Ethan saw on his left the entrance to the lounge, the doorway wide open. From his vantage point he could see some of the President’s family sitting on the couch and he could finally hear Abrahem Nassir’s voice clearly as it carried out into the hall.
‘Are you getting upset, Mister President?!’
Ethan crossed the hall and hugged the wall beside the entrance, his eyes closed as he focused in on Abrahem’s voice. He was still standing where Ethan had seen him from outside, tucked up close to the television, most likely with the girl still in his grasp. Ethan had not been able to see a weapon in Abrahem’s hands but he had to assume a pistol, or at the very least a knife, was the assassin’s weapon of choice.
Ethan knew that he would not be able to shoot accurately enough to hit Abrahem and kill him outright without risking the life of his captive. Such sharp — shooting was the stuff of television legend, not the real world, as was the chance of a single shot dropping a subject there and then. Criminals had been known to fight after taking shotgun shrapnel in the head, others had taken sixty rounds and lived to tell the tale and in one remarkable engagement a US soldier in Vietnam fought for six hours despite nearly forty serious bullet, shrapnel and bayonet wounds, as well as performing an eighty yard run with a rifle round in one knee.
Ethan kept his eyes closed as he heard Abrahem Nassir’s voice.
‘I shall not leave this life without putting you through the same pain, grief and suffering that I and so many others have endured at your hands.’
The response came immediately, grief stricken.
‘Please, leave her be!’
Ethan shoved his pistol into the back of his jeans beneath his shirt, turned and stepped into plain view.
‘Hello Abrahem.’
XLVIII
‘Set up a perimeter and don’t let anything get within a quarter mile of that house without my say so!’
Secret Service Agent Daniel Hopkin’s voice boomed like a cannon down the radio as the SUV rocketed along the country road, Hannah Ford hanging on for dear life as the team deployed to Travilah. She could see behind her a long stream of government vehicles all armed to the teeth, and behind that a pair of helicopters swiftly gaining on the convoy.
Hopkins turned to her, his broad jaw tense and his gaze penetrating in its intensity.
‘According to the President, you’re on point for this operation. I don’t like it, Director LeMay is spitting flames about it and right now you’re wanted for a homicide in Hong Kong so whoever is backing you must have some serious influence.’
‘The Defense Intelligance Agency knows what’s been happening,’ Hannah shot back. ‘Once this is over, everything will be explained, just get us to that house.’
‘Where is this guy Warner, right now?’
Hannah shook her head. ‘He took off and we don’t have a location for him. The only thing we can assume is that he identified Abrahem Nassir’s real target and headed directly there.’
‘What are the chances that he’s under the control of a hostile via one of these supposed implants?’
‘Minimal.’
Hopkins nodded and keyed his microphone again.
‘All units, consider all non — household entities to be hostiles. Repeat, all non — household entities to be hostiles.’
‘Hey!’ Hannah protested. ‘I just told you Ethan Warner’s on our side!’
‘No, you told me his chances of subversion were minimal. That’s not good enough for me to prioritize his safety over that of the President and his family, and we have reports from the Metropolitan Police Department that a man matching Warner’s description has stolen vehicles and opened fire on members of the public! You either get me proof that he’s safe to consider a blue or he’s going down!’
Hannah stared in disbelief at the agent. She knew damned well, as did Hopkins, that there was no way in hell they would have the time to figure out what side Ethan was on before the Secret Service would storm the property and take Abrahem Nassir down.
‘Do we still have the video link?’ she asked.
Hopkins nodded as they were driven to a spot within one mile of the mansion.
‘It’s being maintained, but the feed at the White House was cut off prior to the appearance of Abrahem Nassir, so right now nobody knows what’s happening and I want it to stay that way.’
‘The media can’t get in here, can they?’ Hannah asked. ‘The President’s home has an aerial exclusion zone around it, right? Nothing can get close enough to film?’
‘Don’t underestimate the resourcefulness of the media,’ Hopkins snapped back. ‘They have drones with telephoto lenses that can shoot rock steady footage through a window from a couple of miles away. I want this situation contained within the next ten minutes before this asshole Nassir gets his revenge or whatever it is he wants. If I have anything to do with it this whole situation will never have happened, understood?’
Hannah hesitated as she looked at the agent’s uncompromising glare, and then she nodded in agreement.
‘Okay, fine,’ she replied. ‘But at least let me lead and get to Warner first. If he’s in there he may be the one person close enough to Nassir to stop him from taking any more lives.’
Hopkins grinned ruefully as he checked the magazine of his pistol and then shoved it back into its holster as the vehicle slowed.
‘Judging by Nassir’s recent history, I don’t think that’s going to happen.’
The SUV came to a halt below the crest of a hill less than a mile away from the former President’s residence, and Hopkins jumped out and jogged to the crest of the hill. Hannah followed as the agent crouched down in the foliage lining the road and pulled out a pair of binoculars, scanning the house for any sign of movement.
‘Anything?’ Hannah asked.
Hopkins shook his head.
‘Nothing, but we’ll know more when the snipers get into position.’
‘They’re not going to be able to pull off a headshot from out here,’ Hannah insisted, ‘even I know that.’
Hopkins was about to reply when he pressed his earpiece tighter and frowned as he listened.
‘What is it?’ Hannah asked as the agent looked up at the building.
Hopkins pulled his cell phone out and accessed a new file that he had been sent. ‘The former President had two new members of staff on his security team, permanent assets hired only recently to provide extra security in the home.’
‘Do we have identification details?’ she asked.
Hopkins showed her two images on the cell’s screen, and immediately Hannah pointed to one of them.
‘We’ve got a real problem,’ she replied.
From the screen of the cell the face of Aaron Mitchell stared back at her.
Abrahem Nassir turned abruptly as Ethan appeared in the doorway, a pistol pressed to the jaw of the young girl.
Ethan only had a brief moment to survey the big room. The former President’s family were arrayed on the large couch and two armchairs either side of it, all of them wearing stricken expressions. Behind them stood a tall, dark man with his hands in the air, his pistol on the carpeted floor nearby and out of reach.
Ethan almost gave a start of recognition as he recognized Aaron Mitchell’s intimidating form looming there but managed to focus on Abrahem instead,
‘Who the hell are you?’ Abrahem Nassir snapped.
‘You don’t need to hurt these people, Abrahem,’ Ethan replied. ‘They don’t know who you are and probably don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Look at that girl you’re holding — she wasn’t even alive when Basra first got bombed.’
Abraham’s dark eyes glowed with malevolence and he almost spat his response in Ethan’s direction.