Reeder asked, “You see a way in? Use your imagination.”
“Not that I see,” Miggie said, “or imagine. Maybe if you had someone inside... but from the outside? Suicide.”
She and Reeder exchanged glances: they did have someone inside — the President himself.
“Miggie,” Reeder asked, “is the tunnel still in use?”
“Tunnel?”
“Runs between Aspen Lodge and the command center. Anyway, it did back when I was on the presidential detail.”
Miggie’s tapping again could be heard, then he said, “Yes... yes, it is. Don’t know how that helps, but it’s still functional, according to what I can access.”
“Can any part of the system be shut down without tripping all the alarms?”
“There’s a way to shut off a single sector, but it has to be done from the control center — if you had someone inside.”
“Suppose we did,” Reeder said, “and a sector could be cleared. What’s the best approach?”
A long pause, broken by a sigh. “From the woods on the southeast.”
“Through the golf course.”
“Yes. If no one is playing, that’s where there’ll be the least security... but also the least cover.”
“Late enough in the day, shouldn’t be anybody playing. President Harrison is a morning golfer.”
Mig asked, “How would you know that?”
“I know where the shadows fall, different times of day. Seen pictures of Harrison playing golf there. Old habits die hard.”
“But sometimes fast. Anyway — the second tee, Joe. I’ve got a feeling you know it.”
“I do.”
“Section A-22. That’s the only sector that needs shutting down. Your inside guy can report it as a system check and buy you maybe, oh... ten minutes? But you’ll really have to hustle.”
“Oh yeah. That’s over a mile through woods, unless we take the fairway, which would mean no cover.”
“But it’s also the shortest path to Aspen Lodge, and your tunnel.”
“Thanks, Mig.”
“Are you really going to try this, Joe? Isn’t there some better way?”
“Feel free to call me back with one,” Reeder said, and clicked off.
“You can’t be seriously contemplating this,” she said, her gaze fixed on him again.
“Eyes on the road. I’m going to mull it some. When we sit down with Wade and Hardesy, I’ll tell you what I’ve come up with.”
In Gaithersburg, with Hardesy and Wade not due for a while, Rogers located the Applebee’s, then drove around the area checking to see if they’d been made by any government agents. She knew the kind of vehicles they drove and the way they dressed and even how they had their hair cut. If somebody was on to their meeting, she had a good chance of knowing.
Finally satisfied, she pulled into the restaurant parking lot and backed into a place at the rear with the alley behind them, giving them two channels of flight. The lunch rush was over, though enough extra civilians were around to give them some cover — not that it was very likely the Buick could be on the FBI radar.
They stayed in the car and waited for Hardesy and Wade. No reason to go in and expose themselves any longer than necessary.
She turned to Reeder. “How’s that mulling coming?”
His shrug was barely perceptible. “Let’s just say there’s zero margin for error.”
“Meaning everything goes exactly right, or we check into a federal penitentiary.”
“Not necessarily.”
“Oh?”
“They may kill us.”
They lapsed into silence and the next thing Rogers knew, Reeder was nudging her.
“They’re here,” he said.
She sat up, yawned, stretched. “How long was I out?”
“Not even half an hour.”
“They made good time.”
“Or they struck out on the guns.”
Hardesy and Wade were backing in next to them in a nothing Kia. They all got out and met in front of their vehicles. The two agents looked somewhat on the bedraggled side, Lucas in his black windbreaker and jeans, Wade in the dark gray sweats.
Reeder asked, “Any luck?”
Hardesy said, “Two AR-15s. Wish I had four.”
“Two’ll do. Semiauto?”
“Yeah. My guy is a friend, but he’s not that good a friend. Fully auto’s more than we can hope for, given our circumstances.”
Reeder nodded. “Let’s go in and stop looking like a drug deal. I have a few things to run past you.”
Hardesy gave Rogers a look and she just shrugged.
They asked for and got a table in a back corner. The place was maybe half-full. Wade and Hardesy ordered food, Reeder and Rogers coffee, their breakfast still holding them.
Wade summoned a smile. “Ever try jailhouse food?”
By the time their beverages arrived, Reeder had given them the gist. Nobody was smiling now. Then, covered by clatter and conversation around them, he went over the plan in detail. Wade and Hardesy’s food came and neither touched it.
At one point, Hardesy said, “I don’t know if I’m prepared to shoot a United States Marine or sailor or even a Secret Service agent. Some may be Alliance-turned traitors, but others sure as hell won’t be.”
Reeder sipped his coffee. They might have been discussing an office football pool.
“I’ve considered that too,” Reeder said. “The thing is, they’ll be trying to kill us.”
Hardesy shook his head glumly. “I’m just saying I don’t know if I can drop them.”
Reeder showed nothing at all in his expression. “They are military sworn to protect and defend their country and their president. Ready to give their lives for that. Those who are uncompromised, and that may be most of them, are in a war where they’re being unwittingly used by the enemy.”
Wade was nodding gravely. “The Alliance.”
“The Alliance,” Reeder said. “Any brave men and women who go down will be dying for their country.”
Rogers sighed. “Maybe, but that’s a roundabout way of looking at it.”
“No doubt. And since I first considered going this route, killing our own has weighed heavily. The Secret Service, the Marines, they are all battle-ready, which means bulletproof vests. We’re not using any kind of armor-piercing ammo, correct?”
Hardesy shook his head. “No. Nothing like that.”
“Good. Then just aim center mass. Knock them down. We’re hoping not to fire on anyone at all — a faint hope, I realize, but none of us wants to kill anyone who isn’t a bad guy. Hit them in the vest, and that should put them out of commission, nonlethal.”
Hardesy glanced at Wade, who shrugged. The ex-Army sergeant still looked skeptical, however, obviously loathe to fire on his own.
Rogers said, “We all need to make our own decisions on this one. Joe, in this case, we are a democracy. This is well out of our task force’s mission statement — it’s more a suicide-mission statement.”
That got wry smiles out of everyone, even Reeder, no surprise considering the dark sense of humor of just about every law enforcement professional.
She continued: “So sit this out, with my blessing — just keep it to yourself. Because Reeder and I are going.”
“I’m in,” Wade said, no hesitation at all. “I owe my man Jerry Bohannon as much.”
Finally Hardesy said, “I hate this, I really hate this... but I got nothing better. And I’m not going to be part of letting a fucking coup go down on our watch. I’m in, too.”
When dishes had been cleared and coffee cups filled, Hardesy said, “Trouble is, this all hinges on an inside man, Joe, to shut down a security sector. And we don’t have anybody.”