First Family (52 page)

He checked with Daryl to make sure everything was ready and then headed to Willa’s room. When he entered, she and Diane were huddled around the table. He’d decided that on this day, this last day, the two women should be together. They looked up when he walked in and closed the door behind him.

He leaned against a wall and lit up a cigarette.

“What’s going on?” Willa said in a trembling voice. She had never been the same since she’d discovered it was possible something had happened to her family.

“It’s just about over,” said Quarry. “At least I’m hoping it is.”

“Hoping?” said Diane, her face weary and her voice equally tired.

“Yeah, hoping,” said Quarry. “And praying.”

“And what if your hopes don’t turn out?” asked Willa.

“Yeah, tell us.
Mr. Sam
,” said Diane coldly. “What then?”

He ignored her and looked at Willa. “I brought my daughter home. The sick one.”

“Why’d you do that?”

He shrugged. “It was time. Said my goodbyes and all. It’s all good.”

“Your goodbyes?” asked Willa in a fearful voice.

“See, whichever way this turns out, things are over for me. All done. Ain’t gonna see anybody anymore.”

“Are you going to kill yourself?” said Diane, with a hopeful edge to her voice.

Quarry’s lips eased into a smile. “Can’t kill a man who’s already dead.”

Diane merely looked away, but Willa said, “Who’ll take care of your daughter if you can’t?”

Diane looked back over with a curious expression. It was obvious that she had not even considered this issue.

Quarry shrugged. “It’ll be okay for her.”

“But—”

He moved to the door. “You two just sit tight.”

He left.

Diane drew close. “It’s not going to be okay, Willa.”

Willa just stared at the door.

“Willa, do you hear me?”

Apparently Willa didn’t hear her. She just kept staring at the door.

The plane hadn’t been there so Michelle was driving hard. Gabriel was next to her feeding directions and Sean was in the backseat looking at the sky and checking for a chopper carrying a president and a First Lady who had much to answer for.

“Turn there, left,” said Gabriel.

Michelle cut a hard left that flung Sean across the backseat.

“If we die before we get there, it will really be counterproductive,” he said sharply as he struggled to sit back up and slipped on his safety harness.

“How much further, Gabriel?” said Michelle.

“Another hour,” he said. “Mr. Sam can make it there a lot faster in the plane. I’ve never been on a plane before, have you?”

Michelle was studying the road ahead. Every time they came to a straightway she would floor it, but as they moved up into hilly ground the straight roads were rapidly disappearing. “Yeah, I’ve
been on a plane.” She jerked her head in Sean’s direction. “He’s been on Air Force One with the president.”

Gabriel turned to stare in awe at Sean. “You met the president?”

Sean nodded. “But remember, he puts his pants on the same way you and I do. Only when he has his on he can push a button and blow up the world.”

Michelle turned around and gave him a “what the hell?” look before saying, “If you want to go on a plane ride one day, Gabriel, we can arrange it.”

“That’d be cool. You go right at the next road.”

“What road?” said Sean as another jarring bump nearly unseated him. “You mean this obstacle course we’ve been on for the last ten miles?”

As she made the turn and the road grew steeper, Michelle engaged her four-wheel drive and they bumped along.

“Tell us about the mine, Gabriel,” said Michelle.

“Like what?”

“One entrance in or more?”

“Just the one I know about. Got a grassy runway Mr. Sam put in. I came up here in the truck with him sometimes and we’d mow the grass flat.”

“Keep going,” Michelle said encouragingly. “The more we know the better we’ll be prepared.”

He explained about the shafts and the rooms Quarry had built inside.

“Why did he do all that?” asked Sean

“He said if the world was coming to an end that we’d all go up there and stay. He has food, water, lanterns, stuff like that.”

“And guns,” said Michelle.

“And guns,” agreed Gabriel. “Probably lots of them.”

Sean pulled out his own nine millimeter along with two extra mags he always carried.

Two pistols, a few extra mags, a little boy, two potential hostages, and going into a dark mine where the other side was armed to the teeth, knew every crevice, and you didn’t. He caught Michelle’s gaze in the rearview mirror.

She was obviously thinking the same thing he was because she mouthed, “I know.”

Sean’s eyes went to the side window. The terrain here was growing ever steeper. Even as the warming sun came up, it seemed dark and cold. He thought back to the room at Atlee. To a story on a wall that had probably taken Sam Quarry years to construct. Then he thought back to that night in Georgia, walking down that street, seeing the young lady on top of the future president, falling out of the car with her panties dangling around her ankles. The man had a beautiful, intelligent wife at home waiting for him. He’d just been elected to the U.S. Senate. And he was getting balled by some twenty-year-old chick in a car?

And then his mind turned to another woman. Tippi Quarry.

He raped me, Daddy.

A bloody abortion.

A coma for all these years.

Persistent vegetative state
, Quarry had written on the wall, underlining each word three times.

Sean had no children. But if he had and something like that had happened to his daughter, what would he do? How far would he go? What sort of a story on a wall would he construct? How many people could he kill?

He slid the gun back in his belt holster.

They would find Sam Quarry up at the mine. He was sure of that. They would find Willa and this Diane woman too. Whether alive or not he was uncertain.

But as to the question of what he and Michelle should do about it all?

He really didn’t know.

A
N HOUR BEFORE
the two choppers carrying the president and his security detail landed, a pair of large helicopters with two dozen Hostage Rescue Team members and lots of equipment hit the dirt about a hundred yards from Quarry’s little house. The men rolled off and then fanned out, guns ready. Equipment was hauled off the chopper and then deployed. They did a recon of the immediate area but came up with zero.

In the lead-lined bunker, Carlos, who had heard the chopper come in, hunkered down below the grade line, but his gaze never left the TV monitor set up in front of him. He did make the sign of the cross and mumble a short prayer.

Half the HRT squad set up a temporary perimeter while the other half pulled some more equipment from the second chopper.

Principal among these were two mobile robots, weighing about a hundred pounds apiece. They set them on the ground, fired them up, and one HRT member, using what looked like a very sophisticated joystick, sent the first robot into action. It rolled around and around the perimeter of the house, growing closer to it with each pass and finally entering the house and making a sweep inside. If there were any mines, IEDs, or other explosives here, the robot’s onboard infrared sensors would detect them before detonation occurred. Then the HRT explosives specialists could dispose of them safely.

No explosives were detected, so they sent out the second robot. This was even more cutting-edge than the first. The HRT squad had named this machine the Gamma Hound. Its role was to detect radiological, biological, or chemical substances over whatever ground it
passed. The HRT squad member used a practiced hand at the joystick to send Gamma Hound on its rounds, even rolling it up on the porch and into the house. Gamma Hound never once “barked.” The place was clean.

Only then did the HRT squad approach the house and then go inside. What they found in there stunned even the most veteran members of the group.

The leader got on his two-way and reported, “We got a nonresponsive Caucasian female between thirty and forty in a hospital bed hooked up to what appears to be an elaborate life support system juiced by a battery generator. We’ve checked the place for weapons and other threats and found none. Other than her the place is clean.”

The squad leader waiting outside listened to this report and then exclaimed, “What in the hell did you just say?”

His man repeated it. The HRT leader in turn radioed this information back to the president’s chopper.

One of his men looked at him and said, “What do we do now?”

“We go over that house with a fine-toothed comb. And we lock this whole area. I don’t want one living thing, other than the coma lady in there, within a thousand yards of this place.”

“Who is she?”

“I have no idea, and I don’t need to know. All I know is the president is coming and nothing is going to harm him on my watch. Now move out!”

Another careful search was made of the area. HRT men tramped on and around the bunker where Carlos sat huddled. They didn’t find the camera in the tree because Quarry, ever the detail man, had cut a hole in the oak, placed the camera inside, and patched up the hole with bark glued on so that only the camera lens was showing. And as high up as it was, and covered from the ground by dense foliage, except for the sightline Quarry had cut in it, it might as well have been invisible.

Some of the HRT went back inside the house and used a crowbar to pry up one of Quarry’s fine floorboards. Underneath was a standard sheet of one-inch plywood. An HRT member pounded on it
with his fist. “Solid as a rock. Must be the cement foundation underneath.”

“Make sure,” said the squad leader.

A drill was brought in and they drilled through the plywood until the drill bit hit something hard and would go no farther.

“Solid.”

“Okay, good enough.”

They put the floorboard back. And then did the same probe with each of the four walls. Solid again.

The area secured, no threats found, and the perimeter established, the HRT squad patiently waited for the president of the United States to land. Once he got here they had no idea what he intended to do. All they knew was if a threat did show up, they would destroy it with enough firepower to take out an Army battalion.

They’d parked the SUV and gotten out. They had no choice because the road had ended at a wall of fallen boulders.

“That wasn’t here before,” said Gabriel. “Used to be able to drive up to the door.”

“That probably wasn’t going to be an option for us anyway,” said Sean.

With Gabriel leading, they headed toward the mine. They had to scramble over more rock and slippery dirt. Sean tumbled down one section before righting himself.

“Showing my age,” he said with an embarrassed look.

“Hey, when’s the last time you took a weapons refresher course?” asked Michelle.

“If we run into something that needs to be hit, I’ll hit it. I’m just counting on you to hit it
first
.”

“Gee, I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

They kept moving forward.

Gabriel said, “I don’t have a key to the door to the mine.”

“That won’t be a problem,” said Michelle. “Just get us to it.”

A few minutes later they cleared the rock and could see the grass runway.

“Is that his plane?” Sean asked, pointing at the little Cessna.

“That’s it.”

He suddenly pointed to the right. “And that’s Mr. Sam,” he whispered.

They all looked in that direction.

Sam Quarry had come out of the mine carrying what looked to be a small black box. From their hiding spot Michelle took aim with her pistol, but from this distance there was no guarantee of a killing round with the sidearm. She glanced at Sean and shook her head.

“He’s older than I would have thought,” whispered Sean as he studied the tall, white-haired man.

“Strong as a bull,” said Gabriel. “I seen him knock a man down even bigger than him and half his age ’cause the fella cursed at my momma. He fights real good.”

“I hope I don’t have to find out
how
good,” said Sean dryly.

“But we came up here to make sure everybody’s okay. That girl and Mr. Sam, right?”

Sean and Michelle exchanged another glance.

“Right. But look, Gabriel, that’s up to him. If he starts something, then we have to respond, okay?”

“I’ll talk to him. It’ll be okay. He won’t hurt anybody. I know Mr. Sam.”

Michelle eyed Sean. Neither of them looked nearly as confident as Gabriel about how this would turn out.