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Authors: John H. Matthews

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BOOK: Designated Survivor
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The team stopped with Grace 20 feet from the man.

“Grace?” the man said.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m Special Officer James Foster.”

“You in charge here?” Grace said.

“I am,” Foster said. “We had an incident with one agent.”

“Let me guess. He turned his gun on you or one of your men?” Grace said.

The man’s head tilted.

“Yes,” Foster said. “He pulled on me. I reacted quickly.”

“You’re lucky. Or good. That’s been happening a lot lately,” Grace said. “I’m sure you’ve been watching the news.”

“No cable, no antenna,” Foster said. “This is the secretary’s private residence and he doesn’t like to be disturbed by the outside world when he’s here.”

“Shit. And nobody’s called you?” Grace said.

“No. We’re on radio silence during the speech. We were supposed to be called back more than an hour ago. What’s going on? Where’s the detail that was supposed to come for us?” Foster said.

“I hate to tell you, but you’re not just protecting the transportation secretary in there,” Grace said. “He’s the acting President of the United States.”

 

 

 

CHAPTER 7

Grace stood in the living room of the restored farmhouse facing Richard Graham for the first time. Graham was short with greying hair that not long ago had been blonde. He wore a blue and white flannel shirt that had been ironed and was tucked into flat front khakis. Grace figured the man thought the flat front looked more rugged with the flannel than pleats would. The room looked like a cross between a rustic cabin and a page from an Ethan Allen catalog. He finished describing what had happened less than two hours earlier at the Capitol and Graham turned and sat down on the end of a long, country plaid print sofa.

“Are they still alive?” Graham said.

“I’ve been out of contact since 2200 hours, sir,” Grace said. “At that point we had no reason to believe they weren’t.”

Another man came and sat down beside Graham on the arm of the sofa.

“All our friends are in that building,” Graham said. “What do you need me to do?”

“I need you to come with me and my men,” Grace said. “We’re taking you to a secure location to meet with the leadership staff that’s assembled.”

“Who?” Graham said.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that right now,” Grace said.

Graham turned to the other man then back to Grace. “William needs to come with me,” Graham said. William was taller than his partner. He was slender but not slight. A snap to his gait contradicted his soothing voice.

“If Richard goes, I go,” William said.

Grace paused while he thought then turned to Foster. “He was cleared to be here?” Grace said.

“He was,” Foster said.

“That’s fine,” Grace said. “We’ll sort it out when we get to the other side. You have three minutes to grab what you need then you’re with me and my men.”

“Whoa,” Foster said. “You think you’re transporting him without us?”

“I don’t think that, I know that,” Grace said. “This is our mission and it’s under the command of the highest ranking people not inside the capitol at this time. For the security of the mission and of Mr. Graham, it’s how it has to be.”

“I don’t like it,” Foster said.

“You don’t have to like it,” Grace said. “We’ll have a bird land to pick us up. After we’re gone, the second one will come in for you and your team. You’ll follow us to our destination.”

Grace turned and walked out of the room and onto the porch before the Secret Service agent could protest more. He tapped his radio.

“We’re ready for you, Corbin,” Grace said.

“Copy that. On my way,” Grace could hear the engines begin winding up while Corbin was still talking.

“Chip, be ready,” Grace looked out to the trees. “We’re not sitting on the ground very long.”

“10-4, good buddy,” Chip said.

Back in the house Grace looked around.

“Okay, Mr. Secretary, you’re with us,” Grace said. “Bring no more than what you can carry, there’s no overhead compartments on the helicopter.”

Richard Graham stood and went the stairs to pack. William followed him, trying to keep him calm.

“He’s pretty rattled,” Foster said.

“I know,” Grace said. “Imagine you were just told you were president.” He glanced over at the radio on Foster’s belt. “Have your men ready.”

The rumbling of the Blackhawk started growing from outside. By the time Grace had Graham out the door it was turning and landing in the yard in front of the house. Grace led Graham by the arm and began walking. Avery and Levi flanked them and Holden walked with William, watching all directions. The Secret Service officers spread out across the yard. Avery boarded first then helped Graham up. Holden followed then Grace stepped up. Once William was on board Levi took a look around then climbed on.

As the rotors began to speed up again Chip ran up to the other side of the helicopter and slid his gear in under the seat and sat down on the edge, his feet dangling out of the helicopter. Corbin pulled the stick back and the Blackhawk lifted off of the ground and turned as it flew back over the tree line. Grace looked around to make sure everyone was on board and saw the injured Marine pilot unconscious and tied up to a seat. Corbin had loaded him up to get him back for medical attention and interrogation. The other pilot was back with his helicopter to fly the Secret Service out.

Grace turned his radio back to the secure frequency.

“Foster, this is Grace.”

“This is Foster.”

“There’s a field four clicks due west of the house. In that field is a Blackhawk with a Marine pilot tied to it,” Grace said. “That’s your ride. If you decide to drive back, would you at least go untie him?”

“You said the helicopter was coming to get us,” Foster said.

“It’s not,” Grace said.

 

CHAPTER 8

Corbin had the Blackhawk at 10,000 feet and cruising 160 miles per hour on the way back towards Northern Virginia. Grace turned to look at Richard Graham.

“You don’t look so good,” Grace said.

“I don’t like helicopters,” Graham said.

“Better get used to them. If things don’t go well you’ll be riding in Marine One before long,” Grace said.

“Don’t even joke about that,” Graham said. “Rebekah Abrams is still president.”

Grace checked his watch. 11:32pm.

“Get some rest. You have a long night ahead of you,” Grace said.

He wanted to sleep but couldn’t. Getting back to Herndon was only the beginning of what he had ahead of him. After watching the darkness outside slowly fade into the glow of streetlights and shopping centers with empty parking lots he looked up to Corbin.

“How far?” Grace said.

“Two minutes out,” Corbin’s voice came through the headset.

Grace lifted his head and looked out the window and saw Dulles airport a few miles away, then dialed his cellphone.

“Big Daddy this is Hot Dog,” Grace said.

“I told you we aren’t doing that,” Arrington’s said. “Where are you?”

“Wheels down in less than two and should be back home within ten of that,” Grace said. “Any change in the situation?”

“We’ll update you when you’re back with the package,” Arrington said.

The chopper swung to the right and began to drop quickly as they approached the museum once again. The helicopter lowered to the ground at the end of the runway near the building. As the engines slowed down Grace opened the door on his side and jumped out then helped Graham down.

“What do we do now?” Graham said.

A black Mercedes Sprinter passenger van came speeding from around the corner of the building and pulled up to them. A moment later the side door slid open and the driver jumped out.

“Netty, good to see you,” Grace said.

“Screw you,” she said. “You’re flying around in Blackhawks and I’m driving a fucking van.”

“Someone needed to be here to pick us up,” Grace said.

“I’m not a soccer mom,” Netty said.

“You have the minivan,” Grace said. “Where’d it come from, anyway?”

“Stole it,” Netty said.

“Everyone needs a hobby,” Grace said.

Everybody climbed into the van and they carried the unconscious Marine pilot over then Netty turned around on the tarmac, rear tires squealing, and sped away from the building. As they passed through the employee exit onto Route 50, Grace saw the metal gate lying on the ground to the side of the drive. He looked up to Netty and saw her looking at him in the rearview mirror and he nodded.

It took her six minutes to drive them to the Homeland Security building. When they pulled up to the security gate, Grace handed Netty his credentials and she slid them across the sensor and the gate opened in front of them. Arrington was standing in front of the building as they pulled up.

“Didn’t know they had curbside service here,” Grace stepped out of the van.

“Where the hell are the SEALs?” Arrington said. “I thought you agreed we weren’t using your guys for this.”

“And girls,” Netty said as she walked past.

“I had them on site in case there were any problems,” Grace said. “And there were problems.”

“What kind?” Arrington said.

“One of the SEALs turned on us, shot the other five before they knew what was happening,” Grace said. “Would have killed me if Chip hadn’t had my back.”

Arrington put both of his hands on his face and rubbed his eyes. As he lowered his hands he saw Holden and Avery carrying the shot Marine pilot past him into the building.

“Who the hell is that?”

“Blackhawk pilot,” Grace said. “I had to shoot him.”

“Is he—”

“No, just out cold,” Grace said. “They’re going to get him comfortable. If you have a doctor you can bring in, that would be great.”

“What did I do to deserve this in my life,” Arrington said. “Okay, what about the Secret Service from the house?”

“Left them there,” Grace said. “I think they were clean but didn’t want to take the chance. They’d had a shooting but seems like they took care of the threat. We have Graham and that’s all that matters right now.”

Richard Graham was out of the van and walked up to Arrington.

“We’ve never actually met, sir. I’m Richard Graham,” the secretary of transportation extended his hand to the director of the NSA.

“I know who you are,” Arrington turned and walked towards the building.

“Well, that wasn’t very friendly, was it?” Grace turned to Graham.

Grace and Graham followed Arrington into the building with the rest of the team behind them. They all stopped at the elevator.

“Seriously?” Arrington said. “Everyone is coming down?”

“Right now this is the only group of men you can trust,” Grace said.

“And women,” Netty said.

They all exited the elevator on the sublevel and entered the ETTF control room. Six new faces were at computers researching all of the Secret Service officers. Director Leighton stood and walked towards the group.

“Who the hell are all these people? This is a secure facility.” Leighton said. He saw the bloody pilot being carried in. “Has that man been shot?”

“They’re with me, and yes,” Grace said. “Understand?”

Leighton looked past Grace at the group, shaking his head then turned and went back to his seat.

“General Darby,” Grace said. “I hate to ask, but may I search you?” The Navy SEALs and other special combat teams fall under Darby’s command.

“Excuse me?” Darby said.

Grace walked up to him at the conference table and stood above him.

“A SEAL opened fire and killed the other five then tried to kill me,” Grace said. “We just need to make sure you didn’t alert anyone to their mission. Do you have a cellphone on you?”

“I conducted all of my communication over the secure lines right in front of everyone,” Darby said.

“Still, just need to check,” Grace said.

Darby looked at Arrington who just nodded at him. Darby stood and raised his arms while Grace patted him down.

“He’s clean,” Grace said. “Sorry, Vic, you know I had to.”

Arrington brought the team up to speed.

“Since you left there’s been little activity at the Capitol, and no demands have come in through any channels, including the media,” he said. “Heat signatures in the House chamber are still strong.”

“It’s been almost four hours, what are they waiting for?” Grace said.

“If I may,” Graham tried to speak.

“We have a perimeter set up around the building, again not knowing the condition of the troops and officers in use,” Arrington said. “Stories are going around about the internal shootings, so everyone is jumpy.”

“What if—” Graham said.

“Agents are going building to building around the capitol,” Paulson said. “We also have security details visiting the residences of the ranking members of Congress and working themselves down the list.”

“What are they looking for?” Grace said.

“Anything at this point,” Paulson said. “Any sign of incongruity.”

“President Abrams once said to me—” Graham said.

“Langley is double checking chatter from the last two weeks to see if they missed anything,” Leighton said. “Right now there’s essentially nothing. Like everyone is asleep out there.”

“Every terrorist organization in the world is watching and waiting,” Grace said. “Nobody wants to take credit while it’s still going on because they want to see how it ends first.”

“Sir,” Ben Murray said. “We’ve got something.”

Grace turned around and looked at him.

“So show us,” Grace said.

From his desk Ben displayed a series of photos and files up on the screens surrounding the room.

“We have four Capitol Police officers identified with suspicious backgrounds,” Ben said. “First is Tom Redfield. His address is a rented apartment in Rosslyn, Virginia. He’s lived there three years, since before he became an officer.”

“Family?” Grace said.

“None on record, sir,” Ben said.

“Call me ‘sir’ one more time and I’ll shoot you, Ben,” Grace said.

“Yes, sir, Grace, yes,” Ben said. “Next is Charles Woodson, residing in Silver Spring, Maryland. Again a rented apartment for three years. No family either.”

BOOK: Designated Survivor
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