Agent of Influence: A Thriller (49 page)

              “That is certainly one hell of a story. Unfortunately, I believe every word of it,” President Gray said as his eyes shifted back and forth between Anna and Malcolm, looking for some kind of deception on their part. He knew it was not there, but he felt obligated to pursue all possibilities.

He tossed the front page of the Washington Times in their direction and motioned towards the article discussing
the death of Senator Rosenbaum. “I thought that smelled of you. When you wanted to personally give me my final PDB I knew the game was still alive. Any idea why Aman’s death has not showed up on the news yet?” The President took a large bite from a cinnamon donut and sat it back down on his desk.

“My guess would be that either Zach or Jamal found the scene and secretly cleaned it up. There would be no way to explain it to the press without generating all sorts of uncomfortable questions,” Malcolm said. He sipped his bottled water and ignored the proffered paper. He
had already read the article three times at his house and memorized every piece of information he thought could be useful.

             
President Gray stood up and paced the room. They were all racked with tension and nerves. They were making decisions that could soon land them in jail if their instincts were wrong.

“Still no sign of the amateur?” The President was referring to Alex.

“No. I would presume he is dead. We can only hope he has not divulged any information to his kidnappers. Have any police or FBI been asking questions about Malcolm and I?” Anna asked the president in a clinical tone, keeping all emotions for her vanished colleague in check.

             
“Not that I’m aware of. I’d steer clear of Jamal if I were you though. He was supposed to arrive here an hour before you did. He is probably walking the grounds now to make sure everything is in order for the transfer of power. By the way Malcolm, Zach called me this morning and wanted me to inform you that you are not welcome at the inauguration.” He smiled at his CIA Director. He knew Malcolm would not care, but it was fun to needle him a little. A little levity right now was the only thing keeping him from losing his cool.

Malcolm returne
d the smile with one of his own. “That will work well for what we have in mind. Now my no-show will be expected. Just make sure you casually mention to some members of the press what happened. Once the reason for my vanishing act is out in the open I won’t be missed. Everybody knows I’m on his shit list anyway. They will quickly lose interest in me.”

             
“I will have a talk with them. Now what did you have in mind? I need to get going in a few minutes. My wife and I have to meet with the President-Elect in thirty minutes so we can head over to the Capitol together.”

“Can you hide us out somewhere in the White House?” Malcolm asked. “We have to be here when Zach first arr
ives. Our guess is that they’re going to activate their plan immediately. If we can catch them in the act we may be able to keep ourselves from receiving life sentences at the federal pen.”

President Gray stared blankly at the wall. The White House was teeming with people, and it seemed like everywhere he walked there was someone in his way. An idea popped into his mind. It would be a tight fit for a few hours, but it was the one room
where they would not be disturbed.

             
Ten minutes later the three of them were standing amongst a sea of suitcases in the Lincoln Bedroom of the White House. Guests of the sitting president typically used the room, but today it served as the moving room. The first couple’s belongings were in a holding pattern until the next day when they were scheduled to be picked up, but for now the room was the world’s swankiest storage facility. The green and brown floral patterned carpet could only be seen in spots thanks to the piles of luggage. They maneuvered around the bags to get to the cherry wood furniture upholstered in a milky white ivory fabric.

Anna glanced at
the wall and noticed a signed copy of Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address. She thought it was very fitting for the moment upon which they were closing in on. Lincoln once possessed the same absolute certainty that what he was doing was best for the nation, and he was forced to tear the country apart with a brutal civil war. Were their own instincts as on target as Lincoln’s, or were they recklessly pursuing a selfish path more similar to Jefferson Davis? President Gray interrupted her thoughts.

             
“You can stay here until the President-Elect arrives. This is all my stuff so you probably won’t be disturbed. If someone does come in you can just hide behind one of the piles of luggage until they leave.” It was a ridiculous sounding statement, but it was true. “The movers aren’t scheduled to pick it up until tomorrow. Too much going on today,” President Gray said with a smirk on his face. He was proud of his joke.

             
“Thanks. It will work perfectly. Did you get our weapons back?” Malcolm asked. President Gray pointed to the cabinet behind the love seat. I had my secretary stick them in there. Don’t worry, she will keep her mouth shut. She likes the incoming guy less than we do.” He stepped over a few bags and headed towards the door. “Now I need to get going. I have an inauguration to attend.” The lock of the door clicked loudly into place as he left the room.

“Everything okay,
sir?” Malcolm and Anna heard an unknown voice in the hallway.

             
“Yes, fine, Brian. The wife thought she left a personal item that she needed in one of the bags. Damned if I can find it amongst all that crap!”

They heard the President’s deft lie from the other
side of the wall, and traded smiles. President Gray always worked best in spontaneous moments.

“The limo is ready to take you to the Ca
pitol,” they heard the agent say as the sound of a door being opened was immediately followed by the President’s footsteps leading the way towards the North Portico. 

***

President Gray could see the columns of the portico through the exterior glass doors as he made his way down the elaborate hallway. Another Secret Service agent joined him so that he would be covered on both sides when he stepped outside. A service door suddenly opened in front of them and Jamal stepped out into the hallway, nearly bumping into the President.

             
“Sorry, sir.” The icy glare flashed for a moment, showing the briefest sign of disrespect. President Gray returned it with a knowing look. He was tempted to make a stupid comment, but he kept his mouth shut and continued his trek towards the waiting limo.

“Mr. President?” Jamal spoke to the back of President Gray.

              “Yes, Jamal?” He swiveled his body around to face the traitor. Jamal’s chiseled figure was an intimidating figure in the hallway.

“Just wanted to check one thing
, sir. I noticed that Director Ray was on the guest list this morning. Do I need to escort him out, or has he already left?”

             
“No, he’s gone. I just showed him out myself,” the President said tersely, not waiting for a response. The White House doors closed behind him, and he stepped outside. He saluted the ever-present Marine, and the door of the limo slammed shut behind him. He watched the figure of Jamal disappear into the White House. He felt like he was leaving the White House to an enemy. As the motorcade pulled into the street for the short trip to the Capitol he suddenly realized that he would never step foot inside the People’s Mansion again. His wife gripped his hand, sensing his sorrow.

              The massive crowd surrounding the Capitol Building extended well into the Mall and past the museums that stood on both sides of the street. The twenty-degree temperature, combined with the light snow covering the ground, allowed the early afternoon sun to reflect off the snow, lighting up the area like a bright summer day. It was as close to perfect as one could expect when the temperature was as low as it was.

The crowd sat in rapt
silence. Only the press, who experienced this every few years, continued milling about. All eyes were focused upwards at the steps of the Capitol. The stoic figure of Zachariah Hardin stepped into view behind the clear, bulletproof glass that surrounded the two administrations; one group standing down from power, and the other coming forward to take history by the throat.  Zachariah was dressed in a full-length coat and classic dark suit, a grey sweater vest, and green tie completing the ensemble.

The black robed figure of the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court stepped forward with Zachariah and offered the Bible for his right hand. He placed his hand reverently on it, and recited the words that all his predecessors spoke over the years and centuries
before him. He spoke the Oath of the Presidency authoritatively. The cold air gave tangible life to the passion and precision of his words. Once Zachariah finished, the military band immediately began playing. A sea of hands came forward to offer congratulations. The last hand offered was the now-former President. Mr. Gray grabbed Zachariah’s hand and squeezed it as hard as he could. The offer of congratulations was friendly, but it was at odds with the piercing stare. For a moment Zachariah thought the man was about to do something crazy. Allan finally released his grip and took his seat. With the sea of hands now parted Zachariah stepped to the front of the podium. The crowd waived their hands enthusiastically and thousands of camera shudders flickered in unison. He acknowledged the clamoring crowd, and after calming them down with some hand gestures he launched into his inauguration address.

***

              Inside the White House Malcolm and Anna lay flat on their stomachs on the floor, watching the speech on a small television that sat on the dresser. The TV was muted so as not to attract any unwanted attention. It was just as well. Neither of them wanted to listen to the man on the television . Because Anna had never been inside the White House before that day Malcolm spent a great deal of time giving her a rundown of the schematics of the mansion, and discussing possible opportunities where they could hope to catch Zachariah Hardin in a treasonous act. He drew a rough diagram on a piece of White House stationary and told her to memorize it. The whole exercise was surreal. They were drawing up plans for a potential guerilla attack inside the confines of the White House.

             
“So you think these two areas are the most likely spots?” Anna pointed to two different rooms that were circled on the handwritten diagram.

“Yes, I think
they make the most sense. The Situation Room would be ideal in normal circumstances, but I don’t see how he could possibly come up with an excuse to go in there in the middle of all these parties. Unless, of course, he wants to disappear for a while with one of his harem.” Malcolm threw in the sarcastic remark as an afterthought.

             
Anna started field stripping her pistol, making sure there were no obvious defects. She wanted to be ready when the unthinkable happened. After satisfying herself she slammed a magazine into the butt of the weapon and stowed it away inside her oversized purse.

“Anything else you can think of that I need to know?” She looked inside her purse again to make sure the extra magazines were where they should be.

              “No, I think we’re good. We just sit tight for now.  President Gray told me that from the way Zachariah had spoken to him he got the impression that Mr. Hardin wants to take his time strolling down the street and shaking hands since he sees himself as a real man of the people. Sometimes it’s hard for me to see him as a real danger. He sounds and acts too much like a true politician.”

Anna picked up the remote control and started flipping through the channels in a desperate attempt to find something else to watch besides the inauguration speech. She was about to give up when she stopped at one of the twenty
-four hour news networks. Zachariah Hardin was continuing to give his passionate address, but below his dashing figure a news scroll flashed across the bottom of the monitor.

“
BREAKING NEWS
,” the familiar headline blared. “
MULTIPLE EXPLOSIONS ROCK GOVERNMENT BUILDINGS IN CAIRO. AMERICAN EMBASSY ALSO STRUCK. EYE WITNESSES CLAIM TO HAVE SEEN SUICIDE BOMBERS AT SEVERAL LOCATIONS
.”

             
“Malcolm, Look!” Anna’s urgent tone brought Malcolm’s attention to the television, and they both read the scrolling headline in shock.

“Could this have been part of Aman’s plan?” Anna remained calm and composed.

              “It’s possible. Let’s just sit tight and see what happens. Aman was supposed to be heading back to Cairo, but that doesn’t prove anything.”

Despite the lack of proof Malcol
m’s gut told him that somehow the incident was connected to Zachariah. Aman, Jamal, Zachariah, and Aziz were all from Cairo. The Brotherhood of the Caliphate had its roots in the city, as well. Every move they made seemed to originate from the ancient city. He grabbed his cell phone and called in to Langley on one of the encrypted lines. His deputy picked up on the first ring, but refused to divulge any information. Malcolm had technically been fired thirty minutes earlier, and his deputy was in command for now. The Deputy Director apologized profusely, but the new administration specifically forbade any contact with Malcolm Ray.

On the steps of the Capitol President Zacha
riah Hardin finished his speech and soaked in the thunderous applause from the crowd. Anna thought it was the perfect elixir for his ego. She continued to watch even though she found the charade disgusting. Zachariah Hardin stepped away from the podium to more congratulatory handshakes and hugs. The military band started up again, and the sea of dignitaries began to split up. They would take different routes back to the White House for the celebrations that would soon follow. 

***

              Inside his limousine Zachariah Hardin struggled with a range of emotions beginning to well up inside of him. The power he felt while standing on the podium was intoxicating. His newly minted National Security Advisor rudely interrupted his thoughts. The impish, Ivy League educated man received his job due to party loyalty rather than any knowledge of foreign affairs. He grabbed Zachariah by the arm and yelled, “What the hell is that?” He pointed frantically at the small television mounted in the limo.

The new secretaries of Defense and State, both of who
m served in previous administrations, remained calm as they watched the carnage unfold in Cairo.

“Shut the fuck up
, Larry,” The Defense Secretary demanded as he closely scrutinized the television. He adjusted the monitor so he could see what was happening.

The Defense Secretary was a long time military man whose strong national defense credentials made him an easy choice for his new role. Zach spent much of his campaign dropping not
-so-subtle hints that he would appoint him as his secretary of defense if he were elected. It helped to shore up the fear of many of the independents that Zach would be a president who was weak on defense.  He was also the only member of his cabinet from the opposite political party. 

“Mr. President, this loo
ks bad. A government friendly with the U.S. has been attacked along with our embassy. The first reports are saying the embassy is mostly rubble. We probably have hundreds of people dead. I suggest you head straight back to the White House to make a speech condemning this barbaric act. Once there, we can try to collect as much information as possible and decide on a course of action.” The baritone voice of the Defense Secretary was calm and level.

Zach looked around at the rest of the grou
p who all nodded their approval. “Okay. Let’s move. John?” Zach rolled down the window on the limousine door.

“Yes
, sir?” One of his Secret Service agents who were walking beside the slow moving vehicle leaned down to take the order.

             
“Get us back to the White House immediately. We will have to skip the parade,” Zach’s voice sounded disappointed. He spent the last few minutes in the limo feigning interest in continuing the parade. The plan was working flawlessly, and the sooner he could get back inside the White House to meet up with Jamal the better.

“Yes
, sir,” The agent began barking instructions into his earpiece.

The limousine picked up speed and raced down the street
as a rowdy crowd suddenly fell silent. People looked at one another with quizzical expressions on their faces. The news slowly began to filter through the crowd. Some of the spectators began running hysterically to call families. A large portion of the crowd began to make their way towards the White House to show solidarity with their new Commander in Chief.

             
“Several sources at two of the buildings where the bombs exploded reported hearing the suicide bombers yell, ‘Khalifah, Khilahah.’ The blonde reporter struggled to get the phrase out. “We have been told this means Caliphate Creation. Back to you Mike.” She finished her statement to the viewing crowd back home in the U.S. Anna noticed that the reporter was standing on an unknown street in Cairo, just a few blocks from the American embassy. A swirling mass of people could be seen darting behind her.

“Do you know what that could mean
, Rachael?” The anchorman for the twenty-four hour news network asked from the safe confines of his New York City studio. Anna put the TV on mute and looked at Malcolm.

“Now that is no coincidence,” Malcolm spoke with a stern
voice. He began his ritual of making sure his pistol was ready to go. Each one stashed extra clips of ammunition in every pocket they had. They both looked back to the television as nervous reporters breathlessly described the situation. The view on the television was a shot from above of the Presidential limousine as it raced towards the White House at a dangerously high speed. Anna’s face flashed back and forth between anger and tension, each one trying to establish its dominance. She felt odd. Their quest, which seemed so far fetched and ridiculous, was now coming to a conclusion. She could easily be dead within the hour, yet she felt an inner peace that seemed out of place in the midst of all the chaos around her.

***

              The limousine came to a violent stop in front of the East Portico of the White House. Zachariah Hardin stepped out, flanked on both sides by Secret Service agents. He did not acknowledge the cameras that stood nearby. Jamal met him at the entrance and ushered him inside. His national security team followed on his heels.  The podium in the East Room was set up per Zachariah’s instructions, and he strode purposefully down the Cross Hall towards the room. The cameras were ready, and the feeds to the networks were rolling. For the second time in less than an hour he stepped to a podium to address the American people.

             
“My fellow Americans. What should have been a glorious day for our country has been wrecked by crazed madmen.” He stared into the camera and continued. “A series of terrorist attacks have been launched in Cairo. They have struck our friends in the Egyptian government and our own embassy, most likely killing hundreds. This barbarianism will not stand. America and Egypt will rise from this tragedy together, and we will hunt down the people responsible for this carnage. I have cancelled all inauguration celebrations until further notice. I am sorry, but I need to confer with my Cabinet so we can immediately begin the process of hunting down these common criminals. I can assure you I do not fear these monsters who glorify murder. I promise to provide you with every shred of information I am allowed to. Please keep your televisions on and pray for the victims. We will have more information to you as soon as possible. May God bless you, and may God bless America.”

The anchorman appeared back on the screen and the odd soliloquy came to an end. The reporters in the room began shouting questions even though they were no longer on a live feed. The strange speech had the
Washington establishment befuddled.

“No questions,” Jamal yelled as he and another agent immediately took Zachariah under their protection, and headed off towards the situation room. The Military Officer carrying the nuclear football trailed close behind.

             
Zachariah took the offered bottle of water from one of his underlings, and strode down the hallway. He was now minutes away from his destiny. He barked out orders as they passed different rooms that were filled with his friends, benefactors, and colleagues. They were all still milling about with dazed looks on their faces. Jamal stayed close to him. He glanced back to make sure the Military Officer was still near. He was right behind them. Jamal spoke feverishly into his headset, and instructed other agents around the building to get all unnecessary personnel out of the building.