The White House: A Flynn Carroll Thriller (28 page)

Flynn turned to them. “We're heading for the White House. We need to make certain that Greene is unable to do anything rash.”

“By what means?”

“By whatever means, Senator. Of course, we want to avoid assassination. That's a last resort, but it's going to stay on the table.”

Boxleitner said, “I don't see why you'd be safe going to Washington. Or anywhere.”

“We can't do this on the phone, obviously.”

“No.” But the DCIA was right. How would they get to the White House alive? But then he thought, how had he gotten here safely, and why hadn't they just blown hell out of the place and been done with him?

At some point, after the destruction of the TR, they had changed their approach. They had backed off hunting him down—but why?

When it hit him—when he truly understood—his guts gave an enormous, sickening heave. He said, “Car's fine; we'll make it. Let's go.”

“
Car?
Are you nuts?”

“We'll make it.”

“
Flynn!
”

He was halfway down the hall before he heard her running behind him. “Oh, God, Flynn, please let's do the bus-and-train thing. We can take the Cheverly Line, I know how to do it, we'll be at the White House before six.”

“We'll take my car. You'll need the Highway Patrol to clear us in.”

“What? What are you saying? Your car's gonna be loaded with tracking. Talk about a death trap.”

“They want us in Washington.”

“
Why?
”

“So they can be certain we're spinning our wheels while they do this thing.”

“I'm lost.”

“Trust me.”

They went along empty corridors to the underground garage where specialized vehicles and those requiring high security were kept.

When they arrived at the guard post, it became necessary to check the car out. They weren't on the guard's list, so he was very careful and very slow. Flynn was tempted to just hit the gas and breach the barrier, but he didn't need the hassle.

“Get us rolling,” he said to Diana.

She got out, leaned into the guardhouse, then returned to the car.

The barrier went up.

“What did you do?”

“Scared him to death.”

As they pulled out toward the parkway, she got on the phone and ordered up a Highway Patrol escort.

This had to look to Aeon's agents exactly as they expected it to look or they'd kill Flynn in an instant. They were conservative; they would always err on the side of safety. They possessed spectacular predictive algorithms, though, and had probably gamed his every move, right down to the moment he would fail.

She twisted in her seat, tried to look up, then opened the moon roof.

“No.”

“We need to watch for disks!”

“They're going to let us through.”

“You keep saying that, but why?”

“They've misled themselves.”

A trooper car pulled past them and switched on its light bar and siren. The traffic ahead melted as they accelerated through a hundred miles an hour. As they headed into the city, Diana worked the phone.

They were pulling up to the private gate when she said, “It's a no.”

“Shit.”

“Lorna.”

“Give me the phone.”

“Flynn, Lorna's not gonna even talk to you.” She handed him her iPhone. There was no reason to use a secure instrument, not when the other end was substandard, and Lorna wasn't going to be making any effort to secure the call.

He called Cissy. “Where are you?”

“Flynn, where are
you
? We need you!”

“At the gate. Lorna won't let us in.”

“She's a fool! Boxy and that weird guy were here with Senator Glass. Daddy's not doubting you now.”

“Can you get us in?”

“I don't know, I can try.”

He returned the phone to Diana.

“What did she say?”

“She's gonna try.”

“So we wait.”

“Yep.”

“What do we do if we get in? What do we say?”

“Tell Lorna that she needs to believe Boxleitner and your dad.”

“Why doesn't she already? That's what's so strange.”

Diana's cell phone vibrated. “Yes?” She listened. “OK, got it.” She said to Flynn, “Cissy's waiting for us at the West Wing Entrance. The marine on guard at the moment is a friend of hers.”

The gate began to open. Whatever Cissy had done, it had obviously involved getting the perimeter guard to stand down as they drove in. He swung around to the West Wing Entrance. Cissy was there, standing with the marine guard, sharing a smoke.

Flynn and Diana got out of the Audi.

“Hey,” Cissy said to Flynn. Then, with just a shade of curtness, “Hello, Diana.”

They followed her into the empty lobby, then through to the outdoor colonnade and into the Residence. They were stopped by a Secret Service officer stationed at the entrance. Flynn had not seen him before. He wore the usual dark suit. He was trim and muscular. He said nothing, but he scrutinized Flynn and Diana with a professional eye. He hadn't been on duty when Flynn was here previously, so there was no sign of recognition.

“They're friends of mine, Henry,” Cissy said. “We're gonna play some bridge.”

“Three-handed?”

“Ginny will join us.”

He stood silently regarding them. He wasn't going to let them pass, not just yet. “I'm sorry,” he said, “but I need ID.”

“On my friends? Since when?”

“Since these are friends I'm not recognizing.”

Was Flynn looking at a biorobot here? Was this trim and polished thirty-something actually Aeon? He had lost his temperature sensor in his fall.

Flynn went for the Grauerholtz ID. Thankfully, it hadn't been taken from him.

“These are my friends, Henry. We don't do this with my friends.”

“They're not in the book. There's no prep.”

“They are my damn
friends,
Henry, come on!”

“No, it doesn't matter, Cissy,” Flynn said as he held out the passport.

That was enough for Henry, and he let the three of them pass.

Once they were in Cissy's room and the door was closed and locked, Cissy faced Flynn with shattered eyes. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Busy. Problems that couldn't wait.”

“The only problem that can't wait is right here in this building. Daddy's in the Lincoln going slowly crazy and Mom's full of pills.”

“What were they told?”

“That you and Di should never have been thrown out.”

“Any details beyond that? Were you there?”

“I was there. They were told that Aeon is real and it's dangerous. Then we got the switchboard to look for you, Flynn. You're unfindable! Not even Boxy could find you.” She turned to Diana. “Did you know where he was?”

“I knew why he was out of communication. But he's here now.”

“What's the lay of the land, Cissy? Your mom's on pills and your dad's haunting the Lincoln because?”

“They know something's wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong! And they don't understand and it's driving them crazy.”

“I can understand that.”

“Can you? To be the most powerful man in the world and know something horrific is going down but not know what? Can you even begin to imagine what that would be like? Billions of lives might be in your hands and you have no idea what to do. That's stress, Flynn, and you belong right here because you might be able to help. You actually might.”

“Look, I've known Bill for a while, at least from a distance. I have to ask: Is he drunk?”

“Not yet.”

“Does he have the football?”

She nodded.

He got up and left the room. She came right after him. “Where do you think you're going?”

“Bill's got the football. That's where I'm going.”

“Wait a second. Am I understanding you that you're concerned because he has it? You don't think he'd do anything with it?”

“I don't know.”

She blocked his way. “I said he was going crazy with worry. He's not insane, Flynn.”

“He's alone with it and apparently very scared, so I need to get in there.”

Shaking her head, she stood aside. “I don't know what came over me. Of course you do.”

“What came over you was the fact that you're no longer just the daughter of Wild Bill Greene. You're the daughter of the President of the United States.”

The three of them went down to the Lincoln Bedroom.

A Secret Service agent stood at the door. “I'm sorry,” he said, raising an arm to block their passage.

“Dave, don't do this.”

“Miss Greene—”

“Stand aside.”

“I can't do that.”

“Look, these are friends from Texas. They've known him since college.”

“Our orders come directly from him.”

Flynn didn't want to incapacitate this man, but time was not on their side. “We'll have to go in,” he said.

The man was now stone, staring fixedly. It was a rough situation for him, and he obviously wanted to be just about anywhere else. Something like this could easily break a Secret Service career.

Flynn said gently, “You didn't get an order, you got a request, am I right?”

“The president doesn't give orders. He doesn't have to.”

“Right now, he needs help, and it's your duty to help him. We're help.”

The agent raised a finger to his earpiece. He was going to take this up the ladder.

“No,” Flynn said. “We need to be in there right now.”

The finger hesitated.

“We've been friends for years. That's why Cissy here called us. When Bill gets into a state like this, he needs support. He's got a really rough decision to make and he's having trouble. That's why he's closed himself off in there. If we don't intervene, he'll start hitting the bottle. You don't want to get your ass blamed for letting that happen.”

The tightly constructed young face had gone pale.

“You can't prevent his daughter from seeing him.”

Slowly, the hand came away from the earpiece. He stood aside.

The room was dark, even the faint light from outside shut away by heavy curtains. The familiar Lincoln Bed that Lincoln hadn't actually slept in appeared to be empty.

There came a voice from across the room. “Flynn?”

“Bill?”

“Close the door.”

Cissy shut it and locked it.

“Where in hell have you been?”

“At Malmstrom.”

“Kill anybody?”

“I think you know what I did. I think you've gotten a briefing and you're getting some things figured out.”

“You're very damn good at killing. It's what you do, I mean. Professionally. Back at UT, I always saw you as a wimp. You and that pretty girl you were running after with your tongue on the ground. Whatever happened to her?”

“We got married.”

“All the best, Mr. Murderer. Is that why you're here? Boxy sent you because I'm unstable? Incompetent? I got elected by the American people, fella. Boxy and Glass and that odd creep came over this afternoon. Told me I needed to listen to you.”

Flynn said carefully, “I don't kill people.”

Bill got up from the chair where he'd been sitting. Flynn saw the football beside it.

“I've been doing some snooping,” he said as he came toward Flynn. “The kind of thing I can do only when Lorna's not peering over my shoulder.” He laughed, a sinister sound. “She's not right in the head, you know. What we used to call them—inverts? She's like Eleanor Roosevelt, with a girl in there warming her bed at night. I guess it's a tradition in the White House, am I right? Call it the sexual intensity of the place. Power makes the juices run.” He glanced back at the football. “They're after me, Flynn. The tiger is in the tall grass. My own people don't think I can do this.” He went over and picked up the football. “They think I can't captain this ship, but they're wrong. Did you know that the Soviets have a sub in the English Channel right now? Why is that there? You know that the bastard Chinks have two more off the West Coast? Again, I ask why? You could fire a missile off one of those things and in three minutes, L.A. is done. Three minutes, Flynn!”

Diana's secure phone buzzed. She held it to her ear.

“Dad,” Cissy said, “there are no Soviets. It's the Russian Federation.”

“Same damn difference. So what do the saucer people think, Flynn?”

“Aeon is extremely dangerous, Bill. I'm glad you've been made aware of that.” Greene had to be gotten out of here right now, and secretly, and taken to a surgical facility to be scanned. If brain surgery was called for, then that had to be done, too. Tonight. Right now.

Diana said, “Just got word in that the incursions have ceased. Not a one in the past fifteen minutes, anywhere in the world.”

“Di, how do we move the President of the United States without the Secret Service interfering?”

“Move me? Goddamnit, I'm not a piece of furniture!”

Flynn decided to try the straightforward approach. “We need an MRI. We need surgeons standing by. But not in a place where you'd be expected.”

“Am I supposed to understand this?”

“Trust us, Bill,” Diana said.

“Come on, Bill, we need to get this done.”

He drew back. “Come on? Come where?” He held the football to his chest, both arms clutching it tightly.

“You need medical attention.”

He put the football down. The desperation in his eyes was terrible to see—raw, stricken, roiling with panic. “They come in my dreams,” he said. “It's Moscow; the bastards have done something to me, the Commie shits!”

“Dad, there is no Soviet Union!”

Slowly, his lips peeling back away from his teeth like an uneasy dog's, he went to his daughter and put his arm around her shoulder. “You let me live and I'll go quietly. I ain't no president, Flynn.” He shook his head. “I have absolutely no damn idea about anything.”