“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 Simcox’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 windbreaker. 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.
FIFTY-THREE
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.