“What do you mean you haven’t located them?”
“They’re on vacation and no one in either of their offices knows where they are. They aren’t answering their cell phones.”
“Then I’m definitely not leaving here until we know for sure she’s safe.”
“Mister President, this is highly unus—”
“That’s all, Special Agent Lyman.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Lyman turns and leaves. Yeah, from the tight set of his jaw he’s definitelynothappy. I’m certain if Leo were here right now I would have already been overruled and in the air.
Which is another reason I banished him to the PEOC for now because I’m no idiot.
Stella’s a pain in my ass but I don’t want her dead, and this is deadly business we’re talking about right now.
I accidentally catch Jordan’s eye, where he’s standing in the back of the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. This isn’t the boy—this is all the Sir, but the one who serves POTUS, not the one who puts me on my knees and fucks my face. He’s likely not happy I’m not down in the PEOC, but in this way he will not overrule me the way Leo would.
I also remember one of his strong points. “Jordan, I need you and Declan to put together the statement for me to read tonight. Arrange it to be televised at seven from the Oval Office.”
“Yes, Mister President.” Declan is upstairs right now but should return shortly. Most of the West Wing and White House staff have been cleared out unless they’re critical.
“Are we sure that’s wise, Mister President?” Casey-Marie asks.
“What do you mean?” Over the years she’s never hesitated to speak her mind, which is one of the traits as my chief of staff that I value the most.
“Time and location,” she says. “We don’t have much in the way of answers yet. And maybe the Oval Office isn’t the best location from which to do this. I say wait until nine p.m., unless there are drastic developments requiring it be sooner.”
“Fine, we’ll delay it until nine eastern but we’re doing it in the Oval Office. I don’t know what these assholes’ goal was but they’re not running me out of here.”
“Sir, you might not evenbehere at that time,” Casey-Marie says. “We might have you onAir Force Oneby then. Especially if it turns out there is another wave of attacks planned.”
Now that I know Stella is MIA I can’t get past the dark, murky way my stomach churns. I don’t like this feeling because the last time I felt exactly this feeling, people died and I lost a leg.
It also makes up my mind for me. “Unless someone shows me credible intel the White House is the next target then I’m not moving. Especially if they haven’t secured Stella yet. I’d be more vulnerable in the air. The PEOC is supposed to be able to withstand a nuclear strike. I’m not letting these bastards run me out of here. That’s exactly what they want.”
“To be fair, sir,” the DNI says, “we don’t know exactly what they want because no one’s released any statements.”
“Then instead of just running away maybe we should stand and fight,” I say. “Because whoever these people are, they need to never know another second of peace until we have them in custody.”
CHAPTERSEVENTY
Two hours later,chaos still reigns around the country. We’re receiving conflicting reports about new incidents without certainty if they’re actually related attacks or not, or just crimes of opportunity, or perhaps even a result of one of the original attacks. There have been at least a dozen arrests so far.
But again, no one’s certain if those arrests are related to the original attacks.
Some of the men killed in the vessels during unsuccessful attacks have been identified and searches are now underway at their residences but this early into the process no one has any answers. And in one case in Seattle, when officers attempted to make an entry into a house, it turned out to be booby-trapped. Two officers were killed and three more seriously injured by the explosions and shrapnel.
Which has added another layer of caution to everything and stopped law enforcement in their tracks, stalling investigations.
I’ve already made condolence phone calls to the family of the Coast Guard sailor killed, the families of the two police officers in Seattle who died, and I’ve spoken with most of the injured on the phone, the ones who were able to talk.
I wanted those calls out of way as soon as possible before the task got swamped by the overwhelming tsunami of work heading my way over the next days and weeks.
Meanwhile, Stella and Ellis are still missing. There’s a strong possibility they’re on a private yacht with friends somewhere around the Bahamas but that hasn’t been confirmed. It’s apparently not the first time they’ve taken off and told their offices they’ll be out of communication and didn’t reveal their destinations, which does nothing to ease my mind.
I’m trying not to worry but I’m Stella’s big brother. No matter how shitty she’s treated me throughout the years, it’s still difficult under the circumstances for menotto worry about her.
Especially when I can’t shake the steadily spreading dread flowering deep in my guts.
