The Shield Page 6

  The kidnapper paced the room while three sentries walked the building and kept a lookout. A young man sat at a desk with a laptop in front of the large screen. Hayes had watched him use the large display to pilot a set of drones, much different from the government ones his company helped train recruits to use. The kind of drone a civilian would buy. Minutes earlier, Hayes had watched the guy expertly maneuver the drones over the White House. He’d hovered them on top of the roof and then detonated them. One right after the other in quick succession. The whole thing had been displayed on the large screen. Hayes had watched in horror as it happened. It was a surreal experience for him. It felt like he’d been watching a movie, but knew it had really happened. The drones had hovered right over the White House, moved to the right side to the East Wing. Then the kidnapper gave the order and the drones dropped straight down. The second drone captured the bright explosion of the first. Then the screen went black with the impact of the third.

  The kidnapper’s cell phone went off. He stopped pacing and glanced at the phone’s screen, then answered. Hayes narrowed his eyes and watched the man. He listened to the kidnapper’s side of the conversation, as did the young man at the computer. It was as if the kidnapper was waiting for some kind of confirmation. Maybe that the targets had hit their mark. Maybe to confirm they’d done whatever he needed them to do.

  But as he watched the kidnapper, he saw something change in his expression. He went over to the young man and said something to him. Hayes couldn’t make out the words. A second later, the large screen in front of them came to life. It was the view from a camera mounted under another drone hovering nearby.

  The kidnapper said something else into the phone, then stepped around the back of the long table the young man was working from and moved off to the side so he could get a better view of the screen. He kept his eyes fixed on the display and kept his cell phone pressed against his ear as if he was listening to a report from someone nearby. Then the kidnapper said to start moving the drone toward the White House.

  “Why?” asked the young man.

  “Mr. Frasier, don’t ask questions,” the kidnapper responded. “Follow directions. I thought that was clear.”

  The young man named Frasier stared at the kidnapper. “I hit the target like you asked me to. They’re going to shoot this one down if I get close to the White House again. They’re ready for it now.”

  “You’re not going to be flying it over the White House,” said the man. “Move it down Pennsylvania and approach the White House South Lawn. Keep it high in the sky where they won’t see it or hear it.”

  Frasier glanced down at the keyboard and nodded to himself. He hesitated for another moment, then got to work. Hayes kept his eyes fixed to the screen and watched as the drone lifted high into the air. The panoramic view from the camera located below the device quickly showed the streetlights and the buildings surrounding the one they were located in. Once it got to the right height, Frasier started moving it down Pennsylvania Avenue. The drone moved quickly. Lights from the city streaked by fast underneath.

  The kidnapper smiled. Kept the cell phone pressed against his ear, but turned to look over his shoulder and noticed Hayes. The man stepped closer. Hayes squirmed in the chair as the man stopped beside him. “Mr. Hayes, I suggest you pay close attention.”

  Hayes looked up at the man standing over him.

  “Because if this doesn’t work the way we expect it to, it will be up to you to complete the mission for us.”

  Hayes stared back. Found it hard to breathe. The kidnapper smiled again and stepped away. Hayes knew why they were in this particular building and what he’d be asked to do. His kidnapper just confirmed it.

  Frasier slowed the drone as it approached Pennsylvania and Seventeenth. “Now what?”

  The kidnapper said something to the person on the other end of the line. “Move it to the South Lawn,” he said. “Descend slowly so I can get a clear view of the area, but stay high enough so they don’t hear it.”

  The young man nodded. He moved the drone and the entire view shifted. The lights underneath moved slowly. When Frasier panned the aircraft over to the right spot, the kidnapper told him to keep it there. “Start your descent,” he called. “Slow and steady. I need to be able to see what’s happening below on the lawn.”

  As the drone descended, something else came into view. It was hard to make out at first, but became clearer to Hayes with every passing second. It blended in with its surroundings in the dark of night and would’ve remained that way except for flashlights illuminating the aircraft and the spinning blades on top.

  “Marine One ,” the young man said, more to himself than to anyone else.

  The kidnapper smiled a third time. Then his expression changed as the person on the phone gave him additional information. “Back it away, quick,” he ordered and pointed at the screen with his free hand.

  Frasier obeyed the command. He brought the drone farther south, allowing a large buffer between the drone and the helicopter down below. Then two additional helicopters came into view. Hayes understood they were decoys, which always flew alongside Marine One to obscure the true location of the president.

  “Now keep it there,” the kidnapper said.

  The young man took his hands off the laptop and massaged his temples. Hayes watched him in silence. “What are you doing?” he asked, his eyes moving between Frasier, the kidnapper, and the screen.

  The kidnapper said nothing in response. Just shouted more orders. “Now show me Marine One .”

  The camera moved on the drone. The screen panned from a view of the street below to the helicopter directly in front of the hovering drone. The blades were spinning faster. Still hard to see at night. Then Marine One lifted off and began to take flight. It rose quickly into the air and joined the other two helicopters. Then the front of the aircraft lowered, and the blades spun even faster, propelling it forward.

  “I can’t do this,” said the young man.

  The kidnapper stared at him with the phone still pressed to his ear. “Follow them and wait for my word.”

  Frasier shook his head. A small movement as if he was thinking he couldn’t believe what he was doing. The kidnapper reached back and came out with a weapon. The kid saw what he did and moved the drone. Hayes watched as it trailed the three helicopters closely. They scrambled their formation midflight. The kidnapper asked which one carried the president. He waited and listened. A few seconds later, he had it.

  “Move it closer and wait for my command,” he said.

  The kid put his hands on the back of his head briefly. He was breathing hard. Then he got back to work. He trailed the helicopters as the kidnapper kept his weapon trained on him. Hayes watched with wide eyes as he realized what was happening: Marine One —and the president—were about to be taken out.

  FOURTEEN

  I CAUGHT UP with Parker and Agent Rivera as they rounded a corner up ahead of me. Parker extended a hand and smiled as I shook it, and we followed Rivera. We turned a corner and entered another conference room identical to the one downstairs, only this one had a series of tall windows spanning the length of the far wall. It was a lot quieter without the chaos down on the first floor. Parker’s phone buzzed. Willis, I assumed. He answered and told the caller where to find him. Better reception upstairs, I figured.

  “Please take a seat,” said Rivera.

  Parker nodded as we both pulled our chairs out and sat down at a long table, opposite each other. Parker sat with the windows directly behind him. I looked past him. Saw red and blue police lights reflecting off the building across the street. Agent Rivera moved to the head of the table to my right and Parker’s left. He remained standing and reached for a Polycom speakerphone and pressed a button to turn it on. I heard a loud dial tone. Rivera referenced a phone number on his cell phone and dialed it. A moment later, Peter Mulvaney answered from somewhere across the city. The Hoover Building, probably.

  “Who’s in the room?” asked
Mulvaney.

  “Tom Parker, Blake Jordan, and myself,” said Rivera.

  There was a pause on the other end of the line. Mulvaney knew who I was. I’d helped him once before. Back when a man named Bill Landry worked for the Bureau as Mulvaney’s deputy director at the FBI.

  “Is this everybody?” asked Mulvaney from the phone.

  “No,” replied Parker. “My director of field operations is on his way. But we should start anyway.”

  “Okay,” said Mulvaney. “First and foremost, I want to ensure the president is safe and secure.”

  Agent Rivera was still standing. His arms were spread wide on the table as he glanced out the window. “The president just boarded Marine One ,” he said. “He’ll be airborne momentarily if he’s not already.”

  “Where are they taking him?” asked Parker.

  “Andrews,” said Rivera, glancing back. “Once there, he’ll board Air Force One and take to the sky until we figure out what the hell is happening.” He paused and stood up straight, then went to the window and looked out onto the street below. Blue and red lights continued to reflect off the building across the street.

  “Agent Rivera,” said Mulvaney from the phone, “I need you to understand something—we are at a severe disadvantage at the Bureau. The funding situation has limited our ability to perform at full capacity. The president’s number one priority is securing the homeland and stopping terrorist threats—”

  “How’s that working out so far?” snapped Rivera. He turned back and glared down at the speakerphone. “My team just evacuated two hundred staffers out of the White House, a place that’s supposed to be one of the most secure buildings on Earth. And they’re all here, inside the Treasury Building, hiding and scared.”

  Mulvaney said nothing. I immediately thought about Matthew and Jami and Kate. I could imagine Matthew downstairs, scared. Felt a pull to just get up and leave and go back downstairs and be with them. I fought it hard. Tried to focus and became present again. There was silence in the room and on the line. Rivera was back at the window, arms crossed, staring out into nothing. Parker was rubbing his face with his hands, thinking hard, like he was deciding what exactly he should ask Rivera and Mulvaney to do here.

  Parker glanced at me briefly, then looked over at Rivera as he turned back from the window. “Agent Rivera, time is of the essence, so I’ll be direct,” he said. “I understand protocol says that the Secret Service works with no one other than the FBI on matters such as this. But the Secret Service now rolls up through DHS. You know this. And I assume the president has explained to you what my role is and the unit he’s asked me to put together.” He paused. “I’m asking you to share whatever you know with my team so we can find the people who did this. The Bureau’s already working with us. Now I’m asking you to cut out the red tape. Give me full access to the drone wreckage from tonight so we can find the people who did this.”

  There was a sudden knock at the door. It opened and Curt Willis stepped inside and took a seat to my left. Willis stared at me as he sat down. Another man I’d worked with once, back in New York.

  “Tom,” began Rivera after a brief pause, “with all due respect, the Secret Service does not answer to you or Homeland Security. We answer to the president. If he wanted us to share anything with DHS, he would’ve told us to do so.” Rivera shook his head. “And he hasn’t given us that directive. I’ll be happy to pass along the suggestion the next time I see him, but I’m afraid we’re going to be quite busy for the foreseeable—”

  Parker slammed two hands down on the table. He stood and pointed a finger at Rivera. “Call him now.”

  Rivera went quiet and looked across at Willis and me. Mulvaney said nothing from the phone. A distant chirp of a police siren could be heard outside the window. I thought about the chaos down on the street. Imagined reporters lining up and down Pennsylvania Avenue. Cameras rolling, capturing footage of smoke billowing out of the White House. People livestreaming the whole scene from their cell phones.

  “Let our team help you,” said Willis. I turned to my left and watched him as he spoke. “You’ve got a lot going on here. You’re overwhelmed. You’ve got hundreds of people to take care of downstairs and three holes blown out of the White House’s East Wing. Seems irresponsible to refuse assistance at this point.”

  “When you say team ,” replied Rivera, “you mean you and Tom Parker? How much help will that be?”

  Willis shifted his eyes to Parker, then looked at me briefly.

  “Agent Rivera,” I said, “you know firsthand how effective a small unit can be, don’t you?”

  Rivera said nothing.

  “Do I need to remind you about Inauguration Day? When you and I worked together to take down the people responsible for the threat against Keller?”

  Silence.

  “So yes, Tom Parker’s team can help you.” I turned and looked at Willis and Parker in turn. “I know both of these men. I’m asking for your help. Work with them. Let them help you find these people before they strike again.”

  Rivera crossed his arms again. “Are you working with them?”

  I said nothing.

  Rivera nodded to himself. “Gentlemen, I will discuss it with the president when it’s the right time. For now, we have a lot to deal with,” said Rivera as he walked around the long conference room table and leaned over the Polycom again. “Director Mulvaney, I’ll be in touch,” he said and disconnected the line before Mulvaney could respond.

  Parker went to the window. I stood and went to the door as Willis remained seated.

  But before I could say anything else to Rivera, the building started to shake violently. An aircraft buzzed overhead and came into full view outside the tall windows. Parker, Rivera, and I watched from the door. Marine One , I thought as it made its way past the building. Two decoys, identical to the first, appeared and buzzed by alongside the first one. We watched in silence as they moved, headed south toward Andrews.

  Then a bright flash illuminated the nighttime sky. I flinched briefly, then opened my eyes and stared. One of the helicopters had been hit by something. I jogged around the table as Curt Willis got to his feet. Rivera came up behind me. The four of us watched in horror as the helicopter in the middle spun out of control. The others broke away as the one that was hit spun faster and lost altitude and started to fall.

  FIFTEEN

  I STOOD AT the window as the two helicopters on each side of the middle one that was hit disappeared from view completely. The middle one continued its descent toward the street and exploded upon impact. Rivera ran out of the room, leaving Parker, Willis, and me alone. “My God,” whispered Parker as I stepped closer to the window and saw the burning wreckage below. I watched as the gas tank caught fire, and the whole thing exploded. The blast illuminated the night sky as a fireball rose high into the air. I flinched as the bright light hit my eyes. I opened them again and felt my heart sink and found it hard to breathe.

  Parker called for me as I moved to the door. I ignored him and ran out of the room and down the hallway until I found a stairwell. I got to the ground floor and found my way outside. Ran toward the direction of the black smoke billowing into the air and the shouts and the screams from people close to the crash site.

  I came out on Fifteenth Street and ran south twenty yards, then hooked left onto F Street. I saw Agent Rivera far in the distance, standing near the burning helicopter. He was struggling to get close to it. I could feel the heat from the flames all the way back where I was standing, and it intensified as I ran closer to it.

  A Metro Police car pulled up fast and stopped at the intersection of F and Fourteenth, a block past the crash site. Two more pulled up behind it. They formed a barrier with their vehicles to block anyone from approaching from behind. I was still having trouble breathing. All I could focus on was the burning helicopter and Rivera. More agents ran past me and joined him. I tried to keep up with them, but couldn’t. It felt like I was in a dream. All I could think about was m
y friend, my mentor since I was a kid, caught in the wreckage. I felt adrenaline surge throughout my body, and I held a hand out in front of my face to block the light and the heat coming off the burning chopper. It looked like Marine One . I prayed it wasn’t.

  I glanced back and saw Parker and Willis in the distance behind me. They must’ve followed me right out. When I faced forward, I saw Rivera shouting orders to the men gathering around him, and speaking into the mic on his wrist. Fire trucks arrived at the scene. They squeezed in between two of the Metro DC patrol cars and pulled up close to the burning aircraft and got to work extinguishing the flames.

  By the time Parker and Willis caught up to me, the firefighters were well into their assignment. Rivera was pointing at the cockpit and shouting urgently. They directed their efforts to that part of the aircraft as Rivera and his men got closer. We stood in silence and watched. None of us knew what to say. A minute passed and Rivera put a hand to his ear. He’d received some kind of confirmation and nodded to himself. He relayed the news to his men and stepped out of the way to give the first responders room to work.

  Rivera kept moving and watched from a distance. Then he turned back and noticed us from afar. Told his men something, then turned and approached us, visibly upset and talking to himself as he moved.

  “Is the president alive?” I called as he got closer.

  Rivera glanced briefly at some of the onlookers who were gathering before he faced me and nodded. “They got the wrong one.”

  “Where is he?” asked Willis.

  Rivera stopped in front of the three of us. He wiped sweat from his face and glanced over his shoulder. The helicopter continued to burn despite the firefighters’ best efforts. “Just made it to Andrews,” he said. “When this one got hit, they ceased communication until they arrived as a precaution. Said they weren’t sure what had happened. They were worried their communications had been compromised somehow.” Rivera paused. He was breathing hard, just like the rest of us. “Should be aboard Air Force One shortly.”