Luke nodded. “I remember. The brass at JSOC didn’t want you to go. They thought – ”
“I was too old. That’s right. But I went anyway. And we dropped in there at night, you, me, who else? Simpson – ”
“Montgomery,” Luke said. “A couple others.”
Don’s eyes were very alive. “Right. The pilot screwed the pooch and dropped us into the river, one of the tributaries. We all hit the water with forty-pound rucks on.”
“I don’t like to think about it,” Luke said. “I shot that rhinoceros.”
Don pointed at him. “That’s right. I forgot about that. The rhino charged us. I can still see it in the moonlight. But we crawled up there, soaking wet, and slit that murderous bastard’s throat – decapitated his whole team in one swift and decisive strike. And we didn’t split a hair on one child’s head. I was proud of my men that night. I was proud to be an American.”
Luke nodded again, almost smiled. “That was a long time ago.”
“For me, it was yesterday,” Don said. “I just started writing that one. Tomorrow I’ll add the rhino.”
Luke didn’t say anything. It was a mission, one of many. Don’s memoir was going to be one long book.
“So that’s my whole point,” Don said. “It’s not bad in here. The food isn’t even bad – well, not as bad as you might expect. I have my memories. I have a life. I’ve put together a workout routine, most of which I can do right here in the cell. Squats, pushups, chins, even yoga and tai chi moves. I have a sequence, and I move through it for hours each day, change it up, reverse it. It has a mindfulness component to it as well. I believe it would start a fitness craze if people knew about it. I’d like to trademark it – Prison Power. It’s put me in much better shape than when I was out in the world and free to do whatever I pleased.”
“Okay, Don,” Luke said. “This is your retirement villa. That’s nice.”
Don raised a hand. “I want to live, that’s what I’m telling you. They’re going to give me the needle. You know it and I know it. I don’t want the needle. Listen, I’m realistic. I know I’m not going to get a pardon, not in the current political environment. But if the intelligence I’ve given you pans out, I want the President to commute my sentence to life in prison without possibility of parole.”
Luke was frustrated by their meeting. Don Morris was sitting in what amounted to a stone bathroom, writing his memoirs and developing what he hoped would become an exercise fad. It was pathetic. Luke had once thought of Don as a great American.
The control knob on Luke’s blood turned from simmer to boil. He had his own problems, and his own life, but of course Don didn’t care much about that. Don had become the center of his own universe in here.
“Why’d you do it, Don?” He gestured at the cell. “I mean…” He shook his head. “Look at this place.”
Don didn’t hesitate. “I did it to save my country, and I’d do it again. Thomas Hayes was the worst President since Herbert Hoover. Of that, I have no doubt. He was running us into the ground. He had no idea how to project American power in the world, and no inclination to do so. He thought the world took care of itself. He was wrong. The world does NOT take care of itself. We have dark forces arrayed against us – they run amok if for one second we’re not watching them. They step into any power vacuum we leave them. They victimize the weak and defenseless. Our friends lose faith. I could no longer stand by and let these things happen.”
“And what did you get?” Luke said. “Hayes’s vice president is running the country.”
Don nodded. “Right. And she has a bigger pair of cojones than he ever did. People surprise you sometimes. I’m not unhappy with Susan Hopkins as President.”
“Great,” Luke said. “I’ll tell her that. I’m sure she’ll be delighted to hear it. Don Morris is not unhappy with your presidency.” He stood. He was ready to go. This little encounter was going to be a lot to chew on.
Don jumped off the bed. He put his hand on Luke’s shoulder again. For a second, Luke thought Don was going to blurt out something emotional, something Luke would find embarrassing, like, “Don’t go!”
But Don didn’t do that.
“Don’t discount what I told you,” he said. “If it’s real, then we’ve got trouble. Just one nuclear weapon in the hands of the terrorists would be the worst thing you could dream of. They won’t hesitate to use it. One successful launch and the genie is out of the bottle. Who gets hit? Israel? Who do they hit back with their own nukes? Iran? How do you put the brakes on that? Call a time-out? I doubt it. What if we get hit? Or the Russians? Or both? What if automatic retaliatory strikes get triggered? Fear. Confusion. Zero trust. Men in silos, their fingers getting itchy, lingering over that button. There are a lot of nuclear weapons left on Earth, Luke. Once they start launching, there’s no good reason for them to stop.”
CHAPTER SIX
October 20
3:30 a.m.
Georgetown, Washington, DC
A black pickup truck was following him.
Luke had taken a late flight back. Now he was tired – exhausted – and yet still wired and awake. He didn’t know when he would sleep again.
The taxi had dropped him off in front of a row of handsome brownstones. The tree-lined streets were quiet and empty. They seemed to shimmer in the light from the ornate overhead lamps. As the cab pulled away, he stood in the street and soaked up the cool night. The trees were losing their leaves – they were all over the ground. As he watched, a few more drifted down.
He had come straight from the airport to Trudy’s place. The shades were drawn but at least one light was on in the street level apartment. No one was home – the lights were clearly on a timer, and probably a cheap one from a department store. The pattern was always the same. Trudy must have set it before she left.
She still owned the place – Luke knew that much. Swann had hacked her bank account. There were automatic payments in place for her mortgage, her association fees, and her electricity. She had paid two years of estimated real estate taxes upfront.
She had disappeared, but the apartment was here, going right along by itself as if nothing had happened.
Why did he keep coming here? Did he think she would suddenly be home one night? Did he think these past months would have erased themselves?
He paused for just a few seconds, facing away from the pickup truck, picturing it back there, remembering it from when he had walked passed it just a moment ago.
It was large, heavy duty, the kind of truck you saw on construction sites. The windows in its cab were smoked, making it impossible to see much inside. Even so, he had the sense that there were two silhouettes behind those windows. The truck’s headlights had been off when he walked past, and they were still off – there had been no approaching lights to tip him off. What had given the truck away was sound. He could hear its engine rumbling.
There was a gas station and convenience store at the bottom of the hill. It was lit up on the outside above the pumps, but the store itself looked to be closed. Luke walked down the middle of the street, toward the beckoning light.
He glanced to his left and his right without turning his head. On either side, expensive cars were parked nose to tail against the curb in unbroken lines. This was a crowded neighborhood, and there wasn’t much parking. There was no obvious way to get off the street and onto the sidewalk.
He broke into a sprint.
He did it without warning. He didn’t accelerate gradually from a walk to a run. One moment he was walking, and a heartbeat later he was running as fast as he could. Behind him, the pickup roared into life. Its tires burned rubber on the pavement, the shriek of the wheels tearing open the quiet night.
Luke dove to his right, sliding head first over the hood of a white Lexus. He slid off the car and tumbled onto the sidewalk, landing on his back, rolling into a sitting position while pulling his Glock from the shoulder holster inside his jacket, all in one move.