Horror flooded through Jack Brooke, but he wasted no time in securing the door and joining Hawke and his daughter in the cockpit. It was time to take the fight to the enemy.
CHAPTER TEN
The Secret Service agents bundled Senator Edward D. Kimble into the black Cadillac SUV that was idling outside his office on Capitol Hill and made the short journey to the White House. As they headed west, Kimble looked along the National Mall in horror at the devastated Washington Monument directly ahead of them.
They made a sharp right turn and skidded onto Pennsylvania Avenue. With the curfew now in force across the city for all non-approved journeys, the journey took a few short minutes and they arrived at the east entrance of the White House in double-quick time. The Cadillac swept through the gates and accelerated along the drive around the South Lawn. Seconds later Kimble was being rushed into the south entrance of the Executive Residence.
They were met by Scott Anderson, Charles Grant’s Chief-of-Staff. “Welcome to the White House, sir,” he said hurriedly to Kimble. He was out of breath as they paced through the residence toward the West Wing. The nervous faces of junior staffers peered up at him as he raced past them. “This won’t take long, sir.”
As they moved along the plush corridor, Kimble said nothing.
And then they reached the Oval Office.
Teddy Kimble was speechless for the first time in his life. He had been in the impressive room many times before, but all those times it was someone else’s office, and that someone else was the President of the United States. Charles Grant had always been in here, standing behind the desk, and the rest of the room orbited around his powerful gravitas. Now, Grant was gone, and the room was his.
Or soon would be.
But what had seemed like a good idea at the time was now starting to feel very wrong.
Anderson stepped forward. “Sir, this is Mark Paton, a lawyer and also of course a federal judge. He’ll be swearing you in.”
Kimble nodded grimly. “Where’s the Chief Justice?”
Paton pulled a copy of the Bible from his suitcase. “Chief Justice Owens is on a fishing holiday in Montana, sir, but there’s no legal stipulation that he has to administer the oath.”
Grant’s Chief-of-Staff turned to Kimble. “Senator, with the exception of Jack Brooke who’s missing and presumed dead, the cabinet has convened by secure video-phone and approved the use of the Twenty-Fifth Amendment. Congressman Mitchell, USSS Agent King and the Secretary of Labor are here to act as witnesses. Are you ready to take the oath, Senator?”
Kimble glanced around the room at the men, and then above their heads at the portraits of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln. History started to weigh heavy on his shoulders. “I am, Mr Anderson.”
Mark Paton stepped forward with a copy of the Bible in his hand and spoke. His words were solemn and quiet in the hushed, grim atmosphere of the Oval Office.
“Then please raise your right hand and repeat after me…I, Edward Dupont Kimble do solemnly swear…”
Kimble cleared his throat. “I, Edward Dupont Kimble do solemnly swear…”
“That I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States…”
Kimble repeated the words slowly, a slight wobble in his voice. “That I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States…”
“And will to the best of my ability…”
He paused for half a second to ask himself if this was really happening. “And will to the best of my ability.”
Paton’s voice didn’t waver. “Preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”
“Preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”
“So help me God.”
Kimble swallowed hard. “So help me God.”
Paton lowered the Bible and shook Kimble’s hand. “Congratulations, Mr President.”
Hawke strapped himself in the pilot’s seat and moved his hand up to the overhead panel. He clicked the two battery switches and a computerized voice began to squawk.
“What the hell does that mean?” asked Alex as she sat down beside him and strapped herself in.
“It means we’re on battery power,” Hawke replied. “But battery power’s not going to get us to Washington.” He switched on the fuel tank pumps and started up the auxiliary power unit. Suddenly they heard a whining sound as the APU powered up and began to run the electrical systems.
He activated the avionics, emergency lights and APU bleed. “Yeah…” he said to himself. “I’m pretty sure that’s right — now engine start up.”
“Well make it quick!” Brooke said, poking his head through the cabin door. “A sniper killed Lopez and look over there!”
Hawke glanced through the cockpit window and saw an intense fire-fight taking place on the perimeter fence between local police and airport security on one side, and the men who had fired the grenade on the other.
Brooke clenched his jaw. “If they get through that fence we’re the next target!”
“So no pressure, then,” Hawke said, and checked the powerplant section on the overhead panel to ensure the ignition switches were on auto. He flicked open the safety covers and moved the control switch for Engine One to the start position.
Alex raised an eyebrow. “You seem to know your way around.”
“That’s what all the girls say,” Hawke said.
“And so modest, too.”
He ignored her and watched the instrument panels spring to life as the aircraft began pumping fuel to the engine.
“Oil temperature and oil pressure rising,” he muttered, and did the same procedure for engine two. “Now we’re cooking with gas!”
“And so are those maniacs!” Brooke said, pointing at the fence. The men had overwhelmed the local police force and broken through the perimeter. They were just under half a mile from their jet.
“They’re heading this way, Joe!” Alex said. “They want to kill my Dad!”
She felt Brooke squeeze her shoulder in reassurance, but she knew he would be scared too.
Hawke ignored everything and focussed, flicking off the APU bleeds now the engines were up and running and powering the aircraft. He checked the hydraulic electrical pumps were set to auto and glanced over the panels one last time, rubbing his hands together.
“Don’t you have to tell this thing where it’s going?” Alex said.
“Probably, but we’re just going to fly east and hope for the best.”
Before she could answer, Hawke pushed forward the throttles and the engines roared to life. The plane began to taxi toward the runway. “This is your captain speaking,” Hawke said. “I recommend a strong drink followed by strapping yourselves into your seats, in that order, and as fast as possible.”
He taxied the Embraer to Runway 13 as the gunmen climbed into an airport fire truck and raced toward them. Seconds later they were almost alongside them and began firing at the aircraft.
“Now that is just not cricket!” the Englishman muttered.
Hawke pushed the throttles forward and the powerful aircraft quickly gained speed. The runway grumbled angrily beneath them and the fire truck now fell far behind as they raced toward V1 speed.
Hawke pulled back on the yoke and the jet’s nose rotated. They lifted into the air high above Hailey and he retracted the gear. They were already flying at nearly two hundred knots as they passed the mountain line and shot up into the blue sky, tearing through a handful of cumulus clouds on their way up.
Hawke spoke quietly into the headset. “Ladies and gentleman, no one is more surprised than your captain that we are actually safely airborne, but pleased be advised to stay in your seats with your seatbelts on until we have reached cruising altitude and I’m absolutely sure I can keep this thing in the air. Thanks.”
Alex smiled. “You’ve done this before, right?”
Hawke smiled. “Yes and no. I’m properly trained to fly light aircraft but I’m a rotorhead really. The good news is I did take private lessons in these for a few weeks until the money ran out, so I know what everything is and what it all does.” He paused and narrowed his eyes with confusion. “Except that one,” he said, leaning toward a bright red button which read ESSENTIAL POWER. “I wish I knew what that one did.”
Alex rolled her eyes and sighed. “Very drole, Mr Hawke.”
Hawke said nothing, and set the autopilot to fly at a course of sixty-one degrees with a vertical speed of fifteen hundred feet per minute. When they hit their cruising altitude of thirty-five thousand feet, he began to relax for the first time, glancing over the controls with a mix of awe, respect and pride.
“Should be in Washington DC in around four hours,” he said, tapping the top of the instrument panel as if the aircraft were a faithful dog.
“Do we even have enough fuel?” Alex asked.
“Shit — I never checked that.”
Alex looked panicked. “You’re kidding, right?”
“What do you think? We have enough fuel, but the flight to DC is at the far end of this little baby’s range, so we won’t have much to spare if we’re pushed out of Washington airspace because of the attacks.”
“We’ll deal with that right now.” They both turned to see Jack Brooke standing in the cabin doorway once again. “I want you to radio whoever the hell you have to and tell them what happened back there, and that I’m coming back to the Pentagon to straighten this shit out.”
“On it,” Alex said.
Brooke leaned over the pilot’s seat. “And Hawke?”
“Yeah?”
“Back there, at the house when we were getting attacked.”
“Yeah?”
Brooke paused a beat. He looked like he was trying to remember something important. “Did you call my daughter a septic tank?”
“Er, well…”
“Get outta here, Dad!”
Without saying another word, Brooke turned and walked back to the passenger cabin.
“That’s my Dad, by the way,” Alex said, and offered half a smile. “Did I ever tell you that?”
“Come to think of it,” Hawke said, fixing his eyes on her. “I really don’t think you did.”
“I guess now you know why,” she said.
Hawke guessed it was supposed to be a joke comment, but her words were tinged with sadness, and she turned away from him to look out the window as they raced over Caribou Mountain and crossed into Wyoming.
“I need to stretch my legs,” she said. “Sometimes they kind of hurt.”
Hawke looked at her, concerned. “Are you okay?”
She nodded and smiled. “Sure.”
She unstrapped herself and walked into the main cabin. As she went, she pulled her phone from her pocket and made a quick call to an old friend.