“What time is the speech?” Benton asked.
“Less than twenty-five minutes,” Matt said.
“Well,” Benton said, pointing to the woods behind the office. “I know a back road which could get us to the dam in less than twenty minutes from this very spot.”
Nick ran into the office without saying a word, then came out a moment later holding up a set of keys and pointing to a dark green sheriff SUV.
“We’re taking the beast.” Nick handed the keys to Benton and said, “They’ll be no speeding tickets today, so get us there as fast as possible.”
President Merrick sat in a barber’s chair with a cloth sheet tucked into his collar to protect his suit jacket. He stared into a large mirror while his makeup artist, Camille, dabbed his face with cotton balls. The room was empty but for Camille and Samuel Fisk. It was a small side room, well lit and just steps away from the podium where he was about to address the American people. Fisk sat cross-legged in a barber’s chair next to him.
“Eight minutes,” Fisk said.
“Any news?” Merrick asked for the third time already.
Fisk sighed. He looked down at his phone and scrolled his thumb across the screen. “Yes,” Fisk said, staring at his phone. “Good news. Barzani decided to give himself up. It seems he’s afraid Santa won’t give him any presents this year.” Fisk looked up at Merrick. “Well, that’s a good break, huh?”
Merrick made eye contact with Camille through the mirror. “See what I have to deal with all day?”
Camille smiled and kept busy wiping gauze across Merrick’s forehead to even out the powder. “Yes, Mr. President.”
Merrick ran situations through his mind like a chess player considering his next twelve moves and his opponent’s reaction.
“Hey, Sam,” Merrick said. “What if I announce a troop withdrawal from Turkey, but never actually act on it? I could buy Nick another twenty-four, maybe forty-eight hours.”
Sam’s face went sour with disgust. “The next time you begin a sentence with, ‘What if,’ I’m moving to Moscow.”
“I’m just suggesting alternatives to our dilemma. There’s no reason to get condescending with me.”
“Yes there is. You’re quite eager to sell your integrity. I thought that was the one thing you’d always leave intact no matter how broken our system had become.”
“Yes, but is that any different than saying I won’t cut taxes, then cutting taxes once the budget is presented?”
“No, that’s why you haven’t done that either.”
Merrick tugged on his cloth sheet and ripped it from his collar. He quickly stood up, leaving Camille with a handful of brown cotton and a shocked expression.
“Listen,” Merrick said, coming around his chair now and facing Fisk head on. “I’m looking at this thing from every angle, okay? Occasionally I need to verbalize it and hear the words coming from my mouth before I decide what action to take. And when I do that, sometimes I just need you to listen.”
Fisk sat perfectly still with no expression.
“Can you do that for me, Sam?”
Fisk said nothing.
Merrick turned to look in the mirror and twisted his head from side to side. “I think we’re done here,” he said.
No one spoke as he headed out the door.
They were rushing down the dirt road way too fast. Benton seemed to know the way and several times made quick, hairpin turns to avoid smacking into trees. The SUV bounced and skidded while branches kept slapping the windshield so hard, Matt actually flinched a couple of times from the passenger seat. Nick was on the phone in the back seat, trying to find the closest available backup.
When Nick got off his cell, Matt looked over his shoulder at him. “How long?”
“Thirty minutes is the best they can do.”
“We’re only five minutes from the east entrance,” Benton said, keeping his eyes peeled to the narrow strip of dirt, while yanking the steering wheel back and forth.
Matt turned on the radio and found the all-news channel. They were discussing the President’s speech, making wild assumptions which were sure to boost the ratings. The announcer gave vivid descriptions of who was in attendance and estimated the President’s arrival to be less than three minutes.
“All right,” Matt said to Benton. “Tell us everything you know about this dam and where we might be able to spot Barzani.”
“Well,” Benton said, his eyes shifting ahead of him, “it was finished in 1911 and in 1996 we raised its height by seventy feet. In order to add to the original construction, a series of tunnels were built to give the workers access to the interior of the original design.”
At the word ‘tunnels’ both Matt and Nick perked up.
“Those tunnels are still intact,” Benson continued. “The main opening begins behind a maintenance door tucked behind a cascade of oleanders. You’d have to be pretty well-informed to even know about the tunnels or their entrance. But if you knew what you were doing, there are a couple of spots where the old and the new parts of the dam converge … and …” Benton glanced over at Matt seemingly measuring whether Roosevelt Dam might truly be in danger of a terrorist attack.
“Go ahead.” Matt nodded, not wanting the engineer to lose his train of thought by bogging him down with a heavy dose of Barzani’s skills with explosives.
“Well, if someone knew what they were doing, that’s where the dam would be the most vulnerable.”
“Okay,” Matt said, “you take us straight there.”
“That’ll be easy. This road ends directly in front of those oleanders.” Benton fished out a set of keys from his pocket while handling the steering wheel with one hand. He handed the keys to Matt, holding one key in particular between his thumb and index finger. “Here’s the key to get in that maintenance door. Take the tunnel straight for about fifty feet, then veer left when you come to a fork.”
Matt took the keys. He looked back at Nick and saw him texting on his phone.
“Anything?” Matt asked.
Nick shrugged.
While looking back, Matt spotted something out the back window which caused him to glower. In the distance, a tiny puff of dirt seemed to drift up between the trees behind them. The wisp of dirt seemed to move with a consistent motion. It only took a few moments for Matt to realize what was happening.
“We have company,” Matt said, nodding out the back window.
Nick struggled to turn freely with his shoulder wrapped. “Shit,” he said.
The cloud of dirt came from a set of tires charging up the road behind them. The vehicle was probably less than a half a mile away. Maybe forty seconds on the winding path they were traveling on.
“Could it be one of ours?” Matt asked.
“No,” Nick said. “The helicopter was going to be the quickest to arrive.”
Benton glanced at his rear view mirror. “It could be hunters,” he said. “They’re about the only ones who use this road anymore.”
Matt and Nick both knew it wasn’t any hunter. They also knew it wasn’t Barzani either. The terrorist was ahead waiting for them. So that left one obvious answer to the question.
“Here’s what we do,” Matt said, unfastening his seat belt and pulling the Glock from his holster. “Slow down enough for me to jump out into the trees and I’ll take care of this.”
“No,” Nick said. “Too dangerous. He’s a pro.”
“Who’s a pro?” Benton asked.
“How close are we?” Matt asked.
“It’s just around this next turn, maybe a hundred yards,” Benton said. “Who’s a pro?” he repeated.
Those were the last words spoken before the explosion lifted the speeding SUV and drove them into the trees. The velocity of the vehicle and the power of the bomb combined to lift the car into a rolling mass of dead weight. Like a meteor breaking through the atmosphere, momentum and gravity both conspired to stop its flight with a deafening collision.
Chapter 29