Foreign and Domestic: A Get Reacher Novel (31 page)

Cameron said, “No.”

Cord said, “Calling the pilot is out of the question. First of all, I’d have to call the Pentagon and have them radio him. In theory, this should be an easy thing to do. But the guy who pilots Air Force One is an Air Force general, and when the
commander-in-chief is onboard,
the Air Force see
it as their job to guard him. Our powers are diminished in their presence.”

Cameron said, “Cut the bureaucratic bullshit! You’re the Secret Service!”

“I know that. And I’m not saying we shouldn’t try it. I’m just saying that in ten minutes, it won’t happen. They’ll have landed before I’m done fighting with my Pentagon colleague about passing on the message. National security is often rivaled by bureaucratic hamstringing.”

“So what the hell do we do?”

Cord said, “Trust Rowley. I’ve known him for twenty years. He’ll do the right thing—the patriotic thing—before he succumbs to his own desires. He’ll sacrifice his own life and Raggie’s, too, before he’ll hurt the president.”

Cameron said, “Do you really believe that?”

“I do.”

Cameron looked down at the cell phone’s clock and said, “Five minutes till we find out.”

Chapter 45

RAGGIE STUMBLED AROUND BAREFOOT IN THE DARK.
She’d managed to make it a couple of miles away from the clinic, and Max had followed her the whole way. Walking around in unfamiliar neighborhoods in the more questionable areas of Washington DC wasn’t her idea of an ideal situation, but it was light years better than being back in captivity.

She had passed a few guys earlier, and they looked even more questionable than the neighborhood. One of them had called out to her in a not-so-friendly tone. “Hey, girl. Where ya goin’?” On the surface, it sort of sounded like a question from a concerned citizen, but its meaning was more like “Hey girl. Why don’t you come over here and follow me into a dark alley for a couple of minutes?”

He wasn’t the type of person that was going to help Raggie, so she pressed on. The only reason the guys didn’t follow her was because of Max. He barked at them in a tone meant to warn. It said, “Stay away!”

Raggie thought that when this was all over, she’d definitely keep him.

She walked on, feeling more dehydrated than she’d ever been before—even more than the first day she was in the hospital after the shark attack. That was different, though. She hadn’t actually been deprived of water back then. It was the drugs that had made her feel dehydrated. This time, she hadn’t had any water for twenty-four hours.

Raggie walked on and turned onto another street. She didn’t know where she was, but she figured if she headed toward the brightest lights, she’d eventually come to a more civilized part of the city.

After another five minutes of walking, she ended up at a gas station. It had bars on the windows and was more than rundown. But it was promising because there was a police car parked in front of it. She walked into the gas station and saw a cop paying for coffee. He was a middle-aged black guy with ears so big they looked like mushrooms sprouting out of his head. He looked at her with concern and asked, “Ma’am. Are you alright?”

She walked up to him with Max trailing behind. The door swung shut behind them.

The store clerk said, “Hey! No dogs, girlie!”

The cop repeated himself.

Raggie saw the grave concern on his face and realized she must look like someone who had just awakened after sleeping in a dumpster.

Raggie said, “Help me.”

The cop left his coffee and said, “What’s wrong? Is someone after you?”

She said, “I was kidnapped.”

He grabbed her shoulders and stared at where her hand used to be. He said, “Are you injured?”

She shook her head and said, “My arm was already like that, but the guys are still out there. They’re friends of my dad.”

The officer said, “Come with me.”

He took her by her one hand and led her out into the parking lot. He opened the back door to the patrol car and sat her down. Max jumped in after her, and the officer didn’t question it. He closed the door and sat in the front seat. He spoke into the radio and got headquarters on the line. The night watch commander explained to him in radio codes and cop talk that Raggie didn’t comprehend that the FBI had already informed them about this girl.

A moment later, the police officer received information on who she was and a message on his console computer requesting that she be taken back to her house and back to her parents. It informed him that this was a special favor for the FBI, and that was more than enough information for Officer Daftshaw. At the age of forty-three, he was a lifelong cop. Twenty-one years on the force qualified him as a professional. If he’d been in the military, he could’ve retired already, and that was a thought that plagued him to this day. He often wished he’d gone into the military instead.

Back in the 1990s, he’d had the choice, but he didn’t want to get injured and thought soldiers had a much higher probability of being shot by the enemy. Of course, the joke was on him because his second year on the streets, he’d been shot in the leg by a woman. Sometimes, he still felt pain in his right thigh, especially when it was going to rain.

After Officer Daftshaw read his message, he looked out of his window at the sky. Not a cloud in sight, but his leg was aching something awful. He thought for a moment and changed his mind just a bit. Something nagged at him. Something he couldn’t put his finger on. He decided it would be prudent to call Raggie’s parents just in case. The father was Secret Service, and certainly he’d want a phone call immediately. Their home number was listed.

Daftshaw turned back to the Raggie and said, “I’m going to take care of you, okay? Don’t worry—everything’s been sorted out.”

Raggie nodded.

Daftshaw said, “I’m going to step out and make a phone call. I’ll be two seconds.”

Raggie said, “I need to call my dad.”

“Okay. Let me talk to him first, okay?”

He didn’t want her to respond. He got out of the car and stepped in front of the hood. He pulled out his cell phone and called the number by memory. He had a system for that. He memorized words instead of numbers. Sometimes the spelling was off. The girl’s name was Nicole Rowley, and her number had spelled C0D FISHYS 0. Not quite correct words because of the zeroes, but close enough. And it was easy to remember because maybe that arm was lost from a shark attack, kind of like a fish.

Daftshaw waited, listening to the phone ring. A voice answered and said, “Rowley’s house.”

“This is Officer Daftshaw with DCPD. I’m calling to speak to Mr. Rowley.”

Graine said, “This is he.”

“Mr. Rowley, I have Nicole. She’s safe and sound.”

Graine paused a beat and then said, “That’s great news, officer. Where are you?”

“I’m at a gas station outside of the city.”

“Fantastic! Thank you so much! I’ve been worried sick! Please bring her home!”

Daftshaw said, “We got your message from the FBI. I apologize for this unpleasantness, but I have to ask. Why the FBI?”

“What do you mean?”

“Procedure calls for her to be brought to the station. She doesn’t have any physical injuries except for a small bruise under her eye. But it’s enough to cause alarm. Sir, if there’s been a crime here, it shouldn’t be overlooked even if the FBI asks us to.”

“Officer, I’m Gibson Rowley.”

Daftshaw said nothing.

“If my name means nothing to you, Google me. I’m the director of the United States Secret Service. Nicole ran away with her boyfriend. She’s a minor, and this whole embarrassing scene could cause considerable problems for me and possibly for the president. Certainly, the media will make heyday of it. I’m sure you’ve seen the claims in the news of late about the Secret Service scandals. Agents drinking and getting hookers and so on. Please, officer, just bring our daughter home. We don’t want any problems.”

Daftshaw thought for a moment and said, “Okay, sir. I understand. We’ll be there soon.”

“Okay. I’ll inform the gate. Just come straight here and don’t stop.”

Daftshaw said, “Sounds good.” He hung up the phone and returned to the car.

Raggie said, “Can I call my dad now?”

“You’ll see him soon. I’ve been told he’s worried about you. They know the whole story. Everything’s going to be fine. Just relax.”

Raggie sat back on the seat. Her eyes felt droopy and tired, and almost without any warning, she was asleep.

Max laid his head in her lap.

Chapter 46

AMERICA’S FLYING WHITE HOUSE,
also known as Air Force One, came into a landing at Dulles Airport on its designated runway. Due to volatile circumstances in the world at the moment, the press corps was gathered and allowed to wait near the president’s hangar for a special briefing.

The president had just left a summit in Africa’s western region to help soothe tensions in the area. The recent assassination of a president-elect by his oldest son on international television had sparked a domino effect of unrest and political aggression. The struggles between democratic and socialist countries in the region weren’t evenly matched. Most of the countries weren’t real democracies, and what happened in West Ganbola was perceived as an act to destabilize the region.

Rowley leaned against the sink in the bathroom and stared at his face in the mirror. It wasn’t that he didn’t recognize himself, but he didn’t recognize the man who was contemplating killing the president. He closed his eyes and thought about Raggie.

Even though Rowley hadn’t been in the Army in years, he still wore his dog tags every day beneath his suit, tie, and bulletproof vest. He also wore his United States pin on his jacket. He looked down at it, and the stars and stripes stared back at him.

Rowley looked away from it and closed his eyes again one last time. He saw his little girl as she lay in that South African hospital bed after the shark attack. He felt guilty now for not being there sooner. He felt guilty that he’d had to leave while she was in surgery because the president was moving. He felt guilty that he’d never even told anyone she had been in surgery until after the president had left the country and was safe.

What was he going to do? He had been a patriot first and a father second for his whole career and for Raggie’s whole life. Now he had to decide which duty was more important. He had to decide which was more important—his president or his daughter.

Rowley opened his eyes and looked at the flag pin one last time. Then he unpinned it, threw it in the toilet, and flushed it.

He took out his department-issued SIG Sauer. He pulled back the slide and chambered a round, clicked the safety to fire, and holstered it. The agents assigned to close guard the president didn’t have safety buttons on their holsters. They needed to have quick, fluid access to their weapons. Their safety was in their training.

He was locked and cocked, ready to do what he needed to do.

Ready to fulfill his duty.

He splashed water on his face, wiped it clear, and stepped back out into the plane.

Chapter 47

“WE’LL NEED SOME KIND OF BACKUP,”
Cameron said.

Cord said, “I don’t know who else to call.”

“You need to make more friends.”

“I mean that I don’t trust anyone else.”

Cameron said, “I know someone we can call. Dial this number.” And he repeated the digits straight from memory.

Cord dialed them without question until he got to the last one. He recognized the number. Before he hit the call button, he looked over at Cameron. They were nearing the exit closest to Rowley’s house.

Cord said, “I don’t know about this.”

“Call it. We need her help. Trust me. She can do more than you think.”

Cord was silent.

Cameron said, “Trust your people.”

Cord hit the call button and waited for the phone to ring. It rang and rang. He had almost given up when a female voice answered and said, “Hello? I’m in the shower.”

Cord said, “This is Cord and Cameron. We need your help. ASAP!”

Then he hung up the phone.

Chapter 48

JOHN LANE AND THE MAN WITH NO EARS
drove through the gates of the subdivision first, and Grant followed in the Range Rover. They got no problems from the guards posted there because Graine had called ahead. The guard at the gate had had a busy night from Graine. He’d been called to let in a Mercedes, a Range Rover, and a DC police cruiser. So far, he’d seen the Range Rover and the Mercedes—but no police car.

Lane led Grant down a couple of streets and through several turns. They looked around at all the old Victorian houses. Some had flagstone steps leading up to gates with more security that was hidden to the layman, but they noticed it right off. Some of the houses, the larger ones, had Secret Service agents standing watch at their front entrances. The agents stood in plain sight, meant to be deterrents as much as guards. Grant noticed security cameras hidden in trees in some of the yards. He smiled at the absurdity of it.