Porter opened his door and stepped out. He left the door open so as not to startle Steve from his surveillance. With the weapon held loosely behind his back, Porter walked quietly over to the unaware man.
"I think you might be right," Porter said, putting his binoculars to his eyes with his right hand. "We really are too far away to see what they're doing."
Steve turned, now realizing Porter had gotten out of the car. "Yeah, I know," he said in an angry tone. "That's what I've been trying to tell you. If we go over there right now, we can box them in and take them down. I don't know if you realize it, but those two are extremely dangerous. The sooner we can get to them, the better."
Porter shifted closer to Steve, momentarily lowering his binoculars. When he was a few feet away, he craned his neck and narrowed his eyes as if he'd seen something of interest. He put his binoculars back to his face.
"Whoa," he said. "There it is."
"There what is?" Steve asked, hurriedly raising his binoculars to see what was going on.
Porter lowered his binoculars, raised the weapon in his left hand, and squeezed the trigger. A pink mist erupted from the other side of Steve's skull. His body stood still for a second before toppling over to the side and into the bushes.
The two men in the back of the car saw their cue and immediately got out. They calmly walked over to the body, grabbed the dead man by the ankles, and dragged him deeper into the bushes. They worked quickly, kicking leaves and piling branches over the body until it was almost invisible to the curious eye.
Someone would find him eventually, of course. That was a certainty. Porter's only concern was making sure that didn't happen in the next few hours.
Cars continued to hurry by: a road full of witnesses who didn't see a thing.
Porter returned to the front passenger seat while one of his men climbed into the front. Looking through the binoculars again, Porter watched as Wyatt's car backed out of the spot next to the river.
"They're on the move," he said to his driver. "Time to get going. Wait until they're on the main road before you pull out."
"Yes, sir," the driver said.
Porter kept his eyes on his quarry. The car steered out onto the highway and turned to the right.
"Hang back. I think I know where they're going."
"Where, sir?"
"What would you do if you were them and you'd just found the map to a massive treasure in Alaska?"
The driver thought for a second. "Get a flight to Alaska?"
"Bingo."
"But they'll be picked up by our people if they go near an airport."
"Not if they go to a small one. Security is much more lax at those."
"What's the plan then, sir?"
"Let them go to the airport. We take them down before they board. Then… we take their plane. You're a pilot, right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well then. Looks like we just found our ride."
Chapter 31
Emily tapped away at the tiny keyboard on her phone. She'd sent the president six text messages since leaving her Atlanta office. He hadn't responded to a single one.
She wasn't surprised. Only land lines worked down in the bunker. At least that's what she tried to tell herself. The problem with that theory was that phones worked on Wi-Fi as well. So, if there was a wireless internet connection in the president's protected quarters, he'd be able to see the texts.
Adriana drove their rental car down through the dark streets of the nation's capital. It was getting late. The chill of winter had driven most of the pedestrians indoors for the night. There were still cars driving about, but not nearly as many as during business hours.
"Any luck?" Adriana asked as she guided the car through an intersection and merged onto Pennsylvania Avenue.
"No," Emily said. "Nothing. I don't know if he's getting my messages that far underground. They should have the internet down there, but I'm not sure."
"Maybe he set his phone down somewhere to charge it."
"Yeah, it could be for a number of reasons," Emily said with a sigh.
She didn't like the fact that she couldn't get in touch with Dawkins. Over the years, they'd developed a strong relationship, mostly kept out of the public eye for discretionary reasons.
There was no denying Emily's feelings for the president. And she knew he felt the same about her. Those emotional attachments made the attempt on his life that much more difficult for Emily. The thought of losing him had become almost unbearable.
"John is a smart man," Adriana said, using the president's first name. "He may have already figured out who was behind everything."
"Maybe."
"He has every resource in the world at his disposal. I'm sure he has good people on it."
"Yeah. The only problem is that some of those resources may be out to kill him. Like Foster." She shook her head at the name. "I always thought there was something off about him."
"What do you mean?"
"I never really put a finger on it. He just seemed like a shady guy. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about when it comes to politicians. Most of them have a slimy feel to them."
Adriana agreed with a nod. "Yes, I think that is a universal issue, not just an American one."
Emily blew air through her lips, flapping them for a second. "Working for the president has been a real blessing. Most of the other agencies have to answer to committees, boards, other arms of government. We operate with a good amount of autonomy, only answering to the man himself."
"That's definitely got its advantages."
"Yes. It's nice to not have to worry about oversight committees and that sort of thing. They slow down so much of the work that needs to be done."
Adriana turned into the driveway leading up to the White House. After they'd gone through the checkpoints and parked their car, they made their way through another security check in an outbuilding next to the presidential mansion.
Emily led the way through the halls of the White House, showing off her credentials to every Secret Service agent she passed.
"Looks like they brought in a few extra people," Emily said after flashing her badge for the fifth time.
"Can you blame them?"
"No. That's standard protocol. I'm guessing some of these guys are working doubles to make sure they have enough people on hand."
Emily nodded as she turned down another long hall. "Yes. Normally that would be a problem, which is why they work in shifts. During an emergency, however, these agents are able to go longer, probably due to the increased adrenaline going through their veins. Somehow, they find a way to get it done.”
They reached the secret elevator, and Emily raised her credentials for the guy standing guard. He gave a curt nod and let them pass.
The two didn't say much on the elevator ride down until they neared the bottom. Then Adriana brought up a good question.
"What are we going to do if Foster is in here with the president?"
"I considered that might happen. If it does, we face him right there, tell Dawkins everything, and let him sort out how to handle it."
The doors opened, and they were greeted by the same sterile hallway from before. It almost felt like they'd never left.
Emily led the way down the first corridor and made a right at an intersection.
"Shouldn't we go that way?" Adriana asked, pointing to the left.
"No. That's where we were before. He'll be in the control room, more than likely."
"Control room?"
Emily didn't need to answer. The two rounded another turn and found themselves staring into a cavernous room with a giant map on the far wall and computer workstations covering three rows of counters.
"Wow," Adriana said.