Captive-in-Chief (32 page)

Val stared at her cell. The call with Clay had been unexpected. He wanted her home, though hadn’t given any other reason than he needed her to be with him. No terror threats he was aware of, the children were okay, he was okay. He wanted her home.

“Charles, I had a call from Clay, he wants me home as soon as possible?” she said. “Anything I don’t know about?”

Charles shook his head. As the president’s chief of staff, there was nothing he wasn’t aware of. “I’ve not been informed of any problems or changes. Do you want me to call him and find out if there’s something—”

She held up her finger to silence him, dialing her phone. “Let me call the children, hold on.”

The two VH-60N helicopters stood apart from the other helicopters. Housed in a secure hangar, the security for the vice president and the first lady’s choppers were significantly higher than for most other parts of the island. Clearance to be on the island didn’t clear you to be everywhere, and certainly not anywhere near the choppers.

Elsa and her crew had walked around the main area without any problem. Their credentials to that point had been stellar, and having the maintenance crew escorted by a security team had worked perfectly. With a security team shadowing them, no other security teams felt the need to check them.

The walk towards the secure hangar was a no going back scenario. The only reason you began the walk was to go to the hangars. Once she and the maintenance crew started the walk, turning back wasn’t an option. It would simply trigger more questions than they had answers to give. She halted her team at the nearest chopper to the hangar and scanned the guards at the security booth ahead. They were her men, they were in place, and everything was going according to plan. She signaled for her crew to move. Halfway from the hangar, she heard the sound of vehicles racing across the ground. Four vehicles raced past and pulled to a halt at the security booth ahead.

She and her team were in no man’s land. No cover, nothing. They were stranded in the middle of a landing zone, cleared of every object that could be sucked up, cause damage to the helicopters, or be a danger to passengers. Not even a pebble lay within fifty yards of them.

A number of the Secret Service agents raced from the vehicles and surrounded the area. Elsa tried to be casual but she noted at least one agent go into the security booth. She urged her team forward. To go back would be more suspicious. She neared the booth and produced her credentials. The security officers handed them to the Secret Service agent inside the booth, out of sight of Elsa.

“Send her in!” he barked.

Elsa signaled for her security team to remain calm as she walked into the booth. They had all had become twitchy, all too aware of how exposed they were. Elsa caught a glimpse of the agent for the first time and recognized him instantly. He was always by the first lady’s side, her lead agent. He had his head down scanning her credentials as she walked towards him.

He looked up and saw Elsa come towards him. “Still a babe, I see.”

“Still got the hots for your cousin? You know that’s so wrong, don’t you?”

He nodded with a wicked smile.

“God, you had me worried.”

“We’ve got word the first lady may be leaving.” He waved his arms. “We need to get prepped.”

“Bullshit, she can’t go anywhere,” said Elsa, pulling out her cell. “Okay for the team to get to work?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s the VP’s bird you’re playing with, right?” She nodded. “Cool, and to be clear, it’s that one.” He indicated to the helicopter on the right.

Elsa stepped out and waved her team on as she waited for the call to be answered, signaling to the helicopter as directed.

“I can’t believe we’re nearly there,” said the agent when she stepped back into the booth. The call was answered, she placed a finger to her lips to shut him up.

“Daddy, we’ve got a problem…”

Val waited while the ringtone continued its pointless routine. Her son Jack didn’t answer. Jack never answered. He answered an SMS instantaneously, a ringing phone, never. It was as though his hearing had tuned out the frequency of any ring tone. He didn’t even flinch when a phone rang. She’d text him but anybody could answer.

She called Tess, who answered on the first ring. “Everything okay, baby?” she asked.

“Yeah, Mom, fine. What’s up?”

“Jack okay?”

“Yep, CODing.”

“Can I speak with him?”

“Okay, hold on, Jack! JACK!” she shouted in Val’s ear. “I swear to God I’m going to flush that headset thing he wears down the toilet!”

Val heard Tess marching through to her brother’s room.

“Mom for you,” she said.

“Ah shit, you got me killed, what’ve I told you about—”

“Mom for you,” Tess repeated, and Val could picture her with her hand on hip, annoyed look, holding out the cell.

“Oh hi, Mom,” Jack said sheepishly.

He was fine. Val relaxed. The children were fine, her main concern was allayed.

“What have I told you about cussing!” she scolded. “Bed by ten, okay?”

“Yes, Mom,” he handed the phone back to his sister. “Jesus, she’s 5,000 miles away and I still get in trouble,” he moaned as he replaced his headset and updated his friends.

“Tess, tell him I heard that,” Val said.

“Okay, Mom, anything else?”

“Is your dad okay, he looking after you guys?”

“He’s fine, Mom. We had dinner with him and he’s going to be back at nine to watch some TV with us.”

Good, love you.” Val ended the call.

“So nothing wrong with the children?” Charles prompted. “Your father?”

“No, he’s fine. I spoke with him earlier.”

“Okay, do you want me to sort it out?” Transporting the first lady required a lot of preparation and wasn’t a simple task.

“Would you, please? That would be great.”

By the time Val was back in her room, her cell was ringing. “Clay?” she answered.

“I was being silly, you stay there, hon. Have a good time and say hi to everyone for me.”

“Are you sure? I was about to start packing.”

“Yeah, you’ll be back in a couple of days and I know the seminar's on child poverty mean a lot to you.”

“Thanks, babe, love you.”

“Love you too.” Clay replaced the handset in his office, the message on his cell still glowing:
Leave the first lady where she is!

They were keeping him from his wife but they’d never keep him from his children.

“I’m done for the night. Thanks for today and go home,” he called through to Ramona, knowing full well she’d go home when she was ready and not when he told her to.

“Good night, Mr. President.”

He prayed it would be, although every nerve in his body was telling him otherwise. He picked up his magazine and wished the morning swim wasn’t twelve hours away. He needed Joe.

The area was cloaked in darkness by the time they arrived. Joe told Daryl to pull into a clearing beyond where Amy pointed to the road that led towards the cabin. She guessed it was a mile to the lakeside. Joe pointed to the utility pole fifty yards beyond the car.

“How far away is that pole?” he asked her.

“Quarter of a mile?” she guessed.

“You’re obviously a very bright woman, but you can’t judge distance for shit,” he said, tying her up.

Daryl pulled out a smart phone, a burner he had picked up after ditching his old phone. He zoomed in on google maps and showed Clay the result.

“That’s amazing, how’d you do that?” asked Joe.

“It’s only google maps.”

“He doesn’t understand, he’s a—” said Amy as Joe gagged her.

“You don’t understand google maps?”

“I’m not really computer aware,” Joe said tactfully. Amy snorted derisively.

“Where have you been, another planet?”

As good as,
thought Joe. “Another time, eh? How far?”

“About a mile, ironically,” said Daryl.

Neither could see the contented smile behind Amy’s gag though both felt it. Joe retrieved an assault rifle and pistol from the kit bag. He handed another pistol to Daryl.

“If she tries to squirm her way out of her bindings, shoot her. If she tries to shout, scream, or make any noise, shoot her. Basically if she does anything other than sit their quietly, shoot her.”

“Where?”

“Where what?”

“Where do I shoot her?”

“In the head.”

“Kill her, shoot her?”

“No other reason to shoot someone. If they’re worth wasting a bullet on, they’re obviously worth killing.”

“A family motto?”

“Nope, just made it up. Sandy, come on, girl.”

Joe disappeared into the woods that lined the road and worked his way down towards the cabin, Sandy by his side. After fifteen minutes, light glowed through the trees ahead. They were nearly there. He signaled for Sandy to stay and worked his way forward quietly, each step slower and more calculated, feeling the ground beneath before his full weight followed slowly behind. He reached the treeline and signaled for Sandy to join him. They sat and watched. He wasn’t sure about Amy’s idea of what a small cabin was, but it certainly wasn’t this. What he anticipated to be a cozy two-room log cabin was more of a detached family home, with two stories that happened to be constructed of wood. A number of rooms were lit, mainly on the ground floor, with one on the upper floor. They were facing the back of the ‘cabin’. There were three sets of windows, two lit, one in darkness. He could tell that the lights to the right were the kitchen, the middle room lay in darkness, and to the left the final set of windows were French doors which opened from the lounge onto a deck area. He guessed a dining room lay between them.

The open ground between the treeline and the house was easily seventy yards, and almost entirely in darkness, save for the light shining out of the lit rooms. He could make out powerful spotlights on either corner of the house. If they came on he’d have a problem.

He pulled back and worked slowly around to the side. The treeline swept around towards the lakeside, the clearing to the house remained around seventy yards between tree line and building. More spotlights were positioned on the side, all off. The front was another matter. The spots there were on, lighting up the beautiful front of the lodge and private sandy bay a few yards from the front porch.

Joe made his way back to where he had left Sandy. It wasn’t going to be easy. Three men, one girl, and he had to get to them before they had a chance to do anything to Clara.

He whistled quietly. Sandy walked out into the garden, ten yards in, twenty yards and
boom
. What must have easily been 5000 watts of light power illuminated the back garden as Sandy triggered motion sensors. Joe whistled twice, again as quietly as he could. Sandy turned and walked across the floodlit garden in front of the patio doors. Another low whistle and she walked back into the treeline.

Two men stood at the patio doors watching Sandy walk through the garden. A third man exited from the door next to the kitchen. He walked out into the garden and was armed, an assault rifle. Joe’s heart was in his mouth as the man tracked her with the rifle, watching her disappear back into the woods. All three stayed watching until the lights died, five minutes later. Not good. They were neither lazy, nor complacent. They were disciplined and professional, and gave credence to Amy’s comment that there were only three, no friends would be there. This was a professional kidnapping of an exceedingly high value target. Sandy walked back to him, as directed. He waited ten minutes and sent her in again, this time changing her path when the lights triggered. She was only visible to the men for a few seconds. By the third trigger, only one man was checking the light.

“Damned dog!” he griped as he walked out into the garden. Fortunately, he was no longer tracking her with his rifle. Otherwise, Joe wouldn’t be desensitizing the men with her. Joe noted the third time felt like a nuisance, and there had been a delay in responding. The delay he needed to cross the seventy yard gap before they reacted.

Once more,
he thought. He stopped mid-whistle. The guy’s patience was breaking.

“Stay!” he commanded.

He worked along the treeline to the far side of the garden. He’d go in from the side, although he had to make sure he didn’t trigger the side motion sensors. He rushed towards the house. It took him longer than he thought. In his mind, he was twenty-five and could run an 11 second 100 yard dash. He whistled as he ran, and the lights triggered. Sandy exited from the treeline and offered the men a casual glance comfort that it was just the dog back again. Joe reached the back of the house as the kitchen door opened. The rifle was raised, a silencer attached. He reached out and pulled with all his might.

The man followed, but only after he had depressed the trigger. The spit erupted into the ground and Joe’s hand lit up with pain. All bets were off. The man’s head followed his rifle when Joe continued to pull and was met by a thunderous punch from an enraged and still moving Joe. Sandy kept walking, unaware that her life had been in danger. She would keep walking until Joe directed otherwise.

A shout from inside the house followed quickly. “Nicholas!?”

Nicholas was in no position to answer. Joe had never connected so well with a punch in his life. His full weight and momentum had been behind his fist. The man’s jaw was broken and dislocated. His attempt at a scream was silenced by his own pain at trying to scream. Joe ripped the assault rifle from his hands and ended his pain.

“Damned dog!” Joe shouted, trying to mimic the man’s voice that he had heard twice and cover the spit from the rifle.

“Nicholas?”

The question answered Joe’s wonder at how good a mimic he was. He raised the rifle and rushed into the house.

“Nicholas!” a man shouted as Joe exited the kitchen and met him in the hallway.

“Don’t move,” Joe directed quietly, the rifle aimed at the man’s head.

The man smiled, shouting. “Johan, we have an intruder!”

Joe pulled the trigger. The man died with his smile intact.

A flashbang fizzed down the hallway. While Joe hadn’t experienced one for over twenty years, it wasn’t a sound you ever forgot. He dived back into the kitchen, covering his ears, opening his mouth, and clamping his eyes closed.

A barrage of bullets followed the explosion in the hallway behind him. Another flashbang came fizzing into the kitchen. Joe managed to kick it back into the hallway. It exploded in the doorway, impacting both the kitchen and hallway. Joe fought through the pain ringing in his ears and slid into the hallway, his rifle pointing towards Johan.

He wasn’t there. Joe heard footsteps pounding above. Johan had been distracting Joe to get to Clara upstairs. He stood and steadied himself, whistling for Sandy. He needed every advantage he could muster to save Clara.

Johan appeared at the top of the stairs with Clara. “I’ll kill the girl.” He was obviously confident he had the upper hand. “Throw down your weapons and she’ll live.”

It was a confident and ballsy move. Rather than hide and wait for backup, he was taking control and dealing with the situation. However, it also suggested there
was
no backup nearby. It was probably a good thirty miles away in D.C.. Otherwise, Johan would have hunkered down.

Joe threw out the rifle, which clattered to the floor at the bottom of the staircase.

“Your weapons, not the one you took from Nicholas.”

Joe threw out the pistol he had holstered on his belt.

“Okay, now walk to the bottom of the stairs.”

“No,” said Joe. “You’ll shoot me.”

“I’ll shoot the girl.”

“No you won’t,” said Joe.

“Yes, I will.”

“Don’t make threats you won’t keep, it doesn’t work. It just undermines you,” said Joe. He mouthed to Sandy, she cocked her head. “Fetch,” he whispered and pointed into the garden. She ran out and returned with a stick.

“I will kill her!” shouted Johan infuriated that Joe wasn’t playing along.

Joe sent Sandy out again. This time she struggled back in. He smiled and waved her to him.

“Come to the bottom of the stairs or I will kill her!” Johan demanded like a petulant child.

“No, because you can’t kill her.”

“Of course I can.”

Joe heard Clara sobbing, it was hard to hear. “You can’t kill her because you can’t lose the leverage she gives your boss.”

“I’m going to kill her right now if you don’t come out.”

Joe was lying on the wooden floor. Highly polished, it was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship and befitting the tens of thousands of dollars Lloyd had probably paid for it. Joe took his rifle from Sandy’s mouth and pushed with all his might with his legs.

“No you won’t!” he shouted.

He slid his body along the floor, and, as expected, Johan was waiting to shoot but was in the position to prove how he would kill Clara. His weapon was aimed at her and not down the stairs to where Joe would appear. It was a difficult shot whilst moving. Joe stamped the soles of his shoes into the floor instantly stopping, aimed, and shot. As expected, Johan didn’t shoot Clara. She was far too valuable. His weapon was racing to target Joe when the bullet struck him in the shoulder. It was the closest shot Joe would risk with Clara in the firing line. Joe jumped up and rushed up the stairs. Clara was already on the floor when Johan’s arm dropped, along with his weapon. Joe kicked him backward down the corridor, shooting him well out of Clara’s sight.

Joe dropped his weapon and helped her up. She was sobbing wildly. She looked into Joe’s eyes.

“You’re safe,” he said, taking her into his arms.

She pulled back out of his embrace and stared him in the face, recognition igniting in her expression. “Uncle Joe?”

A tear ran down his cheek as she pulled him close and hugged him like the long lost uncle that he was.