it’s too late for that.”

Kate put a hand on Keith’s arm. “It’s okay. I promise you I won’t let you or the president down. I’ll leave right away.”

Keith glanced around the room. He saw an FBI agent blocking the back exit, the Secret Service agent he had identified before, and two others strategically placed around the room. He knew there was no way for both of them to make it. Softly, he said, “Kate, you’re a runner, right?”

“Is it that obvious?”

He smiled at her. “Let’s just say it’s clear that you’re in good shape.

We’ll never get out of here alive together. I count four hostiles—one FBI and three Secret Service.”

“Lousy odds.”

“Yes, they are, so we’re going to fix that. I’m going to create a diversion. As soon as I do, you need to make a break for the front door.

Are you ready?”

Kate took in Keith’s grim expression and the tears in his eyes. In a moment of clarity, she knew he was going to sacrifice himself so she could escape. “Is there no other way?”

“No. Good luck, Kate. Tell Charlie it’s been a privilege.”

Before she could say another word, he was moving across the room, weaving as though he’d had too much to drink. Along the way, he knocked into a waiter, spilling drinks on several individuals. He staggered into the piano, his hands landing hard on the keys, and he stumbled into the arms of a man Kate recognized as either FBI or Secret Service.

She saw a flash of metal she recognized as a gun with a silencer when the man’s coat fell open; it galvanized her to action. She began moving away from the commotion toward the front door. Just as she was reaching for the door handle, she felt a hand on her elbow.

She smelled cologne mingled with sweat and felt his breath hot on her ear.

“Ms. Kyle, President Hyland has asked me to escort you to the National Press Club.”

Kate turned and smiled at the Secret Service agent she’d seen with Grayson earlier. “Did he now? That was awfully thoughtful of him.

Thanks just the same, I brought my own car.” As she said the last word, she stomped as hard as she could on the agent’s foot with her stiletto
The Value of Valor

heel, simultaneously twisting out of his grasp. She brought her knee up hard into his crotch and bolted out the door.

President Hyland was midway into his remarks. He was having trouble catching his breath and ran his fingers under his shirt collar in a vain effort to get more air. Sweat ran into his eyes as he struggled to read the words on the TelePrompTer. His stomach felt as though it was going to rebel. He paused for a moment, trying to regroup.

A buzz started through the audience as it became obvious that something was wrong with the president.

He coughed once and stumbled forward into the podium, grabbing his chest. Those around him on the dais rushed to his aid as he fell to the floor unconscious. Secret Service agents, including the Viper, surrounded him while others cleared the auditorium.

People ran in every direction, shouting instructions. In the midst of the pandemonium, the Viper administered a dose of pancuronium that would render the president paralyzed. Only his heart would continue to beat, but the Commission had that detail covered, too. Paramedics appeared with a gurney seconds later, one of them giving the Viper a knowing nod. He was the one who would ensure that the EKG adhesive pads were treated with a non-transmitting gel that would prevent the heartbeat from being detected. They took vital signs, hooked up IVs, and prepared the president for transport to Bethesda Naval Hospital.

Within five minutes of his collapse, the president was loaded into an ambulance. Lights and sirens blazing, it made its way, accompanied by a phalanx of other official vehicles, along the emergency route mapped out in advance by the Secret Service.

As the president’s medical team assembled at Bethesda awaiting the ambulance’s arrival, a Secret Service agent approached a middle-aged doctor waiting at the emergency room doors. “Dr. Conrad? Dr. Benjamin Conrad?”

“Yes,” the president’s personal physician replied.

“Please come with me, sir.” When it looked as though he would resist, the agent added, “There’s been a change in plans. Please, Doctor, there’s no time to waste.”

Ben Conrad followed the agent down a series of hallways to a stairwell on the opposite side of the building from the emergency entrance. As the agent opened the door to the stairwell, the doctor asked,

“What’s going on here? Where are you taking me?”

The agent shoved the doctor roughly through the doorway and down a flight of stairs. Before the doctor could get up, the agent was on him, propelling him outside and into the backseat of a waiting car. The agent spoke into a microphone on his lapel. “We’ve got him.”

Lynn Ames

In his earpiece, he heard Wayne Grayson say, “Good, now get rid of him and make it look like an overdose.”

“Affirmative.” He removed a kit containing a syringe and a bottle of clear liquid from the pocket behind the passenger seat. As the doctor struggled, the agent pushed up the sleeve of his lab coat and jabbed the needle into his arm. The doctor convulsed for several seconds before going limp.

“Okay,” the agent said to the driver. “Let’s take the doctor to Rock Creek Park.”

When they reached their destination, the driver and the agent dumped the body in the woods along with the syringe, which had been wiped clean of fingerprints.

Back at the hospital, Dr. Jonathan Englert slid nonchalantly into the position of lead physician to the president. He stood by the door awaiting the arrival of the presidential ambulance. When someone asked him what had happened to Dr. Conrad, he shrugged. “I don’t know. He just asked me to relieve him.” The nurse to his right winked.

Seconds later, the ambulance pulled to a screeching halt outside the emergency entrance. Paramedics bearing the gurney jumped out, yelling out as they went the events that had transpired, the lack of vital signs, and that they had been following advanced cardiac life support protocols.

“Patient is unresponsive.”

“Patient is in acute respiratory failure and has been connected to a portable ventilator.”

Dr. Englert shouted instructions as the gurney was wheeled down the hall and into a special wing of the hospital. The place was pure bedlam.

When the president had been shifted from the gurney to a treatment table, Dr. Englert ordered all non-essential personnel to clear the room.

Three nurses and two other doctors remained, along with an ER

technician and the Viper, as the president was connected to an EKG

monitor. The monitor registered no activity.

Dr. Englert ordered another round of sodium bicarbonate and epinephrine. When that failed, he charged the prearranged faulty defibrillator paddles and attempted to revive the president. His efforts, repeated several times, yielded no success. After twenty-five minutes in which all manner of resuscitation was attempted, Dr. Englert pronounced the president dead. He ordered the machines disconnected, exited the room, and prepared for the unhappy task of informing the first lady of the president’s death from acute respiratory and cardiac failure.

The Value of Valor

CHAPTER TEN

ow is he? What’s going on? Where’s Ben?” Mimi Hyland

“H was frantic, her eyes wild.

“I’m Dr. Englert, ma’am. Dr. Conrad got called away unexpectedly.”

Englert wiped beads of sweat from his forehead. “I regret to inform you that your husband—the president—is dead.”

“Wha—” It couldn’t be. Charlie was in great shape. “No. I don’t believe you. Where’s Ben? I want to see Ben.” Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. She lunged forward, pounding the doctor in the chest with her fists.

Englert backed up a step, surprised by the first lady’s outburst and unsure what to do next.

The Viper stepped in between her and the doctor, catching her fists in midair as she continued to sob hysterically.

She stopped, suddenly aware of her position and her surroundings.

Charlie would be appalled.
She stood up straight and removed a tissue from her purse, dabbing at her eyes and blowing her nose. Despite the fact that she felt as if her insides were being ripped out, she lifted her chin, looking the doctor directly in the eye.

“I apologize. As you can imagine, this comes as a great shock to me.”

“I’m sure it does, ma’am.”

“I’d like to see my husband now.”

A look of panic flitted across the doctor’s face. They had not planned for this. There wasn’t time. He silently calculated the number of minutes that had passed since he had declared the president dead. If he didn’t get the president back on a ventilator within the next two minutes, the man could be permanently brain damaged.

The Viper spoke. “Ma’am, it is against protocol, but I think everyone would understand if we gave you an opportunity to see your husband.”

He met the doctor’s eyes over the first lady’s head.

“Yes, yes, of course. If you’ll just give me a minute.”

Englert hustled back through the door, grabbing the nurse who had assisted him. “Put him on a portable ventilator for two minutes.”

“But…”

Lynn Ames

“Do it now. Then remove the ventilator and cover him again with the sheet.”

The Viper waited outside the treatment room with the first lady while Englert and the nurse worked frantically inside.

“What’s taking so long?” the first lady asked, just as the door swung open.

“I’m sorry for the delay. Right this way, ma’am.” The doctor escorted Mrs. Hyland into the room where her husband lay covered by a white sheet. All the Secret Service agents present snapped to attention.

When he reached the hospital bed, the doctor turned to the first lady.

“Are you ready?”

She sucked in a deep breath. “Doctor, I will never be ready for this, but I would never forgive myself if I didn’t say goodbye to the man I will always—” Her voice faltered. “Always love.”

Dr. Englert pulled back the sheet and stepped aside.

Mimi looked down at the still, peaceful, pale face of the only man she had ever loved and felt a piece of her soul shatter. “Charlie,” she whispered as she framed his face with her hands.

The doctor shifted uneasily, afraid beyond words that she would lay her head on his chest and hear his heart beating. Sweat rolled down his back.

“Ma’am?” One of the Secret Service agents touched her elbow. “I’m sorry, but we really should go.” He did not answer the voice talking into his earpiece, telling him to get her the fuck out of there.

“Yes,” she sniffed. “Yes, of course.” She looked down one more time, leaned forward, and placed a tender kiss on her husband’s lips. “My love for you will never die.”

The Secret Service agent hustled her out of the room.

“This is the Viper,” the agent said into the tiny microphone transmitter on his lapel.

“What’s your status?” Wayne Grayson’s disembodied voice queried.

“Everything is a go, the package has been disposed of, and replacement parts have arrived.”

“Are they working?”

“Affirmative. The parts are in place, the machines have been shut down for repairs, and we’re ready to switch over to the new system.”

“Affirmative. Transportation has been arranged. Proceed with the transfer via route one. After that, I advise you to take a mental health day.”

“Affirmative.”

The Value of Valor

Grayson ended the transmission with the Viper and turned to his colleagues. The three of them were standing in a corner of the parking lot behind the Russian Embassy. Wood and L’Andreu were pacing nervously.

“It’s done.”

“He’s…?” Wood started to ask.

“Taking a mental health break,” Grayson broke in quickly.

“I still say we ought to make it a permanent holiday,” L’Andreu said.

“No.” Grayson was adamant.

“Why not?”

Grayson tried to rein in his temper. “We already have solid information that Hyland knows major pieces of the plot. What we
don’t
know is who he’s told.”

“I thought you said Kyle was the problem,” L’Andreu said, inclining his head in the direction of the reception still going on inside.

“And her contact,” Wood added.

“Both of them are as good as dead,” Grayson answered. “I’ve got men inside taking care of it even as we speak.”

“That solves the problem then.”

“Not necessarily.” Grayson was growing impatient. “It’s quite possible that Hyland might have contacted other foreign leaders, in which case we would have to adjust our strategy. We’ve come too far to fail now. We must leave nothing to chance.”

“Why not just question him now, then ki…” Wood began to ask.

“Sir?” A breathless voice asked loudly in Grayson’s ear. He held up his hand to Wood and L’Andreu.

“Go ahead.”

“She’s running.”